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thesandsofelsweyr · 8 months ago

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THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 (in replies because tags aren't working in the post for some reason)

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

I just want y’all to know that this chapter was written for you—I prefer the story ending at Chapter 2 😉

If you enjoy the read please kudos, comment, and reblog ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You catch the door before it clicks shut. You don’t want to leave him like this. You can’t leave him like this, so you inhale a deep breath and creep back inside, steeling yourself for rejection or another hateful outburst.

His weeping tapers off into sniffles and the occasional cough. You can feel his eyes following you as you pad over to his couch and grab the neatly folded throw blanket, casting a furtive glance towards his gun, which is still lying undisturbed where you left it, before returning to him. His eyes have fallen away from you—his head sagging between his slumped shoulders, chin touching his chest—and you hope he hasn’t gone away again to that terrible place in his mind. When you drape the blanket around his shoulders he flinches but gives no other protest, even pulling it more tightly around himself. He doesn’t order you to leave—doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there—so you kneel down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. He looks so defeated, so beaten down by the world; an abused child wrapped up in his security blanket for comfort after another unfair punishment. Your heart can’t help but break for him.

You sit for a moment, listening to his soft sniffles and harsh breathing until you find the right words to say. Then you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor again, his tearful eyes hidden behind a curtain of sweat-damp black hair.

For what? Passing out? Getting strangled? Knocking me to the floor then screaming at me? But you keep those questions to yourself, asking him instead: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

He slowly shakes his bowed head, as if it’s filled with lead, as if those awful memories of his are weighing it down.

“Then why don’t you lie down? Maybe get some rest?” you suggest. “I can bring you some Ambien…”

Your voice trails off because he shoots you a wary look. But then his face softens and he nods before muttering, “No drugs.”

“No drugs,” you echo softly, your brain jumping to conclusions again about this brooding man of few words. Perhaps he’s a recovering addict or something. You push yourself to your feet then reach out a hand to help him up. He stares at it then his eyes fall away again. He’s really not a fan of eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says.

“It’s Y/N,” you offer eagerly. “What about you?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he answers, “Jason,” in a barely audible voice, as if he’s ashamed to utter the word aloud.

Heavy silence swells around you and you’re acutely aware of your outstretched arm hanging awkwardly in the air. He wipes his bleeding cheek against his shoulder, smearing more blood onto his hoodie. You pull back your proffered hand and use it to push a lock of hair behind your ear as you fumble for something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretches on. And suddenly you're back at dinner with John Preston Anderson III trying to make conversation while he scrolls on his phone, pretending you don’t exist. You have to swallow down a bubble of anger that threatens to erupt.

“I’m… sorry for whatever happened to you, Jason. I… can stay with you, if you want.” Suddenly your face is afire and you’re mortified that you just invited yourself to sleep over at his place only seconds after learning his name. “On your couch, I mean,” you clarify, blushing furiously, but his eyes never leave the floor. Thankfully.

He coughs then shakes his head again. “I already ruined your night.”

A bitter laugh bursts out of you at that without your permission, and his head jerks up, startled, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours. You clap both hands over your mouth as if you can shove the rude sound back inside you. Guilt grips your heart as you see the pained expression on his pale face. It’s not anger or hurt or annoyance, but rather that same look of fear that you witnessed earlier when he was cowering in the corner, as if your laughter frightened him.

You rush to explain, to put him at ease. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… if you only knew the night I’ve had. Anyway, I’m glad we finally got to meet. It’s nice to put a name to the-the face.” You stutter that last part, realizing after the fact that it’s probably not very nice to bring up his unmistakably-scarred face like that, or complain about your night to the guy who got strangled, so you blurt out before your mind can catch up with your mouth: “It isn’t every night that I get to help a handsome stranger in distress.”

Your face somehow turns an even darker shade of crimson. How many times can you put your foot in your mouth in one conversation? But to your surprise and relief you’re rewarded with a little laugh from Jason, a sound that seems awkward and unnatural, as if he doesn’t get to laugh very often. Some of the color returns to his cheeks as he blushes the prettiest shade of pink. When the corners of his mouth quirk up into a timid smile you realize that he has absolutely gorgeous lips, despite the swelling. Full and soft, finely laced with small silvery scars—little arrows pointing to where they need to be kissed. Jesus Christ. Again, you literally just learned the guy’s name and now you want to kiss him. No, that’s a lie. You’ve wanted to kiss him since his rude ass scowled at you the first time. What is it with you and Ted Bundy types?

“I’ll have to pass out more often,” he says shyly, fingers plucking at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His blue-green eyes find the floor again, as if his script is written there. “Turns out it’s a great way to meet beautiful women.”

Beautiful… beautiful… The word echoes in your mind like a heartbeat. No one has ever called you beautiful. Your chest comes alive with sudden warmth as butterflies take flight. You want to stay there with him for the rest of the night. To kiss him on his busted lips. To wrap him up in your arms. To protect him from whatever hurt him. Instead, you grab one of the discarded ice packs and hand it to him, heart still fluttering wildly in your chest. “Google says you should get some ice on that. Your throat, I mean.” Goddamnit. He just said you’re beautiful, and you reply by handing him an ice pack. How the hell are you so bad at flirting?

“Who am I to question Dr. Google?” he replies sarcastically with a smug little smirk on those beautiful lips, but still does as he’s told, accepting the ice pack then holding it against his red-ringed throat.

You gaze down at him as you grope for the perfect words to say that will turn this scene into one worthy of a romcom. You consider inviting him back to your place to share that bottle of merlot you’ve been dreaming about all night. But then remind yourself that the poor guy is traumatized, definitely in no shape for a romantic nightcap. You can’t help but find yourself wishing, as if you can will it into existence, that he’ll look up at you, that your eyes will meet, sparks will fly, and he’ll flirt with you again. Maybe even invite you to stay the night with him. But his eyes remain glued to the floor, and your heart drops in disappointment as your ridiculous delusions are dashed by his silence.

“I should… probably go, for real this time. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you before I go?” you ask, coming back down to earth from the high of his compliment and seeing him again as the guy who’d gotten cut and strangled then passed out cold on his floor rather than an object of your lust.

He shakes his head, then he glances up at you, those stunning blue-green eyes of his finally finding yours, sending a fresh flutter to your chest. “You’ve done more than enough. It was… really nice having someone to talk to. To… distract me from… other things.”

His kind words give you a boost of confidence. “Well If you ever want to talk again, you know where I live. Or if you need a babysitter.”

You smile at the puzzled look that crosses his face and nod towards his houseplant.

