#Tim drake smut

[hearts-4-redrobin]

Riding Tim as he spews random facts at you he learned while going down rabbit holes during cases, cutting in and out with moans and whines as he does.

Tim testing you as he asks you different questions making sure you’ve actually been listening to him. If you get it wrong, he stop thrusting. If you get it right, he’ll continue. Slowly though.

[pearlfull]

must be love

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS: Batboys as boyfriends and their habits in a relationship! SFW + NSFW. 18+. 〝 What did you give me to make my heart beat out my chest? 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Thanks for love on my last post! I TAKE REQUESTS! Sorta rusty, but I've missed writing sm chat

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.

SFW

DICK GREW UP WITH BRUCE'S OLD WORLD MANNERS AND ALFRED'S TENDERNESS. It would be insulting to both of them if he didn't treat his partner following those examples of devotion.

Always has a hand on you. Thigh when he's driving, drawing circles on the inside with the other on the wheel, the small of your back as you're walking through a crowd to help you guide through the heat of bodies around you both, your hip when he's talking to someone else.

So there's no question when you both are out that you're his. Not because he clings, just because he's so unmistakably in love and he's loud about it. His hand finds yours without thinking, it's second nature to him. He laughs louder when you're happy, arm stays around your waist.

When you're not around? If someone tries their luck, any girl is met with a smile and he shakes his head sweetly, "Someone gorgeous has me."

Another thing about Dick is he shows up. Not just for you, the other people in your life. They're important to you, so they're important to them. He bribes your little brother with action figures and of course he'll drive your sister to soccer practice, and they can hit boba on the way home afterwards. Holds your dog during fireworks. Your roommate has a bad date and he's on the couch with you and gives his two cents from a guy's perspective and wait hey, he thinks Wally's her type?

"They like me, right?" His hair has stray pieces of sawdust from helping your dad fix the garage door, and there's a streak of grease staining his shirt. "I can't have your whole bloodline turning on me if I mess up babe."

He wants to find his way to fit into your world. And vice versa for sure!

Will bring you to the manor, and kiss the inside of your wrist and introduce you to Alfred like you're royalty. "This is (her. him. them.)"

Like that's all the explanation needed.

With the others, he lights up when they ask about you, or when you play cards with Jason and Tim, compliment and study Dami's drawings or make Bruce and Cass laugh.

When you go out with his friends, he'll drape his arm around you and grin when they tease you both.

At his apartment, he presses a kiss softly to your lips after you steal a sip of his beer and Roy will grin at the lovestruck expression on Dick's face before raising his brows at him, "Why don't you ever do that to me?"

Flowers are often. Will deliver them casually, too. Was 4th of July a worthy occasion for them? You don't know but you don't really mind.

NSFW

Munch city. DON'T YELL AT ME I'M RIGHT.

Lives for your pleasure, but there's nothing performative about it, he just gets off to how he can make you feel.

He takes his time, draws it out, and holds your hips down to keep you from squirming. "Where're you going, pretty?"

Literally moans into you, louder if you get louder, looks up at you as if he's seeing the face of God.

"So pretty like this, fuck."

Offers constantly. You'd honestly think he's ovulating. You're drying your hair as you step out the shower, and he's kissing the side of your neck sweetly, and tugging you to his bed murmuring something like, "C'mere. Wanna taste you real quick." It's not quick, you both know, but he's already kissing inside your thighs.

All hands and praise!!

Doesn't rush the after, he's walking you to the bathroom and when you're back he has a wet towel and an iced water with a straw.

ᯓ★ JASON TODD.

SFW

JASON DOESN'T LOVE LIKE HE WAS BORN INTO IT, BUT RATHER LIKE HE HAD TO LEARN HOW TO DO IT.

Clumsy, then careful!

He's practical, until he's not.

Until you mention wanting to see a local play, and when you get home he's bought tickets to four.

"This one's experimental." His finger points to the pamphlets he got when he drove down to the ticket office. "This one's about war. Feminist period piece. A musical." He gets quieter, and shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Thought we could make a thing of it."

He's practical until he's adopting a kitten with you, no question.

You find her outside your complex in a silver bin, tiny and shaking and definitely sick. He just sighs and peels off his jacket to wrap it up as you kiss his cheek. "Guess we're cat people now."

You find him on the couch with the cat on his chest and he's reading Wuthering Heights lowly to her. He doesn't look up, just rolls his eyes.

"Don't start, [Name.] She likes the voices."

He doesn't say I love you early. But he definitely acts like it. He'll pull you behind him when you cross the street quickly, text you "home safe?" before you've even made it to your driveway.

Observant would be putting it lightly. Your favorite shampoo and conditioner is in his shower and he keeps makeup wipes and guesses your lipgloss shade to have an extra in his pocket in case you misplace it.

Checks your apartment locks, and replaces them, "Sweetheart, these deadbolts were shit."

Learns all your favorite recipes.

He learns how you like your eggs how you want the edges of your sandwiches.

"You feed the people you love, right?" A beat. "And I love you."

Your favorite childhood meal. How your mom made it after your first breakup, a week later the aroma is filling your apartment, and he has sauce on his cheek and he's trying not to grin.

He loves to cook with you too! Jason'll open the jars, hold your hips while you're focused on stirring.

Annotates your favorite books. Watches your favorite movies. Without complaint. He wants to know you. And initially it was scary, but you're healing parts of him he didn't know were hurt, and he tries to do the same.

Tipsy Jason? The roughness practically melts out of him.

He drinks slow till you arrive, and when you do, he lights up and Roy laughs and shakes his head as Jay pulls you into his lap with his drink still in hand, kissing your shoulder.

You tease him for being clingy, but the next he's murmuring into your hair, "Don't get how someone like you gets to be with me."

NSFW

Needs to see your eyes, and hear you fall apart because of him.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you."

Whines when you moan his name, and ruts harder when you beg.

If you try and stay quiet, he slows down and looks at you like he's got every bit of time on his hands. "Say it again, want that voice, baby."

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.

SFW

DESPITE EVERYTHING, TIM IS CONSISTENT! He always makes time for you, and doesn't brag about it, doesn't rearrange his schedule in front of you.

"I'll be in your neighborhood in ten minutes." You raise your voice to protest, but he's already lacing up his shoes.

Spoiled would be an understatement, but to Tim? It's bare minimum, don't even think twice about it.

He'll subtly match outfits with you. Red tie, to compliment your gloss. Soft grey if you choose blue. Enough so when pap photos come out later, you'll notice.

"You do that on purpose?"

"We look good."

Places for dates are quiet when you go out: old jazz bars, private late night planetarium tours.

When he picks you up, the smoke curls in the air like the music and he's gotten you the booth in the corner next to the drums.

You also go to the aquarium, the whole place is closed to the public. You swing his hand as it's laced into yours, eyes glittering and you can tell he's trying not to laugh at your excitement. “How did you manage this?”

He just shrugs, and kisses your cheek. “I had a favor owed. Small bribe. You said you used to come here with your mom.”

You almost melt into the floor.

He loves your perfume! In a really sweet way.

Will steal your scarf in the winter to wear to work. Buries his face into your shoulder when he hugs you.

Eventually purchases a travel size of your signature scent for himself to help remind him of home when he's away.

He keeps a photo of you in his wallet, tucked behind his ID. Steph teases him for it, claims he acts like he's a soldier at war carrying a picture of his wife.

It happens on accident that you find it, you're sitting on your couch on a Sunday, your legs draped across his lap, he's rifling through it to find a gift card that has thirty more bucks on it. He flips through it, one hand on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over your hip bone.

There's a flash of photo paper and you blink. "Go back."

He raises his brows, freezing, "What?"

You pluck it from his hands, thumbing it through yourself and there it is. A tiny picture of you. He must've printed it himself, but you remember when it was taken. You, with a matcha latte and a goofy grin pointing to a billboard behind you with Tim's face on it.

You laugh, but tuck it back in. "You keep this in your wallet?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, but his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"Why?"

"Because it's the one I always liked. Makes me laugh. You look pretty and like soft. And mine."

You stare at him a moment too long, and he rolls his eyes, "Okay, I sound insane."

"Nope."

Also nights in?? A great break for Tim. He gets overwhelmed easily and when he comes home he wants something real and sometimes that's you playing Mario Kart on his floor in his pajama bottoms.

Or decorating cookies shaped like lopsided bats.

You let him put his armor down, literally and figuratively.

NSFW

He works from beneath you!!! Controlled and deep thrusts, eyes locked on yours and studying the way your chin tilts and nose scrunches when he hits the right spot.

His hands are everywhere, but your hips are his favorite, rolling them in slow circles.

"That's it," "Just like that, fuck."

He also loves seeing you completely bent over sorry. Your back arched, legs shaking and your winded breath every time he pushes it in deeper.

Kissing your shoulder. Groaning against your back, he'll make you look at him

[kaileyrose28]

Whimpering Virgin

Note.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ: Whimpering Virgin is about two horny teenagers, of age of course, that haven't bumped uglies with each other, but one thing leads to another. (Both are 19 years old, college dorm sex)

18+ (I have to say this), this has sexual content, like seriously.

Kinks or fetishes: Innocence if you squint, teaching sexual acts, virginity taking, anatomy exploration, experienced girl/inexperienced boy, learning from porn, tit playing, riding, unprotected p in v but on birth control. (Wrap it anyway idk)

6,554 words. Female centered sex but no stated pronouns, second person POV oriented.

The textbook in front of him might as well be gibberish. He's read the same sentence six times, but he can't focus.

You. You’re utterly distracting.

You’re so close, your head bent over your notes, hair slipping over your shoulder no matter how many times you tuck it back. His eyes keep drifting, catching the way you chew on your pen, the way your lips press together when you concentrate. You’re completely lost in your world, oblivious to how he's been staring for five minutes.

He shifts, trying to focus, but then you lean forward, and he catches the faint scent of your shampoo. Sweet. Yours. His senses short-circuit. He should be studying—you both’ve got an exam in three days—but you’re here. You’re always here, in his space, in his head.

It's not just tonight; this has been building for weeks. Maybe longer.

Even closing his eyes doesn't help. All it does is make him hyper aware of you—knees brushing together under the desk, the sound of your laugh, the memory of your skin under his fingertips when you’re both tangled on the couch, kissing until your both out of breath.

But this feels different. Deeper. Permanent.

He glances at you again, watching the way your lips curve as you scribble something down.

Yeah, there's no way he's getting any studying done tonight.

Eventually, you can feel his eyes on you, how could you not when you’re so familiar with his gaze? It makes you feel a little bashful, a little flattered.

You write in your notes for a moment longer before glancing at him through your lashes. Your lips twitching with a little smile at how transfixed he looks.

There's been a lot of moments recently where you’ve caught him looking at you like that when you’re supposed to be studying or something like that. It makes your skin feel all tingly, in a good way. You shift, your knee bumping his again under the desk.

He feels the gentle bump of your knee against his, and it's like a jolt of electricity. He tries to play it cool, but his heart is pounding in his chest. You know he's been staring, and the fact that you’re smiling about it makes his stomach do a weird flip.

After a few more minutes of scribbling notes down on your notepad you lean back in your chair, setting your pencil down before stretching your arms above your head with a groan before standing up out of the chair, brushing a hand through your hair.

"Alright, I think that's enough studying for tonight, anymore and my brain might explode." You remark as you drop back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, shirt ruffling up around your navel, lower abdomen exposed.

His eyes snapped to the strip of bare skin you unintentionally flashed when you’d stretched and flopped onto his bed. Swallowing hard, he tries to answer like a normal person instead of a horny teenager. "You always say that,"

"And I always mean it." You say jokingly, sitting up on your elbows. You look him over from where he's still sitting in his chair. His eyes, though, aren't on your face.

His gaze is glued onto your stomach, something a little new in his eyes. Your head tilts a little as you watch him, chewing on your bottom lip a little.

"You wanna make out?" You ask after a moment, grinning a little. He looked like he wanted to, plus you’ve already done the course work you needed to.

What's the harm in kissing your boyfriend?

His eyes snap up to your face. The question catches him off guard. "Like right now?" He asks, swiping his thumb over his lower lip unconsciously. Your suggestion shouldn't turn him on this much. It's just making out. You do it all the time.

You breathe a quiet laugh at his expression, a mixture of surprise and interest. It was cute. Your eyes drop down to his lips when he swipes his thumb over his lower lip, you’ve seen him do it before.

Your eyes move back up to his, shrugging your shoulders a little—something meek and playful in equal measure.

"No, like next week." You say, albeit sarcastically. You’ve made out plenty of times, it's what you do most often after study sessions. But you’re well aware you’ve never done anything past that.

"Shut up," he mutters, standing up from his chair. He crosses the room in a few quick strides. You giggle a little at his mutter, biting your lip when he gets up from his chair and crossed the room in those quick strides. He climbed onto the bed next to you, pushing you back down onto the mattress with a hand on the middle of your chest. "You're such a dick." he says, but his tone's teasing.

A noise leaves you when he pushes you back down onto the mattress after climbing up. Your hand moves up, fingers curling around the wrist of the hand on your chest.

Your lips turn up into a grin at his teasing words. "Wow, calling me a dick when I offer to kiss you." You remark jokingly, your gaze meeting his in the new position.

Feeling your fingers curl around his wrist sends a spark down his spine. Your grin makes him smile even wider in response. "I'm not exactly complaining about the kiss," he says, tilting his head down to yours. His gaze flickers down to your lips briefly before snapping back up to your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." You mutter absentmindedly, focus elsewhere. You tilt your head up and press your lips together in one smooth motion. Your hands moving to his sides—fisting the fabric of his t-shirt. 

You can banter back and forth at some other point, right now you want this.

