#but mommy is different

[azurexsnake]

I understand the appeal of being called daddy. I too would commit unspeakable horrors for my babygirl if they called me daddy even just once. It would simply be over

[wink-and-whisper]

"I'm okay with it, too .."

[heybiji]

[poetsoflove]

If you're not jerking your baby boy off in front of the mirror and then put your fingers in his mouth, you're doing it wrong.

[wintergrofyuri]

guys please please please can we talk about this i need someone to see the vision i need someoneto listen to me i feel insane. please god. do you see it. do you hear me. please tell me you understand.

kabru could never forget his mother, izutsumi doesnt even know what her's looked like.

[soaps-mohawk]

Do me a favor everyone if you have a good relationship with your mom or a mother figure, give her a hug for me, tell her you love her, show your appreciation for her in some way?

I'm really missing my mom tonight and I'd appreciate it if you could do that.

[konigsblog]

loser König calls his darling mommy while they have sex

cw: mommy issues, mommy kink, könig is aged between his mid-twenties to late-twenties, reader's age is unspecified but thought to be older. MDNI 18+

it's such a könig thing to do. he has mommy issues from never being able to spend time with her due to her always working just to afford to put food on the table. he yearns for affection that an older woman could bring, or at least someone that will accept being called ‘mommy’ during sex.

perhaps he's a couple years into the military, in his mid-twenties to late-twenties. he finds himself drooling over the older woman who works at the library, who spends her time reading up on different books and novels, while könig jerks off to pornhub on the computers. he has a computer at home, he just enjoys the thrill and anticipation of being caught by you, or being scolded, shamed, and punished.

i mean, of course you notice his sickening behaviour, how could you not notice the way he stares at you creepily the entire time with his weeping dick underneath the table, biting his bottom lip to suppress the sounds of his depravity? eventually at some point, he finally convinces you to bend over and let him have a quickie with you, with the promise he'll no longer jerk off publicly in your library.

you accept the deal, bending over and allowing könig to rut his throbbing, large cock into your slicken hole. he chants breathless prayers for more, calling you ‘mommy’ the entire duration, your cunt swollen from his brutal pace, swallowing his inches greedily as he whines and growls.

although instead of jerking off like he promised not to do, you've just become his sex doll and the one he goes to for pleasure, guilt tripping you into giving yourself over every time.

or instead of reader being a librarian, perhaps you meet in a chatroom. you get talking, and immediately könig is very blunt with you, that he wants to call you ‘mommy’ while you whisper filthy words in his ears. shivers run down his spine as his hung cock throbs at the sound of your quiet, hushed, and sultry voice. :(

[pmpknsoup]

[do-not-careissa]

Bruce is beginning to regret letting Damian and Jason spend so much time together.

Individual pics/panels below the read more

[marejuka]

Pls dont bully me, i'll c4m

I knew it was stupid that i told the guy who bullied me for years to " shut the f up"

I knew it was stupid when he asked for forgivness and i accepted.

I knew it was stupid that i got home with him

____________________________________________

...

His left hand was in my hair pulling so hard my back Arched against his hard croch, hands against the cold wall of his room while my nails Dug into some cheap Posters of boxers. I tried keeping my mouth shut but the violent Hits against my ass and sometimes against my ribs made it hard not to cry and plead. "Please stop"my whiny voice encouraged him, i could feel his breath getting heavier. He made me whimper at every spank, the Hits got more aggressive every second. I could feel my knees weaken and embarrassingly my panties get wet. My mind Was full of how i could get out this Situation without him noticeing how arroused i am. I was so busy trying not to let the pain get out of hand and trying to come up with an escape plan that I didn't notice him opening my bra at first.

