Jason Is A Chronic Biter. Whether It’s His Lips, The Insides Of Cheeks, Or The Stings Of His Hoodie,

↳ ageless/blank blogs dni

18+ content, scent kink (?), lots of tension, pussy eating devouring, vaginal sex

thinking about jason todd losing his fucking mind when you buy that pheromone oil and he just has to act like he doesn’t wanna fuck you all the way up. you’d drag him to the mall after applying it, hiding the little bottle before you left. he gets an immediate whiff of it after you settle behind him on his bike, already clinging to his jacket and he’s tempted to reposition and fuck you right there.

and of course it’s a bit busy today, so he’s got no choice but to stay attached at the hip. he’d lean down quite a ways to speak to you whenever it’s crowded, like he always does. but there’s no way you could miss the way he lingers by you, back hunched over as his hands move from his pockets to your waist to get you unreasonably closer.

jason todd who hovers over you the whole time, joining you in the dressing rooms and ignoring your half-assed order to wait. there isn’t much to stop him from following, given he’s 6’1” with over 200 pounds of muscle and all that. slipping off your clothes makes it all the worse, but he still sits back and watches. you’ve got him distracted, eyeing at your ass while you get jeans on and nearly missing when you toss them for him to keep a hold of. if you hadn’t known any better you’d say his eyes are practically growing green, like he’s straight out of the pits and starving. by now he’s got a good idea of what you’ve done- not that it’d deter him or have him upset. he’s just been caught terribly off guard by it, which was the point.

you try to head out once you’re done and a startling grip on your shoulder twists you around. a quick peck on your lips, then your cheek, followed by a roughly contrasting bite into your neck has you gasping between him and the flimsy door. you’ve damned him to no little self control during this little escapade and have the nerve to be scolding him now, leaving him grumbling in frustration and prying himself away- not before leaving a dangerously bright hickey just above your collarbone, of course. lots more where that came from, he’d tell you, since you wanna act all high and mighty like you’ve never let him fuck you in similar spaces before.

jason todd who’d damn near break the handles of his motorcycle, taking risky short cuts and speeds you’ve never seen before, at least not while you were on board. in his defense, you’ve decided to sit in front of him now, plump ass all up against his crotch and v-neck traveling low between the valley of your chest. fucking vixen, he’d mutter, adding more bruises along your neck as you fumble with keys.

he’s impatient and agitated that you’d do this to him. jason’s never felt so hungry, so insane over something in a long ass time, much less you. poor guy doesn’t even realize he’s trapped you between himself and the door again, only making it harder to get the door open. even so he’s rushing you, gravelly voice against your ear telling you to get the damn door open- ‘less you wanna put on a show for anyone other than me.

and now jason todd’s got you right where he wants you, not wasting another moment without shoving you back up against the door. he’s finally got you and he can’t even decide how he wants you, but he settles on the scent that’s driving him insane and it becomes clear. jason’s tearing clothes off and groping at every inch of you before he kneels and secures your legs over his bulky shoulders. he wants- needs to eat you. absolutely fucking devour you.

gonna eat this pussy til you can’t fuckin’ think, he’s already moaning, sucking at your thigh and pulling your panties to the side. and to think you even had the nerve to try stopping him- a deep laugh vibrates against your core and you head thumps against the wood behind you. thick fingers prod at your hole and curl up inside as he’s lapping and sucking at your clit, groaning against your cunt for what feels like hours.

you’d think he’s done when he finally pulls away and you wobble on weak legs, only for jason to drag and bend you over the arm of the couch. nah- we’re far from done here, he says while stretching you out, burying your face into the cushion and arching your back until your feet hang over. I’d be wrong to leave this cunt all empty and aching, wouldn’t I? even after at least… three orgasms? the girth and overstimulation has you crying, clutching the fabric and mewling when the fat head of his cock pistons into that sweet spot over and over. greedy fuckin’ pussy just suckin’ me in- goddamn. maybe you should keep using this pheromone shit- since it’s got you just as worked up. ❧

oh my gosh

World’s Greatest Detective

Title: World’s Greatest Detective Rating: Explicit Pairing: Bruce Wayne/reader Word Count: 2519 Warnings: Sex in the batsuit, oral…. playful interrogation? Summary: You’re hiding something from Bruce, and he’s going to find out what.  One way or another. Author’s Note: As usual, this is in no particular universe.