He laughs that adorable little laugh again. “I may take you up on that offer sometime. Goodnight Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

#sands writes #jason todd #female reader #arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #reader x jason todd #reader x arkham knight #jason todd imagine #arkham knight imagine #jason todd fanfic #arkham knight fanfic #fic: the sus boy next door

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albatmobile · 10 months ago

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parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] [3] coming soon: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hate people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun.

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you really don't want there to be a fourth.

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents.

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” you ask. The little girl nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds, “Do you?”

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on, but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down. “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” you correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know,” he trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” you repeat his words with a disinterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.”

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” you tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” he says your last name, obeying your correction.

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” you continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway. “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?” he asks suddenly.

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream.

All your content except one video, the one of you as a librarian, is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The one production video you did required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It ended up being a total hassle and, in the end, the money was about the same. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location.

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you.

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many opportunities as possible for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time.

avid_reader began stream

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’

Private streams are a whole different ballgame.

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with and hell, the dude was pretty funny, too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one.

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night.

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for.

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway. “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own.

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally pulling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully.

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better.

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something. The way he’s controlling your vibrator, he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good.

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard.

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!”

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting, while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” the man asks casually, like you haven’t just squirted in the public library’s nonfiction section.

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times.

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year, you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a “how are you.”

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now,” you admit slightly breathlessly.

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," you say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” he draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?”

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” you tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” you hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” you repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” he drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” you mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25, for fuck’s sake.

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” he jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” you say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again. “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At the open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms resort to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering verdant gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair.

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour-long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club. It’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight, it feels right.

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead, but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way.

Dark green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” you say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

"I-" You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” he admits, taking a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” you apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-" you start to ramble, but he gently cuts you off.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind.” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?” he asks suddenly.

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” you breathe, biting lightly at your lower lip.

“You do like public places, don’t you?”

You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” you agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” he offers in a gravelly voice.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” he says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asks darkly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” he groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” you exclaim. You can’t help but buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud thump that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” out of nowhere, a gruff voice startles the two of you, “are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused.

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you.

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” he trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason lulls you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you. “Are you good with this?” he asks.

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself.” The words are out of your mouth before you even realize it.

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy, as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand.

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer. His lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” he encourages you, leaving you to whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that,” he says. With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form, you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite at the corner of your bottom lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans. “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire his member.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” he groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” he teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust.

“A time or two,” you jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb.

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never once leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?” Jason offers him

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” the other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” he mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-" Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes.

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation. “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits,” you say to him.

“Fair enough,” he mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants. Jason, however, sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip.

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

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strangeshoepatrolbandit · 2 years ago

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Brotherly Love Pt.5

J.T. D.W

Jason Todd x Al-Ghul/Wayne reader(platonic)Gender Neutral

Pt.[1][2][3][4]

Summary:Jason keeps finding ways to connect with you, Damian's a little jealous.

Warnings:Light fight scene, cigarette, a knife. (Also the pie recipe is a copy and paste from google)

~☆~

Bruce awoke with a fright, running down the stairs and down to the living area of the Manor. His short red robe riding up his thighs as he ran to try and find the cause of the loud bang he had heard.

"Hey, Bruce." Jason had lazily greeted, not taking his eyes off of the newspaper infront of him, hand scratching the top of Aces head.

"What was that sound?" The older man questioned, not even asking what Jason was doing at the Manor.

"You got new locks." Jason deadpanned whilst finally looking up at Bruce from where he sits.

"Why are you here?" Bruce finally asked.

"Waiting for Y/N, they sleep so much later than Demon spawn." Jason complained.

Bruce paused, thinking of what to say. He just knew he was glad Jason was finally coming around, and that you had a brother again, even if he isn't your actual blood brother.

"Can I borrow them for the day?" Jason asked, almost shy but Bruce knew better.

"Yeah, go wake them up." He told Jason, before patting his shoulder.

~☆~

"Y/Nnnnn.." Jason sung out, trying to wake you. You could feel the almost inhuman warmth radiating from his hand that rested on your shoulder.

"Y/Nnnnn.." The living dead man next to you sang again.

"What?" You moaned out, eyes stinging from the sleep wridden in them.

"Get dressed, were hangin' out." Jason informed, leaving a pat to the arm that his hand rested on.

~☆~

Jason ended up taking you to his apartment, asking you if Alfred had introduced you to his baking yet. Your answer left Jason at a loss for words, what do you mean Alfred hadn't introduced you to his infamous cookies, or his brownies?

"Well we may not be making his cookies, because he won't give me the recipe, but we will be making pie!" Jason exclaimed, a giddy grin resting on his face.

~☆~

The memories of rarely baking pies with Jason's mother when they had the supplies clouded his mind, how after her death it moved to baking with Alfred. Now as if it's some family tradition he's moved on to doing it with you, only this time he's the teacher.

Jason sprinkled flour onto his counter, before plopping half of the dough Alfred made for you to that morning on top of the thinly dusted surface.

"You ever baked?" Jason asked, his Gotham accent dripping in his word. You shook your head and Jason offered a smile whilst grabbing a rolling pin.

"Watch me." Jason's arms gripped the utensil, rolling over the dough just a bit so you could get the gist. His arm nudged against your own as he handed you the rolling pin so he could peel the apples for the filling. You delicately pushed down and rolled the dough into a thinner circle, Jason eyed you from where he stood peeling fruit so that he could tell you when it was thin enough.

"Alright, flour your hands." He whispered, walking back over to your side and taking the rolling pin. His hands peeled the edge of the dough off of the counter, before placing it onto your newly dusted hands. Jason placed a pie tin in front of you and helped you set the dough into it.

"Make sure it's tucked in." He instructed, pulling your wrist so that you could push the dough fully into the tin pan. You watched as Jason cut off the extra dough, and prick holes into the bottom with a fork before placing it into the oven.

"I'll peel the apples, you roll out the other half."

~☆~

Jason had peeled and cut all of the apples, now they were placed into a big bowl. The pre-baked crust had already been taken out of the oven, and all of the filling ingredients have already been measured.

Jason situated you infront of the bowl, handing you a spatula for mixing.

He handed you the sugar and the cinnamon to add to the bowl, pouring the flour himself. A spinkle of salt, and some nutmeg came afterwards, Jason poured in the little bit of lemon juice that came last.

"Stir gently." He whispered, watching as you mixed all of the ingredients into the apples.

