#jason oc

[dj123vlair]

My Cuphead oc Jason finally got a redesign (feel free to draw him, but always credit me)

[pigeonwhumps]

Routine

Finding Safety masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 4: Rescue

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

Pet thinks about her weekly routine, and eventually, with the help and encouragement of a nice delivery man and his cousin, makes a change to it.

3.3k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, shock collar, implied rape/non-con, beating, dehumanisation, brief whumpee thinks caretaker is new master (at the end), mention of scarification, mention of public humiliation, mention of starvation

Pet's weekly routine doesn't change much. Every day, she wakes up in time to make Sir's breakfast (three rashers of bacon, two fried eggs, two slices of toast, and exactly eight ounces of orange juice) and get him ready for work. Sometimes, if she's good, he'll give her a pat on the head before leaving.

Sometimes, if she's not, he'll leave her with shoulders mottled and aching.

Then she has to clean the house until it's spotless, and everything's in the correct position. There's not a speck of dust to be seen once she's finished, not an object out of place.

On Mondays, the shopping's delivered. The doorbell is connected to her collar, the low shock making sure she knows it's been pressed, but the delivery man doesn't ring it anymore. She's not sure why.

It's always delivered by the same young man. He's nice, talks to her like she doesn't have a collar around her neck. Brings the shopping all the way into the kitchen when he doesn't have to. His name is Mr Jason.

One day, he hands her a slip of paper with a phone number on. Tells her that if it ever gets too much, this life, to call someone called Sandy on that number.

She's okay though. Why wouldn't she be? This is the life she chose.

She puts the shopping away perfectly, everything in its place, exactly where it should be. Exactly where Sir requires it.

She sorts, irons and stores the laundry twice a week, hers (maid outfits, which according to Sir's friend are fashionable) hanging in a small closet in his room. Everything that Sir gives her is in her closet. She doesn't have much – a pet bed, clothes, disciplinary tools that make her shiver to look at them so she tries not to unless it's absolutely necessary – but it's everything she needs. Sir takes care of her every need, she doesn't need anything of her own.

Sometimes she bakes. Sometimes she cooks. Sometimes she does neither. Sir doesn't always have a plan for his meals, and on those occasions, Pet knows she has to wait until he's home, until she can receive clues or instructions on what he wants. She always bakes on Thursdays, so he can have enough homemade snacks to sustain him throughout the week.

Once the day's chores are complete, she has to clean herself. That's important. Even if she will undo the work after Sir gets home, she has to be clean and presentable and smell nice for him when he does. Everything has to be perfect.

She washes herself, every nook and cranny, carefully scrubbing between her fingers and toes, making sure to use the strongly-scented soaps and conditioner that Sir likes so much.

Ten minutes before Sir is due to arrive home, Pet's shock collar goes off. It's a low setting, just to let her know Sir needs her. She inspects the house, making sure that everything's in its proper place. No room for sloppiness here.

Five minutes later, it goes off again. She starts the coffee maker. It takes five minutes to brew, and then it will be ready for her to pour him a cup when he gets home. She has to turn it on at exactly the right moment, his coffee mustn't be too hot or too cold. Then she kneels beside the front door, ready to welcome Sir home.

The first thing he does, once he's drunk his coffee, is inspect the house, and her, thoroughly. He strips and examines every part of her, and her clothes, and then does the same with the house. Every speck of dust missed, every part of the bathroom that isn't sparkling enough, every packet that isn't in exactly the right place, it all gets tallied up. Everything wrong with her, too, a slightly loose hair ribbon, a drop of damp left between her toes, a minute incorrection of posture, that all goes down. That's the number of hits her shoulders will take. Punishing her is, apparently, Sir's work de-stressor. That's what he said to his friend once, and Pet remembers. She always remembers. She has to, she can't afford to make mistakes.

The tally goes down on the big chart, too, along with anything unusually good she's done, in preparation for Sunday.

That evening, as every evening, she is at Sir's beck and call, serving his every request. Her collar vibrates frequently as he calls on her often, sometimes for drinks, food, company... and sometimes for other things.