Keep reading

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

threesome (bruce x reader x selina), sex toys, overstim, begging, very brief double penetration. first time writing for both of them so pls give me grace

they’re no good together. no, too good together. too good at breaking you, reverting you to a wet and squirming mess at his mercy while she holds you in faux comfort.

“bruce,” you cry to him, legs trembling and cunt twitching around the silicon he’s stuffed inside you over and over, too many times to even count. a little vibrator buzzes at your clit again and you sob, thighs snapping together as salty tears bubble under your lashes. “bruce- I can’t, ‘m done, please…”

his eyelids hang low and large hands grip the underside of your thighs, giving what you can only assume is a glare of impatience. “you’re not done,” he corrects, a light slap landing on your swollen clit that has you flinching open. god, he’s insane- you’re leaking around the thing, lips quivering and clawing at sheets, begging for mercy, yet he’s got the nerve to tell you you’re not done.

he’s mean, you realize, and only one arm is needed to leave you vulnerable while the other force’s the thick toy deeper into your cunt. his tongue rolls along his lips, almost in concentration as he stares you down; no indications of his own arousal are clear, but his enthusiasm for abusing your sore and puffy pussy speak volumes.

“I know you can give me another one,” bruce states in a matter-of-fact tone, brows furrowed further when you still attempt pushing him away. “and I know you want to.” the hint of irritation in his voice alludes to dangerous outcomes- hold out on him any longer and he’ll make sure this doesn’t get better for you. he reads you inside and out without missing even one line. bruce knows what makes you tick- what makes you cry, beg, even demand more. he’s almost insulted that you’d even try to withstand his ministrations, and the vibe against your sensitive nerves kicks up a notch.

“be nice, brucie,” selina chimes in with a little tut, pretty and nimble hands tracing your collarbone and jawline. the delicate scratch of her nails send shivers up your spine and you whine at the faux sympathy. “we’re just prepping her, remember? save the brooding act for later.” shit, just prepping?

“oh my god,” you gasp, not even a second before that coil of overwhelming tension breaks, clinging desperately to selina’s arm as your body convulses. you hold onto her as if she’s your final thread, the only thing stopping you from passing out, and the sentiment has her smirking. “fuck, selina, make him… please- just make him…” the man torturing your cunt exchanges a sly look to his counterpart, a low groan from the depths of the throat prompting you to look down.

“aw, make him what? make him keep going?”

she’s evil.

they’re both evil.

“just greedy,” selina coos, only now choosing to ignore your more elaborate pleas of clarification. your mouth hangs open with drool near the corners, and you’ve seemingly resorted to the gods above to grant you mercy- then her thumb drags down your lip and rests on your tongue. it quiets you down as she shushes you, gaze landing back on hers. “greedy, isn’t she…”

“since you want me to be so nice,” bruce hums as the head of his cock prods at your pussy, not even bothering to move either of the toys; fuck, you feel like you’ll die from how much he stretches you out. “i’ll give her what she wants so bad.” ❧

18+ minors dni

warnings: sex pollen but it’s a dick grayson solo special 💫

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

he’s not sure how he made it home in one piece, but the second he’s through the front door of his apartment, dick grayson is wrestling his way out of his nightwing suit, his ears ringing as he stumbles through his room and into his bathroom. his skin feels hot, too hot, and his breathing is ragged; ivy, he thinks hazily, discarding his suit on the floor. those fucking plants—it’s that goddamn pollen.

he rids himself of his boxers, and catches a glimpse of his sweaty, flushed appearance in the mirror. dick’s pupils are so wide that his blue eyes are almost black, and his cock is painfully hard, the tip red and angry as it leaks precum down his length. he grimaces as he lurches into the shower, dousing himself in freezing cold water. when dealing with poison ivy, he’s usually far more careful than he was tonight, and now he’s paying the price; too desperate to look for the antitoxin, he has to take matters into his own hands—literally.

dick grits his teeth as he wraps his fingers around his shaft, hissing at the tenderness. relief floods his taut muscles, but he can’t help but think how much better your tight cunt would feel around him right now. the image of you bent over makes his hand pump faster as he pictures your pretty ass bouncing off his thighs, and he swears he can hear the way you’d moan at his intrusions. god, he wishes he could see your pretty pussy gripping him right now.