You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss like you usually do. You turn your body slightly to face him more with how he has you pressed to the mattress, one hand sliding up from his side to weave through his hair.

"Mmf," he hums softly into the kiss. Your body pressing against his is making thoughts fog his brain. Your hair spread out on his pillow looks good. Too good. His hands drop to your hips possessively. He slides his tongue against yours slowly, like he always does when you make out.

This is always the best part of the end of the day, getting to be close to him and kiss him until you’re both breathless. But this time it felt different, a kind of intensity to it that's heavier than it's been before, not that you’re complaining.

His hands dropping to your hips, holding almost possessively makes a shiver go up your spine. Your lips moving easily with his own—a dance you know effortlessly.

You meet the slow slide of his tongue against yours easily, the action familiar by now. Your hand in his hair tightens slightly and the one on his side does as well.

The hands gripping his shirt and hair sends a shiver down his back. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and neck, his breath ghosting over your skin.

You tip your head back almost immediately when you feel his lips trail from your own down your jaw and neck. Sparks of electricity thrumming through your body from the simple wet kisses along your skin.

"You're so fucking pretty," he murmurs, his hands sliding under your shirt to touch bare skin.

Your lips stay parted, glossy with shared saliva, as you catch your breath and lose it at the same time. His murmured compliment sends a tingle up your spine, a small noise escapes your throat when you feel his hands wandering.

Breath catching slightly as his warm skin slides along yours. This was new, this was definitely new and you were definitely not complaining.

"Lift your arms," He whispers, his voice muffled against your neck. He wants your shirt off. He needs your shirt off. His hands are already under it, splayed against your stomach. You always wear these baggy shirts that hang off your shoulders.

You shiver when you feel that whisper against your neck, his voice muffled. Your lips twitch at the ticklish sensation and from the tingling vibration. You can feel his hands splayed against your stomach, warm and new.

Exploratory.

You do as he says after a moment of your brain catching up, hands leaving his body as you lift your arms up by your head, back lifting off the bed slightly to do it.

You bite your lower lip to stifle a breath, you’ve never gone this far before with him. Hell, him kissing your neck wasn't something you’ve ever done before now.

He takes advantage of your raised arms, quickly tugging your shirt up and off. It flies somewhere behind him, landing on his desk chair probably. His eyes devour the sight of you in just a black bra, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Holy shit,"

You shake your head to get the hair to settle back and off your face after he pulls your shirt off, watching as he tosses it somewhere behind him. 

The room is silent aside from the uneven breathing for a second as his eyes devour the sight of your upper body, your lips turning up in a smile.

A laugh escapes you at his words, well aware of the fact he's probably never seen a pair of breasts like this in real life. It's cute, and god, more of a turn on than it has any right to be.

"You can... touch if you want." You say, biting the inside of your cheek slightly.

"Fuck yeah I want," He mumbles under his breath, his eyes already moving downwards to admire the shape of your tits. They look amazing. His hands move without him specifically telling them to, sliding up to cover your. "So fucking soft," he murmurs, squeezing gently.

You inhale when his hands cup your breasts through the bra covering them, squeezing the soft flesh gently. Your eyes shift between his hands on you and his face, his expression was cute but his hands felt so good.

Being his first for this is definitely stroking your pride, but it's also something else—something warm in your body.

You press up into his touch involuntarily, your eyes hooded as you watch him. This makes you wonder why it took so long to step past just heavy kissing, aside from the obvious reasons.

He can feel you pressing into his touch, and it's the hottest thing ever. His thumbs brush over your nipples through the thin fabric of the bra, feeling them harden under his touch. "Jesus," he breathes out, his voice low and husky.

A moan slips out of you when his thumbs brush over your nipples, the hardened peaks sensitive to the touch. Your eyes slip closed for a second as you refocus, your eyes opening after a moment and looking at him.

You laugh slightly at how his voice sounded, although you'd be lying if you said it didn't sound good. He might be the first person who's ever paid so much gentle attention to breasts, it's cute. And hot, really.

"Firm your grasp just a little," you say softly, your hands sliding up and over his on your breasts.

His hands squeeze gently, cupping your tits more firmly. He leans down to kiss your neck again, trailing his lips along your skin as he listens to your breathing pick up. 

Your eyes roll back slightly, the mixed sensation of him squeezing your tits and kissing along your neck is far too good. Maybe it's because it's him that's doing it, or fuck maybe he's just some kind of born natural.

His hands slide up to your shoulders, pushing the straps of your bra down. "Can I...?" He trails off, unsure.

Your breath catches slightly when you feel his hands push the straps of your bra down, your eyes refocusing on him. His unsure question is as adorable as it is incredibly hot.

You shift your body weight, your legs spreading a bit with the movement. "Yeah, of course." You murmur, reaching beneath you to undo the clasps for him—most guys struggle the first time, he doesn't need the pressure.

He watches as you undo the bra, revealing your pretty tits to him again. Without wasting a second, his hands pull it down your arms, leaving it to hang from your wrists as he leans down to capture your left tit in his mouth.

He catches you wholly by surprise, breath stuttering in your throat when his warm mouth captures your tit into his mouth. Your hands fly to his head after getting the straps off your wrists, fingers curling into his hair as your head drops back against the mattress.

Your eyes roll back before closing as you moan, back arching slightly and pressing yourself against his mouth. You hadn't expected him to be so bold as to go straight for something like that, or even know how to do it. 

But fuck you are not complaining.

His tongue circles your nipple, learning from instinct what feels good as he sucks lightly. One hand stays on your tit while the other moves to support your lower back, pushing you closer to his mouth. He knows he looks inexperienced as fuck doing this, but he can't stop.

You don't even know how he's so good at this, or at least it feels good. Your heart's racing and your breaths getting stuck in your throat as his tongue circles your nipple and sucks at it.

One of his hands down to support your lower back is a sweet little gesture. You moan softly, lifting your head to watch him work your tit despite his inexperience.

Your fingers in his hair tighten slightly, keeping his hair out of his face so you can watch unhindered. "Jesus, Tim." You murmur before biting your lower lip, eyes hooded.

Pausing momentarily, he glances up at you with a sheepish grin, his lips brushing teasingly against your nipple as he speaks. "Too much?" He murmurs, eyebrows raised in playful innocence. 

Despite his attempt at nonchalance, his cock throbs insistently against his jeans, betraying his intense arousal.

Your lips part and your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, the teasing brush of his lips against your nipples as he speaks is just everything and too little at the same time.

The playful innocence on his face is cute, despite the fact he just ravished your tits like he's done it before, which you know he hasn't. 

Born natural, apparently.

You use your hands in his hair to your own advantage, pulling on the strands to tilt his head up. You lean yours down and capture his lips with your own, kissing him for a moment before pulling back a breadth.

"No, but I have no idea how you did that so well." You murmur, leaning back into your original position after.

He chuckles softly against your lips, his grin widening as he returns to sucking on your nipple gently.

You inhale when his lips return to your nipple, sucking gently. The sensation just as good as before, sending tingles through your body. You bite your lip and let your head fall back on the mattress again.

"I watch porn," he murmurs between sucks, his hands roaming over your breasts and back. His cock throbs again, and he shifts slightly to ease the pressure in his jeans.

His murmured words make you laugh slightly, of course that's how a 19-year-old guy would learn how to do this. It's not surprising but it's also a little amusing.

One hand leaves his hair to settle on his shoulder, the other still in his hair curls against the strands. "What else did you learn through that crap?" You ask, albeit breathlessly from his ministrations on your tits.

His tongue slides across your nipple as he answers, his hands moving to unbutton your jeans. You lift your head slightly when you felt his hands slide down there, followed by the tug on the button of your button as he undoes it.

How he manages to keep his mouth working your nipple while undoing your jeans is honestly impressive, to you at least.

"Mostly positions, I guess. Though honestly, I've never actually done any of this before," he confesses, looking up at you with honesty in his eyes, knowing you wouldn't judge him.

His confession is cute, but you already figured he was a virgin. Not that it was obvious, but guys their age flaunt their experience like it's a badge. He was so sweet and gentle over most things—it took them forever to even kiss. It just hinted at it a little.

"That's okay, you have to start somewhere." You say, your fingers in his hair thread through the soft strands.

He smiles slightly, his confidence boosted by your reassurance. His hands slide into your unbuttoned jeans, fingers curling under the waistband of your underwear. He looks up at you for confirmation before tugging both down, revealing your bare pussy to his eager eyes. 

Fuck, you’re beautiful everywhere.

Since dating him you haven't had sex, and he never tried anything past kissing, so you never really bothered with keeping up with the high maintenance like you used to do before. Shaving, sometimes waxing.

Though you’re sure a man who's only seen a cunt on a screen isn't going to care about how much pubic hair is there or not. Or well, no that’s not true. 

She’s sure a man like Tim wouldn’t give a shit.

Plus, he's not just some guy. He's her boyfriend, someone that matters.

You lean back slightly, dropping your hands from him to prop yourself up on your elbows. Your knees spread slightly to let him explore, it's his first time anyway. 

It's a little hot, the way he's so transfixed.

His eyes darken as he takes in your pussy, spread open slightly with your thighs apart. "Do girls usually shave down there?" He asks suddenly, genuinely curious.

His fingers twitch slightly, wanting to touch but also scared of doing something wrong.

You know he's rather inquisitive, it's one of many traits that drew you to him. That analytical thinking. But it's new to hear sexual questions, but it's also kind of nice. 

Most guys wouldn't bother, they'd just assume what they assume and go on with it.

He's untouched by all of that, nothing but what he's learned through research on a screen analytically. It's cute. 

You look down at your cunt, you’ve got some hair, well groomed but you used to shave completely. Not all the time, just usually when you expected to get laid.

"I mean it depends, some like the feeling of being bare, others don't. I used to shave completely but haven't in a while." You explain with a small smile, your eyes drifting back up to his face.

"Does it... feel weird? Like having hair down there?" He asks innocently, leaning closer to examine without actually touching yet. Your cock is throbbing harder in your jeans, but he wants to learn everything he can before diving in. "Has anyone ever... gone down on you with hair?"

You bite your lip slightly at his question, the corners of your lip curling into another smile. Your breath catching when he leans closer, the way he's so focused is honestly as adorable as it is so unfathomably sexy.

Who knew innocence, to an extent, was your thing. You know somewhere deep down in him there's probably a little freak, everyone's got something.

You mull his questions over for a moment, allowing your brain to form a good answer.

"I mean no, it depends on what underwear you wear. I like cotton or silk, nicer on the bits." You answer his first question, then move to his second one. "No, actually. Before we got together I shaved, most guys don't like the hair."

"I kind of like it," He murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower as he finally gives in and gently traces the hair with his fingertips. His cock aches at the simple touch, wondering what it must feel like between your legs. "Like how some people have body hair, you know?"

You bite down on your lower lip more when his fingers trace your pubic hair, the faint touch almost teasing even when you know it's just him exploring. You refocus on his words, breathing a soft laugh.

God, he's just so cute and sexy and everything in between. Where was he your whole life? If he was your first sexual partner you might have had a better time back then.

"Yeah, I get it." You say with a small nod. Your eyes drop back down to where his hand is between your legs, opening them a little more for him.

His fingertips linger for a moment before he tentatively brushes against your pussy lips, feeling their softness. Holy fuck, you’re even wet. 

He glances up at you, biting his lip nervously. "Um, is this okay?" He asks, his voice crackling slightly with barely contained excitement.

Your eyes flutter slightly when his fingers brush against your pussy lips, against the soft skin and wetness gathering from everything he's done so far. You’re honestly probably the most aroused you’ve ever been.

You look at him again at his question, the seeking consent is sweet. The small voice crack makes you smile slightly, he's probably been waiting for this for ages.

"Yeah, it's okay." You say with a small nod, giving him all the permission that you can. And god, are you practically seeping with it.

He swallows hard, his chest heaving slightly as he carefully pushes apart your lips to expose your wet pussy. You inhale when his fingers push your lips apart, exposing your wet pussy to him and the air, a shiver running up your spine.

Fuck, you’re beautiful. His finger hesitates for a moment before he touches your clit, the small nub feeling firm and swollen under his touch. "Holy shit,"

Your eyes roll back when his finger touches there, just the slightest hint of pressure enough to send sparks through your nerves. A small noise leaves your nose before your eyes refocus and you try to watch his hand's exploration of your pussy.

You smile slightly at his reaction to what he's touching, it's cute and hot because dear god is your sweet, loving boyfriend slowly killing you.

"Does this feel good?" He asks softly, circling your clit slowly. His eyes watch your stomach muscles tighten slightly with each touch. "Or is this too much?" His brows furrow slightly as he adds another finger, spreading your lips wider. Holy hell, you’re wetter than before.

You love his questions, you really do. But getting your clit rubbed while he's asking them is like asking you to focus while you’re experiencing cloud 9. 

Your eyes roll back when he adds another finger to the one slowly circling your clit, thighs twitching.

Your lips part and your brows furrow slightly, hips arching to meet his touch involuntarily. You know you’re getting wetter, you can feel the cold air a lot more than you could before down there.

"It's good— good." You say as best you can, not wanting him to stop because he thought something was wrong.

"I'm sorry I'm asking a lot of questions. It's just... I'm kinda in the dark here." He says sheepishly, adding a third finger to spread you open more. His eyes widen as your pink flesh parts to reveal a small hole, slick with wetness.

You groan softly, your thighs spreading wider. You don't want him to apologize for his questions, you'd answer anything he needed answered, but fuck he was making you feel so good it was like he pulled every tangible thought out of your mind.

One of your hands fists the sheets beneath you, needing to grab onto something to anchor yourself. His motions were steady and soft but fuck, you haven't been touched by another person down there in ages and he's doing so good.