Pet's collar is like a bell in those old-timey British films Sir likes to watch, she muses sometimes. It calls her to service. Only the collar is silent, and it hurts, too.

Silent. Silent like she is. Silent like she has to be, because that's the way Sir likes it. Unless Sir requests otherwise, of course. Silent movements, silent chores, silent as a mouse. Only squeaking for his amusement when her punishments become entertainment.

On Monday and Wednesday evenings, Sir takes her into his bed and has sex with her. He's talked about experimenting, he's used a few toys, but nothing major. Not yet.

She's not sure how she feels about that idea.

On Fridays, Sir works from home. She doesn't spend all day doing chores then, instead she waits on him, bringing him drinks and snacks and papers, whatever it is he needs when he calls for her. Stress relief, sometimes. If she's lucky it just involves roughly petting her, but it's often more than that. She's used to the taste by now, though, it's okay. Whatever Sir wants is what she wants. Even if it leaves her black and blue and red, or with a sour taste in her mouth and an aching jaw.

Her neck hurts the most on Fridays, shivering with phantom shocks for hours more that night, after even the mice have settled down and gone to sleep.

On alternating Saturdays, Sir goes out with his friends, or they visit each others' houses. Some of them have pets too. Some just like to play with her. She doesn't like it quite so much.

Her least favourite game is when they take the pets out someplace public, and she has to stay perfectly still and silent, perfectly secretive, as they do what they like to her. The first pet to cry out or be otherwise noticeable loses.

She doesn't like to lose. That's never good. Sir doesn't like it at all. It's especially bad if a member of the public notices, says something. She hates it when that happens.

Then come Sundays. A lazy lie in for Sir with plenty of sex, and then the charging of the three sets of shock collar batteries that have been used that week. That's when she gets her punishment.

It could be a reward, of course, in theory, if she made up enough good points on her tally, but she could never do that. She's not certain it's even possible, or if Sir rigs it. He might.

Sir has used lots of different punishments in the past. Stress positions, beatings, small cuts in sensitive places. Nothing that will scar.

The only scars she has are the section of her right shoulder that Sir and his friends use as an ashtray, and Sir's initials on her inner thigh, where no-one else can see. The latter, he called scarification, seeming very pleased when he did it.

She's not pleased. She thinks she should be, but she isn't.

Sir has a special wipe-clean room for Sunday punishments, in the basement, that she has to clean until it's spick and span. That's what he says, spick and span.

His current favourite punishment is to tie her spread-eagled to hooks in the floor and ceiling, upside-down and naked, and just beat on her with whatever's to hand. Sometimes, it is his hand. She's had broken bones a few times, although Sir usually tries not to do that. He says bruises make her look prettier, so they're fine, provided they can be mostly covered up. He tries to avoid them in the places her clothes won't cover.

Bruises are socially acceptable on pets, although not too many. Apparently.

Then, once the batteries are charged and the shock collar is back on, it's time for a film and a takeaway. If Pet's lucky, if she's affectionate enough, she'll be hand-fed the leftover crusts and crumbs. Otherwise, it's her usual pet food, ordered on a subscription from somewhere she can't read the logo of. Enough to keep her fed, bones peeping through the skin like they should in fashionable pets. That's what all the magazines show, the ones that Sir flicks through and then discards with a snort. But there's no variety, and sometimes she finds herself wishing that there was.

She ignores the look of pity the delivery man gives her as he hands over the bags of warm food. She always does. She's as wide-eyed and pleading as possible with Sir, so much nudging affection, and maybe, hopefully, this time she'll be allowed some of his tasty leftovers. Maybe even tasty food of her own, one day.

Sir's friend petsat once, and she got a pet ice cream from his girlfriend then. It was like a cloud on her tongue.

A cold cloud. Maybe clouds are cold, though, it's not like she's ever been up there.

Sometimes she daydreams about having an ice cream again.

She daydreams about clouds, too. She likes to watch them skud past. Shape them, mould them, name them. Pretend they're something they're not.

Sometimes she feels like she's pretending too. Waiting for a gust of wind to blow her out of this life and into another.

