#jason todd x y/n

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

just thinking about jason todd and his big arms and thick thighs…. the way he would fuck you in a headlock whilst his ruts against you harshly, your drool dribbling down your chin and onto his elbow. “makin’ a mess sweetheart,” he cooed as you babbled incoherently, your eyes rolling back. “need to take care of my sweet girl yeah?” his voice hoarse as the sound of skin slapping filled the room, your glistening hole stretched out for his cock as he easily slipped in and out easily, your inner thighs glistening from your arousal. he would use his strength to gently tilt your head upwards, allowing him to see your dazed expression, eyes glassy with your mouth agape. “gone dumb already baby? just from my cock?” he teased, his ego swelling as he watched you choke, your breaths heavy as you swallowed with your lashes damp with tears, lips glossy from your saliva.

sometimes when you were being a little too bratty he would make you ride his thighs. depending on your behaviour you might ride him with his pants on, the material doing nothing and everything at the same time. the roughness of his cargo made the ache in your cunt worse, a slight burning sensation but the folds allowed you to rub against them, your clit getting more friction. it was a matter of time before you soaked them, a small damp spot as you pathetically rode jason’s thighs. “need you to work for it baby,” his voice stern as he kept his hands on your hips, gently guiding you. if he was feeling nice, you would ride his bare thighs, the sensation of his skin was enough to get you going, you straddled against his thick thighs as your smaller hands rested on them, every ridge of muscles rubbing a sensitive spot.

[julymusings]

AND A KISS FOR GOOD LUCK !

i only have you. take care of yourself for me. i take care of myself for you.

cw: descriptions of scars/bleeding/wounds

Leaning closer to the mirror, Jason picks at the skin of his cheek until he feels that familiar dry sting on his face and the thin stickiness of blood under his nails. It elicits barely a wince, he’s so used to the feeling. He watches blood flood inside the abrasion, the flushing, half-healed pink turning to a watery red. 

He hears your footsteps approaching softly, but doesn’t look away from his reflection. He moves his attention to a fresh mark on his chin where the raised, jagged edges of the new scar have just started to scab— an undercover job; one where he had nothing but a thin layer of armor underneath his clothes, his helmet stashed away somewhere in the rafters. The skin is peeling at the corners, and he tugs at the bits of flesh. 

“Jay.”

He finally tears his eyes away from the mirror; you’re standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. Your lips droop into a frown, teeth biting on your bottom lip. 

“Hey,” he says. He focuses somewhere between your forehead and eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is neutral, gentle.

“These fuckin’ cuts,” he mutters. “They’re itching like crazy.”

It’s a half-truth; yes, they do itch like crazy, and it does make him want to claw his skin off sometimes. But that’s not why he’s doing it.

It has become second nature for him, scratching and tearing and aggravating the wounds on his face. Something he does when he’s antsy, or idle, or deep in thought. Just as every other time you find him like this, you shuffle forward and place your hand over his.

Reflexively, he interlaces his fingers with yours, a small, guilty smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I help?” You ask, softly, while leaning against his side. You place a kiss on his shoulder, over the fabric of his sleeve; the shine of your lip balm leaves a mark.

“It’s nothin’ to worry about, baby. It’s almost midnight. I have to head out soon.” The back of his hand haphazardly wipes a single swipe across his cheek, but all it does is smear the blood over his face. His jaw tightens momentarily, and you can tell it burns. 

“Come here,” you say, sliding yourself between him and the wash basin. You cup his face between your hands, dragging your thumb along his chapped bottom lip.

“You chew on your lips too much, Jay.”

He exhales slowly, sagging into your hold. On another day, he’d chuckle or playfully roll his eyes with a kiss to the pad of your thumb. Tonight, he can’t even meet your eyes.

You hop up unto the bathroom counter and pull him close to stand between your legs. There’s a clean washcloth hanging from the towel hook, and you run it under warm water, then wring it out. Jason flinches slightly when you reach out to his face, but settles back into your touch without argument. With soft strokes, you wipe away the thin line of blood, then drag the cloth across the rest of his face, careful not to aggravate the fresh mark on his chin. He remains still the whole time, gaze fixed on the mirror behind you.

“Does it sting?” You ask. He shakes his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Reluctantly, he raises his eyes to yours.

He doesn’t say it, but his eyes say enough, say the harsh assault on himself that sits on his tongue, fighting to break through his teeth.

“You’re so beautiful, Jason.” You trace your fingers along the lines of his features.

“You don’t have to do that.” He turns his face to the wall, trying to hide the frustrated tears that threaten to spill over. It cracks your heart in two, seeing the loveliest person you know blind to his own beauty.

“Jason,” you whisper, voice filled with desperation for him to hear all the words he won’t let you say. “Baby.” It’s a wish; a plea.

He’s never been good with words like these, starving for kindness with a mangled stomach. You learned this the hard way, after trying to force-feed him the intensity of your affection, thinking it would help him when it only made him sick. Now you dole it out in silent, digestible amounts; a squeeze of his hand here, a kiss to the forehead there.

He says nothing, but turns his head back to you. For now, it’s enough.

“What’s that for?” He nods to the bottle of opaque white water you plucked from your side of the sink.

“Rice water. It’s good for your skin, especially if you’re marinating under a sweaty helmet for hours,” you tease.

He grumbles out something along the lines of it’s well-ventilated, but nonetheless, he places his hands on either side of you to lean down towards your eye-level. You rub the solution between your hands and massage it into his face. He always seems to relax when your hands are on him; his eyes flutter shut and his lips part with a relieved breath.

You can’t help yourself—he really is so beautiful—and you steal a kiss to his nose.

“What’s that for?” He opens his eyes at the sound of you unscrewing yet another bottle.

“Oil. For the scars,” you say, tentatively.

His fingers twitch against the counter, but after a moment, he nods. You dab some of the pink oil onto your fingers, and carefully rub it into the jagged marks that decorate his chin, his cheeks, his jaw. He stiffens when you make contact with them, and you’re not sure you hear him exhale until after you pull away.

The bottle is replaced by a small tube of lip balm, and Jason tilts his head. “More?” One of his hands rests on your thigh and strokes up and down.

You tsk at him. “Can you just trust me?” You don’t give him a chance to argue before squeezing the tube and spreading the balm across his lips. His protests are muffled behind his mouth, which he keeps shut so you can work.

“Now I’m done.” You hop down from the sink, and he trails after you into the hall; you know he needs to stop at a safe house before starting his patrol, so you don’t let him linger in the bathroom with his hands on you— similar situations have made him very late in the past, and you’re not interested in getting another earful from his team.

His duffel bag of weapons and gear is already on the living room floor, ready for him to grab and go. A familiar thread of nerves and lonely pining run through your body.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few hours.” Jason lifts the bag with one hand, and pushes a stand of hair behind your ear with the other.

“You better.”

He leans in to peck your lips, but you throw yourself at him for a fiery, desperate kiss straight out of a Hollywood movie. It surprises him enough to make the bag hit the ground as he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss you back with matching fervor.

He’s panting when you release him, face burning red and chest rising rapidly. Try as he might, he can’t hide the shy, flustered grin stretching across his face. “And what was that for?”

You shrug. “For good luck. Obviously.”

He blows out a breath, shaking his head. “Obviously.”

You run your hand up his arm and squeeze on his bicep. “Stay safe. Please.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I will.”

heyyyyy guys. so lots has happened. we hit 1k��😱I feel like a real life influencer now. Hey what’s up you guys welcome back to my YouTube channel, today’s video we are going to be fantasizing about emotionally unavailable men!!! U should totally check my recent post and participate in the celebration

This is based on this ask , read it for some more background, and the quote is from gabriela mistral’s letters to Doris Dana 👍🙏also this was not proofread don’t judge me🙏🙏

Thee divider is by cafekitsune I don’t feel like finding the post to link it I’m SORRYYYYY

[cinnamongrl2006]

˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹Cowboy!Jason Todd 18+ mdni (because I have @ditzydoe444 brainrot)˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹

summary: Your brother's best friend Jason Todd takes you out to a bar and you unknowingly hint at the cowboy rule.

a/n: Jason is in his early thirties and reader in her early twenties! Also this is the first time I write smut on here lolz

Cowboy!Jason Todd Who takes you out to the local dive bar, he convinced you it was a much needed outing after a stressful week of final exams. You'd been studying so much, and he'd missed you. He'd missed your hangouts, missed partying with you, missed those jean shorts you wore that made him have to remind himself he was your brother's best friend.

Cowboy!Jason Todd Who spends the entire night by your side, like a guard dog. He tells himself it's only right, your brother would like him to watch over you, protect you. He tells himself that warm feeling in the pit of his stomach is because of the tequila the both of you are currently downing.

Cowboy!Jason Todd Who is a little startled when you stand on your tiptoes to snatch his hat and place it on your head, donning a tipsy smile. Your eyes shine with myrth as you look up at him.

"Do you know what you're doin'?" He leaned down to speak to you, his breath warm against your cheek.

You shrug, laughing lightheartedly.

When Cowboy!Jason Todd informs you of a so called cowboy rule— wear the hat, ride the cowboy— you are quick to comply, partly because you're tipsy, partly because you'd had a crush on Jason since you first saw him at a county fair a couple years back.

❀✿＊❀✿＊❀✿＊❀✿

Cowboy!Jason Todd who has you sat on his lap in the backseat of his car— a beat down ford mustang— legs sprawled over his thick thighs, hands clawing at the hem of his shirt as he grips your ass over your shorts and wants nothing more than to pull them down and get his way.

Cowboy!Jason Todd who is pleasantly surprised when you lean down and kiss him. It starts out soft and slow, but as the both of you build your confidence your kiss grows messy and passionate; hands roam up and down each others' bodies, teeth clash, pull and bite; tongues begin exploring as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Jason lifts you up effortlessly and helps you tug your shorts down your legs. His hands find your ass again and he tugs you closer, pressing your clothed cunt to the zipper of his jeans. You gasp at the friction and he pushes his hips out slightly in response, groaning.

"Fuck," he breathed out "you're killing me darlin'"

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this, Jay,"

His hand moves in between your bodies and under your panties, two fingers stop teasingly at your entrance before they push in slowly, curling, fingertips pushing at your gummy walls.

