#kory

Dick Grayson - he's the kind of man that comes out of nowhere seeking any form of attention, especially when you’re not paying attention - cooking, stretching, folding laundry. He leans in behind you and presses soft kisses to your shoulder, and then your neck, and then further, until your breath catches and your body starts to melt under his soft lips. When he’s needy, he loves straddling your lap (without putting his weight down unless you ask nicely) or letting you straddle his (please crush him), brushing your hair aside with gentle fingers so he can lick a slow stripe up your neck, right where your pulse beats fastest. His kisses trail like heat lightning across your skin, little sparks that make your stomach flutter. And when he bites, it almost always leaves a mark. Marking his territory like the dog he is. He’s a golden boy with a dark streak, and nothing makes him happier than seeing your skin bloom with the marks he left behind.

Jason Todd - he's the kind of man that kisses like how he fights - dirty, intense, and with his whole soul in it. He’ll cradle your face in his big hands, brush his nose against yours, and kiss you with tongue and teeth, like he’s daring you to keep up. But when he drops to his knees between your thighs? That’s when he gets gentle. Soft for once. His lips press softly to your inner thigh first - a quiet greeting, an act of love - before he nuzzles in close and leaves open-mouthed kisses that burn slow and deep. He holds your hand the whole time, fingers causally lacing through yours, while his thumb strokes your hand in slow movements. When you finally take the chance to look down at him, flushed and wide-eyed, it makes something possessive and tender rise in him. He loves watching your pretty face so much that he doesn't play nice when he leaves a bite or two.

Tim Drake - he’s subtle, but he memorizes every inch of you like another one of his spreadsheets or master plans. His kisses find the backs of your shoulders when you’re lying in bed, the slope of your spine when he curls against you at night long past his bedtime, and the nape of your neck when you’re not expecting it. He adores the sound you make when his lips skim down your back - featherlight at first, then firmer, more lingering. While his mouth worships the line of your spine, his hands stay busy exploring your front, fingertips dragging across your breasts, your belly, your hips. He’s not one for biting. He prefers the intimacy of knowing you’re melting under every slow press of his lips - of having you arch into him not because he demands it, but because you can’t help it.

Kory / Starfire - who kisses you like she’s just discovered something wonderful and can’t help herself from tasting every inch of it. Her lips are warm, sun-kissed, and always eager, scattering across your skin like flecks of light. She loves your collarbone - adores the way her lips fit perfectly against it, how your breath catches when she presses just a little harder with a sharp nip. That’s always where it starts. A few playful kisses there, a giggle against your skin, and then she’s wandering lower, trailing across your chest like she’s following a constellation that only she can see.

When she straddles you, it’s always with a little hum. Her hair tickles your skin as she leans down, green eyes sparkling with mischief and a kind of unguarded joy that makes your chest feel too full. Her kisses are long, deep, and just a touch too teasing - a soft nip here, a flick of her tongue there, always leaving you chasing her mouth.

She murmurs praises in between every kiss, calling you her “perfect little human,” her “favorite earthling,” as though your body is her new favorite star system. She kisses your skin like she’s still exploring the softness for the first time, claiming it in the gentlest, most playful way possible. Every time you reach for her, she only leans in closer, kissing you like the most beautiful thing she’s ever held in her hands.

Clark Kent - who kisses like a man who’s still a little amazed that you let him. There’s something tender in the way he leans in - forehead first, nose brushing yours, like he has to soak in the moment before he can even breathe again. He loves forehead kisses. They’re his way of pulling you close, of tucking you under his chin with those strong arms wrapped snug around you. When he lifts you, your toes barely brush the floor, and you can feel the rumble of his quiet laugh against your body. His kiss says you’re mine in the softest, shyest way.

But when it’s just the two of you in the dark, Clark turns into something else entirely - warm, clingy, utterly lovesick. He kisses your mouth like a man who’s been craving it all day. Slow, sweet, a little messy sometimes when his eagerness slips through. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your jaw while his lips keep stealing breath after breath.