This is the life she chose. But she isn't sure she'd choose it again.

One Monday, Mr Jason arrives with the shopping. He looks at her, wearing a posture collar over her shock collar because Sir thinks she isn't good enough, bruises peeking out from under the sleeves and skirt hems. Everything aches, she could barely move for aching that morning, bruised stiffness setting in. She's one wrong step away from being sent to a retraining centre, though, and regardless of that she'd have to do her job, so she goes through the motions of it all.

And then there's a knock on the door, and her careful posture, the way she's holding herself to keep the weight away from the worst pain, almost breaks.

Mr Jason takes one look at her. Just one look, catching so much, and he says two words.

"Call xem."

So Pet does. After Mr Jason's left, she calls, doing her chores at the same time. She can't read the numbers but she copies the shapes into Sir's landline. They speak for hours, as Mx Sandy works out a plan.

Her beating that evening is worse than normal because of her inattention during the call, with a metal and leather cane as Sir orders her to select the weapon that will cause the most pain without scarring or breaking anything. She obeys, her posture apparently not at its best still. She'll have to work on that then.

The next day, Sir comes home with a yoke and a box of pet cams. He explains that they're so Sir can watch her at work, to see why she's misbehaving so much, and then he can send her to the trainers with appropriate instructions the next time he goes on a business trip. He says that he doesn't understand what's happened, but that her behaviour needs fixing.

Pet thinks that perhaps, if he was a little more careful with his Sunday punishments, then it would be easier for her to behave during the week.

At least she won't have to go on the business trip. She feels sorry for the rental pet he'll undoubtedly get, though.

Then Sir makes her kneel and passes the yoke over her head, fastening it around her neck. The wooden sides sit on her shoulders, draping slightly over the very tops of her arms. It's not too bad like this, but then he fastens weights to it, and she struggles to keep her shoulders at the correct height.

This is to fix her posture. She's going to wear it for the next week and then they'll see how she is. Whether he also needs to spend money on training her in that, too.

The yoke worked on his friend's pet, apparently. DIY posture training. Pet remembers seeing it on him, at Sir's friend's house. It looked like it hurt.

She's grateful that she at least doesn't have to wear it at night. A small shock emits from her collar when it is to go on and off.

She can't read a clock, but she doesn't need to with her shock collar.

Sir's going to install the cameras the weekend after this, when his friend's free to help. Pet calls Mx Sandy the next day, making sure to be very careful with the landline, and xie moves the plan forward a week.

On Saturday, Sir's friends come to visit. Not the camera-installing one, thankfully. They laugh at Pet in her yoke, and hang weights from it and use it as an increasingly heavy table until she collapses. Then Sir, drunk Sir, the worst kind of Sir, breaks a glass on the back of her head, the one that cracked when she fell.

Now her head is covered in cuts and beer and then stinging cuts.

She hates them all. She knew it was coming, they did it to another pet before, but it still hurts. Why can't Sir care without hurting her? Is that the only way to be loved, as a pet?

It seems to take a very long time, but Monday finally comes. Mr Jason arrives at the normal time, his eyes widening when he sees her. She's glad he's not seeing her at her worst, at least.

He helps her put away the shopping quickly, side-by-side, exactly the way she'd do it alone. The longer time frame there is for an investigation into her departure, the better. Then he leads her outside.

They can't leave the yoke or collar here. Both are padlocked on, it would be obvious she had help.

"In here, until we get out of the gates. My cousin's in the back."

He helps her climb into the truck, where she collapses to her knees, the weight suddenly too much. The person who must be Mx Sandy peers out from behind a stack of crates.

"Hi. I'm Sandy. Let me help you get those things off?"

Pet nods, crawling as close as she can, and Mx Sandy meets her in the middle.

"Okay. Let's see if I can pick these locks. I'm going to come around behind you now, don't panic."

Pet nods, and Mx Sandy clambers behind her, fiddling with the locks on her yoke. Xie lifts the yoke off, and Pet's head sags. It feels suddenly weightless, but she's too weary to hold it up.