"Thought about this before, sugar?"

You unbuckle his belt and pull at the waistband of his jeans, he pulls them down his thighs. You eye the bulge in his boxers expectantly.

"Maybe." You shrug as you dip your hand under the waistband.

Cowboy!Jason Todd who knows what he's doing is wrong, that he shouldn't be fucking his best friend's little sister, but he can't bring himself to care, not when she's wrapped around him so tightly, being so good for him.

Cowboy!Jason Todd who knows he will do it again.

co-written with @prettywritergirl2, my irl bestie and the prettiest girl in the world!!

[killerplink]

CONSEQUENCES

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: You knew teasing Jason while he was on patrol would have consequences. You just didn't expect him to come home early and ruin you over the kitchen counter.

Words: 8,5k

CW: established relationship, 18+, teasing, mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, rough sex, overstimulation, choking (consensual), spanking, manhandling, dirty talk, slight degradation, spit play, praise, aftercare.

A/N: For the bestie who wanted Jason to put reader in a chokehold and the one who suggested teasing him with pics while he's on patrol—this one's for you 👀

Jason exhales sharply, the sound muffled beneath the thick material of the Red Hood mask, his gloved fingers tightening around his phone. The dim glow of the screen is the only source of light against the pitch black Gotham skyline, the city stretched out beneath him, flickering in the distance with neon signs and dull streetlights. But he's not looking at the city. Not looking at the gang of low level fuck ups he's been tailing for weeks.

He's looking at you.

You, sprawled out in bed, wearing nothing but his shirt—his fucking shirt—riding up just enough to show him that perfect, pretty little pussy, already dripping, already making a mess of your thighs.

You, spreading yourself open with your fingers, so wet you're practically glistening under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, teasing him with the sight of your slick, swollen clit.

And Christ, you, grinding down on that stupid fucking hot pink dildo he's been clowning on since the day he found it buried in your nightstand, taking it so deep, your lips parted in a breathless moan, your brows knit together in pure, desperate need.

It's almost funny, really, how goddamn insatiable you are. He fucked you stupid just hours ago, left you whimpering, shaking, with his cum still leaking out of you, and yet, here you are. So fucking needy you couldn't even wait for him to get back home.

And Jason should be focused. He should be watching the five assholes below, the ones dealing weapons out of the back of a shitty, beat up sedan in an abandoned parking lot. He should be getting ready to make a move, should be handling business like he planned.

He exhales sharply, dragging a gloved hand down his mask as he adjusts himself again, teeth clenched behind the red helmet. His dick is straining against his tactical pants, twitching every time his mind flashes back to those pictures, to the slick mess between your legs, to the way you spread yourself open like a fucking invitation.

And he knows you. Knows you knew exactly what you were doing, knows you probably thought he'd just finish patrol and come home like normal, that you'd be asleep, all innocent and sweet, as if you didn't just send him those sinful fucking pictures knowing full well what they'd do to him.

But nah. Not tonight.

Tonight, he's handling business as quickly as possible so he can get back home and fuck the bratty attitude right out of you.

So with one last exhale, he focuses back on the five assholes below, his muscles tense, his mind already running through the fastest way to deal with them. Quick and dirty, no theatrics. Just a couple of broken noses, some shattered ribs, and a reminder that they're not welcome in his city.

And once he's done? Once his hands are free of the night's work? He's going straight home. Straight to you. Because you wanna be a tease? You wanna play games? Fine. But you better be ready to take what's coming to you.

Meanwhile, back home, you sigh as you rinse off your dildo, running warm water and soap over the smooth silicone. It's still slick, still sticky with your cum, and you bite your lip, fighting the embarrassing heat that flares in your belly as you finish cleaning it and grabbing a paper towel to dry it.

Because you're still wet. Still aching. You've already made yourself cum twice. Twice. And it's still not enough.

But it's not like you prefer your toys over Jason. Not anymore. Not since you got together. Because nothing—nothing—feels as good as him. Not his hands, not his fingers, not his tongue, not his lips, not a single fucking thing compares to the way his thick, heavy cock stretches you open, the way he fucks you so deep you feel him for days.

You groan, almost slapping yourself as your pussy has the audacity to clench again, a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. It's ridiculous, really.

You shake your head, shove the dildo back into its bag, and stuff it into your drawer, trying to push past the lingering frustration. Maybe some tea will help. Maybe a snack. Maybe sinking into the couch and putting something on the TV until Jason gets home.

Yeah. That should do it. Because surely, after cumming six fucking times today, you'll be satisfied enough to sit still.

You're in the kitchen, one hand lazily pushing through the fridge, your other gripping the edge of the door as you scan the shelves for something quick and easy. You're still warm, still buzzing, still throbbing faintly between your legs even after a shower and the fresh pair of panties you slipped on. But at least your stomach is grumbling loud enough to distract you.

Until you hear it. The jingle of keys. The click of the lock turning. The heavy thud of boots against the floor. Your head snaps up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

No fucking way. You have to be hearing things. Jason went out not even two hours ago. He should still be on patrol, still handling whatever mess he had planned for the night.

He barely gets his helmet off before he's on you, gloved fingers biting into your waist, the other reaching past you to shove the fridge door closed with a dull thud. Your breath hitches, your body jerking at the sudden movement, but before you can so much as blink, he's spinning you into him, caging you between the counter and the solid wall of his body.

And then he's kissing you—kissing you like he's starving, like he can't get enough, like he's already decided exactly how this night is gonna go.

It's hungry, rough, all tongue and teeth and heat, stealing the breath straight from your lungs as his gloved hands slide down, groping at your ass, gripping handfuls of soft flesh like he owns it. You moan into his mouth, your fingers curling into the hard plates of his suit, nails scraping against the reinforced armor covering his chest. He's still dressed in his gear, the sharp scent of leather clinging to him, mixing with the faint gunpowder that always lingers in the air when he gets home from patrol.

And God, you feel him.

Thick, heavy, rock fucking hard, pressing right against your stomach, the heat of him seeping through his pants, through your thin t-shirt, making your thighs squeeze together, making your head spin.

Jason groans, low and deep, like he already knows exactly what kind of mess you're turning into, and then he yanks you closer, his grip tightening as he grinds up against you, letting you feel just how worked up he is.

You whimper, thighs trembling, your cunt pulsing between your legs.

He tears his mouth from yours just long enough to breathe, and you barely manage a stuttering, "J-Jay—" before he growls, a sharp crack echoing through the kitchen as his palm smacks against your bare ass.

You gasp, your body jolting at the sting, at the way his fingers squeeze the soft flesh right after, rubbing over the heated imprint of his palm.

"What the fuck you think you're doin', huh?" he rasps, his voice thick, rough, dripping with something dark and dangerous.

Your lips part, but no words come out. Just a shallow, shaky breath, your brain short-circuiting under the weight of his stare. Because you know that look on his face.

And it means you're in trouble.

"I was j-just—"

Another sharp slap lands on your ass, making you gasp, cutting your words off instantly.

"You were just what, huh?" Jason growls, his voice thick with frustration, his grip tightening. "Sendin' me all those pics, makin' me hard as fuck on patrol? You know I had to fight with a fuckin' boner, baby? You know how fuckin' distractin' that was?"

You bite your lip, trying so hard not to let the smug little smirk tug at the corners of your mouth, because honestly? Yeah, you do know. That was kind of the point. But you'll never admit it—not out loud.

Not when he looks like this.

Before you can so much as think of a response, Jason grabs you—big hands gripping your thighs, your body weight nothing to him as he lifts you onto the kitchen counter. Your breath stutters, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, but he doesn't give you a second to catch up.

Because the second your ass touches the counter, he's ripping your t-shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

Your soaked panties.

His eyes drop instantly, and fuck, the groan he lets out—deep, rough, vibrating against your skin—makes your stomach flip, makes your cunt clench around nothing, makes your pulse pound between your legs.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, baby," he mutters, running a gloved hand down your side, gripping your hip, fingers curling into your soft skin.

And then he spreads your legs wider. Your breath catches, your thighs trembling as he steps between them, crowding into you, and before you can process any of it, he's grinding against your cunt. Hard. But the pressure is perfect.

Your panties stick to you, the friction hitting your clit just right, his cock thick and heavy, straining against his pants as he drags it against you, rubbing over your aching pussy. You let out a sharp little gasp, your nails digging into the Kevlar covering his shoulders, your body jerking at the overwhelming sensation, at the heat of him.

You want to say something, want to throw back a smartass remark, maybe tell him it's his fault for leaving you all needy in the first place, but you don't get the chance.

Because Jason's hand is already wrapping around the back of your neck, his fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your face up, and then his mouth is on yours again.

Hot. Messy. All tongue and teeth and Fuck, baby, you're so goddamn wet for me.

And the whole time, he keeps grinding against you, his free hand pinning you in place, the cool leather of his glove pressing into your hip, keeping you right where he wants you as he ruts against your dripping cunt.

You're soaking through your panties, through the lacy fabric right onto his pants, leaving a damp little patch over his bulge, and he groans into your mouth, feeling it, knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

Jason rips his mouth from yours, his breath hot against your lips, and before you can catch up, before you can so much as blink, you hear it before you feel it—the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

Your breath catches, your thighs twitching as the cool air of the kitchen hits your soaked cunt, the remnants of your panties dangling from Jason's fingers, the delicate lace snapped like it was nothing.

You gasp, barely processing it before his sharp, wicked little smirk takes over his face, his eyes dropping between your legs.

"Fuck," he mutters, low and rough, his gaze locked on the way a thin, glistening string of your slick clings to the ruined panties before snapping.

He lets out a deep chuckle, tossing them aside like they're useless to him now. He lifts one hand, gripping the edge of his glove with his teeth, tugging it off in one smooth motion, exposing his bare fingers—long, thick, skilled.

The next thing you know, two of them are buried inside your cunt.

"Oh—fuck—" you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body arching as his fingers plunge into you, stretching you open, curling just right.

He works them deep, fucking them into you in slow, firm strokes, the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy filling the room, and shit, you're still so sensitive.