his knuckles are white as he strokes himself, the burning on his skin still far from subsiding despite the orgasm building in his lower belly. shit, just a little more. he groans at the thought of using the crook of his elbow to pull you flush against him by your neck, keeping you in a headlock as he fucks into you, just so he can hear you whine. fuck, there it is.

he presses his burning forehead against the tiles as his abdomen spasms, ropes of hot cum spurting out onto the wall as he swears loudly. cold water trickles down dick’s stomach as he pants, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. he realises the ache that had subsided just a moment ago is slowly building again. puzzled, he glances down, and his eyes widen at the sight of his cock, still rock-hard and twitching in the cool bathroom air. what kind of fucking plant was that?

he didn’t want to worry you with this—after all, he was sure his home remedy would work—but he realises he has no choice as he feels his skin growing feverish again, and he can only hope you’ll understand. he groggily shuts off the water and makes his way back into his room, collapsing onto his bed as he takes his phone from the nightstand. he manages to send you a single line—need you now, come see me—before he drops his phone in the sheets, his hand finding his aching cock once more. it’s going to be a long night.

tw!! talk of sa

I know Arkham Knight happened in one night, but i’m spreading it out slightly for the sake of the story.

You suddenly understood why every woman in Arkham looked numb.

As you walked out of Jefferson’s office, you didn’t flinch at the yelling from the office next door, as you usually would. You walked past the group of patients that would make obscene comments about you.

You found yourself in your room, staring blankly at the white peeling wall.

You wanted Jason. You wanted him to find you, to find out what happened. You wanted him to hurt Jefferson, the same way you’ve watched him in his Robin suit hurt men that have touched you.

You grab your pillow, and scream into it, possibly annoying other patients but you didn’t care. All you wanted was for it to get out.

The small visiting room seemed smaller when Dick Grayson was in it.

You looked at the crayons on the table, breaking them in half as Dick spoke to you.

“He’s being investigated.” Dick says quietly, choosing not to sit on the only couch, not wanting to intrude. “But with the luck people have had with Arkhams staff..”

Dick sighs and leans back against the wall, looking at you. “Until he’s gone, we’ve had them switch out your psychiatrist.”

His words make you look up.

“You mean- this wasn’t enough to get me out of here?” You say stiffly, your hands trembling around the broken crayons. “So what, your just going to trust another fucked up staff member? He fucking assaulted me Dick!” Your voice gets higher throughout the sentence.

“We didn’t know an assistant was taking over, Reader. They didn’t tell anything to us about it. We would have- we would have investigated him before he ever came close to talking to you.”

You snort. “Like that makes a difference for me to know that?”

Dicks fists clench. You knew he wasn’t angry at you, he was angry at himself. Mostly Bruce, who hasn’t spoken to you once since he put you in Arkham. Although, you know he’s still a part of it, as you get sent gift baskets from Alfred weekly.

“This.. this is the best place for you right now.” Dick says, exhaustion seeping into his words. He doesn’t sound like he believes it, either.

“I hate you.” You whisper harshly, rubbing the crayons against the table.

“I know.”

The first sign you realized something was wrong, was when security lessened in Arkham.

Staff members were getting fired left and right. You assume it was Bruce, finally taking charge of Arkham and firing all of the twisted staff.

You walked down one of the catwalks, walking down the stairs to look at the lunch tables, driving where to sit, when you heard the television.

“Man charged with biting someone-“ Normal. “In a laundry unit after victim heard him screaming at himself.”

Zombie apocalypse? Gothams probably already had one.

You shake your head and walk over to one of the corner tables, sliding into the seat and setting your tray on the table. A woman sits down across from you, but pays no attention as she keeps to herself.

You stuff the slop into your mouth, because as much as you hated the food, you wanted to look like yourself when Jason came back.

If.

When.

Fuck.

You slam the tray of slop, on the edge of the table, making it fly off the table and onto the ground. The woman’s cross from you flinches but doesn’t react.

You can’t believe that your losing the idea that Jason’s alive. Maybe Jefferson fucked you up more than you thought.

“Oh shit- look how fucked up the guy looks!”

Your gaze moves to the television, where they show the victim of the biting man. Your eyebrows furrow are the image. *Is that allowed on the news*?

“Fuck- imagine being known as the guy who bit someone.”

“Carol, you used to eat your victims hair.”