Jason placed the pie tin infront of you once again, ordering you to spoon the ingredients into the crust-lined pan. Jason's fingers pinched the top layer of dough onto the top of the pie, before cutting a slit into the encasing. He placed tin foil onto the top of the pie, and placed it into the oven.

"Let's clean up." Jason spoke as he held up his hand for a high five, you stared at him for a moment before his opposite hand grabbed your wrist so he could guide your hand to meet his own.

~☆~

*After cleaning up*

"Okay, show me what you got."

"What?"

"Hit me."

Your fist came up without hesitation, aiming a blow below his sternum, his own hands grabbed at you before your fist collided with him. Jason moved quickly, prying a finger into your side, right under your ribcage. Your hand twisted from his grasp, and you landed a kick to his knee. Letting out a grunt in frustration he fell onto one knee. His hands wrapped around both of your legs before pulling you forward, letting you fall to your knees as well. Jason shot out an arm to grab you with, but you quickly caught his hand and got back onto your feet, rounding behind Jason's body so his arm was twisted behind himself.

The front door flying open alerted both of you, forcing you both to stand up in a correct fighting position.

"Hey!" A redheaded man yelled when he caught sight of the both of you.

Jason let out a sigh before wiping a hand over his face.

"Y/N, this is Roy." Jason introduced the redhead for you. The man stepped forward, shooting a hand out for you to take whilst a grin rested on his lips. You glanced at his hand, giving it a dissatisfied look before hesitantly taking it in your own.

As Roy dropped your hand he walked off into the kitchen, snooping around to see is he could find the food he smells.

"Whatcha' makin'?" He asked, neither you or Jason answered, only glancing at each other.

"Damian's more of the fighter, anyway." You shrugged, before walking off to follow Roy.

~☆~

You watched as Jason and Roy played a video game on Jason's TV. Your slice of pie that had previously been made was still being eaten by you, the two men that resided beside you and on the floor had already scarfed down their own slices.

You watched as their characters fought each other on the screen, your mind wondered, what if you and Damian were raised like this? What if the two of you were raised away from war? Gotham it's self had its own spike of violence but still nothing to what you and Damian were raised with. What if the two of you were "normal", raised playing video games, having sleepovers, playing catch with you father?

Part of you resented Talia for raising you the way she did, but another part of you loved her and thought about the times she actually acted like your mother. Like how when you were younger there were certain times when she would sit in her bed, you and Damian tucked on either side of her and she would read a book to you. She even had a painting that was made of you and your brother hanging on the wall of her quarters. But still, she raised you with all of that violence, training as the Al-Ghul heirs. Just because she was a little soft with you at times doesn't make her mother of the year.

~☆~

Before Jason dropped you back off at the Manor he cut a slice of pie and put it in a container with your name on it. Giving you firm instructions to immediately give it to Alfred, then he placed it into your bag.

"Y'know if you want more, call me." Jason told you, handing you the phone of yours that you didn't even know he had. "Roy's is in there too."

The redhead looked over at the sound of his name before throwing a smile and a peace sign.

"See ya' little dude." Roy bid goodbye as you passed him due to Jason pushing you out of the front door.

~☆~

After pulling up to the front of the Manor, Jason leaned on his motorcycle, a hand in his pockets, and the other holding his newly lit cigarette.

The two of you sat out there together, staring at the gothic chic Manor.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You broke the silence, not ready to watch Jason leave. The taller man only snuffed his cigarette out and put on his helmet.

"Sorry, kid." Jason muttered as the threw a leg over his motorcycle and drove off.

~☆~

Alfred opened the door as soon as you reached the front steps, he always had this strange way of forming at the door before you could even knock. As he held a hand out for your backpack you reached in and handed him your slice of pie that Jason had given you.

"Dinner is set."

"Thank you, Alfred."

~☆~

You headed straight for the dining room, without even changing your clothes first. It's not that you were hungry, you Jason and Roy had snacked on things that you could've never eaten back with Ra's, you just didn't want to be alone yet.

Your socked feet dragged against the hardwood floors, Jason had woken you up too early for your liking. After your grandfather's death and coming to America you've indulged in some things you've never done before, like sleeping in.

Your hand grasped the wooden chair that came in a set with the dining table, after slumping in the chair you sluggishly filled up your plate with food. Both your father and brother had stopped their movement's as they watched your tired state.

"Woke up to early." You sighed, before giving Bruce a big smile, one that he returned.

"Did you have fun?" Bruce asked, cutting up a piece of his dinner.

"Yeah, we baked...an-and I watched him play video games!" You excitedly revealed, missing the expressionless face Damian watched you with.

~☆~

After dinner you started walking to the bathroom for a shower, then you could pass out. Footsteps could be heard walking in sync with your own, familiar footsteps, the ones you know all too well.

Damian pulled you to a stop with a firm grip to your arm, one that your sure will leave Red marks for the next few minutes.

"Why do you keep spending time with him?" He asked as his green eyes bore into your own. You watch as he quickly swallows, before chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.

"That's none of your concern." You hissed before yanking your arm out of his grip before walking off, leaving Damian standing in the empty hallway.

~☆~

Where are you from, or at least what time zone? Because I've noticed you guys are mostly active during 12-5 AM (my time). I promise that the next chapter will have action in it....just bear with me people...<3

Taglist:

@sanjanapm

@unofficial-jaytodd-wife

@morii-vx

@godknows-shetried

@wendds

@celestair

@lorosette

@knoxx-seresinbradshaw

@agent-nobody-knows

@5sos-wdw

@lil-baby-nor

@simligul

@luvly-writer

@neptunesdreams2007

@zonked-times

@i-3at-kidz

@myxticmoon

@xxgrimripp3rxx

@samstersv

@vanessa-boo

@greengarsstuff

@illya-roma

@luna025

@fruittiest-of-loops

@classymusicgalaxy

@randomlyappearingartist

@bluejay390

@venomsvl

@marvelworldlover

@ceshacat

@killercranberries

@hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@greenkiki

@herascave

@cryinghotmess

@ladyagagaslefttoe

@b-barnes04

@theitchbbbb

@theclassicvinyldragon

@loxbbg

@tami123

@lunalixya

@randobeetlehouse

@1lovehotmoms

@esposadomd

@american-idiot21

@mildvalue506

@ziaphene

@cryinghotmess

@persephil

@ya-mya-22u

@lilylovelyxo

@soupasses

@dnarez

@mandyboolove

@scorpionmotordemon

@dangerous-girls-world

@darkfaethedestroyer

@violet2507

@urminebutidontwantyou

@d3m0nch1ld

@mxtokko

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red--pirate · 1 year ago

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In celebration of @morverenmaybewrites 's returning masterpiece:

#red hood #redhood #arkhamknight #arkham!jason #jason todd #jason todd x reader #x reader #reader x jason todd #oc #red hood x reader #pizzadeliverygirlssurvivalguide #surival guide #arkham asylum #arkham city #batman #batman arkham knight #batman arkham

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gilded-gotham · 11 months ago

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Dancing Knights: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Dancing with the Stars AU

TW: No triggers in this chapter

Summary: What starts out as a joke turns into a romance

Mr. Jason Todd,

Congratulations on joining the prestigious lineup of Gotham's Dancing with the Stars! Your star power is undeniable, and we're thrilled to have you on board.