There's a tiny click and Pet's leather shock collar is peeled away. She swallows hard and doesn't feel the press of soft leather or plastic against her throat. It's strange.

"That's better, I bet. Put this jumper and shoes on. Maid outfits aren't uncommon with pets around here and I don't want people getting suspicious."

Pet nods and shrugs on the knee-length green jumper and trainers Mx Sandy hands her. They're surprisingly comfortable. She pulls down the sleeves until they're exactly even on both sides, and checks that the laces are symmetrical.

As clothes should be.

"Thank you, mx."

"Just Sandy. Ready?" Pet nods again, unsure what she's meant to be ready for, and Mx Sandy knocks hard on the metal dividing them from Mr Jason.

A few seconds later, the lorry comes to a stop, and Mr Jason rolls up the back of the lorry.

"We're walking the rest of the way," explains Mx Sandy– no, just Sandy. She has to be exactly right. She can't make another mistake. "Safer for Jay that way."

He holds out his hand to help Pet out, and she takes it, stepping down as gracefully as she can manage. "Good luck. See you next weekend, cuz."

Sandy makes a face at that. "Don't get caught."

Mr Jason (Jay?) climbs back into his lorry and drives away, leaving Pet alone with Sandy in the large, empty, secluded car park. Xie takes her hand before she can worry too much.

"Let's go. It's not far from here."

Pet keeps her head high as they walk, graceful, elegant. A good pet should always be so. Even, maybe especially, if everything still aches and she's struggling to hold herself up. That's good, it means she still knows how to behave, if she can do that.

They keep walking until they reach a brick house in a nondescript street, and Sandy unlocks the door, leading Pet inside.

There's nobody around, although there's signs of inhabitance everywhere. Clothes draped over doors, shoes piled by the entrance, a whiteboard covered in sheets of paper and pictures drawn in drywipe. She has the urge to tidy it all up before someone gets in trouble for it.

"Dryer's broken at the moment. I'll show you to your room, Tom's out at the moment so it's all yours. I suggest you change and take a nap before we do anything else."

Pet nods, and follows Sandy upstairs. The room is spacious, two single beds lined up neatly opposite each other. One has plain blue covers, neatly tucked, while the other's are a repeating safari pattern.

Pet's not sure what a safari is, or where the headache comes from, but she pushes it away as she has done so many times before.

The blue-covered bed has a neat pile of clothes at the end, and she picks them up, carefully changing into them as Sandy quickly turns xier back. The fleecy pyjamas are warm and soft, covering her nicely but leaving her forearms free. She certainly never had clothes this soft from Sir and she wraps her arms around herself, savouring the lack of thin, scratchy material that made up her usual outfit with Sir.

Pet notices a clock on the wall. That's reassuring, somehow. Maybe Sandy doesn't rely on electric shocks to tell xier pets the time.

"The bed's for you to sleep in. Take a nap for as long as you need, I don't intend on timing you or anything. You must be exhausted."

"Thank you, mx. What are my duties when I wake up?"

Sandy pauses for a moment. "We'll work that out when you're feeling better. Nothing more than anyone else here. One thing I'd like you to start thinking about is your name. I want you to choose one you like, rather than Pet. Is that okay?"

Pet nods. She's going to have to keep a close eye on Sandy to choose a name she can be sure xie'll like, but that's acceptable, if nerve-wracking. What if she chooses the wrong name?

Still, she can't disobey.

"Yes, mx."

At a gesture from Sandy she climbs into the bed, curling the duvet around herself until it covers her completely. She's so warm, she doesn't remember the last time she was so comfortably warm.

Sandy rests a hand on her head and she leans into it. She knows she'll have to pay for the non-earned kind touches later, but that's okay. They make her feel so much better that that's okay.

"Go to sleep, honey. We'll sort everything out when you wake up."

And she does. And for the first time in years, she sleeps without being awoken by a shock collar.

[secretidentie]

Tim for literally no reason: Hey Jason do yk where I can get some cocaine

Jason: Why tf do you need cocaine

Tim: I'm a teenage CEO why tf do you think I need cocaine

Jason: Fair enough. But I'm still not selling you cocaine

Tim: Why not? I just want to hang out with the other young finance bros

Jason: Hey dick head, tell your brother I'm not giving him cocaine

Dick: Tim are you okay? do you want to talk about this??