"Don't— don't apologize, baby. It's okay to ask... questions." You stumble over your words but manage to get them out coherently.

"Okay." He nods, relieved that you don't mind the questions. He takes a deep breath and slides his middle finger into you, feeling your warmth wrap around him. He gasps lightly, his hips involuntarily bucking forward as if seeking friction. His eyes lock onto yours, pupils dilated with desire.

Your eyes roll back and your back arches when he slides in his middle finger, you clench around the slender digit. Your hand fisting the sheets tightens slightly as you moan, thighs twitching as you stifle the urge to close them—not to stop but to keep him where he is.

Your eyes focus and meet his gaze that was already locked onto you. His pupils dilated with his desire, and god is it hot.

You bite your lip as your hips instinctively move to seek out friction. God, if he fucks you you’re never going to let him leave for a while.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He murmurs, slowly moving his finger in and out of you. He can feel your muscles clenching around him, pulling him deeper. His cock throbs in response, aching to be inside you. 

You moan as his finger fucks in and out slowly, your stomach muscles clenching. Your head falls back against the mattress, throat arched slightly as you exhale sharply.

Your thighs trembling and hips twitching with every slow, thrusting motion of his finger.

He adds another finger, stretching you gently.

When he adds that finger a choked moan leaves your throat, your hips rocking to meet his motions.

You’re fist grasping the sheets tightens as you gasp softly. He's the virgin here but fuck if he isn't reducing you to something desperate.

"Should I... add another?" He asks breathlessly, watching your reaction. His cock is painfully hard watching you writhe. Seeing you lose control is fucking gorgeous. He slowly moves his fingers in and out, stretching you deeper each time. "Or is this too much?"

You blink, attempting to focus on his questions. It's a bit hard to do while he's fucking you with two fingers, and so well for a first timer. You lift your head slightly to look at him, meeting his unsure, lust filled gaze.

It takes you a minute to form a coherent thought let alone a response, the slow in and out thrusts of his fingers going deeper each time is mind numbing.

"Depends on," you breathe out after a minute, "how big your dick is." You finished with a sharp inhale as your eyes fluttered and your pussy clenches around his fingers.

"Oh god," he mutters, watching your expression tighten with pleasure. His fingers pick up the pace slightly, sliding easily in and out of your wet heat. "It's average," he answers truthfully, though his ego takes a slight hit. "Like six inches."

You moan when his fingers pick up the pace, your thighs shaking as you keep them spread open for him to continue. You manage, somehow, to focus on his response.

Six inches isn't bad, most guys act like that's somehow something bad. A pussy is only so deep, average is pretty well endowed if used right.

You can tell his ego was slightly hit by having to answer, your free hand slides down to curl around his forearm. "Not bad. But I'm not talking about length, baby." You say, breathless from everything he's doing.

"Oh," he lets out a shaky laugh, snapping his hips forward slightly without meaning to. His fingers push deep inside you, making you arch your back. "You mean thickness?" He asks softly, watching your stomach muscles tighten again.

You groan when his fingers push deeper each inside you, your stomach tightening. He's far too good at this, he learns so fast it's almost disconcerting.

You clamp your thighs down around his hand involuntarily, your head dropping back slightly and your fingers curled around his forearm tighten. 

This is probably the best fingering you’ve ever had, maybe you’re biased because he's your boyfriend.

"Yes— yes, that's what I mean." You say after a moment, stumbling on your words.

"It's... average," he answers hesitantly, his fingers slowly curving upwards to hit that spot inside you that makes your hips buck. "Like five inches around," he adds, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Is that too thin?"

You moan and your hips jerk when he curves his fingers upward, pressing against your g-spot like he somehow knows where it is despite his virginity. 

This motherfucker researches too much. 

Your fingers tighten around his arm, leaving slight indentations.

You personally like average sizes, it's easier to take and less soreness afterward. But he wouldn't have that kind of experienced foresight, he learned these things from porn and forums probably. 

Guys with above average sizes. Guys with no knowledge on what women really like or want. 

"Five inches isn't thin, baby. You're perfect." You manage to get the words out rather strung together. "And it means you can fuck me at any point now." You add.

"Fuck," he breathes out, his heart racing at your words. He slides his fingers out of you and quickly pulls down his pants. 

You inhaled sharply when he slid his fingers out, leaving you feeling rather empty after all the drawn out pleasure. You get properly distracted when he pulls his pants down with fumbling hands, wrapping his hand around his cock and slowly strokes himself.

And fuck, was he pretty. Veiny, pale with an angry red tip that's leaking precum already. He's probably throbbing from holding off so long, pleasing you and asking his questions over gratification.

"Should I... do you want me to use a condom?" He asks, voice trembling with anticipation and nerves.

Your eyes drift up to his face, smiling a little at the tremble in his voice. "I'm on birth control, you don't have to wear one if you don't want to." You say, might as well let him choose for his first time.

"No condom." He decides quickly, wrapping his hand around his length again. "Do you... do you want to be on top?" He asks softly, watching your body carefully. "Or should I... God," he trails off, trying not to whimper. "Do you like it slow or hard?"

You breathe a soft laugh at all his questions, it was cute. He's always been inquisitive but seeing him so nervous while asking questions is new, but it's endearing.

Usually you liked to just do whatever, but he wasn't some random fling, he was your boyfriend and this was his first ever time having sex. You let your eyes roam down his body again, he just looked so good. 

Good enough to be appetizing really.

"It's your first time, baby. What do you want to do?" You ask, your eyes returning to meet his gaze. Letting him set the pace for this, considering everything.

"I want... I'd like you on top first," he admits shyly, biting his lower lip. "So I can see you and learn what feels good. Later, maybe I'll try being on top." He moves to lie back on the bed, stroking himself slowly as he watches you.

You can definitely do that for him, you’re well versed in being on top or on your knees. It's an easy position for the guy, and a good view too. You sit up when he lays back on the bed, gaze roaming him. The way he keeps stroking himself, slow and steady as he watches you.

"Yeah, okay." You say softly, turning to crawl up the bed, towards where he settled himself. You straddle him easily, hips elevated above him.

"We'll go at your pace, promise." You reassure, your hands tracing along his sides before moving between them to pull his hand away from himself.

"Holy fuck," he breathes out, his free hand gripping the bedsheet beneath him as you positions yourself. He can feel your warm pussy right above him, and seeing you naked like this... god, you’re gorgeous. His cock throbs against your inner thigh.

Your eyes roam his face for a second, looking for any sign of discomfort before looking down and guiding his cock to your entrance. You’ve never been someone's first before, it's kind of an exhilarating feeling. 

Especially since it's him, and you love him.

You align him properly and slowly sink down, his dick sliding into you. You moan softly, hands planting on his chest for balance. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your palm, like a hummingbird.

"God," You breathe out, your eyes fluttering slightly.

"Oh-oh god—" He cries out, not able to contain his own voice as you sink down on him. He's touched himself a million times but the sensation is completely different. It feels like you’re crushing him in the best way possible.

He feels so good in you, nestled inside and touching everything like a live wire. Your eyes drift up to his face after a moment, taking in his expression. His pretty blue eyes overtaken by his dilated pupils, the sounds he makes.

You bite your lip, hands on his chest pressing slightly as you move your hips. Feeling his dick slide out a little bit and sink back in as you move slowly, a soft moan leaving your throat.

You savor the feeling of him inside you, eyes watching his face carefully just in case. It's his first time, you don't want to end up doing something wrong.

"Holy fuck—" He gasps out, his hands gripping your waist tightly as you move your hips. You feel so warm and soft inside. He knew nothing could really prepare him for this, nothing compares to actually feeling it. His back arches involuntary as you move your hips, moaning loudly.

His tight grip on your waist is an unfairly attractive move and he isn't even trying to do it. The way his back arches as you move, the loud moan that leaves him, is addictive.

It almost amplifies every sensation of him inside you, your nerves on fire in such a good way.

You pick up the pace slightly, slight sounds coming from where you’re connected. Your breasts bounce and thighs jiggle slightly each time you’re seated fully on him.

"You feel so good, Timmy." You moan, mostly to encourage him since it's his first time but also because fuck, he does feel so unfairly good.

"Fuck, I– I think I'm gonna—" He cuts himself off with a loud moan, his grip on your waist tightening even more as he starts to come inside of you. He knew this would happen pretty fast, it's his first time after all.

It was going to happen sooner rather than later, usually does, but fuck if it wasn't still hot to watch him come undone beneath you. Feel him shoot his load inside, filling you up with the searing warmth.

You don't stop though, mostly because you know you can get more out of him. He looks so pretty like this.

The slapping of skin meeting filled the room obscenely. Your breathing grows more ragged, breasts bouncing as you ride him. Your moans grow more consistent, mixed with softer, more whimpering noises that come out of your nose.

"You're doing so good, so good, baby." You praise breathily.

"Holy shit... that feels..." He trails off with a whimper, his senses overloaded with pleasure, still sensitive from his first orgasm. Your dirty talk is doing something to him, especially mixed with those sweet praise words. 

Without warning, he sits up slightly, wrapping one arm around your back to pull you closer, using the other hand to guide your movements.

He throws your focus off a bit when he suddenly sat up slightly, the change in position makes your hips open more. The sudden boldness takes you off guard but it's sexy as hell.

One of his arms wrapped around your back, pulling you closer as his other hand guided the movements, it was sweet and hot all at once. And helpful.

You wrap one arm around his shoulders as the other flattens on his knee. You keep your hips moving, albeit faster and harder. Rolling them inward to account for the new position. 

"Fuck— you gonna make me come, baby? You feel so good." You say, breathless and followed by a moan.

He nods, trying to speak and failing as a loud whimper leaves his throat. Your head drops back, exposing the arch of your throat, moans choked off. The sound of his whimpers are addictive, you want to keep hearing them.

You don't change your rhythm because he sounds so close again, and it sounds like heaven to your ears to listen to it. Your stomach tightens, the coil builds fast.

He starts to move his hips upward, meeting you thrust for thrust, pushing deeper inside of you. He can feel his second orgasm quickly approaching, and he's eager to find out if it'll be just as intense as the first.

When his hips start to move up into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. "Oh, God. I'm coming— fuck, Tim." You reach your orgasm with a cry of his name and a moan, your cunt clenching around his cock.

He lets out a strangled groan as your tight walls clamp down around him, triggering his own intense orgasm. His hips jerk erratically, pushing deep as he pours himself into your welcoming heat.

"Holy fuck!" He nearly shouts, burying his face against your neck to muffle the sound.

Your hand around his shoulders slides up to his hair when he buries his face against your neck to muffle himself. You slowly come to a stop, your breathing heavy and fast, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

You were hot, sweaty, and thoroughly satisfied. Your cunt tingly and throbbing with your pulse, still stuffed full with his cock—the warmth of his cum filling your cunt and leaking out around him is a welcomed sensation.

You rest your cheek against his sweaty hair, breathing still rather heavy. "You can officially throw your v-card out the window." You murmur jokingly, threading your fingers through his sweat-damp strands.

He nods weakly, still basking in the afterglow of the intense encounter. His heart is pounding in his chest, and his body is limp with exhaustion. He nuzzles against your neck, planting soft kisses along the column of your throat. 

"That was fucking amazing.”

[glamourscat]

It was 3am and you were supposed to be asleep, but after dating TIM DRAKE for almost two years now, you picked up on his weird sleeping patterns. Tonight in particular your brain won’t rest. Not until you will receive his usual post patrol message.

2am, then 2:30, 3 and 3:30am rolls around and your lack of sleep was slowly turning into anxiety. Why hadn’t he texted yet? Did something happened? You try to make sense of the situation, but your brain is refusing from making you think logically. And just as you were about to message him, his message comes through.

“sorry for the late message. had to run in the shower immediately after i arrived home cause i was covered in blood” he texts 

“not mine btw” he follows up, knowing already to clarify. 

“good, good. im glad you’re ok love, i was beginning to worry. what are you doing now then?” you text back, eyes fluttering at the screen waiting for those three dots to appear. But they don’t. In their place a picture appears. 

Him. In front of the mirror. His face covered by his phone, one arm on the sink leaning a bit to flex his muscles and that towel dangerously low, enough to see his v-line and the outline of his hardness against it. Oh….

“damn, drop the towel? 🙂‍↕️🙏🏻”  “for scientific purposes obviously…” you add in two consecutive texts. 

You know it’s unlikely he would do it, but teasing him comes naturally to y— he did it. You cannot even continue your train of thoughts because suddenly his next picture comes through. The towel gone, his pretty cock— and that damn blushy pink tip— staring right back at ya, hard against his stomach. 

You can’t even begin to form a coherent thought  as another picture comes through. 

This time he is on his bed, on his knees— which are open to show the view between his legs— His hungry, leaking, cock is begging to be touched; while his face now—no longer covered by the phone— looks at his phone through the mirror reflection with a knowingly devilish grin. And your mind goes to one thought, and one only, how desperately you wish to have a dick. Because he looks so damn breedable right now. 

“cause I don’t feel like I did it right the first time ;)” he texts back within seconds from sending that second picture. 

“hey…? you still there lol?” he texts back after 10,  long minutes without a reply from you. Did he overstep? Was it too much…?  But then the outdoor camera alerts him of a movement outside his front door. 

“im outside. open me up.”  ________________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N: I wrote this at 5AM and had the sudden, horny, urge of writing for Tim. Nothing else to add lmao. Also this is not proofread :(

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[neerathebrightstar]

An Unhealthy Obsession

Yandere Tim Drake inspired by the song “An Unhealthy Obsession”

SYNOPSIS -> Tim Drake will always remember the day he saw you for the first time as the best coincidence of his life. And you will always remember your second meeting as the thing that doomed you.