And his other hand—the gloved one—is already working his belt, working the buttons and the zipper, his knuckles bumping against your inner thigh as he frees his cock.

"Jay—w-wait—" you murmur, breath hitching, your legs trembling around his waist.

But he just laughs. Dark, knowing.

"What's the matter, huh?" he drawls, pressing his forehead to yours, his fingers still fucking into you, still dragging slick sounds from your dripping cunt. "Don't tell me you're too sensitive to take my dick right now."

You shake your head so fast, so desperate to deny it, but fuck, you're already so overstimulated, already so close again, and he knows it. He can feel it.

So he drags his fingers out of you in one slow, slick pull, making you whine, your cunt clenching around nothing, but before you can complain, before you can beg, he's already gripping his dick.

Already fisting it, dragging your wetness over the thick, flushed length, mixing it with the pearly precum beading at his tip, groaning under his breath.

"Fuck, baby, you're so messy," he mutters, his voice wrecked, his hand moving slow, firm, teasing.

You can barely breathe, your eyes locked on the way his dick looks in his fist, slick with you, with him, flushed and aching and ready to split you open.

His free hand grips your waist, drags you closer to the edge of the counter, his strength making you feel so small, so helpless, like you have no say in it, like he's going to take what he wants from you. And he is, because he knows you're gonna let him.

And then he's back between your legs, slapping your clit with his cock.

Your whole body jerks, a high, needy whimper ripping from your throat as the heavy weight of it lands against your sensitive bundle of nerves, over and over, each hit making your thighs twitch, making your cunt pulse with need.

"Jay—" you whimper, squirming, gripping his arms, but he just shushes you, his hand sliding up from your hip, up your side, until it's wrapped around the back of your neck again.

He grips you there, firm, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him, his lips barely brushing yours, his cock still slapping against your clit, making your legs twitch, your breath hitching in quick, shallow gasps.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, his voice a low, taunting purr. "Was it worth behavin' like a little slut tonight?"

And you don't know what has gotten into you, don't know if it's the way he's looking at you, don't know if it's the way he's got you all pinned in place, your whole body under his control, but you nod.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his smirk growing, his cock still slapping against your clit, sending jolts of overstimulation through your body.

You nod. Again. Even though you know what's coming. Even though you know he's about to fuck you stupid.

And before you can even think about saying, "I was just kidding"—not that it would save you now—his thick, aching cock is pushing in.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp, your whole body going rigid, your fingers digging into his arms as he splits you open, stretching you wide, forcing you to take every thick, pulsing inch.

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open, a helpless, needy whimper slipping past your lips, and Jason groans under his breath, watching the way your tight little cunt struggles to take him, the way you clamp down, so fucking hot and wet and slippery for him.

"You wanna be a fuckin' brat, huh?" he growls, gripping your waist harder, pulling you onto his cock as he drives forward, forcing more of himself inside. "Guess I gotta fuck it out of you."

And he doesn't even bother bottoming out before he starts fucking you. Hard. Fast. Brutal.

The wet slap of skin on skin fills the kitchen, your moans breaking into helpless little gasps each time he slams forward, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs. The gun holster strapped to his thigh digs into your skin, pressing, the leather rough against your soft, sensitive flesh, a constant reminder of just how fucked you are.

His hand moves from the back of your neck to the front, his gloved fingers wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch, just enough to make your pussy clench around him.

"Fuck—" Jason swears, his grip tightening just slightly, enough to make your head feel light, enough to make every nerve in your body tingle. "You like that, huh? You like bein' choked while I ruin this little pussy?"

And you can't speak, can't breathe, can't think. All you can do is nod, your moans breaking into choked little whimpers as he pounds into you, each brutal thrust driving him deeper, making your walls spasm around his thick cock.

And when your mouth falls open on another desperate moan, Jason leans in, his breath hot against your lips, his gloved fingers still tight around your throat.

"Yeah, baby," he murmurs, his voice wrecked, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you so full you can feel every vein, every pulse. "Take it. Fuckin' take it."

And then, his tongue slides into your mouth. Hot, wet, dominating, tasting every gasp, every moan, swallowing down every desperate little noise you make as he fucks you senseless. Your head spins, your whole body trembling, heat coiling tight in your belly, your climax building fast, dangerously close.

And Jason knows it.

"You gonna cum already, baby?" he purrs against your lips, his fingers flexing around your throat, his cock still slamming into you, pushing you closer, closer, closer. "Go on. Fuckin' cum for me."

He slams into you, again and again, his cock driving so deep, so hard, it's all you can do to hold on, to breathe through it, to take every brutal, punishing thrust as he fucks you open, stretches you so wide around him you don't know how you're still coherent.

Your nails sink into the thick material of his suit, your whole body shaking, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist, your toes curling with every sharp, unrelenting snap of his hips.

You can feel it. The heat twisting low in your belly, coiling tight, electric and overwhelming, your orgasm rushing toward you, unstoppable, devastating, making your walls flutter and clench so tight around his cock he groans, his hand tightening around your throat.

You love this. You live for this. The way his gloved fingers press against your skin, firm but careful, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, to make you dizzy, to make every pulse of pleasure more intense.

And you trust him. You trust him with everything, with this, because you know—you know he'd never hurt you, never push you too far.

"C'mon, baby," Jason groans against your lips, his fingers flexing around your throat as his dick pounds into you, his pace brutal, relentless, fucking you so deep you swear he's in your fucking womb. "You gonna cum for me? Gonna make a fuckin' mess all over my dick?"

You try to say something—try to answer—but the words get lost in a broken, desperate whimper, your mouth falling open, almost drooling with how fucked-out and wrecked you are.

"That's it," Jason growls, his free hand gripping your waist tight, slamming you onto his cock as he drives into you, giving you exactly what you need, what you crave. "Fuckin' take it."

Your orgasm crashes over you, blinding and overwhelming, your whole body tensing as wave after wave of white-hot pleasure ripples through you, so fucking intense it leaves you shaking, clenching, soaking his cock with slick as you cum hard around him.

Jason groans, his hand dropping from your throat to your hip as he fucks you through it, fucking you harder, deeper, dragging out every sharp, shuddering pulse of your release until your cunt is twitching around him, sensitive, overstimulated, your whimpers breaking into helpless, pathetic cries.

"Good fuckin' girl," he grits out, leaning in, swallowing your moans with his mouth, his tongue sliding into yours, hot and wet, claiming every sound, every sharp little gasp. "So fuckin' pretty when you cum on my dick, baby—fuck—"

He's so close, he can feel it. His whole body tense, his dick throbbing, straining inside your tight, soaking-wet heat, every little clench of your overstimulated pussy making his stomach coil, making his hips stutter.

"Shit—" he grits out, his hands tightening on your body, his rhythm turning desperate, frantic, fucking you fast, hard, chasing it, so fucking worked up he can't even hold back.

With a sharp, wrecked groan, his hips snap forward one last time, his cock driving deep, pulsing as thick ropes of hot cum spill into your tight little pussy, painting your insides, filling you up until you're dripping, leaking all over the counter. But he doesn't stop.

He fucks it deeper, fucks you through it, milking every last drop, his fingers bruising against your skin as he holds you still, grinding against you until his cock is twitching, until you're both a wrecked, sweaty mess of slick and cum and breathless desperation.

And when he finally pulls back, finally looks down—Christ.

His cum is already leaking out of you, creamy and white, spilling out of you, coating your puffy, overstimulated lips, slicking up his cock as he groans, watching it drip.

"Shit," he rasps, his fingers sliding through the mess, making you whimper, your whole body twitching from the overstimulation. "So fuckin' pretty like this, baby."

You're panting, gasping for breath, your whole body shuddering as Jason keeps grinding into you, his cock still rock fucking hard inside your wrecked little pussy, throbbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm, spurting the last drops of hot cum deep inside you.

And then—fuck—he crashes his lips over yours.

It's hungry, messy, his mouth claiming yours, his tongue licking into you, sweeping over yours, deep and wet and so possessive it makes your knees go weak.

His free hand grips your tits, squeezing rough, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple as he devours you, making you whimper into his mouth, making your overstimulated cunt flutter tight around his still hard cock.

"Fuck," he groans, his teeth catching your bottom lip, pulling, his hips grinding up, his dick pressing so deep it makes your whole body tremble.

He pulls back, his hand sliding down your body, gripping your waist as his dick finally slides out. His cum trickles out instantly, thick and creamy, dripping from your wrecked, fucked open pussy, sliding down your inner thighs, slicking up the mess between your legs.

Jason smirks, his eyes locked on the filthy sight, one gloved hand reaching down, dragging his fingers through the slick, spreading it around, making you whimper as your sensitive little clit twitches.

But before you can even think about what's next, he grabs you. Lifts you off the counter, spins you around, and bends you over. Your hands slap against the cool marble, your breath hitching as Jason shoves you down, pressing your tits flush against the countertop, keeping you pinned.

"Jay—" you gasp, trying to push up, but his hand is already gripping your back, keeping you in place.

"If you think we're done here," he grits out, his cock pressing back against your dripping pussy, smearing his cum all over your folds, "you're fuckin' wrong, doll."

And then, he slams back in.

"Fuck—" you choke on the word, your body lurching forward as his cock buries deep, stretching you all over again, the angle so perfect, so brutal, it knocks the breath from your lungs.

One hand stays on your back, keeping you bent over, keeping you pressed down, while the other grips your thigh, lifting your leg, spreading you wider for him as he fucks into you.

And the angle? Jesus Christ, this angle is insane. Every sharp, unrelenting thrust drives right into that perfect spot, making your legs tremble, your whole body shudder as your eyes roll back. Jason pounds you into the counter, the sloppy sounds of wet skin slapping filling the kitchen.

"Yeah, baby," he groans, his grip on your leg tight, spreading you wider, letting him go deeper, letting him hit all the spots that make you fucking see stars. "You wanna act like a slut? Then be one. Fuckin' take it."

You try—really, you try—but all you can do is moan, broken little cries spilling from your lips, drool pooling against the marble, your mind going blank from how fucking good it feels.