Prepare to dazzle audiences with your charisma and talent as you grace the dance floor. We'll provide all the support you need to make this season unforgettable.

Stay tuned for further details. Let's make magic together!

Best regards,

Gotham's Dancing with the Stars Team

What the fuck…?

Jason looked up at Alfred with his jaw slack and brows raised.

“This is fake, right?” He laughed, but underneath the humor, a hint of uncertainty lingered. Alfred's calm demeanor only added to the surreal nature of the situation.

“Master Jason, all our mail goes through multiple security checks. This letter is undeniably real. I don’t suppose you remember signing up for this? Unless…”

“Unless what?” Jason's grip tightened on the crumpled letter, his mind racing with possibilities.

“Perhaps your brothers are responsible for—”

Alfred's words hung in the air, stirring a mixture of annoyance and amusement within Jason. He had grown accustomed to the unpredictable nature of his family, but this? This was a whole new level of absurdity.

Without a word, Jason stormed down the hall to the dining room, his footsteps echoing in the halls of the manor.

The door swung open with a bang, silencing the gentle chatter of breakfast. All eyes turned to him, their curiosity palpable in the air.

He zeroed in on Dick, a familiar mix of frustration and exasperation bubbling within him. Of course, it had to be Dick.

“Did you do this?!” Jason's accusation hung in the air as he whipped the wrinkled paper in Dick's face, fueled by a mix of emotions he couldn't quite name.

Dick's expression shifted from confusion to amusement, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

“Wow… we never thought they’d actually accept you,” he chuckled, his nonchalant demeanor only infuriating Jason further.

“So it was you!” Jason's voice rose with each word, his frustration reaching a boiling point.

The crumpled letter found its way into Damian's lap, his laughter ringing out like a taunt.

“Dancing with the stars? You’re about as coordinated as a baby elephant,” Damian quipped, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

With a resigned sigh, Jason sank into his seat, allowing himself to be swept up in the whirlwind of their antics. He ran his hand through his black and white locks as he grabbed the pitcher of orange juice.

Beside him, he heard Stephanie giggling as she and Tim typed chaotically on their phones and he heard his phone ding.

He drags a hand down his face as he groans in exhasperation. No point in asking them to delete their posts, too many people had seen them already.

"I can't believe you did this," he grumbles to Dick, who shrugs.

"I'll be honest, Jason. Did I help? Yes. Was signing you up for Dancing with the Stars my idea? Possibly. Was I the one to initiate it? ...No." Jason looks at Dick quizzically. "Then who signed me up for this?" He asks, a little too calmly. Tim slouches in his seat.

"...Tim?" Jason asks slowly.

"Damian made me do it!" He says quickly, finishing his last sip of coffee and rushing out of the room. All eyes turned to Damian.

The boy sighs. "That's what you get for taking the last of Alfred's cookies," he says simply before exiting the dining room.

"I can't with you all," says Jason, beginning to feel overwhelmed with anxiety. "I'm going to go out. I'll see you at dinner." And he too leaves the room, running down to the Bat Cave.

PART TWO HERE

FACECLAIMS

A/N: omg, this story has been in the back of my head for MONTHS now. i can't wait to start writing more! tysm for reading!!

#jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #batfam #social media au #dancing with the stars #Dancing Knights #jason todd #batfamily #red hood x reader #red hood #jason todd brainrot

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redhead-batgal · 1 year ago

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Master List Of Works: Fics/Three-shots

Content- Fluff: ☙ Angst: ✢ Mixed/Netural:ϐ

Batboy(For the OC content and Head Canons)-

🐥: All Bat Boys listed below 🦇: All Bat Fam 💙: Dick Grayson/Nightwing 🔫: Jason Todd/ Red Hood ✒: Duke Thomas/ Signal ☕️: Tim Drake/Red Robin 🗡: Damian Wayne/Robin

Bat Boys

~Dick Grayson/Nightwing💙~

The Awakening

Trust ϐ 6/20/22

~Jason Todd/Red Hood🔫~

Think of Me

Achilles Heel ✢ 6/20/22

Cassiopea

Dawn TBD

~Tim Drake/ Red Robin☕️~

Something's Gotta Hold On Me

Part One ϐ 7/30/21

Part Two ✢ 8/15/21

Part Three ϐ 11/6/21

Find You

Young Love and Old Money ϐ 6/21/22

~Damian Wayne/ Robin🗡~

Oh Miss Believer

Part One ✢ 8/22/21

Part Two ✢ 6/21/22

Part Three ✢ 11/10/23

Part Four TBD

To Touch The Sky

Part One ☙ 6/22/22

Part Two ϐ 3/12/23

Part Three TBD

Ultimate Master List: Here

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parkjammys · 4 months ago

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the audacity of the official dc account to even post this 😭

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connorsui · 1 month ago

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"Girls like it when men ignore em"

LIEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS

I WANT THAT MAN OBSESSED WITH ME

I WANT HIM THINKING ABOUT ME LIKE A PRAYER, EVERY BREATH, EVERY MOVE, EVERY CHOICE HE MAKES ANCHORED TO ME. I WANT HIM LOSING SLEEP BECAUSE THE IDEA OF ME IS TOO LOUD IN HIS HEAD TO LET HIM REST. I WANT HIM TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS—LIKE THE WORLD COULD BURN TO ASHES AROUND US AND HE WOULDN’T CARE AS LONG AS I’M STILL STANDING THERE.

I WANT HIM TO SPEAK MY NAME LIKE IT’S SACRED, TO LOOK AT ME LIKE I HOLD THE UNIVERSE IN MY HANDS. TO BE HAUNTED BY THE SOUND OF MY LAUGH, THE TRACE OF MY SCENT ON HIS SKIN, THE MEMORY OF MY TOUCH. I WANT HIS OBSESSION TO BORDER ON MADNESS, TO FEEL ME IN EVERY PART OF HIM LIKE A HUNGER HE CAN’T EVER SATISFY.