Warnings -> This is a work of fiction but beware the themes like stalking, obsession, manipulation, smut, the fic is written mostly in Tim’s pov so an unreliable narrator, sub!Tim Drake, there is a brief mention of things like branding and kidnapping, exhibitionism

MINORS DNI

You will never forget the first time you met Tim Drake - freshly 18, still with hope for a better life in your eyes and incredibly broke. You worked hard in high school and got the opportunity to study in Gotham University on Bruce Wayne’s founded scholarship. You were ecstatic back then, you always thought you would immediately need to go to work after you hit adulthood, and offered with a chance to make something of yourself you didn’t think twice about moving to Gotham despite its title as the most dangerous city in America.

Your parents were skeptical with the whole ordeal, who wouldn’t be terrified with their child moving to Gotham where people were more scared of clowns than guns, but they ultimately let you go when you begged for it enough.

You wished they didn’t, you wished they locked you in a room and binded you to your bed so you wouldn’t go anywhere.

In the end you moved to Gotham all wide eyed, ripe for the taking in the city known for swallowing innocent souls like you. You were hopeful, ready to learn and work even harder for your future.

You thought yourself to be fearless back then. On top of the world and untouchable, with wings made of dreams ready to carry you even higher. You spend your nights before the courses start fantasizing about life when all the riches in the world are at your hand - living in a mansion with a significant other that truly adores you, never wanting for anything. And all that you would achieve through your hard work.

But reality hits you hard and brutally when the assignments start piling up, your professors are cruel and you can barely keep up, not with additional work you have to do after hours to support yourself. The scholarship doesn’t cover your basic necessities and food doesn’t magically appear on one’s plate when they wish it so.

You are constantly tired, overworked and underslept so no one can really blame you when you miss literal Red Robin walking into the 24h diner you work at.

(You didn’t know he was a vigilante back then, you were new in Gotham - you didn’t have the time to learn the names of the entire flock of bats and birds)

You were alone that night, your coworkers already went home and you craved to do the same. You still had to clean up and wait for the next shift to come in and you really hoped that they would hurry - you wanted to take a quick nap before running to campus.

Instead you are met with a bizarre sight of a man dressed entirely in a funny red costume. High black combat boots with black skintight pants and a red top that looked like a girl’s one piece swimsuit. For some reason he was wearing the ugliest yellow belt you ever seen, with pouches fulled to the brim. Was he practicing for a role or something? You highly doubted that, not with the bondage type of straps that were holding a very dramatic cape on his shoulders. Gotham was weird but you never seen people wear costumes from fetish magazines out in the streets like that before. And for fuck’s sakes was he wearing a fucking mask with a beak? You wondered how to politely throw him out without involving very strong words and calling him out on being a prostitute for villains with a vigilante complex but in the end you never had to do so.

The encounter doesn’t linger in your mind past the next morning - sure the guy was weird but polite, you served him his order and he went on his way. You blissfully came back home to your bed after swapping with your coworker to catch a few hours of sleep unaware that you just doomed yourself.

I want to be able to tell you that you came here to read a story of a maniac, an obsessive freak of nature like you all think me to be. But really I am that bad for wanting to protect them? That I saw how they live and decided to give them everything? You all can judge me all you want but the truth is you would have done the same - except you are cowards and I am not afraid of getting my hands dirty for the ones I love.

I would never kill anyone, I know better than that - Bruce taught me better than that. However there are so many ways one’s life can be ruined without depriving them of it. Sometimes one letter is all it takes to fire a man supporting his whole family, to get him banned from working ever again. What does the life of that family look like after that? No one ever thinks of it later, when you have that one annoying employee out of your sight, what use is there in wondering how he fares right? After all you didn’t kill him, you can absolve yourself of all guilt, he deserved it and you showed restraint in letting him see another day.

But his family will fall apart, his children will lose countless opportunities because there is no longer enough funds to support them in pursuing a better, brighter future. You won’t see his wife struggling to make ends meet while her husband uselessly walks around with his resume. And when she leaves him behind to find a better man for her and her children? Will you be there to look at what you have done ?

You see? I don’t need to kill anyone to destroy their life. And if I can do it so easily, who says others cannot do it to them ? It was already happening when I met them - my love was underpaid, overworked and with no real way of making a better living. They could have crumbled like a house of cards with just one gust of wind. A university student, non-Gothamite living on tips and praying their scholarship won’t be taken from them? Poor little thing would have been swallowed by this city if not for me. Don’t judge me yet, I know I sound pretentious. Let me tell you the whole truth and then you are welcome to make your judgment. But know it’s already too late for my love to leave me - I got my claws into them and they are never leaving again.

I met Y/N purely by chance. They were working at a 24h diner located near Crime Alley and I was in my Red Robin armour, freshly after a fight with local gang members who distributed narcotics to children. It was a big case, big enough that Jason asked for help. I was tired, basically a dead weight on my feet. I needed to eat something and drink enough energy drinks so that I would be caffeinated enough to fight god and then make my way back into the Nest. I didn’t want to look for an open corner store - most of them were money laundering spots at this hour anyway and I didn’t feel like throwing punches with spooked clerks. This side of the city was Jason’s problem, he could deal with that later himself.

Usually a superhero vigilante walking into any place at this hour either invoked fear or awe. I was used to calming down civilians that I was not in the local area for villain related business or smiling for pictures. What I was not used to was being unseen, simply ignored. Y/N was the only person in the diner that night and they didn’t spare me a single glance, no lingering looks like people who wanted to play cool often acted. They were just just meticulously cleaning tables and even from where I was standing I could see their eyes were half closed. An underpaid and tired employee is technically not a thing out of ordinary in Gotham - even with the money Bruce pours into this city the hole of poverty seems just never ending. I should have walked out and left that poor person alone. Bruce would have left a pile of money on one of the still messy tables and left it at that. I for some reason couldn’t do that.

I walked over to them and cleared my throat which in consequence immediately made me feel like an asshole. I was not only interrupting their work in one of the most rude ways possible and in the back of my mind I kept thinking what an idiot I am and that I will scare this poor thing shitless. Maybe it was a good thing I was not as tall and grotesquely muscular as Jason who looked like a thug most of his good days.

Imagine my surprise that when they turned around they only took one good look at my armour and scrunched their nose at me. Like I was the one being an idiot here. Didn’t anyone tell them that being so unaware of their surroundings in Gotham could cost them their life?

“Halloween is in October. And I am pretty sure that ComicCon was like a week ago”

Their smile was weak, without any teeth but I could feel them mocking me. What person living in Gotham didn’t recognise it’s vigilanties?

“Very funny sweetheart. I am not exactly in the mood for games.”

I didn’t restrain my urge to roll my eyes at them. Gothamites could be weird and disrespectful but they were good people at heart (well most of them anyway, there were exceptions where people did crimes because they wanted to do crimes not because they needed to. And this city had a way of turning people a certain kind of mad), who were often better to be left alone rather than entertain their craziness.

But they did something that got me hooked and interested constantly. They laughed. They laughed and it felt like thousands of little bells ringing the melody of worship, making that little beast in me raise its head. I wouldn’t say I fell in love with them then. I would lie and I promised to be honest with you didn’t I? But I got that feeling, the one I usually get when I know my interests have been peaked and my claws are ready to come out. I know when I want something and I can distinguish the difference between interest and devotion. This was not devotion, not yet. It was merely a single seed of curiosity that could grow to become an enormous problem later on.

The last time I felt something similar had me running around Gotham at night, chasing after a boy in scally shorts and pixie boots, following after him and his mentor who to a little brat appeared to be dressed in darkness itself. Now I could laugh at that ridiculous comparison, knowing that a man hidden behind the kevlar disappointed me more times than both of us bothered to count.

I can tell you now that I will fall hopelessly in love with them, ready at their single beck and call. I was more of a dog than a man but I could be a very loyal one, a faithful companion. I desired to be collared, to have the certainty that another person won’t leave me again. I always tried to sink my claws into everything that didn’t belong to me and every single time, without a doubt I would hold it close even when it was thrashing against my hands. Not once have I managed to keep anything that way, not even a piece of my love given back. No scratch marks to show that I was there, that I loved that I hoped. My claws always ended up torn out, stuck in the flesh of those dear to me, bleeding and rotting like unwanted trash.

”Well pretty boy don’t blame me for assuming when you look like you just walked out of someone’s bondage fantasy”

Their eyes trailed me up and down before a look of disbelief crossed their face. They pointed one finger at the symbol on my chest and pushed it delicately.

(For some reason I longed for them to hit me, to strike me deep, hard and fast. Bruise me and show the world they designed to touch me. That I was not disgusting and unlovable.)

“Was the theme supposed to be Robin and you just botched it into looking like a duck? Anyway honey I need to ask you to get out. This place is family friendly and fetish workers don’t fit into that category”

“Excuse me?!”

“No need to ask for permission, the door is that way”

I glared at them with one of my BatmanTM glares but it only seemed to make them more annoyed.

“I am not a prostitute, I just really need some caffeine.”

They snorted with laughter and I could feel myself getting red. What was even wrong with them?

Hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me Bite me bite me bite me bite me

“I am pretty sure they can also sell it to you at the nearest BDSM club. You need some kind of order to leave or will you see yourself out?”

“Aren’t you supposed to serve all customers?”

I was angry and tired and they were rude but I really just wanted to go home so I swallowed any comebacks I might have had and smiled politely.

“Listen this is Gotham and it’s like 3 am. No one cares about that family friendly shit anyway. And I will pay double.”

Whatever angry complaints they were about to throw at me died quicker in their mouth than hope in B’s eyes when Jason kills another criminal. They raised one brow at me but I knew I won.

“I don’t know if I just got that amazing offer because I bullied you a little and you really are a bondage slut or being a bondage slut pays very well.”

“I’m not paying throuple”

They grumbled a little but in the end took out a small notebook and a pen and gave me the nicest smile I probably saw all week.

(My heart got tighter and for a second I couldn’t breathe. I imagined myself taking that smile into my mouth and tearing it off, bloody and wonderful. If I consumed it would the warmth stay with me forever? Or would it leave me like all things seemed to do?)

“Well, my most wonderful totally not a bottom customer, what will you desire today?”

You you you you you you you you you

Tim was never a man capable of self restraint.

And you left him very intrigued.

It really wasn’t his fault that for the next week he could only think about your hands tightening ropes, intricately woven across his body. Or the same hands leaving welts across his body, your nails scratching him to blood. Marking him up for all to see.

It wasn’t really about you or who you were as a person, not at first anyway. You just happened to hit every box Tim had in mind when he was looking for something more, someone to help him get through the stress of his life. Because the truth was that Tim enjoyed the act of giving away his control - treated it like an act of worship, a highest honour and most precious gift he could give to anyone.

But he had no one to give it away to, not without fearing that someone might take advantage of him, hurt him too deeply. Leave him so shattered that this time he might not be able to pick up the pieces and construct something resembling a human shape around his true self again. The sharp and ugly parts of him were already uncovered too much, sticking out of his shell - ready to burst and spill blood.

You on the other hand would never be able to hurt him. You could bark all you wanted but your teeth would never be strong enough to bite through his skin. But Tim could trick himself into thinking otherwise and it would still satisfy him so what was the hurt in trying? When you were already so eager to mock him, to order him around?

So he began following you, making sure you were safe on your way back home from work. Gotham was scary after all, why would you mind a little hidden company in exchange for safety ?

Tim somehow convinced himself that he would get his urges satisfied that way. A little surveillance here and there never hurt anybody, not in this city. And learning your name was crucial if you ever ended up becoming a villain right? Tim was The Red Robin after all, he needed to keep an eye on everyone in Jason’s his neighbourhood.

A month observing your balcony would be all he needed to make sure you weren’t up to anything bad. He had to watch you fall asleep so he knew you would not go out anywhere else during the night. Who knew what kind of henchmen meetings you could’ve been sneaking out to. Maybe you were Clayface, ready to fool him for some masterplan.

And then it escalated.

Really, Tim was very proud of himself for not installing cameras in your dorm earlier. His skin was getting uncomfortable for the past few weeks but he prevailed, gave you a chance to run away. You didn’t and that’s why you were both in this situation - Tim sitting in front of his computer, mouth wide open, unable to understand what was even happening while you danced naked around your bedroom.

He didn’t even have to think before his fingers automatically moved to save the live feed to his folder, designed especially with you in mind. Hundreds of your pictures already rested there, saved and tucked for later.

(It was an impulsive behaviour that Tim couldn’t explain before himself, an illness he tried to treat on his own. He deleted a few of his least favourite pictures and waited for the hand of god to strike him, punish him for his insolence. He should have fallen to death as punishment but instead he could feel himself start shaking. Tim’s heart clenched painfully and vomit gathered behind his lips. He barely made it to the nearest trash can before he needed to breathe again, eyes already turning bloodshot. He sat there screaming his pure throat raw and ugly sobbing. With hands flying to his neck and choking just to shut himself up, nails leaving angry marks that filled with blood fast, Tim crawled to his computer. He needed the pictures back, now!)

And yet you tested his resolve once again, carefully picking at the sound parts of his mind and replacing them with madness. Tim felt small next to your greatness, unworthy of looking upon your image - with body soft and plush, cream freshly applied after the shower, your hair wet and curling against your cheeks. A perfect portrait of divine being, with a body that looked fragile upon first glance and sharp, cunning nature.

Tim should’ve stopped watching when he first discovered you naked as the day you were born, should’ve gone over to your house and got rid of cameras. There were many things he should’ve done instead of tugging his cock out of his pants, already hard and leaking.

He shouldn’t have started stroking himself to the quiet sound of your humming when you got yourself ready for some party. And he definitely shouldn’t have been imagining kneeling between your legs and humping your foot like a dog in heat.

Tim was a weak man, he could’ve admitted that but have you ever heard of a man who stumbles upon a naked goddess and walks away?