My breath fell silent when the hits stopped and a big rough hand wrapped around my soft tits, he still had his hand in my hair and made me arch even more against him. His other hand was Playing with my titt roughly. My mouth opened and soft moans escaped it without me Wanting it.His mouth nibbled at the soft flesh of my neck, the outprint of his Member pressed against my round ass, Sexual excitement filled my thin body which made me forget my fear of him. I grabbed at his hair, my voice whiny and full of need for him; " take me..mhmm take my virginity please.. just you ahh" he hummed deeply , his hand still busy with my perky titts. I almost forgot his mean behavior when we were in school

he let go of me and turned me around to force me against the wall, he looked down at my blushed face. Tiny hands rabbed the end of his tshirt, he grabbed them and held them above my head with just one if his hands. His eyes look dark, full of lust and hatred.

" you come with me, you let me degraid you infront of people and now you beg me to stretch your tight stupid hole?.." his voice became weirdly angry at me,the free hand closed around my narrow neck and he immediately pressed tightly " why have you never had a boyfriend? you are So pretty, a great body, a good little girl with good character" his praising made my heart beat faster, his hand around my neck and my wrists gave me a Feeling of being completly defenseless and at his dominant temper" i know why..i know you get wet when im mean, i know you like it that im choking you" i was at first disappointed when he let go of my neck but not long. He pushed his hand under my short skirt into my slip, feeling my wet cunt that has been drenching my tighs " my my your little pssy is just as needy as you have been telling me"

i moand in Respond. His Fingers slid through my wet folds. I bucked my hips into his hand. Finally after alot of teasing, i felt one of his Huge Fingers slowly entering my hole. At first it was just his Fingertip. He groand at my tight Walls that hug his Finger. I tried to keep quite but failed automatically when he entered me completly. He first didnt move, just so he could feel my tight Walls clenching " p-please move i-aah" He immediately pull his finger out so he could ram it back in with force " omg y-yes f-fuck"I wanted to encourage him with my whimpering to be rougher and it worked out. He looked down at me his breath was heavie, his face distorted into a lustful expression "Yea you like getting fucked by me? Fuuck i wish i knew sooner" lips crashed against mine. Thrusts became harder, moans filled his room when his thumb caressed my clit.

I swung my head to side so the tall men had free access to my neck. " ahh oh my aah w-wait not two Fingers its too much" He didnt Listen to my pleas and shoved another Finger in my soaked hole " you can do it stupid little girl, you came with me.. you wanted this! Tell me .. TELL ME" there is the angry voice again. My mind weak from all the degraiding made me submissive, aswell it made me weak that i didnt want him to stop Fingering my cunt, my clit was already swollen.. the familiar Feeling was building up in my tummy. In no Circumstances i wanted him to stop, i would do anything " nhha w-what .. what do you wanna hear sir? Please dont stop i need you i- Aah i do anything " tears rolling down my pretty face. He continued with a dark look on his face

" tell me the truth, why did you never report me?"I look at him innocently, he already knows the truth. He slows down so can answer him

" i wanted you" I got that far, he crached down on my lips while fingering rougher than ever before. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. We kissed so roughly my lips were cracked when he let go so we can catch a breath. My orgasm Was so close, finally he let go of my wrist that were above my head the entire time. Finally i Was allowed to feel him, his muscles flexing underneath his Shirt made me feeling even hotter. "Cum for me sweet stupid girl.." he talked so sweetly that i didnt even noitice his degraiding words, i didnt care even if he called me the meanest words. 3... s-so close 2.. .. " ahh yess sir y -yeess ahh oh my " with loud moans and alot of squirting i came on his hand.

" i hope its clear to you that you are mine now little girl"

I look up at him and just nod

[whimperingforher]

absolutely any kind of touch from your hands is always enough for a good boy like yours to listen and submit.

[poetsoflove]

Letting my baby boy sit on my lap and kiss my neck while I work>>

Him marking me because he's possessive and wants everyone to know I'm his mommy, feeling his lips against my skin, hearing him whine because he wants more attention.

And at the end of the day, if he's a good boy, letting him ride my strap, head buried in my neck, loud moans and whimpers filling the room, his fingernails digging into my skin, biting my shoulder because I told him he needs so be quiet because I need to continue working.

[spoilers-ahead]

okay!! now that it’s not 2am for me, i’m going to post my selkie!jason todd hc’s straight up au apparently! 