I WANT TO BE HIS FIRST THOUGHT

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winnysplayground · 4 months ago

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“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

#aemond targaryen x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jason todd x reader #ethan landry x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #joel miller x reader #rick grimes x reader #jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #joe goldberg x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #bucky barns x reader #anakin skywalker x reader

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mostly-imagines · 4 months ago

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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.

Declined.

Voicemail.

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? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 2 years ago

Note

can I request for Jason x villain reader, where they're so flirty with each other whenever they see each other, and then one night she gets injured and he's like "who did this to you?"

The smog of Gotham surrounds you, the moon barely visible in the sky as you face down the red hood. He's landed some pretty good hits in tonight, but then, so have you.

"Just give up, I clearly won this round." He shouts at you from across the alley.

"Nights not over yet, Red."

"You're out matched, out gunned-"

You cut him off mid sentence, releasing your bullet right next to his foot, "you won't best me."

He rushes you, his hands gripping at the sleeves of your suit. You struggle, he's so strong, "I'm not letting you get away from me."

"You're not letting me do anything." Pulling harder, you manage to rip the sleeve and attempt to make an exit. But you notice he's not giving chase like he always does. There's no laughter is is voice when he asks you,

"Who did this to you?"

"Like you care."

"Little girl, I have been out here every night for weeks and I've yet to catch you." He steps closer and you flinch, "would I really do that if I didn't care?"

"Maybe you're just bad at your job."

"I mean yeah, but," he's cornered you against thr wall and you can feel your heart beating in your ears as his hand holds your arm, his helmet staring down at your scars, "give me a name and I'll show you how good I can be."

#jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #jason todd #x reader #jason todd fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #drabble

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thesandsofelsweyr · 2 years ago

Text

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice.

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave.

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

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albatmobile · 10 months ago

Text

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar pt. 2

[1] [2] [3] coming soon: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 8k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

After your wild night out, you’re not expecting to be approached by Roy- Mr. Harper, you correct yourself.

“It doesn’t feel right with me knowing,” he says, clearly panicked when he paces into your classroom as soon as you open the door for him.

“Well, hello to you too, Mr. Harper,” you say. You rub at your temple, feeling a headache stirring.

You follow behind his quick gate, stopping yourself just barely from laughing as he plops into the small kid chair that sits in front of your desk. You move to sit behind your desk, noting how you’re suddenly an inch or so taller than him in your position.

You’re wearing a tight, white v-neck, long sleeve bodysuit over top form-fitting professional pants, red heels and your signature glasses. The low-cut top leaves Mr. Harper at eye level with your lofty cleavage, something he evidently becomes distracted by. He shakes himself from it quickly enough, though, to focus back on your confused face.

He seems to disregard your words as if too lost in his own head.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. His guilty green eyes peer up at you.

“For…?”

You’re quickly losing patience and he’s quickly losing confidence.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he begins quickly. “The tip was a mistake. I was going back and forth on it, but again, I seriously didn’t mean anything by it and I-”

“Mean anything by what?” This dude is not making a lick of sense. What tip?

His eyes search yours for something, but you only offer him confusion in return. He seems to notice and continues on with his ramblings, “I swear I didn’t know it was you at first. Once, I did I just-" He continues to babble and you find yourself tuning him out.

Your hair keeps falling in your face and this is already the second time you’ve pushed it back behind your ear but it’s obvious it won’t cooperate. Maybe if you’d been paying more attention, you’d notice the way Mr. Harper’s eyes linger on the hair tie you have around your lithe fingers. Maybe you’d even notice how he trails off, mouth agape as you tie your hair up and out of the way.

When you go to stand to put an end to this, he pops up as well and it’d be hard not to notice his-

“Mr. Harper,” you trail off uncomfortably as you eye the growing situation in his pants. You can’t help but be reminded of the voyeur in the alley last night. “What exactly’s going on here?”

He quickly grabs a folder off your desk to cover himself, something you grant him the consideration of ignoring as you edge closer to the door.

“Jesus.” Mr. Harper uses his free hand to run a terse hand through his fiery locks. “I’m not trying to- Look. I just,” he trails off in frustration. “I know what you do,” he says, sounding the calmest he's been ever since this weird conversation started.

You freeze, hand on the door as you face the disheveled man in front of you. You don’t necessarily think he poses a threat, but you don’t fucking know and he obviously knows what you are.

Knows what you do.

You’re fucked. You’re fired. Sayonara, bitch- that’s how this always ends.

You mentally prepare yourself for the tough road ahead, figuring ending this conversation is the first step to fucking moving on, but he won’t even grant you mercy.

“Then say it,” you urge defensively, hand curling more around the handle with each passing second.

“avid_reader,” he says, watching as your hand tightens around the door handle.

You’re debating just leaving him there in your classroom, but your shit is all still on your desk. You probably should leave him in here and go get help, but you don’t. What would you even say, anyway? “Hey, I’m a cam model on the side and this dude who jacks it to me just figured everything out. Please help?” Yeah, that’s not going to work.

Instead, you stand there feeling tidal waves of embarrassment and anxiety washing down on you.

“You’re not the first person to figure it out,” you say. The words snap out of your mouth before you can stop them. You cross your arms across your chest as a means of comfort, but it only puffs out your cleavage even further. You sigh, dropping your arms as you approach the redhead. You don’t mean to but you stop closer to the man than you’d meant, leaving him to back against the desk behind him as you continue forward. “If you want to transfer Lian, I understand,” you offer, but he’s already shaking his head, eyebrows furrowed like you’ve got the wrong idea. Regardless of his reaction, you continue. “Just please don’t tell,” you plead with him. “I can’t afford to lose this job again.”

He looks completely stupefied by how this is unfolding.

You half expect him just to walk out the door as you’d planned to do, not even seconds prior, but he doesn’t. If anything, he seems relieved (?) by your reaction.

“Why do you even need the side job?” Out of all the things to come from his mouth, you’re definitely not expecting that.

“Technically, if we’re talking pay, this is my side job,” you respond, gesturing to the classroom around you halfheartedly. “35k a year doesn’t exactly pay bills, or well, much of anything at all,” you snort humorlessly. “Again, I totally understand if you want to transfer Lian, though.”

Mr. Harper’s mind still looks like it’s reeling from the reveal and his dick still obviously is, too, as it remains half-mast. His voice is gruff as he stares down at your smaller form. Even though he’s the one being cornered, you still somehow feel like the prey.