On the monitor, unaware of his heated stare you spread glitter all across your body, still humming a melody that would haunt Tim forever. You were so precious and so innocent and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you - to corrupt you with his filth, fill you to the brim with his essence. He could see it all now, both of you stitched together, skin to skin, side to side.

You and him chained to bed, unable to say where the other begins and where the other ends. There would be no such nonsense as him and you by then. You will be a joined entity, a two faced god of devotion and codependence.

You reach for a pair of red underwear and Tim’s breath hitches - his colour, you are wearing his colour

His strokes quicken to the point of painful stinging. His hands are covered in calluses, so unlike yours. Your hands are soft and delicate with sharp nails and long fingers made to put him in his place. Like a good dog he is, he would’ve laid down to rest at your feet and lap at any leftovers you give away.

Tim loses himself in the pleasure, bottom lip stuck between his teeth, eyes glued to your form on the screen. He thumbs his tip, precome gathering there like little beads of white tears, all falling for you. He would have made you taste it, your pouty lips embracing his thumb and sucking. You would have asked him to open his mouth and spitten your saliva and his come come into his waiting throat, bared all just for you.

He fumbles his speed and moans sound out all across his room, a private symphony just for him and you.

Tim’s orgasm comes hard and fast, shocking his entire body, limps spasming uselessly. He makes a mess and ashamed of himself ducks quickly into the bathroom to clean up. His black shirt is unsavable, his come drying off leaving nasty marks.

Tim catches a glance of himself in the mirror and for the first time in a while, he smiles. It’s not one of those gala smiles he throws to journalists and other pests bothering him during work hours. It’s also not the smile he shows around his family, that one when he scrunches his nose and barely shows any teeth.

This time it’s his real smile. All predatory, teeth barred and ready to tear flesh apart. The beast officially released itself of its prison and its coming for you

You didn’t recognise him the second time you saw him. How could you when he was wearing a mask and you were so tired you forgot all about the dude the next day?

But since that day you were resting even worse. You had that feeling of eyes on you, following your every move, like a monster was watching you. Waiting for a moment to grab you, snatch you and never give you back to the world. You were getting paranoid, dreaming of hands tearing you apart and rebuilding you anew like a fucked up Frankenstein’s creation. Someone was choosing parts of you that pleased them and throwing the rest out - like it was trash, like it didn’t make you who you are.

Maybe you should’ve listened to your consciousness, an animal part of your brain telling you to run and never look back. But you were so lonely, isolated from the entire world. That’s why when your friends asked if you wanted to go out this Friday you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You got yourself all dolled up, covered your body in little specks of glitter and wore nice underwear, hoping to get laid.

It was supposed to destress you, make your muscles finally relax and release the pressure. You would have taken a nice boy or a pretty girl into the back alley and let them do sinful things to you. You would have relished in the embarrassment that definitely would’ve come the following morning and moved on with your life.

Instead the moment you arrived you felt like you were about to be stabbed at any moment. Like you walked into a trap, or a mouth of a horrendous beast, it’s jaw ready to shut down. Your first thought was that those were only nerves, after all it’s been a while since you were in a place like this. So you drowned yourself in cheap booze, taking shot after shot to your friends delight.

Now you couldn’t even say where you were and what was happening to you. You could hear music all around you so you must be still at the club, dancing bodies all around you. It was getting hard to breathe, and you felt yourself panicking until hands embraced you from behind, locking onto your hips and pulling your back into the chest of a stranger.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Whispering right against your ear brought you back to earth enough for you to realise your entire body was moving with the stranger, dancing suggestively. Lips moving the stranger, began sucking on your earlobe gently, taking it into his mouth, tongue coming out to play.

Your breath hitched but you didn’t move away, your vision getting cloudy with pleasure. You could feel something hard and warm against your ass when the stranger made your hips swing more aggressively. Your hands immediately flew behind you to wrap them in his hair. It was short and soft, a little wet from the sweat thanks to the atmosphere in the club. You pulled hard to get him away from your ears. His head went obediently, following your hand and you could feel his chest shaking with uneven breaths, a whimper catching on his lips.

Your mouth quirked into a satisfied smirk. You went out today, expecting to find yourself at someone’s mercy in bed - men often tended to prefer domming instead of bottoming and it was hard to find a girl brave enough to follow you home these days, you supposed it was because Gotham was less safe for women than your hometown. It was just your luck that somehow you danced right into a man’s arms you could probably break enough to have some fun.

Pleased, you kept one of your hands in the stranger’s head, twisting strands of his hair. Your other hand travelled down his chest, pulling on one of his covered nipples, while he rutted against you. Turning your head enough to lick his bobbing adam's apple, your fingers finally reached their intended destination and you quickly opened his belt, ready to feel your prize up. His hands gripped your waist tighter, to the point of pain. A weak sob catched your attention and your back stiffened. Fuck was he crying? Did you do something wrong?

You brought his ear close to your lips so he could hear you speak despite the loud music and other people moaning.

“Do you want me to stop, baby?”

The sobs got louder and you tried to move away from him. Horny or not that was not something you wanted to deal with, no matter how ecstatic his cries made you feel. But his hands didn’t let you move far away, their hold on you unrelenting. He nuzzled his face into your neck before nipping you with teeth and you trembled in your core. It seemed to finally calm him down enough to speak.

“Sorry, it’s been awhile since someone took care of me”

He guided your hand into his pants and his boxers so you could feel how hard he was. You squeezed him and tugged your hand up and down a couple of times before stopping at his tip to gather precome. He twitched so wonderfully against you, whole body trembling with desire and in the corner of your eye you could see his mouth parted around his fist that previously gave you permission to touch his warmth. Poor boy, you were just getting started and he already was so overwhelmed. You purposely didn’t stop dancing to the music, your ass making circles to ground down hard on him.

Your hand was cramping from the uncomfortable position and you knew your neck would hurt tomorrow from nuzzling it against the man’s neck where you licked, bitten and sucked marks into it. You caught a hint of blue in his teary eyes when your gaze locked with his and gave him your best smile, with your teeth gleaming in the club’s lights. He was close, you knew it from the way he humped your fist more aggressively, movements lacking precision. You laughed at his clear desperation, already deciding what you were gonna do with him. How could you refuse this boy, when he was serving himself on a silver platter for you?

You stopped touching him, taking your hands off his body and he whimpered like a kicked dog, scratching you in protest. You decided to punish him for it later, when you got him naked under you, at your mercy with no way to run away. But that was a thought better saved for later - he seemed pretty lost in his head, likely to hit subspace soon and you needed actual consent before taking him anywhere. So you arched your back to make it easier for him to hear you.

“Your place or mine baby? Ohh and I will need to put a name to this pretty face”

That seemed to wake him up a little, clarity returning to his eyes.

(They scared you for a minute, they were so dark and calculating, like he was getting ready to strike you and was only waiting for the perfect moment)

“Mine, I can drive us there. And my name is Tim”

You raised a brow at him - he was definitely drunk, a pink blush covering him from his ears to down his collarbone before disappearing behind his shirt with its two buttons opened. But you were so boozed yourself that it didn’t occur to you to say no, you only nodded your head and focused on refixing his belt.

You completely missed his dark smile, much more dangerous than yours. That night you went home with Tim Drake, thinking you were the one holding power in your little dynamic. You didn’t tell your friends where you were going and with whom, too horny to remember their existence, your brain and memory foggy. They will spend the rest of the night looking for you before giving up, sure you will call them in the morning and they will scream at you for being too reckless.

But you call them in the morning, nor will you call them a day after. You will never call them again and no matter how many times they will call GCPD you will never be found, your missing person case buried under countless others. They will inform your parents that Gotham swallowed you and they can only count on it spitting you out in pieces or your body showing up in Gotham’s Harbour.

Tim walks you into the night, to your new home giddy with excitement. He can’t believe his luck, that you willingly walked right into his life. He thought he would need to force you, drag you kicking and screaming into his bed but turns out you were just as eager as him to start your new life together. His eyes stray from your face illuminated by the street lights to your back and the curve of your waist, he can’t decide which place would be better for your mark - yours and his. You see Tim really can’t afford to wear a wedding ring, it’s too recognisable, too easy to lose. But a scar burned or cut into his skin? That’s something he will never lose, that will stay with him forever. He will let you plan the design with him - couples chose the wedding rings together, don’t they?

A/N -> Wow this was a ride, a whole 5k of words of Tim being a crazy freak and reader matching him too much for their own good. I tried to make them as gender neutral as possible but if I failed I am sorry 🫤 Special thanks to the discord server Yael created, @mishkradetsa and @this0user0is0a0atar who helped me brainstorm how reader can insult Tim’s Red Robin costume. I don’t know when or if I will make a part two of this but I definitely plan on writing that Tim Drake fic with branding in the future

+ I am only human and this fic was not beta read so there are definitely mistakes here, please don’t point them out 🙏

[nxtaliaistyping]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OELASE PELzerPLEADR PLEWSE PLAS PLEASR MORE P LINKS WITH BATFAM😭😭😭😭😭 I ENERRIY YINFN$.,,, I MEED IT I NEED IT

Batfamily | p links part three

(Gotta be logged into Twitter for links to work)

Nsfw 18+, had lots of requests for various members of the batfamily so I’m combining them all, part one and two

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Bruce Wayne:

Says he wants you to be loud when he fucks you in a hotel to keep up his playboy image…but really he just loves to hear you

In his fancy car

He’s huge…but that’s expected

One time when Alfred took a rare day off, you wanted to cook dinner for the both of you…and Bruce loved the image of you more than he should have

When he caught you sunbathing in the garden

Dick Grayson:

Yeah he’s defo the type to play chase atlantic on his speakers while you’re both at it

He offers you a massage…

Blow him when he’s had a bad day

You’re the one who kept making comments about how he’d be ‘such a great dad’…are you surprised this is how you ended up?

When the tabloids took pictures of Bruce Wayne’s eldest buying this in a sex shop, he was trending on Twitter for days

Jason Todd:

Loves fingering you like this, so he has full access to watching your twitching hole

Loves an alt girl

He’s got big hands, and he loves to just see the size difference

This is so him, he takes pleasure in your pleasure

Has you hold your cheeks open so he can see just how big he is compared to you

Tim Drake:

sub tim sub tim sub tim

He just thinks you’re soooo pretty in a skirt!! He can’t help it!!!

Sometimes he’s in a rougher mood

This screams Tim vibes honestly

You film this, and send it to him when you want to tease him while he’s away

[tsunaso]

hiii ur red hood fic really opened my third eye like it was scrumptious !! but may i request tim drake with a bimbo/himbo reader (gn or whatever u prefer !!) who is tired of people thinking that they're the submissive one in the relationship by the media (doesn't help that tim likes to be a brat and feed into the rumors) so they take it upon themselves to put him in his place ! yummy brat taming mmm

“LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!”

pairing. Sub!brat!Tim Drake x Top!himbo!male reader

synopsis. Tim Drake has the internet fooled—he’s got everyone thinking he’s the one in charge, And you? The soft, golden retriever boyfriend who carries his bags. It’s cute. Until Tim starts leaning into the act just a little too hard. Now it’s time to remind your baby boy exactly who’s in charge—and shut that bratty little mouth the only way he’ll learn. — 4.6k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, brat taming, blow-job, soft dom, hair pulling, power play, dumbification, overstimulation, choking, light degradation, spanking, praise kink, subspace, name-calling (slut, baby boy, etc.), aftercare, Tim is a little menace <3

Tim Drake had been smirking all damn day.

It started small—barely-there glances during the morning interview, the casual way he leaned into your side when the camera panned your way. But it escalated. Fast.

By the time lunch hit, the internet was already eating it up. A now-viral clip of Tim sitting in your lap at last night’s gala, fingers twirling lazily through your hair while he whispered something into your ear. The caption? "tim got that man wrapped around his finger 😂😍"

You weren’t mad.

You knew what you looked like next to him—six foot something, soft-voiced, sweet to a fault. The golden retriever boyfriend. And Tim? Sharp suit. Sharp eyes. Sharper mouth.

Of course they thought he was the one in charge.

But Tim knew better.

“You’re really gonna let them think that?” you asked, sometime after dinner, when he curled up on the couch beside you, phone in hand and that same smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Think what?” he asked, too innocently.

You narrowed your eyes. “That you call the shots.”

Tim didn’t even look up. Just shrugged, thumbs still tapping the screen. “Well. I mean. Have you ever said otherwise?”

You stared at him.

He smirked wider.

“I’m joking,” he added, too quickly, slipping the phone into the pocket of his hoodie. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Tim climbed into your lap again, just like he had in the video. He settled in like he belonged there—like you were his throne—and looked up at you, all lashes and mischief.

“I mean,” he said, voice low, “you don’t exactly correct people when they say I keep you in check.”

You arched a brow. “Because I think it’s funny. You, keeping me in check? Baby, you cry when I change the Netflix password.”

“Okay, that was one time. And I was stressed.”

You leaned in. “You pouted for three days.”

“I missed my show!”

Your hands found his waist, big and warm and just a little firmer than before.

“And now you’re feeding into it,” you murmured, tone dipping, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. “Retweeting the edits. Dropping quotes in interviews. Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, too fast.

“Like you want me to prove you wrong.”

That shut him up.

His breath hitched.

And when he met your gaze again, the smirk faltered just enough to tell you everything you needed.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, light and sweet.

Then you whispered, “Upstairs. Now.”

Tim didn’t move right away. He blinked up at you like he hadn’t expected you to actually say it out loud.

You arched a brow. “Did I stutter?”

He swallowed. “No, sir.”

God, he was such a fucking brat. You loved him.

You stood, tugging him up by the hand. “Then go.”