You scrunch your nose and focus on the television instead of the patients conversations.

The second time you realized something was different, was when they shut off the news in the rec rooms.

You checked with the male block, and one had informed you that theirs was shut off too.

Gothams news was something people were used to. What was so horrific, that they wouldn’t show Arkhams patients?

With the lessening staff, you noticed more and more fights break out. It felt different than the years you’ve been here. There wasn’t the threat of a nurse with a syringe behind you at every problem.

You’ve started tying your doorknob to your bed frame just in case.

At night, you felt your bed frame jiggling. You bolted upright to see your neighbor trying to open the door, and you quickly walked over.

Visiting has gotten usual with her, since her guard had gotten fired.

You let her in before shutting the door behind her, and turn to face her. “What?”

She, Anna, looks at you with a grin. “They’ve given him a name.”

You look at her weirdly before walking over to your bed and sitting down. “Who?”

“The guy whose been dropping fear gas everywhere. Didn’t you hear Steph talking about it?”

Steph- a patient whose boyfriend works as a journalist.

“No- I barely talk to her.” You mumble, watching as Anna walks over to your dresser and grabs a baked good from the gift basket. “So a guy has been behind these weird attacks?”

Anna nods, her lips pursed together as she chooses form your stash. “Apparently no one can find anything out about him. Only knows he’s working with Scarecrow. Do you like these?” She holds up a blueberry muffin and you wave her off to take it. “So he like- calls himself the Arkham Knight. Or at least, that’s what Stephs boyfriend said.”

You snort. “Wonder who he’s after.”

Anna nods, raising her eyebrows sarcastically. “Yet he’s the first villain to name himself after Batman. If I had the money to become a high class villain, that would’ve been my first idea.”

You watch as she bites into one of the muffins. “No one’s as smart as you, Anna.” You say, sarcastically, but she doesn’t ever notice that.

You look at the barred window in your room, and get up, walking over to it. Only the tips of your fingertips can reach it, so all your able to see is the top of a tree growing next to Arkham.

“Arkham Knight.” You mumble to yourself. “Let’s hope your different than the others.”

someone had to say it…, predatory behavior is not a kink !! Just makes you a very disgusting person to romanticize or write about it you have 1000+ other topics to write about not reasons why diddy was convicted

Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason meets his daughters

warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE

see for: the vibes

(2) safe & sound

His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment. 

He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.

He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”

Dad?

“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.

He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?

“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”  

He can’t think.

This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.

He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”

He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.

“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs. 

He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise. 

Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.

He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.

He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath. 

“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.

“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”

“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.

His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—

“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”

He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”

You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.” 

“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.

“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God. 

You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is—you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”

He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?

You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”

He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”

“We have kids?”

You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”

“Five?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.” 

He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”

“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”

He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly. 

You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.

You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.

“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.

“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face. 

“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”

There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.

“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.  

You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.

“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.

You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.

“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.

“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”

He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”

You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.

This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”

His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”

There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.  

You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.

Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.

He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.

Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”

“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.

Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.

“Father?” She calls out sweetly.

You sigh, “Ryan—”

“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”

Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”

“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”

Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one. 

“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess. 

Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”

Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”

You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”

She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”

Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”

You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”

Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”

You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”

This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.” 

Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.

“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”

Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”

“I can do it.” He says quietly.

“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on. 

“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”

Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.

He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed. 

She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”

She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”

Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now. 

““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way. 

He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly. 

He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at. 

“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed. 

Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?” 

That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?” 

She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”  

His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”

She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.

He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door. 

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.

His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.

He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.

Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.

“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”

You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.” 

Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”

He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”

You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”

“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”

She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.

You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas. 

“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.

You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.

You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”

“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.

The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.   

“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?” 

He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”

“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”

He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”

He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over. 

Nightwing moues at him, “I don’t care?”

Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you. 

He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”

Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”

Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.

He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:

WE’RE HAPPY

vote: do you have a favorite daughter?

❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️

rafe cameron x sleepy!reader

summary : you were just the sleepiest girl of the town. (kinda sweet smutty prompt / etablished relationship. soft! boyfriend!rafe.)

warnings : except smut, nothing much. bad sleeping shedule.

author's note : /.