(uh. this was supposed to just be a list of hc’s but i got slightly,,,, carried away)

his selkie skin looks like an oversized red hoodie in his human form, and is just warm enough to help him survive new england winters.

when the summer heat becomes unbearable, he slings the hoodie around his waist

alternatively, he just coasts it out underwater. perks of living in a coastal city!

willis todd was a selkie. he used to tell jason stories of what it was like to swim through the big, wide ocean. of how freeing it felt. how different it is, from the smoggy, heavy air of gotham --- different, but both theirs, in their own right.

but to be honest, jason doesn’t remember much about the stories he was told, or really, anything about willis --- he had been in and out of blackgate for most of jason’s life, working for two-face to try and make ends meet, before dying. 

what jason mostly remembers, are the warnings. don’t let anybody know you’re a selkie. don’t let anybody find your skin. they will find it, and they will use it to control you. even decades later, jason would still remember those warnings. 

catherine is the one who teaches him how to swim, who helps him trial-and-error his way into putting his skin on, and learn how to make the transition seamless. 

after she dies, jason spends three months as a seal, to just... exist. forget.   

although jason technically lives on the streets, whenever he can;t find food, whenever he can’t find somewhere warm to sleep, whenever just being human becomes too unbearable, he spends the night as a seal. he ends up spending more time in the ocean, than on land.

that’s not to say he’s very good at being a seal --- he barely knows how to swim, has to learn how to fish the hard way. 

when bruce finds jason stealing his car tires, he marvels over how nice jason’s hoodie is, soft and fluffy even after all of jason’s time on the streets, especially given the condition jason is in, ribs showing from malnutrition, and the worn and raggedy shape of the rest of his stuff.

jason is skittish when he goes to live in the manor, even after a few weeks. he always adopts an expression particularly similar to a cornered wild animal around alfred in particular, alfred, who keeps on trying to take his hoodie away, purportedly to wash it.

alfred eventually gives up on trying to force jason to wash it --- he figures that as jason becomes more comfortable living at the manor, he’ll wind up telling them why he’s so protective over that hoodie, and they can work something out then. 

whenever wayne manor overwhelms jason with how big and how decadently expensive all the decor is, jason runs away, run to the ocean. 

jason doesn’t actually end up telling alfred and bruce that he’s a selkie --- bruce just has a ridiculous amount of motion alarms, which are triggered every time jason ran off. he had followed jason the third night, and saw him transform. 

bruce doesn’t tell jason that he knows, assuming that jason kept this a secret because he didn’t fully trust either of them. he would later learn that he was right in this assumption (a rare win for bruce in terms of emotional awareness)

except jason doesn’t fully trust either of them, even after a few months. bruce impulsively decides to do a few things --- a) tell jason about batman and robin and his crime-fighting secret identity, and b) tell jason he already knows about him being a selkie. 

jason is absolutely bamboozled by the fact that bruce knows, and yet hasn’t tried to take his hoodie to control him, or to stop him from playing in the ocean for a few hours. 

in fact, (under alfred’s encouragement) bruce offers to take him to the ocean during the day, so he can get “a proper night’s rest that a growing young boy such as himself would need”

jason remembers what his father told him, to never trust anyone, never let his guard down. but bruce has known about jason being a selkie for so long, and he didn’t take his hoodie or try anything. of course he can trust bruce. 

and when he tries on the robin costume for the first time, it fits perfectly. just like his hoodie, his second skin. it fits just like magic. 

oh, it’s a little loose in some places, the legacy of dick fucking grayson a little heavy sometimes, but he’ll grow into it. he’ll make himself, if he has to. 

also, jason finds the fact that even though he’s a friggin’ selkie, his callsign is a bird (a robin, no less) incredibly ironic and funny 

being a selkie is actually so useful for vigilantehood. the amount of people who talk freely, openly, and loudly about their drug smuggling plans near the ports is quite frankly, ridiculous.

honestly, towards the end of his robin years, jason remains genuinely surprised nobody catches on to him or his tactics yet. bruce is very proud.  