"Think bein' bratty was worth it, huh?" Jason taunts, his breath hot against your back, his pace relentless, his cock slamming into you, the sounds of your soaking wet pussy obscene as he ruins you.

You can't answer. You can only take it. And Jason knows. Knows you're too fucked out to speak, too wrecked to do anything but clench around him, your tight little pussy gripping his cock.

"Yeah," he grits out, his voice rough, his thrusts turning harder, his hand leaving your back to tangle in your hair, yanking your head up so he can hear every broken, helpless whimper that spills from your lips. "That's what I fuckin' thought."

Jason's a rough man. He always has been. His whole life has been one long fight—against the world, against himself, against the people who've tried to control him, break him, kill him.

But he's rarely like this. Because you changed him. Not all the way—he's still him, still sharp edges and rough hands and a body built for war. But he's softer, just a little. The kind of soft that lets you cling to him after patrol, lets you tug him into the shower, lets him let you love him, even when he's got no fucking clue how he deserves it.

And he loves you too much to be as brutal as he used to be. Loves you too much to fuck you like you're just another warm body, another hookup to use and leave. But right now, none of that softness is here.

Right now, you wouldn't want him soft. Right now, you love him like this.

Love how he cages you in, his broad frame looming over you, his tactical gear rough against your bare, overheated skin, the hard plastic of his gun holster still digging into your side as he pounds into you from behind.

Love how his cock stretches you wide, the fat head dragging against your sweet spot with every brutal thrust, slicked up with his cum, with your cum, with the mix of everything he's fucked out of you.

Love how his voice is wrecked, low and gravelly in your ear as he grunts, "God, baby—fuckin' love this pussy."

The slick, obscene noise of your dripping wet cunt, squelching as he fucks you, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, his gritted curses, your helpless little whimpers—it's filthy.

And God, his hand. His big hand slides from your hair to your throat again. That thick, gloved hand, wrapping tight around your neck, tilting your chin up, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And you fucking love it. Not because you're some mindless little thing who lets him do whatever he wants—okay, maybe a little— but because you trust him. Because you know he'd never hurt you.

Because you know that after this, he's gonna carry you to the shower, wash you with slow, gentle hands, let you curl up against him in bed, his lips pressed to your hair as he murmurs how much he loves you.

But right now? Right now, he's got you bent over, wrecking you like he's got a point to prove.

"Open," Jason orders, his grip tightening, his gloved thumb pressing just right against the side of your throat, making you shudder.

You barely process the command, your head spinning, pleasure thrumming through your entire body as he fucks you deep, relentless. But then he tilts your face higher, and you know exactly what he means. You whimper, body trembling, and you obey, your lips parting, tongue slipping out just slightly.

Jason leans down, lets his saliva pool into your mouth, slow and filthy, his eyes locked onto you, watching as it drips down your tongue. You swear you could cum just from that alone, from the way he's looking at you, from the snarl on his lips, from the way his hand is still tight around your throat.

"Swallow it," he growls.

And you do. He groans when you do, when he feels your throat contract beneath his palm, when he sees the way you fucking love it.

"That's my girl," he grits out, his other hand gripping your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you harder, fucking you so deep you can feel him in your fucking gut.

His good fucking girl, even when you're a brat. Even when you push his buttons, test his patience, send those filthy little pictures to fuck with his head while he's on patrol, you still take it. Take his dick, take his rough hands, take the way he ruins you like you need it.

He watches you—watches the way your tits brush against the cool marble with every thrust, the way they bounce from the sheer force of his fucking, the way your skin is hot, damp with sweat, your pussy an absolute mess between your legs, his cum and your slick dripping down your thighs, down to the floor tiles beneath you.

And yet, you still take it, just like he knew you would.

"Put your leg up, baby," he rasps, grabbing your thigh and hooking it up onto the counter, spreading you wider for him, letting him sink deeper into your cunt.

You moan, legs trembling as he bottoms out, dick pulsing, the thick head pressing right against your cervix.

"Keep it there," he orders, voice rough as he ruts into you, every thrust sharp, his grip on you tight enough to leave bruises.

And you listen, even though your body is shaking, even though your pussy is so fucking overstimulated, so wrecked from his pace, because you can't do anything else but obey him at this point.

"Look at you," Jason grunts, watching your body rock against the counter, "so fuckin' messy, baby, got my cum drippin' outta you, but you still want more, huh?"

You whimper, back arching, hands gripping the edges of the marble as he fucks you, relentless and rough, cock splitting your pussy open, stretching you wide.

"Was it worth bein' a brat tonight, huh? Can't even fuckin' answer a simple question," he taunts, one hand slipping down your stomach, sliding between your legs.

The second his fingers find your clit, you cry out, the sound breaking into a series of gasping, choked moans. You can't even form words, just desperate little whimpers, hips jerking, body twitching as he rubs quick, hard, matching the brutal rhythm of his fucking, rolling the swollen bud in firm, tight circles.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jason groans, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him, feeling how wrecked you already are. "Still so fuckin' sensitive, but you just couldn't wait, could you? Had to send me those pictures, had to make me fuckin' ruin you, baby, Jesus fuck—"

And you're gone, you can barely think, your entire world narrowing to the feeling of his cock, his hands, his voice, the way he's owning you, the way he's fucking you stupid.

"J-Jay—b-baby, fuck, more—moremoremore—"

Your voice is wrecked, stuttering through the words, barely making sense as you push back against him, as you take everything he gives you, as you chase your next orgasm like you need it to breathe.

Jason groans, his dick throbbing at the sound, at the way you're babbling for him, your pussy so swollen, so raw from how hard he's been fucking you, but you don't care.

Because you need it. You need him to fuck you through another orgasm. You need him to fill you up again.

"Jesus fuck," Jason grits, snapping his hips forward, sinking deep into you, his cock sliding into your wrecked little cunt so easily, so smooth with your slick and his cum.

It's loud—the wet, filthy squelching of your pussy swallowing him down, the thick slap of skin on skin as he pounds into you, the sounds of your ragged, desperate moans.

"So fuckin' needy," Jason grunts, "so fuckin' desperate for it, baby, Jesus—"

His pace changes, from deep, dragging thrusts that have his cock pressing into every swollen, sensitive spot inside you, to sharp, shallow ones. The thick head rubs right against your sweet spot, the sensation intense, making you sob, making your whole body shake from how badly you need to cum.

His fingers on your clit are relentless, rubbing it quick, fast, rolling it in tight circles, making your thighs shake, your mouth fall open, a wrecked, desperate sob breaking from your lips.

"That's it, baby," Jason growls, "fuckin' take it, let me feel you cum, c'mon, be a good girl, fuckin' cum—"

You break, your whole body tensing, your cunt pulsing around him, squeezing his cock in hard, tight waves. So fucking tight that Jason swears, hips stuttering as he fucks you through it. He keeps rubbing your clit, keeps fucking you, dragging out your orgasm until you're sobbing from how good it feels, from how overwhelming it is. Until your pussy's gushing around him, soaking his cock, soaking his pants, soaking his hand.

Jason can barely think.

His body is a mess—his back soaked with sweat under his gear, his thighs burning, his skin sticky, and he doesn't give a fuck. He can feel sweat dripping down his nose, feels it fall onto your bare back, sees it mix with the sheen on your skin, and it just makes him crazier.

Because you're a wreck, too—your body slack, trembling from how many times he's fucked you into the counter, your tits bouncing, your skin flushed, covered in goosebumps. Your pussy is a wet, sloppy mess around his cock, soaking his pants, coating his thighs, and he swears he's never been this fucking hard in his life.

"Jesus fuckin'—"

His hand grips your throat again, tugging you back against him, making you arch, your body pressing flush to his, his chest heaving against your spine. And the angle—

"Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Your moan is wrecked, wild and desperate, your fingers clawing at his wrist as his cock slams into you from this new angle, hitting so deep, so fucking good that you almost black out.

Jason groans, deep and gritted, his fingers flexing around your throat, his dick throbbing, aching, his whole body tense and burning because he's so fucking close.

"Fuck, baby, I'm—"

His hips snap forward, burying himself to the hilt, and he breaks.

A wrecked groan rips from his chest as his orgasm hits, his body shuddering, his thighs flexing as he fills you up, thick ropes of hot, sticky cum pumping deep into your pussy, spilling against your cervix.

And the second you feel it, the warmth flooding you, coating your walls—

"Ohh, fuck—J-Jay—"

Your whole body locks up, back arching hard against his chest, your mouth falling open in a wrecked, helpless sob. Your nipples are so hard they ache, goosebumps ripple over your skin, your legs shaking so bad you swear you're gonna collapse, but you can't stop.

Because you're cumming, too. Hard.

Your cunt pulses around him, tight and needy, milking his cock, making his hips jerk, making his whole body shudder against you as he groans into your hair, his dick throbbing inside your soaked, wrecked pussy.

You whimper, body shaking, your clit aching from how hard he fucked you, how good he filled you. Jason groans, keeping you close, feeling his cum spill out, thick and white, coating your swollen, fucked out little pussy.

You're shaking, your whole body wrecked, overstimulated and soaked, your legs barely able to hold you up, and Jason can feel it.

His arms are around you before you can collapse, a strong, steady hold keeping you upright, his chest heaving against your back as he tries to catch his breath. His dick is still buried inside you, so thick and hot, and you sob, pleasure pulsing through you in aftershocks, your body still shuddering from the intensity of it all.

"Shh, baby," Jason breathes, his voice wrecked, panting, thick with heat and something softer, something that makes your chest ache. "I got you. 'M right here, pretty girl."

You whimper, boneless and exhausted, your hands reaching up to grasp at his arms, fingers curling into his sweat-dampened sleeves, and Jason hums, pressing a warm, messy kiss against your temple.

"Jesus, doll..." He nuzzles into your hair, lets his hands smooth over your skin, rubbing slow, gentle circles along your sides. "Fucked you so good, made you all dumb on my dick— fuck—look at you, baby, still shakin'."

His voice is low, soothing, his lips ghosting over your temple, your cheek, your neck, the words melting sweet and hot into your skin. And even though he's still panting, still wrecked, there's a tenderness there—something soft, even as his fingers tighten just a little when you whimper.