“ I’m fucking tired.” you yawned as you entered the room. since the beginning of the evening, you had only been looking forward to getting back to the soft comfort of your bed.

you couldn't help but become sleepy, which meant letting your boyfriend take care of you because you were unable to stay awake. you never needed to be careful because rafe cameron always had his eyes on you. and as long as you were next to him, as long as he could feel you even if you were dead asleep and drooling over his chest, he allowed you to take a nap on his lap for hours. it was one of your few privileges.

something he didn't allow was people waking you up. if it he had to shut down every fucking noisy kook in a room to let you sleep, he would do it. it was his own version of let me burn the world for you but in a better way, more like let me quit this entire world for you.

you loved these moments of calm and peace when you slept wearing only one of his t-shirts acting like a dress around your naked body, and white high socks.

rafe was spooning you while you were already falling asleep, the reassuring and warm feeling of his cold fingers slipping under your t-shirt, his large hands covering the flesh of your waist , letting his strong arms gently slowly pulling you towards him. the shushing sound of his lips hovering your neck as you were dragged by his thick fingers. your barely covered body lazily comes closer, as soft breaths break the silence of your mouth, quickly followed by the sleepy whines of your tall boyfriend that holds his grip tighter in your hips, making sure you can't go anywhere, even if you were in a deep sleep.

you had a complicated relationship with your sleep schedule because you were sleeping both too much and not enough at the same. you could be fully awake at 5am but literally dead asleep at 12pm. for the simple reason that you were not sleeping at the right time, nor at the right hour, nor in the right place. you were one of those sleepiest girls who would disappear for hours not because you were going out on the town with friends or even stepping foot outside, but because you would sleep for hours on end.

you told rafe that you were just closing your eyes to take a nap but you ended up waking up in the evening.

when you woke up, you were completely lost and disorganized but above all so tired. it was almost ridiculous. your boyfriend was now used to your eyes half-closed, your hair completely messed up and across your exhausted face, drool on the corner of your lip with that oh-so-stupid expression.

he lay down on the bed, while you looked at him with wide opened eyes. at this point, you weren't even sure you recognized your own boyfriend. “ rafe ? ”

“still asleep, babe? "

his voice was usually low, while he brushed away the trail of drool that was leaking from your mouth with his thumb. you nodded, and he smiled. “ such a baby. ”

you were a terrible temptation. he could have fucked you while you were sleeping. and maybe that was even what you wanted sometimes when you slept so scantily dressed, leaving your tiny thong in full view while you lay on your back, legs unconsciously spread.

“let me help you…” he whispered as he flipped you onto the bed, pushing your thighs apart to make himself a place. he had pulled down his boxers without removing them completely, before forcing your legs open with one hand. "fucking wet. i bet you dreamed about that dick inside you."

the smirk on his face was pretty charming and sick, and he pushed the fat tip of his cock against your soaked slit, before making morning slaps on your little glistening cunt. his length was so hard, hitting your sensitive bud. the plushy mushroom getting glossy from your weeping hole. he looked at you, holding his dick in a hand with your wetness dripping from the shaft, as you had a hard times focusing on his movements but he squeezed your cheeks on his hands, pulling your face closer to him. “ get that mouth open, want to be able to spit on it whenever i want. ”

it was also a pretty excuse for him to force you to keep your eyes open. when he first pushed in with a hard thrust that literally arched all your body, you screamed out of pleasure and pain. he didn't wait before starting working his dick faster in your swollen cunt. you always take him so good, and he can't help but pound you even deeper every time he hears your sleepily voice moaning softly, the whining getting louder and bigger as he stretches you open. you were too good, a forbidden pleasure for sure, your sloppy pussy fully soaked him.

little by little, you begin to be fully awake, eyes filled with shining tears. you were a mess that was crying and panting from the roughness of your boyfriend, crybaby whines begging for rafe’s attention. your mouth getting muffled by his, he shushed you through the kiss, heavy breath and drool falling between your lips. “ s-s-slow down ! ” you cried out.

he mocked you gently, answering with a wicked smile. “ what about faster ? thought that's what you wanted ? ”he was still fucking you, but now a hand reached your throat, as the thickness of his length stuffed the inside of your walls, hitting all the spots. “ r-rafe. ” you exploded.