Tim: Uhg I'm fine. You're the one ones who said I should stop drinking coffee

Jason: and you thought this was a good alternative???

Tim: Come on I'll only do a little

Dick: Is this coz we spoiled the ending of wolf of Wallstreet

Tim: Why can't I just have some? You do!

Jason: No I don't

Tim: You're a crime lord

Dick: Yeah isn't it like part of the job

Jason: WHAT NO Stereotype much. I've never even seen cocaine up close

Tim: YOU'RE A CRIME LORD

Jason: Yeah not a drug dealer THERE'S A DIFFERENCE

Tim: I should have known your not cool enough to have drug dealer connections

Jason: OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA BUY A FUCK TON OF COCAINE AND DO IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU JUST TO RUB IT IN

Dick: Woah woah that's enough both of you. No one in this house is doing drugs. If anyone talks about cocaine again I'll tell Bruce you said you want to start a new crack epidemic. He'll make you sit in at strangers AA meetings and read through old case files of ex dealers and their autopsies. Don't. TEST. me.

Tim: ............

Jason: ............

Tim: Can you sell me meth?

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bruce Wayne fucked his partners through the mattress—and it depended on who and why. If you know he’s Batman, then he’d fuck for stress relief, to uncoil the sickening knot in his belly. However, if you’re unaware of his nighttime activities and believe you’d just lucked up meeting Bruce Wayne, then he’d fuck for ego. He’s got a point to prove: all those years as a recluse hadn’t dulled his ability to grant a lady a good time; that the stories of his youthful adventures are true. (Though his ego bleeds over into Batman as well since he wonders if he’s too old to still be the Dark Knight. If he’s lost his edge).

Bruce’s stamina is insane. He’d have you spread on your belly while he drove his cock into you. One hand enclosed around your throat, the other encircling your waist, and his lips grazing over your ear. Warm gusts of air caressing your cheek with each huff and grunt. The faint scent of his cologne lingering within the atmosphere, though it had been toppled by the aroma of sweat and sex. “Fuck,” he gritted out,” so tight f’me, doll. Only for me. Mine, aren’t you?” There was pride in being the one to undo Bruce Wayne, to make him cuss and grunt like a caveman, to draw out his Gotham accent. He was usually so put-together and driven.

Time warped and melted whenever Bruce had you beneath him. Despite his age, (don’t let him hear that) he could fuck for hours, content to drive his cum back into your hole until he came again. In fact, he enjoyed the slickness. There was something about keeping you beneath him that soothed the territorial monster caged within him like Mr. Hyde. Rarely could you lure the possessive, emerald eyed, envious beast out; Bruce was old and had dealt with his fair share of women seeking an emotional response. But with the perfect concoction of circumstances could you shatter the manacles binding the dominating, jealous, spiteful side of him—and it was wonderful.

Dick Grayson (Dixon’s version) preferred to let his lover work for it. There was a tantalizing element to gazing at his partner while she straddled him, and attempted to sink down into his cock. Dick wasn’t girth-y like Jason or Bruce (nor as unshaven). No, Dick was slim and long—and pretty. Dick was shaven and trimmed, smooth and hairless if he could help it. He never liked to offer up unshaven goods; he thought it was rude.

“God, you. . . you ride like a pro,” he breathed out, nigh gasping as though he’d run a race beside Usain Bolt. A sheen of sweated coated his toned physique, and a scarlet blush left a fiery trail from his cheeks down to his neck. “Don’t stop till I say.” Dick is more selfish in bed than Jason. Unlike Jason, Dick knows he’s cute—pretty, even. He’s confident both in himself and his ability to be selfish and still make you cum. . . hard. He won’t hesitate to assume control if he’s not liking your rhythm, or if he just wants to be a little shit and knock your orgasm off kilter. “Oh, were you going to cum? Sorry. Didn’t notice.”