Because you're a brat, you're a fucking menace, teasing him with those pictures while he was on patrol, making him fight with a raging hard-on, and he should be mad every time you pull that shit. But goddamn, he can't even be mad when you're this perfect.

"You okay, baby?"

His voice dips a little softer, lower, his nose brushing along the curve of your shoulder as he squeezes you a little tighter, anchoring you, making sure you're still here with him.

And when you nod, still catching your breath, still soaked in sweat, still whimpering, he just smirks against your skin, presses one last, lazy kiss to the side of your neck.

"That's my girl."

You keep sniffling, little aftershocks making your body tremble against his, and Jason just soothes you like he always does when he's been this rough with you. His hands are gentle, rubbing slow, soothing circles down your belly, along your hips, his touch warm and steady even as you're still so wrecked.

"Shh, baby," he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing soft against your damp temple. "Breathe for me, yeah? I've got you."

You whimper when he pulls out, your whole body tensing at the sudden loss, the stretch of him leaving you making your breath hitch. Your legs immediately give out, completely spent, but he's already catching you, lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

You melt into him the second he picks you up, arms clinging around his neck, face burrowing into his chest, not even caring that his tactical gear is in the way. You just need to be closer, need to feel him, need the solid, safe weight of him keeping you grounded.

"Jesus, baby," Jason huffs, but he smirks, his breath ruffling your hair as he presses a kiss against your forehead. "Fucked you that good, huh?"

You nod faintly, fingers clinging to the fabric of his sleeves, and he chuckles, shifting you in his arms as he starts walking, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor.

"C'mon, doll," he murmurs, voice still low and warm, tinged with the last traces of roughness. "Let's take a bath, yeah?"

You nod, barely more than a little, dazed tilt of your head against him, and he smirks, adjusting his grip before carrying you effortlessly through the apartment, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor. You're still clinging to him when he steps into the bathroom, reluctant to let go even as he starts to set you down.

"Nooo," you whine, arms tightening around his neck, making zero effort to let him go.

Jason laughs, low and fond, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Shhh, I'm not goin' anywhere."

You peer up at him, your eyes still glassy, still so thoroughly fucked-out, lips slightly puffed from all his kisses, and you pout. "No?"

"Nah, baby," he reassures, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Took care of business for tonight. I'm all yours."

That makes you smile, your whole body melting against him as you nuzzle into his chest, soaking in the warmth of him, the solidness, the safety, and you nuzzle right back into his chest, sighing as he strokes a hand through your hair. He reaches over with his other hand, turning on the water, the steady stream filling the tub as he drops the plug in.

And then he's wrapping his arms around you again, holding you tight, his palm smoothing slow, soothing strokes up and down your back as the water pours into the tub.

"Relax, baby," he murmurs against your hair, voice low, gravelly, but so damn soft. "I've got you."

Once the tub is filled, Jason reaches over, twisting the faucet off, and then he's lifting you again, hands firm under your thighs as he gently lowers you into the warm water. The heat makes your spent muscles immediately relax, and you let out a soft, content sigh, sinking into it, your head resting against the edge of the tub.

Your eyes are heavy, but you still watch him, all sleepy and soft, as he starts stripping out of his gear. His vest comes first, then his glove, each movement slow, unhurried. His shirt follows, baring his sweat-slicked chest, the scars and tattoos across his body catching in the dim bathroom light. Your lashes flutter as you take him in, still entranced by the sight of him, no matter how many times you've seen him like this.

And then he pulls down his pants, the fabric sticking slightly to his thighs, and you giggle when you see the obvious stain of his cum on them.

Jason raises an eyebrow, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips. "Somethin' funny, doll?"

You just grin, innocent, eyes sparkling as you look up at him, and he shakes his head before stepping closer. "C'mon, brat, make me some room."

You do, scooting forward a little, letting him step in behind you. The moment he settles into the water, his legs spread wide, caging you between them, he pulls you back against him. His chest is warm, solid, his arms coming to wrap around your middle, holding you close.

You melt into him, your head nestling into the crook of his shoulder, your body fitting perfectly against his. You reach for one of his hands, bringing it up to your cheek, nuzzling into his palm, your lips brushing over his roughened skin.

Jason chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. "Already in sleepy cat mode?"

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before tilting your head up to look at him, lips pouting slightly as you murmur, "I'm hungry..."

Jason snorts. "I bet."

You whine softly, rubbing your cheek against his hand again, making him laugh before he relents. "I'll make you somethin' after we finish here, yeah?"

"I want cheesy chicken nuggets and fries," you say, your voice soft, almost dreamy, as if you're already thinking about the food.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, lips pressing soft to your temple. "I'll throw some in the air fryer."

That makes you happy, your whole body perking up as you hum, wiggling a little in his lap to get more comfortable.

But the second your ass presses back against his lap, Jason groans, fingers tightening on your hips. "Careful, baby, or I'll fuck you again."

You freeze for a second, but then you giggle, wiggling just a little more, just to tease him.

Jason grunts, his breath shaky, and his hands flex around your waist. "Brat."

You just grin, settling back against him, feeling warm and safe as he holds you close.

For a few long, quiet minutes, Jason just holds you, the heat of the water soaking into his muscles, easing away the tension in his shoulders, his back. You're soft against him, warm and pliant, your fingers tracing idle little patterns over his forearm where it rests over your stomach. He lets out a long breath, pressing his lips to your temple, lingering there for a second before he shifts, reaching for the bottle of body wash.

His hand is gentle as he leathers it up between his palms, and you hum when he starts gliding it over your arms, your shoulders, down your back. He lingers there, just a little, kneading at the muscles, working out any lingering soreness.

And he can't help it—his lips find your shoulder, pressing soft, slow kisses along your damp skin. Then up, to the curve of your neck, to the spot just below your ear. He can feel you smiling, can feel the way your body relaxes against him.

He keeps going, washing you with slow, careful strokes, rinsing away the sweat and the remnants of what you just did. And when he moves up to your hair, you let out a happy little sigh, tilting your head back as he starts working the shampoo into your scalp.

You hum, all soft and content, and Jason finds himself grinning like an idiot the entire time.

It's always like this. Ever since you got together. Before you, he never thought he'd feel this kind of happiness, never thought he'd have moments like these—where love wasn't just something distant, something out of reach, but something real. Something warm.

He never thought he'd have someone who knew every jagged piece of him and didn't flinch, who didn't try to smooth out his rough edges but traced them with careful fingers instead, holding them like they were something precious.

He was always too much. Too broken. Too rough around the edges. He thought he wasn't made for soft things, for gentle things. He told himself that for so long it started to feel like truth, like something carved into his bones. But then you came along. And suddenly, softness wasn't something fragile anymore.

It wasn't something that could be taken from him, something he had to keep at arm's length. It was you—curled up against him, fitting so perfectly in his arms, hands running slow over his skin like you were memorizing every inch of him. It was in the way you looked at him like he wasn't something broken, but something worth loving.

And now? Now, he doesn't have to wonder what it feels like to be held, to be wanted. Now, he knows.

He keeps rubbing small circles into your scalp, massaging the tension away, and you let out another little happy sound, and yeah, he's fucking gone for you.

He takes his time, gently massaging your scalp, lathering your hair with shampoo and making sure it's washed thoroughly, all the while being soft and slow, making sure you feel taken care of.

After a few more minutes of soaking in the warmth, he helps you rinse off, his hands still steady, still gentle as he cups the water, running it through your hair until it's completely clean. Then, once your hair's thoroughly washed, he rinses it one final time, ensuring all the soap's gone.

He stands, stepping out first before reaching for a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders as he helps you up.

You shiver a little as the cooler air hits your damp skin, but Jason doesn't let you linger in it. He tugs you close, rubbing your arms through the towel before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Sit tight for a sec, baby," he murmurs, giving you a squeeze before letting you go.

You nod sleepily, leaning against the sink, the warm towel still wrapped around you as you watch him step back into the tub.

Even though you're exhausted, your limbs heavy with post-orgasm haze, you can't help but admire him—broad shoulders, sculpted arms, the scars and tattoos that map across his body, each one a story, a reminder of everything he's been through. His hands move efficiently, lathering the soap over his chest, his arms, down to his abs, and then... lower.

You bite your lip, watching as he strokes a hand down his thick thighs, washing away the sweat and the grime, half from fucking you, the other half from patrol. His dick is soft, but still impressive, flushed from earlier, streaks of soap washing down the drain as he rinses himself off.

"See somethin' you like, pretty girl?" he murmurs, smirking as he slicks his wet hair back.

You pout, cheeks heating as you pull your towel tighter around yourself, mumbling, "Maybe."

Jason chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches for the shampoo, running his fingers through his hair as the lather builds. He rinses quickly, shaking the water from his head before turning off the faucet.

Then he grabs a towel, rubbing it over his head, water dripping down his back, his chest. You can't help but sigh dreamily, still admiring the way his muscles flex, the way he moves.

Jason notices—of course he does—and before you can react, he's stepping forward, cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so you have to look at him.

"You keep eye fuckin' me like that, and I'm gonna forget about aftercare," he murmurs, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You shiver, thighs clenching on instinct, and Jason just grins, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your lips before letting go.

"C'mon, let's get you dressed before you catch a cold."

You don't bother dressing in anything fancy, just grabbing a comfy shirt—his, obviously—and slipping on some underwear. As you pull it on, you glance over to see him pulling on a pair of shorts, the fabric settling low on his hips. The sight makes your chest flutter, but you push the thought aside, smiling at him as you finish getting dressed. The moment you're done, you beam up at him before skipping toward the kitchen.

Jason watches you go, a smirk tugging at his lips as he follows, his bare feet thudding against the floor.

As promised, he pulls out a bag of frozen cheesy chicken nuggets and fries, tossing them into the air fryer while you grab your tea, getting to finally make it after he'd thoroughly ruined you earlier.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, the way you happily hum to yourself as you prepare your drink, and he shakes his head fondly, grabbing a beer from the fridge before leaning against the counter.

A few minutes later, the food is ready, and you grab the plates, eagerly bouncing to the couch, practically dragging him down with you.

