#I don’t feel so foolish for posting about it now 🙈

[otonymous]

Memento (DC Jason Todd - NSFW) - Kinktober 2022

Description: 

(First posted on Pa*t*reon (pls see link in pinned post)! - early access Oct 6/22)

Kinktober 2022 Prompt #2: Lingerie

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language and mature themes - reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings include: super mild knife play (no blood involved!), a faint whiff of hate sex (in that love and hate are two sides of the same coin in this particular instance lol), jealousy, one-night stands, rough intercourse, brief mention of masturbation, size kink, angst.

Word Count: ~2500 words

Author's Note:

Hello lovelies!

This second Kinktober fic was inspired by an Ask sent in by @yelenabelovasbathwater, who requested the following:

This was supposed to be an exercise in writing about lingerie.  As with most things Jason Todd related, it turned into angst.  I hope y'all enjoy the read anyways LOL! 🙈😂

-XOXO, Otonny 💕

“Why did you come here?”

Why indeed, you ask yourself, feet suddenly leaden and rooted to the concrete floor, unable to tear your gaze away from the back of Jason’s head.

Dark and low, the sound of his voice is an echo in your mind, the words a warning percolating through layers of your consciousness, meaning gradually taking root:

To take one step closer would be foolish.  

Dangerous.

But you had long since passed the point of no return, seeking out the flame at the risk of immolating yourself in his fire.

You could admit it now.  Had dug down deep into the brittle earth of your honest truth and recognized that regardless of what had happened in the past or had yet to happen in the future, as long as you were alive, the spark of him would live forever within the cradle of your heart.  For better or for worse.

And so, you came to face him: Jason Peter Todd.

Not in an act of bravery nor a show of bravado.  Jason was no charity case and the last thing you wanted to do was fix him.

There was no fixing…this.

“I don’t need your thanks, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Shifting in his chair, Jason speaks, not bothering to look up from the open book in his hand — a copy of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights as dog-eared and worn as the other books sprouting up in stacks from the floor around the cavernous space of his hideout.

“I-I’m not here for that.  Though I am very grateful for what you did, helping my brother out when he was cornered by those thugs—”

“Tell him to stay away from dark alleys at night, yeah?  Next time around, he may not be so lucky.”

You nod, stopping short when you realize Jason wouldn’t have seen it with his back still turned to you.

“So why are you here then?” he asks again, the sharp edge in his tone almost painful in your ears.

“I’m here…to say goodbye.  I’m leaving Gotham.”

Jason’s hand stiffens, crinkling the pages of his book.  “What about Dick?”

“Dick knows.”

“So that’s it, then.  So easy for you, isn’t it?  To just pick up and leave whenever you feel like it, not giving two shits about who gets hurt in the process?”

Finally…finally…Jason turns to face you, the book clattering to the floor as he rises to stand. 

You had forgotten.  

Forgotten how tall Jason was, rising easily two heads above the top of your own.  You had forgotten about the broad stretch of his shoulders beneath his tactical jacket, its tall collar stiff around a neck thick with muscle and sinew, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each strained swallow.

His large hands curl into fists now, the same shape they made when he ran long fingers through your hair to caress and pull that night a lifetime ago.

“This isn’t easy for me, either.  I loved Dick—"

“Yeah, like the way you loved me, right?  One night and one night only?  Or was that a mistake too?”

Words of hurt fall like rain upon your head as you stand there, watching Jason’s fists tremble with anger, rage…and the unfathomable depths of secret pain.

And for a moment, you wondered whether you should’ve turned your back to leave, whether it was better to let sleeping dogs lie if it meant you could avoid further muddying up waters best left undisturbed. And you might have done so…had you not looked into his eyes:

Blue.

Whereas Dick Grayson’s had always been the azure shelter of a midsummer’s sky, Jason’s were dark like the colour of a tempestuous storm:

Impetuous, emotional…and honest.

Jason Todd was used to living life in hiding: secret identities maintained under a mask, cloaked beneath a red hood.  But here, now — standing face to face and breath to breath — he could not hide from you.  Nor did he try,  the glaze of moisture settling over his eyes telling you that for all the waves of anger rising off his body and squaring his jaw, Jason was…

…hurt.

And so you decide that this time, you would not run away.  Like Jason, you were done with hiding, of lying to yourself and those around you.  Thus, gathering your courage, you do the very thing you came here to do:

Be honest.  With Jason, and your own heart.

“Jason, you were never a mistake.  The only mistake I made…was being too scared to love you.  I’ve wronged you.  I’ve wronged Dick. And I’ve done myself no favours by thinking I could fool myself into loving someone else when my heart has always belonged…to you.