“Why would I do that?” he asks quietly.

There’s an obvious heat behind his eyes, one you’d have to be dumb not to miss. It’s clearly not escaping either of you that your close position is reminiscent of your infamous scene.

You watch as his lips open, then close as if debating whether or not to take it further. His eyes are half-lidded, almost like he’s high on your presence alone.

He gulps, watching your eyes trail across his every minute reaction as if it might stop at any second.

It has to stop.

It’s one thing to be a cam girl and it’s another to suck off one of the parents in the classroom. Yup, nope. Not doing it. However, you grant him the satisfaction of staying a finger-width away from his chest for just a moment longer.

You sigh, “I don’t have time for this superfluous conversation, Mr. Harper.” You give him as stern of a look as you can manage.

“Damn, you’re killin’ me here, babe- Miss,” he says your name again and watch as his breathing sputters under your slitted gaze.

“It’s best we keep this completely professional. Just because I…” you trail off, knowing he gets the point. “Doesn’t mean we can ignore the circumstances I’m under. I really care about these kids and I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize this position.”

You know he’s holding off on a comment about the position you’re both currently in in favor of backing away in understanding.

“Totally got you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable at all.”

You sigh in relief. Out of all the confrontations you’ve had about this topic, this has definitely been the easiest. Dare you say that Mr. Harper even seemed like a pretty cool dude. If you weren’t his daughter’s teacher, you’d definitely-

No, you can’t allow yourself to think like that.

“Thank you for, you know,” you hesitate, “not ratting me out.”

“Never,” he assures you with the most seriousness he’s displayed since you’ve met him.

You move, opening the door for him and getting blasted by whatever delicious cologne he’s wearing as you see him out.

He hesitates as if he wants to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“Have a good day, Mr. Harper,” you say, granting him a small, genuine smile before shutting the door behind you.

You know he hasn’t moved and you know he knows you haven’t moved. The two of you stand there on either side of the door reveling in the last dregs of whatever the fuck that conversation constituted as.

Finally, you hear the tell-tale sign of his sneakers squeaking against the linoleum and you finally allow your heels to clack back over to your desk. You slump in your chair, head in your hand, wondering what the fuck you’ve just gotten yourself into.

➸💋➸

You received your annual invite to the Wayne Holiday Gala months ago, though you honestly had considered not coming this year. However, after your run-ins with Jason, you decide to show up.

You end up spending most of the night with the kids in the daycare area. As unappetizing as it may sound to some, making small talk with the stuffy Gotham elites in the other room definitely sounds like the shittier end of the bargain.

You’re in the middle of a makeover session, which seems to involve a lot of poking and pulling when you hear it.

“Oh, no fucking way.” Your body stiffens at the familiar voice. “This is so rich.”

“Mr. Harper,” you say without turning around. You thank the little kids around you for the glitter bomb they’ve set off on you as you rise. Your form-fitting, high-slitted dress unfurls as you do so, revealing the extravagance of your gown (x).

He cleans up very nice.

You try to hide how you check him out, but it doesn’t seem to matter too much as he’s preoccupied with raking his eyes up and down your curves. You watch as his freckled cheeks turn red.

“How’d you know?” His voice is extra scratchy tonight and it’s doing things to you.

“You’re the only one of my parents who curses like a sailor no matter who’s in the room,” you explain. At this, you gesture down to the kids who’ve made you look like you’re going to Coachella rather than a gala.

The little girl closest to you keeps trying to tug at your hair, but Mr. Harper sits down and offers her his long locks in your stead.

“Are you,” he trails off, looking away from your eyes to fiddle with his black tie. “Is it okay that I sit here with you?”

It’s a vulnerable question after the clear shift after he approached you in your classroom all those weeks ago.

“I don’t own the place,” you say with a shrug as you sit back down with crossed legs beside him. “So, what are you doing here tonight?”

“My friend’s back in town and said he might be here tonight, so,” he trails off as he motions to his cornflower blue tux. It’s fucking ugly as shit and, somehow, it couldn’t look better on the muscular man.

“Where’s Lian?” you ask, blushing as soon as you realize you’ve asked.

Roy, however, seems pleased by your question. He points over to the other side of the room where she’s playing some combo of hide-and-seek and tag with a group of kids.

“She loves these kinds of things,” he says. “She wouldn’t let me miss out once she heard we’d been invited,” Lian catches your eye and waves excitedly before she’s pulled back into the game. “What about you?”

His voice lulls you into an easy smile. “Didn’t expect to see me here?” you tease.

“I didn’t say that,” he jests back as he tries to navigate the minefield that is this conversation. “You look good,” he says finally, though his eyes are forcibly focused on Lian.

You follow along as she gets chased around to avoid being tagged. The smile that’s adorned your face ever since he came in the room has yet to dull, something you’re sure he notices as his cheeks burn red.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. It’s your turn to blush when you feel his eyes finally shift back to you. You make the hard decision to focus on the kids running around rather than on his stunning, verdant eyes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

It seems like your words have given him the confidence to… well, you’re not exactly sure, but he definitely seems more cocky now. However, a tiny voice interrupts before he gets a chance to respond.

“Go!”

“No, you!”

Your head turns to the gaggle of well-dressed kids currently shoving each other your way.

“Excuse me!”

“Hello,” you greet them, smiling at their cute display.

“They said you’re a princess,” a small girl in a tutu says quietly as she sidles up to you. All the while, she wrings her hands behind her back as three other girls stand behind her shyly awaiting your response.

Before you can think of something to say, Roy swoops in.

“She’s 100% a princess,” Roy assures them with a playful wink sent your way. “Right, princess?”

You snort, trying not to be affected by the wink, “Right.”

You’re covered in shitty body glitter in a gown that anyone else’s here easily dwarfs. You feel far from a princess. Hell, the only reason you’d even been invited anyway had been because of your mom’s legacy.

The kids convince you to play heroes and robbers. Roy watches from the sidelines as you use a pink bow and arrow toy to stave off the waves of robbers that now includes Lian. Soon, she drags her dad to play, convinced that he needs to show you how to use the arrow for some reason.

“You’re not lining up the arrow right,” he says as he comes up to stand behind you.

“Mr. Harper,” you can hardly contain your eye roll, “it’s plastic.”

“Is this okay?” he asks as his hand hovers above your own.

Is it?

“Yeah,” you breathe before you lose the courage.

His firm chest presses against your back as he guides your hands on the bow. His soft hands trickle along your skin, effortlessly teasing you all the while.

“You know, we’re not at school,” you startle at what he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You can just call me Roy.”