Jason doesn't protest, just lets himself get pulled into the cushions, and you barely give him a second to sit before you're reaching for him, arms stretching toward him with a sleepy little whine.

"So fuckin' clingy," he teases, but he's already pulling you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

With the TV playing softly in the background, plates balanced on your laps, he takes a sip of his beer, one arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you munch on your nuggets, still warm, still content, snuggling into his side like it's where you belong. And maybe it is.

[luv-lock]

bro what would happen if spider!reader actually ended up with someone? it could even be just a one night stand thing, then someday they end up meeting that person again and it’s brought up in front of everyone but spider!reader is very nonchalant abt it, shes just like; yeah that was fun! anyway so

You never really thought about it. It was one night, fun, casual—nothing deep. You had needs, and, well, that guy (or girl, whatever you were into at the time) was right there. It was a good night, but after that? You bounced.

Fast-forward to months later, when you and the Batboys were out on a mission. You weren’t expecting to ever see your one-night stand again, but, of course, Gotham had a way of screwing with you.

“Y/N?” a voice called out behind you.

You turned around, coming face-to-face with—oh. Ohhh. That guy.

“Oh, hey!” you said casually, as if you weren’t currently in the middle of taking down a gang of arms dealers. “Long time no see!”

The Batboys froze. Every. Single. One of them.

Dick blinked. Jason’s grip on his gun tightened. Tim nearly dropped his staff. Damian looked like he was about to commit a murder.

“…You know him?” Dick asked slowly, eyes darting between you and the mystery guy.

You shrugged. “Yeah, we slept together once. Anyway—”

Immediate chaos.

Dick short-circuited. Full stop. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, like a goldfish struggling to breathe. “YOU WHAT?!”

Jason physically recoiled. “I’m sorry—WHAT?!”

Tim actually choked. He had to lean on his staff for support. “That—That was not the answer I was expecting.”

Damian looked at the guy like he was a cockroach he needed to crush. “Tt. You have no shame.”

Bruce, who was listening through comms, muted himself. He's so tired of your ass.

Meanwhile, the guy just blinked. “Wow. Okay. I was not expecting you to be working with the freaking Batfamily. This is… a lot.”

You laughed. “Yeah, life’s funny like that!”

Jason rubbed his temples. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on like it’s nothing!”

You looked at him, tilting your head. “Why not? It was fun. But that was a while ago. I mean, it’s not like I’m marrying the dude.”

The guy held up his hands awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, definitely not. No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken!” You smiled.

Jason pointed an accusing finger at the guy. “You. Get lost before I put a bullet in your kneecap.”

“Yeah, sure. Good seeing you, Y/N,” the guy said before speed-walking the hell away.

Dick ran a hand through his hair, still in shock. “Y/N… how…? When…?”

You smirked, enjoying this way too much. “What? You guys act like I’m a virgin or something.”

Tim sighed, clearly regretting his entire existence. “I just… I don’t know how to process this.”

Damian, arms crossed, glared at you. “You should have higher standards.”

“Oh, I do,” you said cheerfully. “That’s why you’re my favorite.” You booped his nose, making his glare intensify.

Bruce finally unmuted himself on the comms. “We will never talk about this again.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m bringing this up every chance I get.”

Tim nodded. “Same.”

Dick just sighed. “God, I need a drink.”

You just grinned. “See? This is why I didn’t tell you guys in the first place.”

[luverine]

Goodnight, Red ♥︎

sfw ‧₊˚

The sharp scrape of your window being pried open jolts you awake, followed by the muffled thud of it sliding shut.

“What the-” You mumble, blinking against the darkness as your heart pounds.

“It’s just me.” A gravelly voice cuts through the quiet, rough but familiar.

“Jason?” Your voice is raspy from sleep, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sorry. Go back to sleep.” His rough touch is gentle as he brushes your hair out of your face.

A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips, and you flop back onto the mattress, already sinking back into the comfort of your pillow. The dim glow of the streetlights outside spills through the window, just enough to cast his shadow across your room. You watch as he moves with quiet efficiency, peeling off his gear, each piece hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The distant sound of the shower hums softly, lulling you further into the haze of sleep. You blink once, twice, and suddenly, his warmth is enveloping you. His body molds to yours, strong arms circling your waist, pulling you close as his thick legs tangle lazily with yours.

A sleepy yawn escapes as you press a soft kiss to the stubbled curve of his jaw, a soft grunt slipping from your lips as the roughness tickles your skin. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, exhaling a deep, contented sigh.

“Sleep good, Angel,” he mumbles against your skin, his breath warm and soothing.

“You too, Red,” you murmur, your fingers tracing lazy patterns down his back.

As your eyes flutter shut, your heart beats in quiet harmony with his.

A/N: been enjoying ooey gooey fluff and decided to make some!

Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated 𓆩𓆪

[blu3n]

@blu3n - me

── .✦

were listening to Jason’s frantic sobs after the two of you decided to clean his knife collection together.

And in one of those movements, you ended up cutting yourself on the very knife he was showing you could do some real damage.

Jason was sobbing against your shoulder, mumbling something in between shaky breaths.

"It was my fault, I’m a disaster!"

He buried his face in your neck, as if he had committed an unforgivable crime.

You looked at your finger, wrapped in so many layers of band-aid that it looked like a miniature mummy. You barely felt any pain, but Jason acted as if you had cut your entire finger off.

"Jay… sweetheart… it’s just a little cut."

Sighing, you kept rubbing his back, your fingers gliding over his tense muscles. In the end, the 'accident' was far more traumatic for him than for you.

── .✦

[sangunary]

Vengeance !

Yandere Batfam × Catgirl Reader.

SYPNOSIS: When Selina kitten decided to avenge her by using birds.

IMP: Batman's a jerk, Reader doesn't have any feelings for any of the Robin, Damian isn't included Because he's a minor in this Au.

WARNING: mentioned of sex, no direct smut, gore, manipulation, cheating?.

Selina was known for working alone and being quite efficiency in her work line, no floundering and not having to worry about anyone else but her. But in the end she ended up picking a stray cat into her arms to raise her with warmth and love, something she yearn for.

Astonishingly her new found subject of affection turned out to be a better version of her. Their voice was loud and sharp, their claws were always ready to spill some blood, their fangs were sharp enough to dig into any man's throat and she wasn't interested in love. Unlike her when she was youthful.

Selina have her fair share of 'lovers' and one being the batman himself. She was young and foolish, too much ecstacy in her eyes to notice that he was using her feelings to stop her from persuing her only passion .

She was willing and he took advantage of her heart. He promised her forever yet he couldn't keep any promise. Selina let herself loose just to be dump by him, she gave him her life and he gave her nothing.

You knew her pain and you devoted your life just to ruin the same man who ruin her. Afterall she gave you life when life itself rejected you.

The first Robin you trapped between your fingers was Dick Grayson. He was young and stupid, you gave him false hope let him loose just to pull him back.

It didn't take long for the young boy to fall into your sweet lies.

the clear evidence being that he was still wrapped around your fingers when he was now known as Nightwing.

He was more touchy and affectionate. He was like a bee and you were his nectar, he would always come back he can't resist you, and he knew that.

He get sulky and even extremely violent if you don't give him your time, he was never violent with you but to others? He was deadly, he was willing to break batman's rules as long as you promised to give him forever.

He was a needy man, always touching your every curve and kissing you every moment of the day. Holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

His eyes scream devotion to you but you didn't feel contented at all. His word never sink deep into your heart and the night you spent with him was nothing but a night of faking it.

No matter how many times he make you scream his name or the enormous number of scratch mark on his back or the love bite he left. Lust was just a temporary moment for you.

You knew you could never commit to anyone not even to him. He was perfect in a sense that you absolutely despite him. The only redeeming quality was that he was so willing, even if he rejected he would always do as you say.

He was an easy man, he just needs you. The idle partner who was full of love and what not. You were just too tempting and he would absolutely sin inside a church for you.

Dick hands met your waist as he pull you closer ignoring his current mission, you were just to tempting tonight.

His lip was everywhere as he whimper nothing but devotion coated in honey. Their current mission was to stop Selina from stealing an important painting from the museum.

Dick was supposed to prevent that but you came along and you pulled him away from the camera view, although wouldn't mind giving a show for the camera.

It had been too long since he got to kiss or have you in his arms. You've been ignoring him for a reason and seeing you so dolled up just for him... He forgot why he was even mad at you.

You didn't disappoint him, he was just too into the moment that he didn't realise you've taken his only way to snap out of the moment. His communication device.

You tuck it into your pocket as you let his hand's wander letting lust win and left after Selina have taken what she wanted.

Leaving him needy and restless, making him vulnerable for your next encounter..

Another bird you shot down was Jason Todd the second Robin.

He was a tricky bird. Yet who knew all it took was some understanding and he would gladly lay in your lap like a cat.

It was ridiculous. Jason was tough and mentally? he was unstable, your relationship with him was truly toxic yet you always find a way to reel him back into your arms.

Your main weapon was just to open your arms and he would glady embrace your warmth. He acted as if you were his only place of comfort... You were.

Without your warmth he couldn't bare to hold his frustration back, but in your arms he felt as if he was just a boy, when he didn't have to worry about life deceiving him or being forgotten about. He was Jason Todd in your arms.

But for you being embrace by him felt suffocating. You could tell he loves you just from his embrace but you felt a sense of itching inside your skin crawling around freely, mocking you for taking advantage of a poor boy.

Jason wasn't a person you could deny, he was possessive and full of jealousy. He didn't like any attention on you something you yearn for. He wasn't afraid to shead blood.

You found it out the most gruesome way. It was late and you weren't even supposed to be near crime alley but you have a feeling that Jason might need you.

When you turn a coner you discovered a brutal scene. Jason standing tall as the poor hero body lump on the ground beaten to plum, you could make out pieces of flesh in a clump, blood still seeping from the half dead man.

The same man who have flirted with you.. Was now unrecognisable, the sound of him moaning in pain was low yet very clear.

The poor hero jaw was broken it's bone peaking out mix with torn flesh, you could see his teeth from your current location.

Jason was holding a crobar, his face smudge with crimson blood, the crowbar was dripping red one could not recognise it's orginal colour.