“So I’ve come here today to apologize.  I’m sorry for hurting you and your brother.  I know it’s little consolation, but I hope that in my leaving, the two of you can find a modicum of peace.”

“Like hell I will.”

Time seems to slow in the instant Jason moves, rushing at you and overpowering in the tidal wave frame of his body — all bulging muscles and calloused hands demanding as they angle your face to meet his.

His kiss is a punishing sting, bruising and urgent as lips meet, gnash upon teeth.  He doesn’t care about strangling your moans with probing swipes of his tongue, and you pay no mind to the taste of blood mingling with saliva, yours and his.  And when your legs begin to shake from breathlessness, Jason only deepens the kiss, wrapping strong arms around your waist to hold you in place because Jason Todd wasn’t done with you yet. 

It was far from over.

There is a fire in his eyes, burning dangerously wild and reckless in deep blue to remind you of the exact reason why you had chosen Dick in the first place, why you had to avoid Jason all this time:

It was an act of self-preservation.

Because this - this - was inevitable: the chemistry that drew the two of you together so naturally like opposing poles of a magnet, the bond binding and irreversible.  Electric.  To fall for Jason was a death sentence; you’d be helpless against the irresistible force of attraction, falling into him entirely until you ceased to know the limits of where he ended and you began.

And the thought scared you.

That enticing lull of losing yourself completely in another, of loving someone so deeply that to be without them would mean the end of the world.

No one person should have so much power over another, you had thought.  

And so, you left.  Slipped out of Jason’s arms as he slept and forced yourself to abandon the encompassing warmth of his body.  Fought off the soreness between your legs that reminded you too much of what heaven had tasted like as you told yourself, over and over again, that you’d be content with knowing Jason Todd intimately just once.

It wasn’t a one-night stand.  For you, it had never been.  Rather, it was the granting of a glimpse into a secret paradise.  At a price you didn’t think you could afford to pay. 

You were a fool.

You know that now.

The wisdom of your true heart reveals itself in the tears streaming down your face, in your fingers that hunger for the touch of him, wrapping hard around dark strands of silken hair to pull him closer and closer until he is groaning into your mouth, anchoring himself with teeth that sink into the cushion of your lower lip — relentless in its need. 

“I hate you,” Jason says, brows furrowed in frustration as he lays the grimaced confession at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips.  “I hate you so much for what you’ve done.  To me.  To Dick.  But most of all, I hate that I can’t stop loving you.”

Yes.  Yes, my love.  Love me, hate me.  But whatever you do, don’t forget about me.

Because I will never forget you.

Jason pulls away as if stunned, the stroke of white hair that grew from the crown of his head falling into his eyes and yet, it failed to mask the surprise on his face, as if he had somehow heard your innermost thoughts though you had said nothing at all.

“I won’t forget.” 

Jason tells you, low voice solemn in such a way that left absolutely no room for doubt.

Rough hands grip onto the collar of your blouse, a single rip sending tiny buttons scattering across the concrete floor like a broken strand of pearls.  And you are left exposed beneath the spotlight of Jason’s gaze, his fingertips tracing down bare skin to the small of your back while his eyes traverse the landscape of your body: neck…shoulders…collarbones…until finally coming to rest on the curved peaks of your breasts.

Red.

Sheer mesh leaving little to the imagination and dyed in a hue that matched his own colours.  Enticing in its simplicity; thin straps tracing a starburst along your shoulder blades and a teasing second-skin that begged for removal in the most savage of ways: torn by hungry teeth or ripped to shreds in impatient hands.

And yet, that wasn’t what stirred Jason Todd most of all.

His shock came from recognition; the fact that you had worn this bra the first and only time you had spent the night together.  That he kept the vision of you wearing this perfectly preserved in his mind, calling upon it whenever he faltered in strength of will and discipline — hot water beading on his skin in the shower as he reached down to grasp his engorged cock, stroking hard and fast until your name left his lips in a groan, Jason swearing that this time would be the absolute last he would ever think about you as he watched his seed circle down the drain.

To see it again, now, was torture; a punishment that he longed to endure, couldn’t help but self-inflict.  

And he hated himself for it.

So he unsheathes the blade from the holster strapped to his muscular thigh,  dying inside in the best of ways to hear you gasp at the touch of cool, smooth metal against your skin when he slides the tip beneath the strap at your shoulder and—

Snip.

—cuts, Jason stopping only when your bra had been stripped clean away, the memento falling to your feet in shreds, leaving you shaking not from fear but the violence of your utter attraction to this man before you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” 

Jason whispers, certain and resigned in the prophecy that slips past his lips as he bends to kiss your nipples, tongue painting warm, wet swathes about greedy mouthfuls of flesh.