Speaking of orgasms, Dick cums beautifully, even when he’d rather be described as ‘’manly’’ and handsome. He couldn’t restrain the tremble of his muscular thighs, or quell the furnace roaring inside his belly, or freeze the stars bursting behind the paleness of his eyelids. “I know, pretty baby. I know. Tight, aren’t I? Let it out for me,” you cooed, caressing his sweat-slick, inky black curls. Dick nodded quick and desperately, coal black lashes falling over his oceanic eyes. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Gonna cum again. Just keep going.” The power he’d stolen returned with a vengeance. He’d gone limp beneath you. Fucked out, his breaths tremulous and stuttered. Naturally, Dick’s palms found purchase upon your breasts, pinching and flicking your nipples before he exerted the last of his strength to lean forward and suckle one into his mouth.

(There’s hints of a mommy kink if you squint hard enough).

Jason Todd loved to see his partner deep-throat his cock. It’s a personal pleasure of his, the one time he allows himself to be selfish during sex. He’s not sure why it’s fascinating to him. Perhaps the sheer primality of watching you struggle to swallow his thickness intrigues him, excites him, causes the hairs on his forearms to stand at attention and the nerves within his body to buzz like a million bees trapped beneath his skin.“That’s right, baby, keep going. Till I see tears,” he murmured, as his large hands slithered up into your nape and tightened in your hair.” Show me how much you love me, baby.”

“What a beauty.” Jason’s chocolate smeared irises tipped backward, his slender hips bucking upward into the warm cavern of your throat, his cock spewing viscous ropes of pearlescent cum. Jason’s frame fell slack against the sofa. Sated. Only you could loosen the tautness in his shoulders like a ball of yarn. Boy, did he adore you.” I hope you can go all night. Cuz I got some steam I been needin’ t’ blow off.”

[debonairprincesposts]

You: Bro-

Jason: No, no, hold up, rewind.

Jason: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

[nobitchs-world]

Me after explaining the multiverse of different people and characters where I have different ocs in my head to my sisters

[morbid-muse-art]

Happy Friday the 13th

[rainbowgothdisaster]

ough i almost forgot my annual art redraw

i did it so much faster this year bcuz i didnt do multiple characters

it looks saur gooooood guyssssss <3

jason my beloved <3

[smutinlove]

Jason Todd having a size kink will never not be on my mind. he’s 6ft, 6’2ft depending what universe you’re talking about and weighs at least 200 lbs if not more, he is built like a tank.

took him awhile to get use to his size so being around people who are 5’2 even 5’5, seemed abnormal to him. could pick us up with no effort, throw us over his shoulder and walk like nothing happened.

he would use his weight for advantage, leaning down real close almost suffocating but enough to get the gears turning… his hands? ough. big enough to wrap around throats, thighs.

sorry had some thoughts

YES, OH MY GOD.

after the pit changed him, it took him awhile to get used to his height and general appearance. I mean, this man is 6ft and weighs around 200 pounds.

he'd be hitting his head on doorframes and towering over people. can't reach the cereal box on the top shelf? don't worry, he'll get it.

and he's so strong and muscular too.

oh my god, he'd be the type of person to pick up ANYONE and throw them over his shoulder with no hesitation.

he'd even do it for fun.

and we all know that Jason reads books. he ain't no basic becky, okay? this man reads and it makes men and women feral for him.

this man's hands are big. so basically, he'd be enveloping the book in his hands.

speaking of his big hands, Jason's hands WANDER.

when his face is buried between your thighs, he'll occasionally give them a tight, good squeeze, causing you to whine. then he'll mutter something like: "aw, is my precious angel getting all worked up? come on, baby, i wanna hear those sounds."

this man is addicting.

he'll also occasionally give your throat a nice squeeze if he feels like it. or if you ask him to. he'll do it either way.

his big, veiny hand wrapped around your throat, leaving only a little bit of room for you to breathe.

this man is horny too.

he'll fuck you whenever and wherever. he has no shame. he'll do it in your local grocery stores' bathroom or even at the back of a bar.

and the groans he'll let out while he fuck your brains out.