Finally Jason notice your presence walks towards you and pull you into his arms. He was much taller and you felt as he cover your whole body.

He whispered nothing but sick fantasy as he kissed you, reassuring you that no one will take you from him.

You could smell nicotine and rotten blood from him, you felt disgusted your stomach contorted, yet you hug back. Reassuring him.

He was too important, he was too far gone. You were in no place to not continue your lie of love for him.

He wouldn't listen even if you did tell him the truth, he was stubborn as kid and as violent as a kid. But he was no kid in the brain.

He was very calculated you fear he might know your true intention and is only playing his part to fool you.

Yet, his embrace felt somewhat alluring for you, you couldn't tell if it was the sleepiness or the extreme violent that make you feel this way. It was a temporary comfort eitherway.

The bird that willing eat the poison was Tim Drake.

He was the most intelligent yes, but one thing no one could beat you at was bringing false comfort.

You praise him daily, you tried to seduces him but he was just too shy unlike Dick. He wasn't broken unlike Jason he only needed someone who was alike.

You listen to his long session of talking about his new investigation even help him, which was an honest mistake.

Now the boy won't stop opening his mouth about any new investigation thinking you're super into it.

Another way you captured him was by simply manipulating him.

Making him compared himself to the rest by making him jealous and suddenly you gave him all the right praise and warmth.

He wasn't as charming and loved as Dick. He wasn't strong and confident like Jason. Unlike them he was just a normal person who takes the highway for the fun of it.

He felt insecure and you appear. Kissing his self doubts away, clearing his mind and giving him a piece of heaven: a place he can finally rest.

Tim was hard to control, he knew your social account and any online life you have was now an open book to him.

Reading your text or spying on you through your own lense was a common occurrence, did he care that he was invading your personal space? No.

Was asking you about your following and asking you to block certain people was okay? No. But it was for your sake, he wasn't trying to isolate you.

He was keeping you safe from the world. He didn't have much to cherish but you. Oh not even God could take you from his hands.

But the moment you held his hand's, he wasn't the shy boy everybody assume he was. He was quick and smart about his move.

Unlike Jason who was calculated in a more menacing way Tim was calculated in a way that his desire could be achieved fast.

He did his research kissing you at all the right place saying his so called right word to turn a woman on. Helpless and desperate he was but no one could blame him.

Although he tried to be calculated sometimes you just have that affect so strong it's hard for him to think straight.

He was the piece you needed inorder to get any information for Selina. He wasn't hard to melt you just have to put him right at the moment and he'll melt just by your glance.

Tim hands were right on your thighs, he was supposed to be patrolling but you spend him some message talking about how you needed help.

Him being the good person he was run straight into your trap willingly.

You ran your hand through his hair as you kiss his cheek leaving a stain of lipstick on its trail.

His face nuzzle on your neck living soft and sloppy kisses everywhere, enjoying the moment.

He spill everything you needed to know right there and even saying more while singing praise of you.

Selina was proud of you, you caught three birds without a fuzz. they were now permanently stuck addicted to your sweet nectar only you can supply.

She couldn't understand how you did it so effortlessly.

Dick was the oldest, he was the one who makes everything less painful for every member of the family without him... It won't last long.

Jason was the son Batman failed. If you managed to stray him afar he could possibly stab Bruce heart with his word's and actions. It's wasn't hard to lead a bird to a new nest.

Tim was intelligent and an important member, he was the bird Bruce nurture without much difficulty. Bruce heart would be so broken if he realised his son was willingly telling information about their families to a wild cat.

They were the perfect piece for your mother's revenge.

But catching bird's come with an awful price.

[laceyfaeryy]

wld u wnt 2 write ddlg wif jason perhaps..? in my head he's THE daddy dom ever..

(are you accepting anons?)

MDNI 18+

ddlg with dom! jason todd x reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

▐ ddlg, vaginal sex, overstimulation

a/n: i am accepting anons!! also i received a lot of request asking for ddlg jason, this will count for all of them unless you requested a specific scenario

“what did i say about not distracting me while i work huh?” jason grunted as he fucked your tight cunt, his cock glistening with your arousal as you whined and squirmed. “‘m sorry,” you cried as you clutched onto the bunny stuffy, holding it firmly against your chest whilst jason folded you like a pretzel, knees up to your chest. “sorry who huh? what did i say about manners sweetheart?” sweat dripping down his forehead as he watched his cock disappear into your glossy folds, a small bulge in your stomach. “‘m sorry daddy,” you mumbled shyly as your cheeks tinged a soft shade of pink.

jason hummed contently, “there’s my sweet girl with her manners,” he cooed as you hiccuped, saliva dribbling down your chin, your eyes dazed. “still gotta teach you a lesson for disobeying me though darling, daddy has strict rules with his work for a reason.” jason had a few rules, the most important one was to not go to the garage whilst he was fixing up the cars. firstly, he didn’t want to stain the pretty clothes of yours, he would be covered in grease and oil, the thought of someone as sweet and innocent in an area filled with the smell of gas and stains everywhere drove him insane. no, his pretty girl had to stay away from filth. plus, his friends were total nut jobs, and he would be damned to let them anywhere near you.

though the sight of you was quite adorable, your bare feet padded down to the porch, in the pretty pink nightgown he bought for you. your soft tired voice still thick with sleep as you placed in a random pair of shoes outside, gravel crunching underneath your feet. “daddy?” you called out again, rubbing your eyes trying to wake yourself up. the moment jason heard your voice he ushered you back inside, his voice firm and sharp.

“thought you’d be more behaved than this,” he grunted as your legs bounced with each thrust, your perfectly manicured nails digging into the bunny stuffy. “a sweet girl like you needs to stay away from my rowdy friends alright? can’t have them taint this pretty little face can we?” it was ironic that you had the whole neighbourhood sweetheart persona, everyone adoring you as you pranced around town in tiny dresses, completely unaware that jason fucked you like a slut. “daddy, ‘s much,” you whined as you sniffled slightly, your breaths coming out slightly ragged as you could barely keep your eyes open. jason let out a low tut, “gotta have you awake yeah? need you to know there’s consequences to breaking my rules.

jason showed no mercy, his fat cock splitting you apart as it abused your aching hole, tears streaming down your face from the pleasure. “let daddy take good care of this little cunt yeah? i’ll make the ache go away once you learn your lesson.” his large hands gently squeezing your lower stomach, making you feel just how deep he was, his tip nudging against your sweet spots as you left a thick creamy ring on the base of his cock.

[chunkyblossomberry]

I would pounced on him so quick you have thought I was faster than Flash XD cause let me have a piece of that XD

you were staring. very unabashedly so, too. just… oogling your boyfriend, watching as he lounged on your couch, his black shirt fitted around bulging arms, the hem riding up around his tummy to reveal that line of thick black hair that dipped below his plaid pants.

oh my god, those stupid plaid pants. they made you wonder what the hell the hype was about grey sweats, when those existed.

and it’s not like you had anything to be ashamed about, either. he was your boyfriend, all six foot something of him, for fucks sake. all the thick muscles, and short cropped hair, and scars, and fuck, those eyes. you could look if you damn well wanted to.

you’d tried very hard to convince yourself all morning that you were fine, and definitely not ovulating, and fine.

but in that moment, watching your boyfriend literally just sit there, eyes shut and head tipped back, this was not you. it was some evil entity, possessing you and in full swing. you were ready to jump him, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.

your gaze kept dropping lower, toward those pecs, all soft and plush beneath the fabric of his tee, and you could feel yourself start to salivate.

it wasn’t even anything provocative either, but the sight of his tits in a black shirt, tight over the unflexed muscle, was driving you up a god damned wall.

you curled your legs up beneath you, arm perching you against the back of the couch, the other pressed between the low of your thighs to physically retrain yourself from grabbing him like a deranged person.

because, no matter what you did, it was almost impossible to stop imagining just throwing yourself at him, and doing some entirely unspeakable things. things you know you’d never do unless it was this god forsaken time of month.

“you good, ma?” Jason asked, finally breaking the tense silence, and drawing your attention away from his torso. he was staring back now, one brow raised quizzically, and his scared lip curled up in questioning.

“your eyes are dilatin’ and shit.”

yeah. you got up, wordlessly, and walked toward the kitchen.

[igotanidea]

My level of messy: Jason Todd x reader

„What are you doing?”

A simple question dictated by unusual circumstances.

Any other Saturday morning, Y/N would be all over the place, huffing and puffing, cleaning the dust, vacuuming and doing all the things that usually came with weekly cleaning up the place.

That day, however, she was sitting on the couch, with something in her hands, looking –

Well it was hard to put it into words.

So he didn’t, instead plopping next to her, sending her a few inches up due to the impact.

“I’m re-reading my old journal.”

“Ok.” Jason nodded. The silence that fell after that acknowledgment was his attempt at giving her a chance to elaborate. “Aaaaaand? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“Mhm. Same accusation, same answer every time.”

“I am not-“

“Y/n/n, we’ve been through it a million times before.” He rolled his eyes “save us both some time sweetheart, and explain it, so I can make it better for ya, huh?”

“You’re gonna laugh-“

“Mh. Yeah. Sure. I’m gonna laugh at my soon-to-be-fiancé watering her eyes out. This is how big she thinks of me. That’s just effing great!”

“Stop being dramatic and – wait. Whoa, whoa. Hold back. Rewind. Soon-to-be-fiancé?”

“Not the point. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not-“

“Ah!” Jason groaned and before she realized what was happening she was being held down on the couch, with him hovering over her like a freaking predator with dangerously glistening eyes, tickling her side.

“Jason!”

“Talk or I’ll hold you captive forever.” His fingers were mercilessly rubbing her side making her giggle.

“But I am literally not crying now!”

“Talk!”

“Will you let go first?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Talk!”

“God!” she groaned, trying to wriggle and make herself a little more comfortable

“I mean it, princess, talk or-“

“You do realize your threats have no effect on – AAH! Ah! Stop! Fine! Fine, I’ll talk, just stop tickling!”

“Good girl. Now – what is the reason behind you trying to make yourself unhappy huh?” he brushed away tears from her cheeks, helping her sit up, now having made sure she won’t deflect anymore.