He turned, smirking again—but quieter this time—as he walked. And you let your eyes drag over the way his hoodie hung too loose around his waist, the curve of his ass in those smug little tailored pants.

You followed him up the stairs. Watched him slow at the bedroom door, as if debating whether to keep the act going or not.

He stopped just inside the room and turned. “You sure this isn’t about your ego?”

You tilted your head. “You sure you want to test me?”

Tim stepped back, slow, walking toward the bed. “I’m just saying… all those edits aren’t wrong.”

You stalked in after him.

“You mean the ones where I’m apparently your soft little boyfriend who gets flustered when you hold my hand in public?”

“Mm.” He sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you. “I mean, you do blush kind of easy.”

You stepped between his knees. Let your hand curl into the collar of his hoodie and tugged him up, just a little.

“I blush because you’re cute,” you said, lips brushing his. “And also because I’m thinking about shoving my dick so far down your throat you forget how to spell your own name.”

That broke something.

Tim’s smirk cracked.

You pushed him back onto the bed, gentle but firm. He landed with a little oof, arms spread, eyes wide.

You pulled the hoodie off. Tossed it to the floor.

Then crawled over him, bracing your arms on either side of his head.

“You think you’re in charge?” you murmured, voice low. “You think you can keep running that mouth, posting those captions, letting people think I’m the one getting fucked?”

Tim swallowed. “I mean, technically—”

Your hand closed around his jaw.

Not hard. But enough.

His words cut off with a sharp inhale.

“You’re real bold for someone whose knees shake when I say ‘good boy.’”

Tim exhaled shakily. “...You haven’t said that yet.”

You smiled.

“Oh, baby. You’ll earn it.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You dragged him upright by the wrist and sat down at the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs wide as you pulled him between them. He blinked at you, confused for half a second, until you patted your lap.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh,” you said, gripping his hips and manhandling him across your legs, “I am very serious.”

He squirmed. “You can’t be—this is childish.”

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear as your palm settled against the curve of his ass.

“You wanna act like a brat, baby? Then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

Tim went very still.

His breath hitched when your fingers hooked into his waistband and tugged both his pants and briefs down to his thighs in one smooth motion.

“You should be grateful,” you murmured, smoothing your hand over his skin. “Most people don’t get punished this pretty.”

He made a sound—half protest, half flustered noise—but you didn’t give him time to think.

The first spank landed with a sharp snap of skin.

Tim jolted. “F—fuck—!”

You rubbed the spot you’d just struck, fingers tracing the flush rising there.

“Language,” you said calmly. “Now count.”

Tim hesitated. Then, sullenly: “One.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

And brought your hand down again.

Harder.

Tim gasped. “T-Two.”

“Louder.”

“Two!”

Another slap. Sharp. Deliberate.

He arched off your lap with a hiss. “Three.”

You kept going. Not fast. Not cruel. But hard enough that each strike landed with purpose.

“Four… Fuck, five—!”

You raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Tim froze. “...Five.”

You hummed. “That’s not what I heard.”

He groaned into his arm. “C’mon—”

“No. Start over.”

His breath caught. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I sound like I’m kidding?”

You smoothed your hand over his burning skin again, slow and warm.

“Don’t make me add more.”

Tim growled softly under his breath, but said nothing.

He took a breath.

And started again.

“One.”

Smack.

“Two.”

Smack.

He was breathing hard now. Not from pain—but from the pressure of it. The control. The way you wouldn’t let him wriggle out with sass or sarcasm.

You felt him twitch every time your palm landed, felt the slight tremble in his thighs. His hips had started to subtly shift with each strike.

And his cock—trapped between his stomach and your thigh—was getting hard.

You grinned.

By the time he reached “Eight,” his voice was cracking.

“...Nine,” he whimpered, burying his face in the sheets.

You held still. Let your palm rest on the warmth of his ass.

“You sure about that number, sweetheart?”

He sniffled.

“Yes—Nine, I swear.”

“Mm.” You gave it a moment. Let him breathe. Let him sweat.

Then delivered the final blow—firm, with your hand curled slightly to catch the same spot as before.

“Ten.”

Tim’s voice was raw. “T-Ten.”

You hummed in approval. Ran your hand down his back.

“Good boy.”

He shuddered.

The words hit harder than the spanks.

You leaned over him, letting your mouth graze his shoulder.

“Now,” you murmured, “maybe you’re ready to earn a little more.”

Tim stayed there a moment too long after the tenth strike. His head was down, cheek pressed to the sheets, hips lifted like he wasn’t quite ready to move—like the weight of you across his back had melted him into something obedient.

You rested your hand on the curve of his ass again, rubbing gentle circles into the pink skin.

“Look at that,” you said softly, fingers dragging down the side of his thigh. “Didn’t even need to tie you down.”

Tim made a sound—something caught between a scoff and a sigh. “You’re acting like this was your idea of mercy.”

You chuckled and leaned in, letting your chest press to his back, breath warm against his neck. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to be mean, you’d still be on the first round.”

He shivered. You felt it beneath you—the slight tightening of his core, the way his hips shifted just enough to let his hardening cock drag against your thigh again.

“I see the little show’s over,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Where’s all that confidence now, huh?”

Tim groaned quietly. “I hate you.”

You smiled, wide and full of teeth, and kissed his shoulder again.

“No, you don’t.”

You let your hand trail forward, brushing down his stomach, just barely ghosting the underside of his cock—enough to make him jolt, but not enough to give him what he wanted.

His hips jerked forward instinctively, but you pulled your hand away before he could grind against your palm.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, clicking your tongue. “Not until you ask.”

Tim twisted just enough to look at you over his shoulder. His hair was a mess, cheeks red, lashes wet. His glare didn’t have half the heat it usually did.

“You really want me to beg?”

You tilted your head and let your thumb drag over his lower lip, pressing just enough to part it.

“I want you to be honest. With me. With yourself.”

He sucked in a breath and held it. You waited, still stroking lazy circles on the side of his hip, letting the silence stretch like silk between you.

Then, softer than you expected:

“I want your mouth.”

You didn’t move.

You didn’t answer.

You just kept looking at him—slow, patient, adoring.

Tim swallowed. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again.

“Please.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please what?”

Tim’s lashes fluttered. His hips flexed again, like his body was begging faster than his mouth could keep up.

“Please use your mouth. I—I want you to suck me off.”

You could see the tension in his jaw as he forced the words out, how much it cost him to say them without a smart-ass smile. No games. Just need.

You kissed his spine, slow and reverent.

“There he is.”

Then you flipped him.

Strong hands under his thighs, you lifted and shifted him effortlessly onto his back, laying him out like a gift on the bed. His legs dropped open on instinct. His cock twitched against his stomach, red and leaking.

You settled between his thighs and looked up at him with a grin.

“You want my mouth, baby?”

Tim nodded quickly. “Yes—please, just—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the head of his cock.

“Then you better keep still,” you whispered. “Or I’m starting from one again.”

He whined.

And you licked the drop of pre from his slit like it was honey.

Tim tried not to squirm.

Tried being the key word.

You hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet—just kissed the tip, licked him slow, let your tongue tease the slit until he was gasping—and he was already trembling. His fingers twisted in the sheets, tight-knuckled and white, like he was holding onto something just to keep from falling apart.

You looked up from between his thighs, chin resting lazily on his hip. “You’re shaking already?”

Tim glared down at you. “You’re teasing me.”

You smiled. “I’m preparing you.”

His breath hitched.

“For what?” he asked, voice breaking on the second word.

You leaned forward, dragging your tongue from base to tip, slow and deliberate.

“To get fucking ruined.”

He groaned—loud and raw—and let his head drop back to the bed.

You took your time.

You let your lips part just around the head of his cock, letting it rest warm and heavy on your tongue, your hands bracing his hips down to keep him from bucking. He gasped the moment your mouth closed around him.

“Oh—fuck—”

You didn’t stop.

You went deeper, slow at first, letting the weight of him stretch your lips open until your jaw ached in the best way. Your tongue flattened beneath him, tracing the underside with every pass. You could feel every twitch, every pulse.

He tried to lift his hips again. You pressed down harder, holding him still.

“Stay. Still.”

His voice cracked. “C-can’t—fuck, you’re so—”

You took him deeper.

Tim’s breath choked off halfway through the word.

You swallowed around him, gagged once—deliberately—and moaned around his dick like he was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

He whimpered. “Oh my god—”

You pulled off just enough to speak, spit clinging between your lips and his shaft. You smiled, voice hoarse and low.

“You wanted my mouth, right?”

Tim nodded frantically, his pupils blown wide.

You licked a slow stripe up the side, fingers tightening around the base of his shaft.

“Then fucking take it.”

You dropped your mouth back down—and this time, you didn’t stop.

You pushed deep, let his cock slide past your tongue, past the gag reflex, until your nose was buried in the soft skin of his lower stomach. Your throat clenched around him instinctively. You heard the breath rush out of him like he’d been punched.

“F-Fuck—M/n—!”

You didn’t let up.

You pulled back only halfway, spit bubbling around your lips, and sank down again with more force—deliberately.

Tim was moaning now—long, drawn-out, helpless sounds that echoed off the walls.

You kept choking on him, mouth slick and hot, eyes locked on his face the whole time.

He looked wrecked.

Beautiful.

Totally undone.

“I can’t—I can’t—gonna—gonna—”

You squeezed the base of his dick and pulled off just in time.

Tim sobbed.

His hands reached for you on instinct, desperate, grabbing for your shoulders, your hair, your face. You caught his wrist mid-reach and kissed the inside of it.

“You don’t get to cum yet.”

He looked like you’d just killed him.

“You’re evil.”

You grinned.

“I’m thorough.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You sat back on your heels, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. Tim was panting, chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. His thighs were still trembling.

You tilted your head, dragging your gaze down his flushed body.

“You’re shaking.”

His eyes fluttered. “That’s your fault.”

You laughed, rich and low, and ran your palms up his thighs—thumbs circling the twitching muscles, moving closer to where his cock still throbbed against his stomach.

“No, baby,” you murmured. “That’s yours. You’ve been like this all day, haven’t you?”

Tim didn’t answer.

So you leaned in closer. Let your mouth hover just above his navel.

“You were hard in the car. Hard when I told you to get upstairs. And I bet,” you whispered, dragging your fingers lower, toward his inner thighs, “I bet if I spread your legs right now...”

You paused.

Then pushed.

Tim’s knees dropped open without resistance.

And there—between his cheeks, slick already shining against his hole—you saw it.

You went very still.

“…Timothy Jackson Drake,” you said slowly, voice edged with something between amusement and hunger. “Did you prep yourself before I got home?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just turned his head to the side, cheeks flushing deeper, the tips of his ears bright red.

You grabbed his chin gently and turned him back to face you.

“Answer me.”

Tim’s voice was hoarse. “...Yes.”

Your cock twitched.

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying not to let the groan slip free. But fuck—he really had. He’d done all this knowing how it would end. He’d spent the day riling you up, waiting for you to crack, knowing that when you did, you’d fuck him hard enough to shut that smart little mouth for hours.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you muttered.

His lips curled into a small smile. “Takes one to—mmph!”

You kissed him—filthy, fast, full of spit and the taste of his pre. He moaned into it, open-mouthed, greedy. You pulled back only to let your voice sink into his throat again.

“You really want it that bad, huh? Couldn’t wait? Walked around all day with your hole fucking ready?”

Tim nodded fast, desperate. “I wanted you to make me wait.”

You blinked.

“Yeah?” Your voice dropped. “You like it that much? Laying there, open, knowing I wouldn’t touch you until you earned it?”

He bit his lip and looked up at you from under his lashes.

“I like being your problem.”

You groaned and kissed him again, hand sliding down between his legs, fingers slipping easily through the slick gathered around his entrance.

“You’re not a problem,” you whispered, sinking two fingers into him with no resistance, “You’re a fucking addiction.”

His voice came out wrecked—quiet, needy, breathless.

“Then don’t stop until I forget my own name.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“F-fuck, M/n—too much, too much—”

Tim moaned like he’d lost his mind.

It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t contained. It was loud, cracked, real—the kind of sound that only came out when everything else had already broken down.

You had just pushed into him—slow at first, just enough to stretch him—but the moment your hips met his ass, flush, heavy, full?

He sobbed.

You gripped his thighs harder, pinning them to your sides. He was already shaking, the insides of his knees clenching around your waist like he was trying to keep you close and push you away all at once.

“You’re the one who got ready for this,” you said through clenched teeth, sweat already rolling down your neck. “You did this to yourself.”

Tim was barely listening. His hands were in your hair, on your shoulders, grabbing at your arms like he didn’t know what to hold onto.

“You’re so fucking deep—”

You leaned down until your forehead pressed against his, panting into his mouth as you rolled your hips once, slow and hard. He whined like a kicked dog.

“I’m not even moving yet.”

His whole body jolted when you pulled back and thrust again—harder this time. Sloppy. Loud.

There was no rhythm. No grace. Just slick skin, the sound of your cock sliding into his soaked hole, and the wet slap of your hips hitting his ass, again and again.

Tim gasped, voice high. “Don’t—don’t stop—just like that, just like that—”

“You sound so fucking needy,” you growled, hands sliding under his back to lift him, to pull him in tighter. “Is this what you wanted all day? Getting stuffed so deep you can’t even lie to yourself about who owns this pretty little ass?”

Tim couldn’t form words. His head tipped back, mouth open, voice caught in his throat.

You slammed in again, dragging a scream out of him. “Say it.”

His lips moved, but nothing came out.

So you stopped moving entirely—just kept yourself buried, cock twitching inside him, chest heaving. “Say it, Tim.”

His eyes snapped open. Desperate. Wrecked.

“You,” he croaked. “It’s yours, it’s all fucking yours—please, don’t stop—”

“Good fucking boy.”