even though jason is safe, has been safe for three years, and trusts bruce with his life, his skin, and everything, old habits are hard to break. so he has his hoodie on when he goes to find sheila. 

and anyways, he wants to see if sheila is a selkie too. he’s taking biology right now, and they’re learning about punnett squares. jason’s never met another selkie before, other than willis who he barely remembers. there’s a possibility that sheila knows something, anything, so he has to try. 

sheila gets a glint in her eyes when jason mentions that he’s a selkie, tells him that while she’s not one herself, she’s familiar with the myth. she has long suspected that willis was a selkie, she tells him, and she’s glad to have confirmation. 

jason positively vibrates with excitement, can’t wait to ask, to pester his mother (mother!) with questions upon questions until. 

until. 

sheila doesn’t do anything after she gives him to the joker. she just smokes and smokes. and she doesn’t tell the joker about his hoodie, despite how it would have been much easier for the joker to destroy him that way. much more painful too.  

small mercies, he supposes, in between hacking coughs that brings blood bubbling up his lips. 

after he dies, his hoodie is ripped and in tatters from the crowbar, with burns along the edges from the bomb. bruce has to carefully peel it off his body. 

when jason was alive, his magic kept the hoodie in perfect condition, always. even when the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in mud, or dripping sludge from the nasty gotham sewers. 

bruce stares at the same hoodie, blood-soaked and mangled, so incredibly dissonant from how he remembered it on jason, when he was bright, whole, and alive. 

he can’t stand it. the hoodie that was so precious to jason, that was jason, at the core of him, in this state. dirty and ripped and devoid of the magic jason had exuded. 

in a moment of desperation, late at night, bruce asks alfred to teach him how to sew. he doesn’t dare to practice on jason’s beloved hoodie --- instead, he starts with the suits in his closet, grabbing the first one he sees, regardless of price. rips a hole and sews it back together over and over until he perfects his technique. 

and then he washes the fabric gently, using baby fabric cleanser and scrubbing for hours upon hours until the last traces of the deep-set brown stain from jason’s blood washes down the drain.

he painstakingly sews the scraps of fabric back together with a red thread, carefully sourced to match the hoodie to try and make it flow seamlessly like it used to. 

it doesn’t work, not exactly. despite his best efforts, the creases bruce had carefully sewn together are prominent and thick like scars, littering the  soft fabric.

so he gives up. he hangs it over the grandfather clock entrance to the cave in his study. brings it with him every time he visits jason’s grave, because he doesn’t ever want to keep jason’s hoodie away from him, but he also can’t bear for it to get ruined. 

dick visits him. a rare occurrence, these days. 

dick yells at him, as he is wont to do. 

these days, it feels like they spend more time angry at each other than not. dick says that this isn’t right. isn’t fair to anybody, not to alfred, not to himself, definitely not to jason. he rants, jason deserves to be remembered as he was in life, not frozen in death. 

perhaps he is right. bruce is not unaware of the state of violent, cutting stasis he is in, this putrefaction of his life. and he is certainly not unaware of how it is affecting the people around him. dick. alfred. the neighbor’s kid, the one who wants to be robin.   

bruce tries. not for himself, but for tim. for alfred, for dick. even for stephanie brown, who sometimes, when she smirks just right, or says something with just the right twang, he swears he can see jason in her. 

he still can’t bear to put the hoodie away, because jason deserved better than to be forgotten, so he folds it gently and places it in his closet instead. 

he also can’t bear to look at it for very long, so he forces himself to every single day. 

it’s different from the glass case that houses robin’s tattered suit in the cave --- that, is a reminder of how he failed robin. this, this is salt in a constant, stabbing, festering would, reminding him of how he failed his son. 

it was stephanie, that eventually helped him figure out what to do with the hoodie. when she was young, young enough to cry at ripped pants and skinned knees, young enough that her mother hadn’t touched the drugs yet, her mother would dry up her tears, give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before patching her pants up. 