“It’s just – “ she sighed “do you ever feel like hugging your younger self?”

“Hugging my-“

“Don’t look so shocked. Do you? Actually, you know what, do not answer that question, it’s stupid-“

“Yeah.” He cut her off with one word, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do feel like – well – maybe not hugging but at least saying some nice shit to that rascal.”

“Right…”

“I see a piece of my past self in every kid I stumble upon in the Crime Alley.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Big bad red hood getting all emotional. See what you did to me?”

“Well, for the record, it’s your fault. We were talking about me and then you just hijacked the conversation, acting like you’re a victim or something – “

“You’re so selfish, did I tell you that?”

“Not today, no.”

“Well, you’re selfish princess.”

“I am but a lady in distress and you refuse to help a lady in distress with offering a strong arm.”

“I’m not prince charming, Y/n/n. I am Red Hood.”

“You could be a red prince charming?”

“If you’re hinting at Deadpool, then let me tell you not a benchmark when it comes to Disney princes.”

She laughed softly, her mood becoming a little better, just by this banter, any outside would deem mean and harsh on both of their parts.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way” he raised hands in surrender. “What were you crying about – oh, wait, you call me inconsiderate but I think I actually did ask you that before-“

“I can’t remember.” She chuckled.

“You can’t remember why you were crying?” Jason frowned a little, sensing some sort of trap

“Yes.”

“Um… no?”

“Um… is this one of those situations when you pretend to have temporary sclerosis and then remind me of the tiny mistake I made a year ago on Monday, at 11.25?

“No!” she chuckled again “No, I’m being serious, I can’t remember. Wanna know why?”

“Because every time I feel down and like I’m a mess you come around and – “

“- prove to you that there’s a whole other level of being a mess?”

“NO!” she patted his chest in mock offense “will you let me finish the sentence!”

“Stop this domestic violence at once, young lady.” Her wrist ended up in his grip and away from any possibility of him getting abused again.

“- you come around and you prove to me that all you need in life is a person who matches  your kind of messy and crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called a partner in crime-“

“Ugh! You’re so dense! This is a whole different thing!” she opposed, becoming a little agitated, missing the obvious point that Jason was just messing with her in sheer selfish pleasure of seeing her eyes sparkle with mirth and her cheeks flushing.

“Y/N.”

“Why can’t you just understand that I’m trying to say—”

“I get it”

“No, no you don’t!” she wriggled against his hold

“Hey! Hey, stop it! Stop! Look at me!” his hands moved from her wrist to cupping her face. “I get it. Really. I know what you’re saying and I think –“

“Yeah?” she looked deep into his eyes.

“I think you’re my kind of mess too. And I think we match.”

“Like on Tinder?” she grinned pushing her luck

“God you’re impossible!!”

Yeah. So maybe it truly was about finding and keeping the person who was on the same level of craziness. The one who would understand that sometimes, healing trauma was about laughing at it and finding a way to move on with that laughter on the lips.  

[elvinapandra]

POV : you have been scrolling for the past hour and all you see is SMUT

Please...life is lot more than fucking🙏🏻

[cinnamongrl2006]

jason todd with nerdy shy reader who’s extremely horny yet pretends shes not but he catches her every time

a/n: I wasn't sure if you wanted me to write smut on it or not so I didn't, but I can definitely do a part two, anon! Also college au Jason would sooo play hockey, guys 😵‍💫

summary: You are assigned Jason as a partner for a literature assignment

────୨ৎ────

When your literature teacher assigned you as Jason's partner he rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly, as you looked at him from the other side of the class, confused.

In all fairness, you didn't want to do the project with him either, or with any of his friends. You knew Jason was in a frat, and that he was in college thanks to his hockey scholarship so you assumed he did not care much for books, but you couldn't be more wrong.

You'd quickly realized that there was more to him than met the eye.

────୨ৎ────

You'd been sitting in his dorm for the past two hours going over the same powerpoint slide because you kept stumbling over your words. Jason had asked you if you were feeling okay, brows knit with worry as he placed the calloused palm of his hand on your thigh, rubbing circles over the fabric of your skirt to reassure you. Little did he know it was his proximity— and now his touch, so close to where you wanted him— that was causing your distress.

You looked at him as he paced the room memorizing his slides. Watched intently at the muscles flexing in his arms and back when he stretched. There were some purple and blue-ish bruises on his arms and torso from hockey practices that shone enticingly against his pale skin, calling at you to lick them, bite them, kiss them. Your mouth watered and heat pooled in between your thighs at the mere thought of it. He kept pacing, mumbling, he turned to face you and lifted up the hem of his shirt slightly, only enough to press the palms of his hands against his skin.

He looked up from the ground and ran a hand through his dark locks, sighing with frustration. He lifted his head and met your hungry gaze. It was the first time he noticed you looking at him like that. He'd seen you staring at him in class a lot, blushing like a schoolgirl when he caught you, but it was never this.

There was an air of lust in your eyes —heavy lids, blown out pupils— he'd never seen before.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He spoke in a low voice.

You nodded your head, kept your mouth shut. Your tongue felt like a cotton ball, the saliva too thick, you felt as if your jaw would drop on the floor the moment you parted your lips.

"You've got a bit of a staring problem, don't ya?"

────୨ৎ────

@prettywritergirl2 helped me out on this one

edit: Hadn’t realized this was my first ever request!! ahhh, thank you so much for submitting!!!

[mostly-imagines]

La Vie en Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle. 

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast. 

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both. 

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking. 

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.” 

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly. 

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Voicemail. 

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Declined. 

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job. 

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”   

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts. 

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line. 

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm. 

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.  

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side. 

“Not you.” 

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass. 

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face. 

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing. 

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead. 

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner. 

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat. 

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring. 

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow. 

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions. 

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page. 

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.  

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while. 

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.   

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing. 

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.  

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition. 

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name. 

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up. 

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?” 

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth. 

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand. 

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

[luv-lock]

People need to understand that a Yandere and a obsessed boyfriend are very much different. If you pay attention sometimes I write "obsessed ___ x Fem reader" and sometimes "yandere ___ x Fem reader"

Yes a normal Jason will never do it and so an obsessed version of him but a Yandere version of him is very much different. And even then I never said that he will do it. It's a maybe. Also we have some fucked up version of Jason which if you push to far probably would do it.

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤBLOODY LEGSㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : Would they ever force themselves on (r*pe) their darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ WARNING : Pretty much obvious. No smut. This discussion involves non-consensual acts, coercion, and obsessive behavior. If you’re sensitive to such content, I’d advise against reading further.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Would he? No.

Bruce is the last person who would ever force himself on you. Despite his obsession, his rigid sense of morality, guilt, and deep-seated trauma make it impossible for him to cross that line. Bruce operates on control—self-control above all else. No matter how much he craves you, he will never take you by force.

However, Bruce’s obsession manifests differently—through extreme control. You aren’t allowed to leave, to date, to breathe without his permission. He isolates you, makes you dependent on him, ensures you feel like he’s your only option. He’ll gaslight you, manipulate you into staying, but physically taking you against your will? That’s a line he will not cross. He’d rather break himself than break you.

But if you try to escape? The punishment will be brutal. Not sexually, but physically restrained, locked away, stripped of any autonomy. He’ll remind you that you are his, that he is the only one who can protect you, and he’ll do anything to keep you in his grasp.

“I will never hurt you like that, but you’re not leaving me. Ever.”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Would he? No. But... it’s complicated.

Dick is a walking paradox of affection and control. He loves you—adores you—but his love is overwhelming, suffocating, all-consuming. He needs you to love him back, to crave him as much as he craves you. He won’t rape you outright, but his obsession manifests in ways that blur the line between coercion and consent.

Dick wants you to want him. He’ll manipulate, guilt-trip, and play the victim to make you feel like you’re the bad guy for denying him. He showers you with affection, attention, and when you pull away, he punishes you emotionally—not through force, but through withdrawal. Cold stares, quiet disappointment, an unbearable sadness in his voice that makes you feel like you’re the one hurting him.

However, if you push him too far—if you reject him outright, try to leave, break his heart—he might snap. In a moment of desperation, he’ll hold you down, kiss you too hard, grip your wrists with bruising force—never quite crossing the line, but so close it makes your skin crawl.

“Don’t do this to us, baby. You love me—I know you do.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Would he? Yes, if pushed too far.

Jason is a storm of rage, love, and possessiveness, and once he has you, he’s never letting go. He tries to be good for you—tries so damn hard—but Jason is violent by nature. If you love him back? He worships you, would burn the world for you. But if you fight him? Try to run? Betray him?

That’s when he loses control.

Jason sees you as his, and if you deny him, if you reject his love after everything he’s done for you—he might snap in the worst way possible. It won’t be romantic, it won’t be tender—it’ll be about power, dominance, punishment. And worst of all? He’ll regret it after. He’ll break down, apologize, sob into your skin—but he’ll do it again, and again, because he can’t stop himself.

Jason would justify it in his mind—tell himself you belong to him, that he’s teaching you a lesson. And after? He’d be even more obsessive, treating you like a fragile doll, convinced you’ll leave if he doesn’t own every part of you.

“You think you can just leave me? After everything? No, princess. You don’t get to choose. You’re mine.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Would he? Yes. Without hesitation because he believes it's his right.

Damian is the coldest, most possessive, and least remorseful of them all. Unlike Jason, who spirals in guilt, Damian doesn’t feel guilty—because in his mind, you already belong to him. There’s no moral dilemma, no hesitation. If you resist him, you’re wrong. If you say no, you don’t know what’s good for you.

Damian was raised by the League of Assassins, by Talia, by Bruce. He was never taught the concept of “no.” If he wants something, he takes it. If he wants you, he takes you. In his mind, it isn’t rape—it’s claiming what’s already his. You’re his wife, his queen, his possession.

Unlike Jason, who acts in rage, Damian is calculated, methodical, deliberate. He’ll drug you if he has to, bind you in silk restraints, keep you locked away in luxury until you accept your fate. You will love him, because you have no other option.

“You misunderstand, beloved. You were mine from the moment I saw you. Struggling is beneath you.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[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.”