"come on, doll, 'that all 'ya can do f'me?" or "fuck, you drive me crazy, love. your pretty face and thick thighs. you don't even know half of what you do to me."

More size k!!nk headcanons

[redr0sewrites]

kisses with them - DC Batboys Hcs

🥀A/n: your honor i want to put them in a jar and shake them up- anyways this is just something short n sweet i cooked up :)

🥀Cw: fluff, shenanigans, a little suggestive

🥀Character(s): Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader

Dick Grayson :

lots of flirty, soft kisses!!!

his favorite places to kiss you are easily your lips or your hands, but he loves kissing every part of you!

Dick loves waking you up with kisses, peppering them all across your face before either of you are really even coherent. he'll start with a gentle kiss to your lips, before moving to your cheeks and forehead and finally your nose, in a gentle attempt to wake you up

this man is a BITER he's definitely the type to nip at you and give you little hickies when kissing you. be careful, because he will take a bite of your cheeks when kissing your face!!!!

Dick loves kissing your hands, whenever you cup his cheek or hold his face in your hands, be prepared for him to kiss not only your palm, but each one of your fingers and wrists as well

he's a very energetic kisser! Dick loves randomly pulling you into a deep kiss for seemingly no reason at all. he doesn't care who's around or whether or not you're in public, he will not hesitate to pull you in like a disney prince(ss) and kiss you right then and there

long, teasing makeout sessions!!!!! Dick loves pulling you onto his lap and kissing you silly. it doesn't even have to be sexual, he just loves having your lips against his

as for him, Dick loves when you give him neck kisses. he practically melts whenever your lips make contact to his neck, turning into your obedient pretty princess. absolutely obsessed with any hickies or marks you leave on HIM, and is not afraid to show them off. he has no shame, and wants everyone to know who he belongs to

HE LOVES LIPSTICK KISSES!!!! if you wear lipstick, it is your luckg day because he fucking loves them. he refuses to wipe them off and would love to spend the day covered in red lipstick smears

overall, he's a very affectionate kisser, and brings a lot of passion and energy into every kiss he gives you

Jason Todd :

this man is soooo touch starved, he loves any and all kisses shared between you two. however, his favorite places to kiss you are your forehead or your temple. its very meaningful and romantic, and he loves getting to wake up every morning and kiss his beloved right on the forehead

Jason is the type to press a kiss to your temple when he's just walking by, to the back of your neck when you're looking down, to your tummy when your shirt is rolled up, any and everywhere he can see. he just loves kissing you, what can i say?

whenever your stressed, anxious, or otherwise upset, Jason always takes the opportunity to cup your face in his hands and press the sweetest kiss to your forehead before whispering sweet nothings in your ear. this man is literally huge, and most likely has to lean down to reach you, but he doesn't mind it at all when it means he gets to press kisses all over your face

im a firm believer that Jason (and all the batboys) would love his partners body regardless of weight, and would looove kissing your thighs regardless of size. he definitely pays special attention to them during intimate times, and more often than not he finds his hand subconsciously wandering to hrip onto one of your thighs when sitting beside you. its not even always sexual, its just comforting for him

Jason's favorite place for you to kiss him? any of his scars. if he notices you paying special attention to them or kissing any of them, he just feels really emotional and fuzzy inside. it's strange to him how someone as perfect as you could love even the flawed parts of himself, and he finds himself enraptured whenever you express love to the parts of himself that he despises

Jason is not outwardly insecure, but he does sometimes miss how smooth his skin once looked without the scars and marks littered across it, especially his back. this being said, he loves when you kiss his back and remind him of how gorgeous he truly is.