You hesitate.

Is this crossing a line?

It’s just a name, you reason before giving in. “Alright, Roy,” you appease him. You just know he’s smiling big and a curious glance behind you proves it’s even dorkier of a grin than you’d imagined. “Don’t make me regret this,” you huff, settling back around the bow with his gentle guidance.

“Never.”

You release the arrow and, for once, it actually hits the target. The kids go nuts like you’ve just told them they get candy every day forever.

This is exactly when he shows up…

“Figures I’d find the two of you here.”

You startle, turning around with the toy bow and arrow still poised in your hands to find- “Jason.”

“What’s up,” he says, looking highly amused, though his only tell is the blatant mirth behind his emerald eyes.

Roy removes himself from around your smaller form to face your friend, who also seems to know Roy.

“I thought you didn’t come to these things anymore,” Roy says, confusing you even more.

“You know Jason?” you ask the redheaded man.

Roy backs away with an unreadable gaze as he shoots back a question your way, “Have the two of you met before?” It sounds pointed, like he somehow knows you guys fucked in the alley.

Your eyes flicker over to the darker-haired gentleman, wondering if Jason didn’t want him to know. He’s smiling like he’s in on something you aren’t, though, so you take it as a sign you can divulge.

“A couple of times,” you respond nonchalantly.

“A couple of times?!” Roy repeats in disbelief, shooting Jason a look he has no choice but to laugh at. After this, Jason and Roy seem to be holding a conversation with their eyes alone.

You hand off the bow and arrow to the little girl who asks to use it before turning your attention back to the men who seem to have come to some agreement without ever having spoken.

“I should’ve known the horndog dad she was talking about was you, Harper,” Jason says. At this, you clearly appear embarrassed to have been caught talking about Roy, but Roy’s too embarrassed that his flirting’s been so obvious. “So,” he drawls with his hypnotizing deep voice, “what’ve you guys been up to?”

“Just this mostly,” you tell him, gesturing to the glitter and toys scattered around. Your heels are starting to kill your feet, so you make to sit down again.

Both men, much to your amusement, help you down before sitting beside you. The kids immediately come up and try to play with his hair like they were with you and Roy, but it’s too short. They ultimately resort to makeup and more glitter, leaving you to wonder just who the fuck was giving these kids body glitter?

The three of you amuse the kids for a bit longer before Jason signals the two of you to follow him.

Roy tells Lian he’ll be right back and to stay in the childcare area while he’s gone. You watch after the two of them, not feeling Jason’s calculating eyes on the side of your face until you turn and meet them.

“What?”

He just shakes his head with a light smirk. An attendant walks by with a fresh tray of champagne flutes and Jason asks for them to stop and takes the tray from their hands. You raise a questioning brow when he hands you one before downing a glass.

Yeah, you could stand to get fucked up.

You smile, following suit as you down the glass, then another. Soon, Roy sidles up beside you and joins in on a few. Jason easily out drinks you and you’re not trying to get to the point where you’re too drunk. Right now, you feel a pleasant, tipsy hum vibrating across your tingling skin.

Roy takes the drinks slower but still downs one or two.

By the time the three of you are done, the tray of 10 glasses is completely empty. From here, Jason takes you and Roy around the parts no one else dares venture, ultimately stumbling upon Bruce Wayne’s office.

“Holy shit,” you gasp as you walk into the ornate room.

The entire room is covered in deep, rich wood and is filled with shelves upon shelves of old-looking literature. It looks like what the two cheap sets you’ve been on were trying to emulate but could never come close to.

Your fingers trail delicately across the fabric spines of books that adorn the wall-to-wall bookshelves in appreciation.

“Yeah,” Jason says. The muscular man sidles up beside you to pull out the copy of The Happy Prince you’ve been eyeing. “Haven’t been in here since I was a kid, but it still holds up to what I remember.” He stares down at your pick before handing it off to you. You hold it delicately, something he chuckles at, “You’re not going to fuck it up; trust me, he wouldn’t notice even if you did. Old man doesn’t have time to read anymore.”

“Oh?” you respond, not quite sure what else to say.

Jason merely nods. “I used to sneak in here or the library after patro- bedtime,” he coughs as he corrects himself. “Wilde is one of my favorites.”

You feel the all-telling stare of Roy from behind where Jason has you trapped against the shelf. When you turn around, however, he pretends to be preoccupied with the random knickknacks on the desk.

“Who’s your favorite, Roy?”

He looks up from the paperweight he’s holding as if surprised to be addressed by you. “John Knowles is always good. Can’t go wrong with Ray Bradbury,” the redhead says.

You nod in approval, missing how Jason’s eyes flash mischievously as he glances between the two of you.

“A Separate Peace has always been one of my go-to’s,” you add shyly.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because you’re not at the school, maybe it’s the fact you’re far away from the party, but you actually feel nervous around Roy right now. What’s making it worse is that Jason seems to notice. Much to your chagrin, he ups the ante between the two of you as if finding amusement in seeing the two of you blush so profusely.

Jason suddenly moves from beside you and off somewhere in the corner to fiddle around with an antiqued globe. You watch, trying to ignore Roy in your peripheral, as the top half of the globe opens to reveal crystal glasses and containers.

While Jason pours the three of you more drinks, you and Roy get to talking about, well, just about everything. The cadence and ease at which the two of you switch from topic to topic is incredible. You feel like you’ve known the freckled man forever by the time Jason’s handing you a heavy, intricate glass.

You thank him, quirking a brow at his knowing smile. He just shakes his head. “You two are fucking hilarious, you know that?” Jason teases.

You don’t.

A quick look at Roy proves his confusion as well. However, one glance at his friend leads to another one of their eyes-only conversations that seems to bring Roy in on the joke. You, on the other hand, are left to flounder in front of your attractive company.

“And why is that?” you finally bite.

Roy seems content to sip at his glass with raised brows as he watches the scene unfold.

“I’m just surprised you guys haven’t up and fucked already.”

You and Roy begin sputtering at the same time. Luckily, Roy seems to gather his bearings fast enough to respond so you don’t have to make a fool of yourself.

“Jay, what?” Roy practically chokes.

You and Roy still, looking at Jason to gauge the seriousness of his words. Roy then looks down at you to judge your reaction.

You know you shouldn’t fuck him. You really shouldn’t fuck him.

You can’t fuck him, but…

“Guess it’d only be fair,” Roy snorts at Jason’s words, but you don’t understand. “I don’t mind sharing with friends.”

The three of you return to a silent stare-down of who’s going to be the first to make a move.