you were shaking, gasping for air and throbbing, eyes still locked in rafe's gaze while you lost your mind, thinking of how deep he was inside you. your cunt still twitching around his cock, making you unable to catch your breath and literally choking against the hand pressed on your throat. you were already tired, the inner of your thighs dripping with arousal and legs breaking with each thrusts. and those massive orgasms didn't help. his face was now sweaty from the heat and the sex, hot breaths escaping his lips and absolutely no sign of exhaustion. he could fuck you to death. and you wish you could reach this level but you were already too drained by the fast back and forth. “ this is how i should wake up my sleepy girl every morning. don't you think ? ”

he finally managed to cum, spilling thicks of loads inside you. your head failing in the bed as he slowly pulled his dick out, before pushing it into your mouth. the sight of your tongue licking every single drop of juice left him even horny, your pretty lips weeped with cum and wetness, that he smeared with the tip of his cock, before letting you clean everything.

“ it was not a fuck, it was an attempted murder. ” you told him.

“ don't inspire me for round 2, you will regret it. ”

“ don't complain me about why i sleep this much when you fucking me like that. ”

“ i'm fucking tired…” you said, a little yawn leaving your mouth as rafe and you entering the room after a living pool party, were you literally rested on your boyfriend’s lap during all the event, falling asleep on his shoulder as he was still talking with his friends.

he was now used to since he dated you from a long moment. he was now able to take care of you every time you fell asleep. as always, there was no warning. you could be smiling, living the party, it doesn't mean you were not sleepy. He sometimes complained about how much you slept, but at the same time, how much you didn't get enough sleep.

“ no shit. you were literally drooling over me. ” he said sarcastically. “ lift your arms. ” he commanded, before helping you remove your dress.

he almost passed out when your breasts literally bounced out of your bra as your arms leaned down, his dick slightly growing and forming a bulge inside his pants. but damn, it was not the moments because he knows for sure that you will now fall asleep. AGAIN.

“ do you think topper is mad at me for sleeping at his birthday’s party ? ”

“ do i look like the type of boyfriend that i care about what another man is feeling about my girlfriend ? because, i'm not. ”

“ it was rude…. it's his birthday ! ”

“ babe, i could even fuck you right in front of him that he wouldn't even care or remarks. don't you see how he was just drooling like a dog because of my sister ? ”

“ maybe, i should call…”

rafe had raised an eyebrow, his jaw twitching slightly as you pulled on one of his t-shirts. “ since when do you have topper’s number ? ”

“I mean with your phone. Why would I have his number. Anyways, i'm sorry for this…it's pretty embarrassing. ”

“ What about looking me in the eyes if you at least want me to believe you about your apologies?”

“ Don't fight me right now, i'm tired.”

“ And actually, when you're not ? ” he mocked, and you finally looked at him.

“ When i'm sleeping, it's obvious. ”

“ You forget when i fuck you’. It doesn't seems like you're very tired. ”

after showering and brushing your teeths, you moved to your favorite place in the world — your bed. you loved the clean of the sheets. you covered yourself with the blanket, dropping only your head out.

when rafe appareaded, you couldn't help but stare at his perfect body. you followed his moves, lurking to the good and big shape of his biceps, the well-sculpted ridges of his abs, the visible v-line curved on his hips. “ don't look at me like that. ” he warned.

“ then i will look at someone else. ”

“ funny. ” he said, chuckling without smiling. “ that you think i will let you do such a thing. but keep daydreaming. ”

“ no need to be jealous. there is no kooks better than you. ”

“ does it mean there are pogues better than me ? ”

you sighed, shaking your head and crossing your arms.

“ i don't even hang out with pogues ! don't take it in the wrong way. what about watching a good movie before sleeping ? ”

“ be serious. i know you well, you're gonna fall asleep before the movie even starts. ”

“ no ! i'm fully awake. ”

“ which movies do you want to watch ? and there is no way i'm gonna watch that fucking film with a black cat and a ladybug. ”

“ then what about five nights at Freddy's ? ”

“ sounds better. ” he simply said, while typing on the dashboard.

your gaze leaned down on his ringed fingers, fast and thick. your slowly opened your lips, imagining how much they can stretch your mouth, leaving her with a pool of drool from how wet they're from your saliva. but also, how much they will manage to keep your mouth open without effort.

a sparkle shone in your eyes, and you wrapped your arm around rafe's one, making him look without really giving you full attention. “ what you want ? ”

“ nothing. did you find the movie ? ”

“ you like horror movies ? ”

“ no, i like josh. ”

“ bet he died at the end of the movie. ”