You grabbed his legs, shoved them higher, nearly folding him in half, and pounded back in without mercy.

The moan that ripped out of him didn’t sound human.

You drove into him like you’d lost patience—like he needed to feel it in his ribs—and you knew the angle was hitting him dead-on because he kept clenching around you like he couldn’t take it.

His cock was leaking all over his stomach, untouched.

You didn’t reach for it. You didn’t need to.

Not when he was already babbling.

“Fuck—oh my god—yes, yes, right there—M/n, I’m gonna—”

You snarled and leaned down, biting at his neck just hard enough to make him jolt. “You better not cum without permission.”

Tim whimpered.

You could feel it—his whole body was right on the edge. His toes curled. His legs shook. He was crying, soft little gasps mixing with broken moans, eyes rolled halfway back.

“You wanna cum?”

He nodded frantically, face flushed and wet.

You slowed your thrusts, just enough to grind.

“Beg for it.”

His voice cracked. “Please—please, let me—let me cum, I can’t—I can’t hold it—please, sir—”

You slammed into him one last time, rough and deep, and held there, grinding into his prostate with punishing pressure.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Tim screamed.

His cock jumped against his stomach, ropes of hot cum shooting up his chest as he seized in your arms, whole body spasming from the force of it. His hole clamped down around your cock so tight it dragged your own release right out of you.

You didn’t even pull out.

You just buried yourself deeper, groaning as you emptied into him, your fingers digging into his hips, holding him still as you spilled everything inside him.

You stayed there—buried deep, panting against his throat, still twitching inside him as your cm warmed his already-slick hole. He was limp beneath you, chest rising in shallow pulls, lips parted in that dazed little O-shape that always told you you’d wrecked him just right.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull out. Didn’t let go.

Instead, you kissed his cheek, soft and slow, and murmured, “You still with me, baby?”

Tim made a sound. Not a word—just a breathy little whimper that cracked at the edges.

You smiled.

“That’s a yes,” you said gently, brushing your nose against his temple. “Color?”

He nodded once against the pillow. “Green.”

His voice was small. Floaty. Like his brain had drifted somewhere far, and he was only now swimming back toward you.

“Good boy,” you whispered.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his flushed cheeks, tear-slick lashes, and mouth still a little open like he hadn’t remembered how to close it.

“You look so dumb right now, sweetheart.”

Tim blinked at you slowly, like the words were getting stuck on the way to his brain.

You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth.

“You like getting used like that, huh?” you asked, voice soft and low, like you were telling him a secret. “Letting me fuck you stupid? Letting me fill you up ‘til you can’t even talk?”

He moaned again—soft, almost shy.

But you could feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

You hummed and rocked your hips forward, just enough to grind. Not thrust. Just let him feel the weight of you still inside him.

His body jolted like a live wire.

“Sensitive,” you said, smiling as he whimpered. “Poor baby.”

“I—I can’t—” Tim’s words stuttered out. “Too much, I already—”

“I know,” you cooed. “You already came so hard, baby. Made such a mess for me.”

You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, one hand sliding down to his thigh. You traced lazy circles on his skin with your thumb.

“But your pretty little hole is still so greedy,” you murmured, giving a slow, shallow thrust that made his eyes roll. “Look how it’s holding onto me. Like it doesn’t wanna let go.”

Tim keened. His fingers scrabbled at your shoulders, his whole body arching without control.

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “You can take one more.”

He shook his head—but his legs were already spreading wider.

You smiled against his throat.

“I’ll go slow,” you promised, voice velvet. “Won’t hurt you. I’ll make it so good, baby, you won’t even have to think.”

You started to move—deep, slow grinds that made him feel every inch. His walls fluttered around you, overstimulated, raw, and dripping, but he didn’t say stop.

He never did.

“Look at you,” you whispered, lips ghosting over his ear. “My sweet little thing. All open. All mine. Can’t even form a sentence.”

“C-can,” Tim gasped, but it was a lie and he knew it.

You chuckled low and deep. “Okay. What’s your name?”

He blinked.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

You grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

Your next thrust was harder. Not punishing. Just firm. Measured. Intentional.

His whole body jerked.

You kept your voice soft. Sweet.

“You love when I talk to you like this, don’t you?”

Tim was crying again. Quiet, overwhelmed tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

You kissed one. “You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.”

You shifted your angle, pulled one of his legs higher, and aimed a thrust directly into that sweet little spot inside him that made him scream.

His voice cracked.

His cock jumped, untouched.

“You gonna cum again just from this?” you murmured, breath warm against his lips. “Gonna let me fuck your brains out till there’s nothing left in that pretty little head?”

Tim nodded frantically. He was gone. Gone.

“I wanna—wanna cum, I wanna—”

“You need permission, baby.”

“I—I—please—please, let me—”

You slammed in one more time and held there.

“Do it.”

Tim shattered.

He came untouched—again—cock spurting weakly between you, body twitching under yours like he didn’t know how to stop.

You rocked through it, slow and careful, riding out his orgasm until he went limp again, arms wrapped around your shoulders, breathing soft and uneven.

And this time?

You pulled out.

He whimpered when you did.

But you kissed his lips, slow and sweet.

Then you cleaned him—gently, warm cloth and whispered praise, your fingers rubbing soft circles into his hips and arms while he blinked up at the ceiling, too blissed out to speak.

You crawled into bed with him afterward, pulling the covers over both of you, letting him curl into your chest like always.

He pressed his face into your neck and mumbled something soft you couldn’t quite make out.

You smiled and kissed the crown of his head.

“Love you too, baby.”

　　　　　　　　　　　✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You were half-asleep.

Tim was curled into your chest, breath soft against your skin, legs tangled with yours under the blanket. He hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Still twitchy, still sensitive. But content.

You were just about to drift off when the tablet on the nightstand lit up.

You didn’t even flinch at the ringtone—Wayne comms had a specific ping. One that usually meant: “Gear up.”

Tim groaned into your collarbone.

“Don’t answer it.”

You reached blindly for the device, not bothering to sit up. “It’s probably just an update.”

The moment you tapped accept, Dick Grayson’s face filled the screen. He looked sweaty, in uniform, leaning half-out of a fire escape window somewhere across the city.

“Hey, sorry, quick one—Tim are you doing Uptown or should I grab it?”

You blinked blearily, still squinting against the screen glare. “Tim isn’t scheduled for tonight.”

Dick frowned. “Really? I thought Tim was on the rota for North End—”

Then he paused.

And tilted his head.

“…Are you naked?”

You didn’t answer.

Dick’s eyes flicked to the side, squinting.

“Is that—oh my god, Tim?”

You turned the tablet slightly.

Just enough to show the very flushed, very shirtless, and very recently-ruined boy sprawled half across your chest, lips kiss-bruised, neck marked, hair destroyed. His eyes were open but barely.

He blinked once.

Then groaned into your shoulder, trying to hide.

Dick lost it.

“Oh my god. I’m hanging up. I am hanging up right now.”

“You could’ve just called,” you said calmly.

“I thought this was urgent!” he snapped, already fumbling for the end call. “I didn’t know I was about to see my little brother looking like—fuck, Tim, are you drooling?”

“I hate you,” Tim mumbled.

Dick’s cackle echoed even as the screen cut to black.

You tossed the tablet face-down on the nightstand.

Tim didn’t move.

You kissed his hair once and pulled him closer.

“I’ll cover your shift.”

He groaned again. “You better. He’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You grinned against his temple.

“That’s what you get for being a little shit.”

[mychaosflowers]

Batboys and Cockwarming

Dick's cockwarming technique is all about sensuality and intimacy. As he pulls you onto his lap, strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You feel enveloped in his embrace, cocooned in the warmth of his body. A soft, sensual kiss begins trailing along your neck, his lips brushing teasingly over your sensitive skin. His hands roam your curves, slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin beneath.

"You feel incredible." Dick murmurs against your throat, his voice low and husky with desire."So beautiful and perfect nestled against me like this." He punctuates his words with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, letting you feel the hard length of his erection pressing insistently against you.

Dick holds you there, savoring the contact and closeness. But when you start squirming unintentionally, seeking friction from somewhere else, Dick just chuckles softly. "Struggling already?" His hand slips lower, cupping your inner thigh possessively."I think we both know what really needs attention right now..." His other hand continues to massage your shoulder, fingertips tracing circles that gradually become more aggressive.

Jason feigns impatience but secretly thrives on the power he feels during cockwarming. He pulls you onto his lap roughly, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he sheathes himself inside you in one swift motion. The air is charged with tension as he remains still, letting you adjust to his size and heat.

"Stay put." he commands, voice low and gravelly with restrained desire. His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, "I want to feel every inch of you, all wrapped around my cock."

When you try to move, Jason's response is immediate. He growls, fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you firmly in place."Don't even think about it." he warns, his hard length throbbing inside you. "You're mine now, and I'm not done with you yet."

Tim approaches cockwarming with a serene intensity, his actions deliberate and intimate. As he sits you in his lap, his hands guide yours to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Then, with a tenderness that borders on reverence, he begins to ease himself inside you.

"You feel so perfect like this." Tim breathes, his words a soft murmur against your temple. "So warm and welcoming, like you were made for me." His arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him until there's no space left between your bodies.

Tim takes his time settling deep inside you, savoring each increment of closeness. When finally seated fully, he exhales a long, contented sigh, as if he's found his way home after a long journey. One hand slides up your back to cup the nape of your neck, while the other rests on your hip, applying the slightest pressure to keep you still.

"How are you feeling?" Tim asks quietly, always attentive to your needs above his own. But there's an undercurrent of tension in his body, a coiled energy waiting to be unleashed. The way he grips you says he's barely holding back from taking what he wants, what you both crave. And when you shift minutely, the low groan that rumbles in his chest suggests how close he is to losing control completely.

Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"GAME OVER!!"

TIM DRAKE X FEM!READER

What you thought would be a relaxing Friday night playing video games with your lovely boyfriend Tim turned out to be something entirely different. Boss music was blaring in your ears as the sounds of soft grunts and groans escaped your lover's lips. "Pay attention, baby," he mumbles against your ear, nipping it gently. How could you possibly pay attention while he's fucking you so perfectly, his cock slowly moving in and out of you at a gentle pace? The wet sounds filled your ears, along with the sounds coming from the console. "T-trying," you stutter; each thrust made it harder to think and harder to play. You were this close to dropping your controller, but a swift slap to your ass had your body jolting. "Ahh!~" you shivered, biting your bottom lip gently. "Focus," he ordered, taking your hand and making you hold the controller correctly. "You have three potions left and your health is low; you ain't doing too hot, baby," he laughs against your neck. Of course, you're not doing so hot—you're getting dicked down while playing this stupid game. "W-well, if you could actually put some inside instead of doing fuck—" He pushed his cock deep inside, kissing your cervix so sweetly it had you babbling. "Rude~" You could feel that little bastard smirking behind your ear. "Alright, drink your potion and stop using the hammer; it's slow. Use the long sword; more range." He kissed down the back of your ear to your neck. "But I like the hammer; it's cool." He let his cock slip out, then slammed it back in, making you squeal. "O-ok, long sword," you agreed. "Now when he powers up, he's vulnerable, so attack him then." You nodded, taking his advice. "There you go, sweetheart—mmh—there you go." His praise made you tremble as he rubbed your back, slipping his cock deeper into you. "Nghh—fuuuck, baby..." he grinds his hips into you; you couldn't tell if the game was getting harder or if it was him. "Ah—doing so well, baby." You felt his cock twitch inside you.So close to winning, you can't have him distracting you now. "Pay attention, baby," easy for him to say. So close, so fucking close. You bite your lip and your eyes hang low. Fuck, you weren't gonna win. Your face fell straight into his arms, dropping the controller. "Timmy!" He kissed your lips, muffling your words, feeling his hot cum fill you up to the very brim. "GAME OVER." You look up at the screen, eyes half-lidded. You shoved your face into his arms, whining like a sad puppy. Tim lets out a husky laugh. "I'll take it from here."

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

doing some research..

[yoitsjay]

[Frothing at the mouth, fiending, biting]

Brought by the pegging headcanons, and my GOD did you deliver.

Your writing brings all thw sluts to the yard and as a Certified Whore, I'm here to request a kinky! af reader.

[It is not a carnal want, it is a Divine NEED to see these men get OBLITERATED]

Toodles!

~😈 anon

I gotcha hon, order up!

Batfam with a kinky! Reader

Warnings: overstimulation, edging, use of toys, bondage, face sitting, (slight) suffocation.

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Bruce Wayne:

You and Bruce had been together for long enough now to where you had reached the point in your relationship where he was willing to try new things.

One of those things just happened to be letting you take some control in the bedroom.

You started slow with him, obviously you didn't want to scare him off with your freakish nature, which he had seen some of more on one occasion when he's railing into your pussy so hard he broke your bed frame and box spring- or when you’re choking and slobbering all over his cock and end up cumming without touching yourself-

But when he finally convinced you to let go, you did.

Now you were on your knees in front of him, stroking his cock slowly, occasionally squeezing at the base to watch him jolt in surprise and let out a frustrated groan. He was sweating, on the verge of breaking because you had denied him an orgasm twice.

“Please sweet girl-”

“Just one more time Brucie, please?”

You edged him only one more time, before finally letting him cum… but as he did, you didn't stop moving your hand, and his moans went from guttural, to higher pitched, almost sounding as light cries while you refused to pull your hand away from his twitching, red cock.

“Cum for me big guy, three times, to make up for the denial. You can do that for me right?"

And god he tried, he let you work him like bread dough as he twitched and jolded and cried out desperately for you to stop, but to keep going at the same time.

When you were done, you hadn't made yourself feel good, which he clocked as you were gently cleaning the sweat and cum off his body.

“You didn't-”

“It's okay Bruce, I still had fun.”

“No- no no let me- let me make you feel good baby, please.”

And who were you to deny Bruce Wayne?

You couldn't, definitely not with how you tortured the poor guy.

Dick Grayson:

It was spontaneous. You were riding him and like always he was grossly absorbed in the way your tits (or cock) bounced as you rode him.

But suddenly he couldn't move his hands, or touch you, and just as he was about to cum you stopped, and pulled off of him all together. “Wait!” He cried out immediately, struggling against the ropes as he looked over at you with a betrayed expression across his face.

You haven't even said a word and he was begging, tears welling up in his eyes as he bucked his hips up into the air. “nonono baby please not right now, don't do this to me now- I’ve been so good!” He whimpered out, then moaned like a bloody porn star when you finally touched him again, and began stroking his throbbing cock.

He was close.

And you pulled away again.

Dick sobbed, loudly, whining like a toddler who wasn't getting his way… which was true.

He was writhing on the bed, trying to fight the restraints on his hands. “Dick you know the safeword-”

“NO!” He practically shouted with tears in his eyes, looking over at you. “Dont stop-” he whimpered

You just smiled, walking over to him as you cupped his face and kissed him softly, seating yourself back on top of his delicious cock, biting at his bottom lip as he moaned out loudly.

“I wanna see you break that rope Dickie. I wont stop the edging until you do”

Yeah, he broke that rope pretty fast.

Jason Todd:

The rope had been something agreed upon before starting.

Jason laid beneath you, hands ties to the bedposts as you were seated on his face, one hand braced on the wall while the other gripped the bed frame as you rocked your hips against his tongue, moaning as he dove his tongue inside you, and lapped at you like a starved animal, even while restrained, his tongue still worked magic on the areas that needed it most.

Then he felt your thighs squeeze around his head, and your pussy was slotted over his nose and mouth, and you stayed there, grinding down against his tongue, but not moving up, or further down to give him space to breathe.

Again, this had been something you talked about with him. When you rode his face he would always end up pulling you down to actually sit on his face, he asked you to just relax, and sit.

Here you were.

Sitting.

It definitely caught him off guard at first, though your scent and taste was overwhelming to him… and when the airflow started getting cut off, and it was progressively getting harder to breath, he started getting lightheaded.

Then you felt something wet hitting your back. Your eyes widened with surprise and you lifted your hips, hearing him gasp and inhale fresh air as you watched cum continue to spurt from his cock, onto your back or his belly.

“Holy shit, Jason-”

Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, you looked back to him, eyes wide as you noticed the ropes had been snapped, and he had this dangerously hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Your turn.” Was all he practically growled out before his hand was around your throat and he had you impaled on his cock.

Who knew he was into not breathing… Death really did something to him.

Tim Drake:

“Ah! fu-fuckk- Mommy please- please I’m sorry- I’ll be a good boy- I'll be good just let me cum please- please mommy I need it-”

His wails echoed off the walls of your shared penthouse, only to get muffled by the weight of you sitting on his face, his tongue automatically slipping into your cunt as he writhed against the ropes that contained him, his body jerking with every movement of your hand on his cock, shaking with the vibrations of the dildo that stretched his once puckered untouched hole.

Timothy Drake had been reduced to a whiny bitch underneath you, crying against your pussy for mercy, of any kind really.

You had been teasing him for hours… perhaps it was only fair.

You sighed, lifting your hips off his face before climbing off the bed, removing the vinrating dildo, letting out a low whistle when you saw the gape it left behind… and that definitely left a tingle between your thighs.

You then released the ropes and he groaned in relief… Though the need to cum got the better of him as he grabbed you and pulled you on top of him, sliding inside of you with satisfying ease as he buried his face between your tits, tears streaming down his face as he rutted his hips up into you, gripping and kneading at your skin as he let out wails of pleasure until he bucked his hips up into you one last time before stilling, letting out his loudest cry yet before he practically went limp.

“Oh god- Tim?” You called out his name after he wanted to limp against you, you had to hold him against you to prevent him from bumping his head against the bed frame because he just went ragdoll.

“Tim, are you okay? Was it too much? Are you-”

“Can we do this again in a couple days?” His voice flooded your ears, raspy, but clear as day.

And you laughed, kissing him gently as you nodded your head, and began your aftercare routine.

“Sure baby boy, in a couple days.”

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances

Batfam:

BW smut: @ilaiise

DG smut: @ilaiise

JT smut: @ilaiise

TD smut:

[maccreadysmungo]

How the Batboys eat pussy

characters: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne (aged up of course)

mdni

Dick Grayson

Well, as I said in my other post, Dick Grayson is a munch. He eats pussy like his life depends on it.

After patrol, when he’s too tired to fuck? His favourite passtime is to slot himself between your thighs, lapping lazily as he ruts into the mattress.

And you think it’s enjoyable for you? Well, best believe that man is whimpering and moaning into your pussy as he mouths at you like a man starved.

He considers it a personal affront if he doesn’t make you cum at least thrice from his tongue alone, he wants you sensitive and thrashing before he’s fucking you. He definitely prefers you on your back or sitting down with him kneeling before you like the good boy he is, he wants to see your face whilst you coat his in your cum.

And if he thinks you’ve misbehaved? Well then he’s edging you all night until you’re crying and begging, and have earned your release.

Jason Todd

Jason Todd needs to be perfect at everything. He needs to. So, of course he’s good at eating pussy, but, like with everything else Jason does, it’s rough, it’s messy, it has you changing the sheets because they’re soaked when he has you on your back; So when you sheepishly suggest that you sit on his face, for hygienic reason of course, his brain just about short circuits. If he died from suffocation at the hands - or legs, should I say - of your ass and thighs, he wouldn’t be mad.

He’s still messy, his face is positively dripping, he’s coating your thighs with cum and sucking and biting marks into them as he tries to lick them clean, to no avail. He’s got at least two fingers in you whilst he assaults your clit viciously.

He likes 69 best, the feeling of you gagging around his thick cock has him moaning and sucking on your clit so hard you think you’re going to pass out. It’s very rare that he has to tap out, this man can handle a lot, but when he hears you gagging on his dick, feels your tears coating his thick thighs, then best believe he’s tapping your thighs so you lift up and he can catch a breath.

Tim Drake

This man. Oh Tim. This man approaches everything in life like it’s a maths equation he so desperately needs to solve, so he’s experimenting, yeah? He wants to know what you like best, what makes you scream. He’ll have you sat on his face, sat on a chair, he’ll have you in the air with your thighs round his head as he really shows off his strength and holds you upright. You name it, Tim has tried it.

Tim’s personal favourite, however, is having you in his office, or in the batcave, bent over a table. This man is downright filthy once he’s comfortable enough to be hisself round you, so he just loves to have you bent over with his tongue fucking your hole, his nose in your ass while one hand fondles your breasts beneath your shirt - and the other uses a vibrator on your clit. His tie is stuffed in your mouth in a futile attempt to keep you quiet, and he’s making you finish so many times your legs are shaking and your brain is empty, him having fucked you dumb before he even fucks you, and when he’s finally finished abusing your poor pussy?

He’s turning you over with that infuriatingly smug smirk of his, and a teasing, “That feel good baby bird?”

Damian Wayne

Everything in Damian’s life is approached in the same controlling, calculated manner, always stoic and mentally taking note of your reactions, even noticing the ones you try so desperately to hide from him, which is something he takes personal offense to by the way; the first time he catches you biting your lip to stifle a moan he’s pulling away with narrowed eyes and pursed lips and spanking your pussy, whilst tutting his tongue in annoyance.

“Never hide anything from me again beloved, I don’t care who hears it. You are mine and I am yours. Anyone who has a problem with that will have to see to me.” He says sternly, before diving back in and lapping at you slowly, calculated. He likes to draw it out, savour the taste, whilst he fucks two ringed fingers into your hole, scissoring and curling them in the process, and suckling on your clit as he does, bringing you close to the edge only to stop everytime, until you’re begging him like some harlot - and he is all too happy to remind you that is exactly what you are.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Batfamily | p links part two

(Gotta be logged into Twitter for links to work)

Nsfw 18+, was staggered by the amount of notes in part one, so have some more

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Bruce Wayne:

He’s just so strong compared to you

When he’s just about to go out on patrol for the night, he pays you a visit

You said you wanted him to be rougher, so he indulges you

Speaking of you wanting it rougher, that includes more punishments, right?

You surprised him with a maid outfit, turned out he liked it a lot

He initially wanted to cuddle, but you’re insatiable

Dick Grayson:

He loves lazy days when it’s just you and him

Loves a titjob

One of his favourite positions

He’s nastyyy but he’s devoted to you

Demonstrating his strength

Whenever he offers to have a bath with you, you both end up like this

Jason Todd:

He likes to read, he likes when you read too

Sometimes he’s late for patrol because you climb onto his lap, and he can’t deny his sweet girl anything

Risky sex in a car with him <3

Secretly always giddy when you give him a blowjob

On his motorcycle

He’s hesitant to try anal since he doesn’t wanna hurt you, but if you enjoy it…he gets into it

Tim Drake:

He deserves a nice handjob honestly

Tease him!!

Gaming with him quickly turns into him getting desperate

You guys in the kitchen when the manor is empty

Relaxing with him

You offer to shower with him when he gets back home

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

Batboys x reader texts:

Sorry this took so long💔I MESSED UP ON BRUCES😭😭😭IM SO SORRY I DIDNT NOTICE “yes sir.” Is meant to be blue

Bruce Wayne

Jason todd.

Dick Grayson

Tim drake

Damian Wayne

[glamourscat]

Literally love your Tim Drake works 🙏 so good to see him get some hype!!

Can I please request Tim Drake with Gn!reader teasing him about essentially being his sugar baby? Not using him obvi, but like as a broke college student myself, I know he would simply not be able to witness our conditions without stepping in. Idk if he's ever canonically gone to a dorm, but I think explaining the concept of having to wear a "shower shoe" to avoid communal shower fungus would be enough for him to just buy you an apartment for the next 4 years 😭 or looking in the fridge only to see the takeout box, bread, and ketchup combo cause groceries are toooo expensive 😭 The "damn bitch you live like this" meme personified

Sorry this became off-topic ramble-ly lol I just think it's funny how stressed he would be by his partner's early 20's ✨ broke era✨

a/n: when I tell I saw the request and immediately my fingers started writing😭 loved this! thank you so much, I hope it’s what you were looking for <3

cw: slightly suggestive towards the end

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“For the love of—babe?” Tim’s voice rang through your college dorm room.

You looked up from the bed where you were working on some assignments, meeting his eyes as he crouched near the mini-fridge under your desk.

“Yeah, hun?” you said, eyebrows furrowing.

“What in the actual hell is this?” he exclaimed, holding up a few boxes of Chinese takeout and random half-open sauce packets—most definitely “borrowed” from fast food joints and restaurants alike. His face was a mix of shock and genuine concern for you.

“Ah, yeah. That was my dinner yesterday, my lunch the day before yesterday, and my breakfast… yep,” you said casually, shrugging as you went back to your work.

After all, it’s not like you’re the only one in this situation. Sure, you would have preferred to eat a proper meal, but broke students have to survive somehow, right?

“Babe… you are seriously surviving off of scraps? This can barely keep you fed, not to mention the—” he stopped as he looked over at your desk. “Now what in the hell is this?” His voice was slightly high-pitched as he stared at the shower shoes on your desk that you had forgotten to put away before he came by.

“Those? You’ve really never seen shower shoes?” you said with a hint of an amused smile. “Those are shower shoes, Tim. I use them in the communal showers since we don’t have individual ones. To avoid getting shower fungus or athlete’s foot, ya know? Stuff like that.” Your words were so calm, so… like you were used to it.

Tim stared at you with his eyes almost bulging out of his skull, genuinely trying to make his last remaining brain cells understand how this way of living was even possible on college grounds. But more importantly, how the hell were you supposed to live like this for the next four years?

“Where are you going?” you asked, confused, seeing him rush to put his jacket on.

“Put your jacket on. We are going to look at apartments right now. I think I caught something just by thinking of you living here for the next four years, malnourished and worst of all, using communal showers. What if something happened to you? Yeah, fuck that, c’mon” he said frantically, almost dragging you out of your dorm by the hand as you tried not to laugh.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting—”

“No,” he cut you off. His expression was almost comical in how genuinely frantic he was. But, despite that, it was also cute seeing how much he cared for you.

“Tim, I know you’re concerned but, I mean—an apartment is a big thing. I—”

He stopped, turning you to face him in the empty hallway. His hands rested on your waist. “I have the money. You can’t live like this. Let me help my lover, okay? I will still do it, you know that. If not now I’ll gift you an apartment for Christmas since it’s around the corner.” His voice got lower. “Besides, we certainly can’t do anything in here, one moan from me—”

“TIM!” you said, flustered, a small embarrassed chuckle escaping your lips.

“What? It’s the truth. Everyone will be all up in our business…” he whined quietly as he got closer, his soft lips leaving a warm kiss on your neck.

“Besides—” he whispered in your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine, “I can’t sneak in with my Red Robin costume here. And you bet your ass I’m coming over after patrol so we can be together. Soooo, an apartment it is,” he hummed proudly, leaving another kiss, this time a soft peck on your lips. He pulled back with a soft smile that just made you want to squeeze his cheeks for how cute he looked.

“Still, I mean…” you sighed softly. “I feel like your sugar baby, hun,” you said half-jokingly.

“Yeah?” he said with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. “Then that just means I need to spoil my baby more. That’s the bare minimum I can do after all hmm?” He wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close as you two walked off giggling to yourselves like fools, yes, but fools in love.

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