what not many people know, is that before crystal brown set her mind on becoming a nurse, she wanted to be an artist, first. and so she grabs her old set of embroidery needles, and stitched little designs. dogs and cats. stars and planets. tools and gadgets. 

bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, even as stephanie finishes her story. she hangs there awkwardly for a second, stares up at jason’s suit, waiting for him to respond, before shuffling towards the exit of the cave. 

thank you, spoiler, bruce manages to croak out. 

ah, yeah, she says, shrugging lightly while slouching in on herself, any time, boss. she walks out, and bruce watches her go from the reflection on the darkened computer. 

that night, he takes out jason’s hoodie, smooths it out, grabs his threads, and stitches. 

he stitches on constellations, argo navis, for jason’s namesake in the greek myths he had loved so much. a tiny seal, playing with beach balls. little books, with quotes on the sides. a robin, big and bold. 

he tries to make it as true to jason as possible, not just in death and in bruce’s memories, but as he was in life.

jason wakes up abruptly.  

he wakes up in a coffin, cold, alone, and with a gaping hole in his chest. getting dipped in the lazarus pit only made it worse, only made him all the more aware of what he was missing, all the more conscious of it. 

he doesn’t bother trying to learn how to swim with two arms and two legs, instead of two fins and a tail. it doesn’t feel the same. it only reminds him of what he’s lost. 

sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen more often than not, he wonders what would have happened if he still had a hoodie, still could swim. 

if he still was robin. 

and he doesn’t have access to the cave anymore, or to the titan’s tower, or the watchtower, and his memory of the past is still patchy and shitty in some places. 

so in a burst of impulsivity fueled by the person he no longer is, he prints out photos of robin’s costume from the internet and recreates it on his own. 

if his skin is gone, then fine. fine! he’s perfectly perfunctorily aware that nothing about this resurrection of his is natural. if he doesn’t think too much about it, he’ll be alright. his hoodie, his skin, that was something he was born with, a birthright that died with him. 

but robin, robin was something that he helped shape. robin was something that he worked for, changed himself for. 

and the makeshift robin suit --- it doesn’t fit him, not anymore. no, it feels wrong, like a child playing with their parent’s suit. or --- he realizes, perhaps more accurately, like an adult realizing they no longer fit in their favorite clothes. 

and --- and --- what was the point of it all? what was the point, of trying to make bruce proud of him, of getting dick’s approval, of trying to futilely save people over and over again from the same gallery of supervillains who keep on escaping from prison?!

and what was the point of carving out a space for himself if the joker was just going to beat him out of it, and if tim drake was going to insert himself in the hole he left behind?

and then the next thing he knows he’s in titan’s tower hitting tim drake over and over again because who let him? who let him take jason’s role as a son, as a brother, as a hero? how dare he?

but when he’s slit tim’s throat and torn the ‘R’ off his chest, jason doesn’t feel any better. the robin suit still doesn’t fit. his hoodie’s still gone. 

he’s starting to think it never will, not again. 

sometimes, when he gets tired enough to let his mind wander, he wonders what happened to his suit. 

he’s pretty sure he died with it, so either the hoodie is with the joker, batman, or... gone entirely. (it’s not like they found willis’ skin after he died. maybe selkie skins just disappear in a cloud of sea foam once they die, or some little mermaid shit like that)

it’s a cold comfort, that nobody can manipulate him now. nobody can control him --- not even batman. 

(bruce had thought about it. when he first had his suspicious regarding who the red hood was, before he knew there was any trace of the son he once had left. he thought about using the hoodie, using jason’s selkie skin to coerce him, at least to stop murdering people, to stop hurting their family.) 