Bruce Wayne :

Bruce loves good old fashioned lip kisses, but he also has a soft spot for kissing you on the top of the head, or on your shoulder/collarbone.

this man is fucking huge, and he's not ashamed to admit that he finds it adorable when you stand on your tip toes just to give him a kiss. this is partially why he adores simply kissing you on the mouth, but also because it just feels so intimate to him.

all kisses with Bruce are slow and emotional. he likes taking his time with you, and kisses reflect that.

when you both first started dating, it took him a while to even work up the courage to kiss you as he didn't want to seem too forward. however, after your shared first kiss, he was practically addicted. now he can't go a day without kissing you goodmorning, kissing you before he heads off to work, kissing you when he comes home for dinner, and kissing you before he goes on patrol. yes, all of these kisses are mandatory parts of your guys' days, and he loovesss them

kisses on top of your head are less intimate, but just as important. these are for lazy mornings spent with his strong arms wrapped around your body and your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. these kisses are meant for when he comes up behind you while your cooking for him, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you gently on the top of the head.

shoulder kisses are a little more flirtatious than the others, these are for when you're wearing the gorgeous outfit he just bought you that shows just a bit more of your chest than strictly necessary, yet no one bats an eye when they realize who you're with. these kisses are for when all prying eyes are off you, when Bruce can inhale the scent of your delicious perfume/cologne and whisper soft promises in your ear.

where does Bruce like for you to kiss him? simple- his cheek. especially when he's wearing the batman mask. you both have a running joke that the entire reason the mask doesn't cover the bottom half of his face is because he would miss your cheek kisses too much.

they are all so silly i love them sm. SEND IN REQUESTS PLEEEEEEASE IM SO HAPPY TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING IM INTERESTED IN AGAIN LIFE WAS SOOOOOOO BORING WHEN I DIDNT HAVE ANY INTERESTS 😭😭😭

[theredhood-jasontodd]

Dick: Hey, Y/N, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?

Y/N: Yeah.

Dick: And you, Jason ?

Jason : Umm... yes?

Dick: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!

Jason : Did he just-

[dj123vlair]

Me and my girlfriend @dustystarzzz have a kid now

[pigeonwhumps]

Finding Safety

After being kidnapped, dumped at WRU, and shipped to the USA, Cass isn't having a good time. And then Tyrone takes him to be his ring-fighting Guard Dog, alongside Aaliyah, a Romantic he already owns. Now he's definitely not having a good time, and nor is Aaliyah. After losing everything, they need to build their lives again, but with Aaliyah not remembering her past and Cass unable to reach his, it's a challenge, even with assistance.

Contains: disabled whumpees (Cass becomes an ambulatory wheelchair user and has problems with his eyesight, and Aaliyah is non-verbal), lady whump, BBU, pet whump

CWs: BBU, pet whump

Character intros

Cass and Aaliyah

Dan and Tyrone

Sandy, Jason, Jacob, Xiu, Letitia, and Tom

Calixte, Petre, Mathéo, Isabella, and Cass Jr

Writing

Delivery (Letitia, Sandy)

🧃 prompt drabble (Cass, Dan)

Transport (Cass, Lea)

Losing (Cass, Lea)

Barcode (Cass)

"Did you think you were worth something?" (Cass)

Fight (Cass, Aaliyah, Tyrone)

Exposed (Cass, Aaliyah, Tyrone)

New Toy (Aaliyah, Tyrone, Cass)

Routine (Xiu, Sandy, Jason)

Stabbed (Cass, Aaliyah, Tyrone)

Stargazing (Aaliyah, Cass)

Cookies and sweaters (Aaliyah, Cass, Letitia, Sandy, Tom, Xiu)

💪 prompt drabble (Cass, Aaliyah)

"What are you waiting for? Strip." (Aaliyah, Tyrone, Cass)

Safety (Cass, Aaliyah, Lea, Anita, Sandy, Calixte, Mathéo, Petre, Isabella, Cass Jr)

Blackmail (Aaliyah)

Extras

Cass WRU intake form

Ask games

Tyrone

Is there anything you still wish your pet did better?

Cass

What is your greatest fear?

☾ - sleep headcanon

♥ - family headcanon (+ Calixte)

Aaliyah

What is your greatest fear?

Lea and Anita have their own series, Sanctuary, which can be found here.

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees��to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

[debonairprincesposts]

You: Wow, Jason, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Jason: We literally slept together yesterday.

You: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

[nobitchs-world]

Me: I love horror movie slashers

My scary ass if I ever saw them: