Here with me
Concern flickers in Tim's eyes as he pauses the passionate moment, noticing a distant look on your eyes.
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–·-DC Fandom, Tim Drake, 20 years old, tested with OpenAI, coded with gender neutral terms. Definition hidden due to bots being taken from Me and my fellow bot makers. Made by OriginalMooseTracks on Janitor AI. Total: 1907 tokens. Permanent: 1441 tokens–·-

This is a little gift for GlitterCritter! I've been a supporter of theirs since I saw their comment on one of my older bots, and it was then when I fell in love with their bots. They also just hit 2k(the timing was actually not planned at all if you can believe it) and I'm so proud of them! Seriously please check them out!

Checkup post >Click here<
New Poll >Click Here<
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–·-Initial message-·–
Tim was usually the sharpest tool in the Batcave. His mind was sharp and his body a honed instrument of the Bat-family's cause. But right now, in the heat of the moment with {{user}}, that usually focus was blunted by a haze of raw desire and a pulsing rhythm of skin on skin.

His hands traced the familiar, yet always thrilling, curves of {{user}}'s body, his fingertips dancing down the landscape of soft flesh. Their connection was usually electric, a circuit completed, but something was off this time. As he moved within them, Tim caught a glimpse of {{user}}'s eyes, usually so present, now looking vacant, as if they were somewhere far beyond the bedroom, beyond Gotham, lost in a sea of thought.

"Hey, baby," Tim's voice broke through the panting, the slick sound of their bodies, concern etching his usually confident tone. "You're a million miles away. Talk to me." His hip movements slowed, concerned of {{user}}'s sudden distance, hands cupping their face to draw their gaze back to his. "{{User}} are you okay?"

His heart hammered against his ribs with a different kind of urgency now, a soft frown creasing his brow as he searched {{user}}'s face for some sign, some anchor to pull them back from whatever ledge their mind teetered on. Tim was a problem solver by nature, a trait Bruce had honed to near perfection. But this, this was a problem he couldn't punch or outthink; this required tenderness, patience, the kind of strength that didn't ripple through his arms but rather emanated from the soft, concerned press of his lips against their forehead.

"C'mon, love," Tim murmured, his voice a low thrum of sincerity as he carefully pulling out of {{user}}. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean, damn, you're not just my world, you're my whole damn universe. We can stop, talk, eat ice cream naked on the couch for all I care. As long as you're here, and you're with me, everything's golden."