(he would never go that far, in retrospect, or at least, he doesn’t think he could ever. to do that to jason, betray his trust so thoroughly and completely... but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t consider it.)

bruce reflects on this as jason reveals himself, the joker tied up at his feet with a gun pressed to his head, and venom spitting from his son’s mouth.  

but when he lifts the batarang to hit jason’s gun, or wrist, or anything that’ll force him to drop the gun, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

and when he throws the batarang, he knows a millisecond after he’s let go, that he’s miscalculated the ricochet. 

so when jason escapes that night, bruce knows he’s fucked up. 

jason goes off the maps, completely. bruce doesn’t know where he is, if he’s safe, if he even made it out of the explosion that night. 

it takes weeks. weeks for bruce to track jason down, from meticulously documenting the dropped threads of where the red hood was pulling strings in the gotham underworld behind the scenes, to tracking security cameras with facial recognition. 

once bruce manages find where he’s staying, make sure he’s safe, he knows what he wants to do. and, he knows what he needs to do. 

jason gets a package in the mail, five weeks after his disasterous meeting with batman and the joker. unmarked, unsigned, no return address. 

when jason opens the box gingerly and carefully, he holds on to his skin for the first time in years. and then, and then, and then --- something right slots into place. his fingers brushed gently over the tiny spotted seal he knows he used to look like, the books he remembered ranting to bruce about for hours on end. 

the robin, on the top left, over his heart, big enough to have changed him, yet small enough to not define him. 

it’s not perfect. it doesn’t even fix anything, not entirely. he still fights with bruce most times he sees him, tries to punch dick in the face, steadfastly ignores tim and steph the entire time. 

but it’s something. it’s something, and the next time nightwing, batman, spoiler, and robin fight a gang on the docks, the red hood gives them a helping hand before jumping back into the ocean and swimming away.

fin!

wow this got long

[rodolfoparras]

Daddy kink this sir kink that what about Price with a mommy kink who keeps it tightly under wraps until you happen to discover it one day by calling him mommy.

Cw: mommy kink, feminization, 18+

Pairing: Price x Top Male reader

TF141 had been discussing Price’s habit of taking on the fatherly roll in his squad, to which you had jokingly corrected and said he’s more like a mother if anything, which had the rest of the group nodding in agreement.

You hadn’t paid a close eye to Price’s reaction, already moving onto discussing something else but he’d frozen in place unable to think about anything else except for the familiar way his body reacted to the name.

Up until that day you and Price had taken things slow, seen what he’d be comfortable with doing in the bedroom, but as soon as you had called it a night, and stepped foot inside your shared bedroom, you’d been pushed against the wall, Price’s lips crashing onto yours while desperately trying to take off your clothes.

“Jesus Christ” You grunt out feeling your cock stir in your pants “What’s gotten into you hm ?” You say nipping at his neck before leaning away so he can strip you off of your shirt and jacket “ Not that ah- not that I’m complaining” you continue to say watching the way his eager fingers go to unbuckle your belt.

However just as he’s about to take off your pants you halt him in his step, hearing the way a strangled noise tumbles past his lips.

“What do you want pretty hm? Need you to use your words” you say and just by looking at him you could already tell what he was thinking with his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace pupils blown wide and face flushed red. However you still needed a verbal confirmation from him before you did anything.

“Want you to fuck me” he says voice breathy and strained before he shuffles uncomfortably in place “and want you - want you to call me the word you said before” he says feeling neck creep up his neck ears and cheeks stomach churning as he fiddles with your jeans.

“Pretty?” You say, face pinched in confusion.

“Want you to call me mommy” he says, voice low and finally gathering the courage to peer up at you through his lashes.

“This what you wanted baby? Huh? Want me ah- want me to make you a mommy is that what you want?” You say, with his legs slung over your shoulder, delivering shallow thrust with your hips, cockhead continuously grazing his prostate.

“Yes - yes yes please pleaes” he slurs out, head trashing side to side while erratically stroking his cock.

“Want me to fill your pretty pussy up hm baby? Have your cunt leaking with my cum” you say through gritted teeth feeling yourself inching closer to your release.

“Yes yes, please make me a mommy” and that’s all it takes for the both of you to tip over the edge, ropes of cum spurting over both your abdomens while you cum inside him.

[pweetylittlecunnie]

one of my biggest fantasies is getting picked up while being fucked. imagining clinging onto someone while they hold me up by my legs and pound into my cunt like a toy...

[interviewiththevicious]

WHAT