And the feeling…the feeling…

…defies description; could not be put into words for all the books that topple from their neatly stacked piles to collapse into a mess of open pages on the ground when Jason climbs above you, pulling free of each article of clothing that would cage his bare skin from the touch of yours.

His naked body is exactly as you remembered it; aside from a few new scars and bruises, it was perfection all the same.  Bulky muscles shaping wide shoulders and thickening biceps and triceps, Jason is defined all the way from broad chest to the six-pack running down his torso.

You trace the midline of his abdomen, fingertip smoothing down to where his hands worked to unbuckle the belt at his tapered waist.  He struggles to smother a groan at your touch, head falling back to accentuate the bulge of the Adam’s apple in his throat when you reach into his pants to feel him:

Hard flesh engorged with heat, so large it was impossible to wrap your hand around him.

And as you began to stroke, twisting your wrist as you worked your grip up and down Jason’s length, stopping now and then to savour the weight of his balls in the cup of your palm, you remember:

How incredible it had felt to have him in you; Jason’s gaze refusing to relinquish its hold on your own as his hips drove their pendulum swing, fierce and relentless as both Red Hood’s friends and foes knew him to be.

That night, when Jason took you for the very first time, there was neither anger nor rage to be found.  Just pure, overflowing passion whose unfiltered source ultimately gave rise to every other emotion because Jason Todd was a man who felt deeply. He did not do things in halves because he didn’t know how to, and so he loved like he hated: with the entirety of his being.  And right here, right now, you began to tremble, wondering — anticipating — what would become of you, someone who he loved and hated in equal measure.

THRUST.

Without warning, he enters, pulling your crimson thong aside as he slides in to the hilt.  Jason seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every breathless gasp before he pulls away just to watch your eyes water from the sheer intensity of pleasure, gaze caressing over your face.

With Dick, intimacy had tended towards the gentle and leisurely; lovemaking that was sensual, meant to be savoured, not rushed.  But Jason…

…Jason fucked.

Movements orchestrated like his life — and yours — depended on it. Rough, intense.  Frenzied and wild.  Kisses peppered across your face to soothe the stretch of his sizeable cock, the decadent ache of him driving fast and deep into you before slowing to a churning grind, just to witness your eyes rolling to the back of your head, to hear your body speak to him in arousal wet and smeared between the desperate press of you and him.

Jason fucked you like an animal, fuelled by all the broken memories: a night of paradise forever lost, the bitter remembrances of your time with Dick and the ugly jealousy that could find no outlet other than his fists beating on the faces of Gotham’s criminal trash.  Jason never spoke a word about this to anyone, knowing that the day would come when he would tell you everything himself and so he does:

That he lived on your every last breath with each bruising kiss.

That you were the colour in his world when he holds you so tightly you could feel the pounding of his red, red heart in your chest.

That forever and a day wasn’t too long to wait for you with each punishing thrust.

Because for Jason Todd, you would always be the only person he loved, a memento in flesh and blood of the time he had truly understood what it meant to be…

…happy.

Thank you so much for reading and hope y'all enjoyed it!  Much love to each and every one of you! 💕 For more juicy reads, please check out my P*a*t*re-on page (please see link in pinned post)!

👀👉🏼 Feel free to peep the Masterpost here!

"Memento" is copyright 2022 Otonymous, all rights reserved.

⚠️Please do not repost or translate my work in any form. 🙅🏻‍♀️ Reblogs, however, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 🤩💕

[spideychelle-romanogers]

I honestly wish I heard more about this tbh but also on the side I gotta say the most I ever hear on my tumblr is about Adam Driver’s appearance, so that’s all I ever really complain about.

I feel like if people took less time to bitch about Kylo Ren and more time to talk about our precious babies, there’d be a shift of focus. So I feel like there’s a lot of blame to go around. I used to have a dash full of actor positivity and support and news for all the cast members. Now it’s all “reylo sucks” and “Adam is ugly”, so I never hear about anything that matters anymore.

There was this post somewhere that was like “Just a reminder that hating that guy in Star Wars is not a replacement for having an actual personality.” Such a mood.

Maybe everyone should stop being a dick and talk about the real heroes here. 🤷🏽‍♀️ if you don’t find Adam attractive, LET’S TALK ABOUT OUR PRECIOUS BABIES INSTEAD.

Not that anyone’s gonna do that, though. Fandom is problematic and honestly doesn’t care about racism so to pretend people are going to start giving a shit is foolish of me 🙈 we’d all rather debate about a white boy than mention our cast is being attacked by racists.

imagine if people defended john boyega and kelly marie tran from racists as much as they defend adam driver from people who call him ugly