“ rafe ! ”

“ yea, keep crying. ”

he started the movie but you were very sleepy. again. you forced yourself to keep your eyes open but it was really hard. you blinked so many times to fight the urge of sleeping, but you're finally falling asleep.

rafe didn't stopped the movie because he was now too invested in it, but let your head rest against his naked chest, stroking your hair gently.

at the beginning of your relationship, it was so new for him to be this close to a person, to reach this type of intimacy but now he was craving for it, finding peace and comfort.

you were his sleepy girlfriend that was now sleeping over him, but will probably wake up in five hours when he will be dead asleep while, you will be looking for a nocturnal activity, trying to not wake him up.

sometimes, and a lot of times, you have sleepless nights that make you even more tired, and fall asleep early or late in the morning. you could feel though the sleep, rafe's arm loosening around your body as he manages to leave the bed to start the day while you just catching your night.

“ good morning, rafe. ”

“ it's 7pm. ”

“ ... ”

Cleaning up w/ Jay

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, nsfw at the end, cleaning becauSE FUCK CLEANING

Notes: I thought I’d try a different format with this one, we’ll see how it goes 🤷🏻‍♀️ Also; JAY PUSH ME UP AGAINST THE WALL I’LL BE-

You can try to keep your apartment clean, but it will always end up a mess, in more ways than one, with Jason involved.

Especially the morning after patrols, when you come out of your bedroom to the kitchen looking like a ravenous beast went through it.

“Jason!” You called out, within seconds a mop of shaggy black hair peeked around the corner, and Jason made his way over to you, hands in his pockets. “Look, in my defence I hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” He said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Let me help you, princess.” Two strong hands begin to deftly tidy their mess.

Sometimes he’d come home to the image of you dancing around the apartment, using your spray bottle as a microphone to sing along to your favourite songs. It never failed to remind him why he loved you.

The sound of a camera shutter broke you out of your dance party, and you spun around to see Jay, still in his suit, with his phone out. “Oh my- oh my god, you look so precious.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as he looked at you standing there holding your mop, your cheeks flushed red.

Jay did the cooking, because you were a horrible cook (even though you’d never admit it), so you made up for it with the cleaning. Sometimes though, on days where you tired, Jay would surprise you with an entirely clean house and breakfast in bed.

“Sweetheart,” Jay cooed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as he ran his thumb along your cheek. “Baby, wake up. You can’t nap all day.” Groggily, you’d open your eyes to the adorning gaze of your boyfriend and a plate full of food. “Jay, you shouldn’t have-” But a finger pressed against your lips. “Hush. Now let me feed you.”

And then there were the times when Jason had just gotten back from a long night, stiff and covered in blood that wasn’t his. He’d arrive to the sight of you up on your tippy toes, your shorts riding up as you tried to clean the shower head, and he’d just go absolutely feral.

“C’mon, ma.” Two rough hands held you by your thighs as your body was rocked into the shower wall. “You can take it. Take it like a good girl.” Jason would growl in your ear as he pounded your tight cunt, making you feel so good and so, so full. Your hands would tangle in his hair when they couldn’t find purchase on the shower wall, and you’d cry out his name like a prayer. “That’s it, mama. Cum for me, good girl.”

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“honey, I laugh when it sinks in / a pillar I am of pride / scarcely can speak for my thinking / what you’d do to me tonight”

there are a million thoughts running through jason todd’s mind as he fucks you — how good you feel around him, how pretty you look with one of your legs over his shoulder, how obscene your moans sound echoing off the bedroom walls — but his favourite is always the way you look when he first sinks into you.

the first few times you fucked him, all he could look at was the sight of your greedy pussy taking him in, transfixed by your warmth and the way he stretched you. after those first few times, however, he thought to look at your face instead, and it was like the planet shifted on its axis. he found your eyes where his had been moments prior, fixed to his cock as it breached your tight hole. he took in your expression, a mixture of apprehension and lust and anticipation, and found a moment to pause and admire your beauty. he noticed the way your lips parted as he inched into you, and when he finally bottomed out, he saw the way your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned his name, pride swelling in his chest. he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“what?” you whined, eyes opening to meet his as he slowly unsheathed himself from you.

“nothin’, ma,” he breathed, a cocky grin still plastered on his face. you gasped as he thrust back into you. “just keep takin’ me like that.”