Fuck it. You’re tipsy and horny and there are two attractive as fuck men in front of you. This is definitely a far cry from the boring night you thought you were in for.

“Are you sure, Jason?” you finally ask.

Roy’s breath catches audibly in his throat once he realizes you’re seriously considering it. “Princess, you’ve had a lot to drink. I don’t think- I wouldn’t want you to feel like this is,” he trails off, eyes searching yours.

He’s cute and thoughtful, okay? How can you not fuck him now?

With Jason’s blessing, you push forward, corralling Roy against the desk until your chest is flush against his.

“Takes more than liquor and a few glasses of champagne to count me out, Mr. Harper,” you say, realizing too late you’ve used the wrong name, though it doesn’t seem like he minds in the slightest. “Sorry,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t be,” he bites his lip, “it’s really fucking hot.” His hands close around the mahogany desk behind him as if keeping him from ravishing you right then and there. “Gotta admit, though, it’s been a few years since I’ve done anything,” he begins the tell-tale signs of his signature rambling, but you cut him off with a deep, slow kiss. It steals the rest of the words from his mouth as your body melts against his. “You don’t care that I’m out of practice?” Roy asks vulnerably.

You slowly wipe at the spit you’ve left on his lips before allowing your eyes to flicker up and meet his. He’s already looking at you when you do like he can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Not at all,” you smirk lightly at his surprised look as you turn his words back on him, “it’s hot.”

He groans at your words as if he’s holding himself back from flipping your position and fucking you against the desk. He doesn’t, though. Roy sits back against the desk and lets you do whatever you please.

“Really?” He stares down at your wandering hands with wide, uncertain eyes.

You nod, biting at your bottom lip. “I can help you practice,” you offer salaciously.

His jaw drops and you can’t help but laugh alongside Jason.

“Can I touch you?” his deep voice rumbles across your skin, further spurring the stammering beat of your heart. You nod, but it’s not enough for him. “Tell me you want me.”

You smile up at him. “I want you, Roy,” you breathe.

“Fuck,” he moans. You watch as his dick twitches against the pants of his ugly suit. “Jay, are you sure you want to share?”

He’s sitting in the large chair behind the desk behind Roy, palming himself through his pants. “Just fuck already,” he replies darkly, voice thick with arousal.

Jason looks absolutely sinful. His thick thighs are spread temptingly in the head chair with his button-up completely unbuttoned to reveal his toned stomach. His suit jacket remains on, as well as his tie, though it’s loosened and strewn lazily across his shoulder.

Roy exhales sharply before flipping your position in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, you’re being lifted onto the desk with Roy slotting between your thick thighs before your mouth is overtaken by his. You arch extra for Jason, who’s behind you and break away from the redhead to turn around and lean down slightly to kiss the other man.

Jason’s rough thumb runs along your jawline as he flicks his tongue teasingly against yours. Meanwhile, Roy’s hands roam your body tentatively as if he’s scared he’ll do something wrong.

“Jason,” you breathe against his soft lips as you pull apart, “tell him he’s not going to break me.”

“Tell him yourself,” Jason huffs like he can’t believe you pulled away to say that.

Soon, he’s shoving his calloused hands into your dress to cup your lofty tits and expose them to the room. You gasp, something he uses as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, though his hands eventually move, finding Roy’s hands and moving over top of them to sink them into your skin.

“Shit,” Roy groans as he finally allows himself to divulge in your curves. He throws off his blue suit jacket, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt before focusing back on you. His eyes linger over your tits as if memorizing them.

It’s cute.

Your finger beckons him hither. Your half-lidded eyes slip close as two sets of hands and mouths descend upon you in all the right places.

Jason moves to stand behind you at the desk, caressing up and down your exposed skin. His mouth leaves slick kisses along your neck, stopping to suck every few seconds to draw airy moans from your plump lips. Meanwhile, Roy’s mouth attaches to your collarbone, moving lower to suck your tits into his mouth with an appreciative whine as his fingers explore lower.

“Jay,” Roy’s voice breaks, leaving you to moan in response. His fingers trickle close to the top of the slit of your dress, begging to go further. k“I don’t think she’s wearing any underwear.”

Suddenly, they’re on each other, kissing over your shoulder with a clashing of tongues and teeth. It’s aggressive and, honestly, some of the hottest shit you’ve ever seen. You spread your legs even further before allowing your fingers to trickle up to your pulsating clit, but Roy stops you.

You look at the redhead in dazed confusion, just wanting some fucking relief, but he won’t allow it. “Please,” you beg, shifting your hips flush against the bulge in his pants, but he refuses to relent. “I need you to touch me.”

“Say my name,” he says darkly, fingers hovering right above where you’re desperate for it.

You meet his wanton gaze head-on, whimpering as Jason leaves hickeys across your shoulders. You so desperately want to buck into Roy’s hand, but his firm grip on your hip prevents you from doing so.

“Roy,” you moan, using your cam voice.

He seems to notice because his resolve seems to crumble. “So good, baby,” Roy starts to ramble. “You’re so fucking sexy. You want to get fucked?”

Jason’s breathing sputters against your ear as he finally allows himself to unzip his pants. His hard member rocks against the top of your ass and lower back with his hands reaching around you to tease your nipples. You arch backward against him with a loud cry.

“Please!” You’re not even necessarily answering Roy’s question. You just need something, anything from either of them and you need it right now. You squirm in the hold, bucking and writhing for any kind of contact you can get, but both are playing hard to get.

“Should we give her what she wants, Harper?” Jason turns to Roy, ignoring your pleas completely.

You mewl when Roy finally rubs his thumb against your aching clit. However, the contact is gone as quickly as it began, leaving you just as desperate as you’ve felt this entire time.

“I don’t know, Jay,” Roy responds sadistically. “Maybe we should make her wait a little bit longer.”

If they’re going to tease you, you’re definitely willing to do the same.

If they weren’t going to touch you, you’d just have to touch them. You waste no time in latching on to Roy’s sweaty neck, nipping and sucking hickeys into his collection of freckles as you mouth along his exposed shoulders.

“How are we doing this?” Jason asks gruffly, stirring excitement in your lower stomach.

Regardless of all the talk, you know neither will be able to resist much longer.

Roy bites at his lower lip cheekily, eyes trailing down your exposed body as he considers the question. “I’m going to bend her over this desk, fuck her ass up,” Roy says. At this, the redhead gauges your reaction and, when he sees no hesitation, does just this. “Feel free to join in, I don’t care,” he says to Jason as he rubs his clothed erection against your arched ass as if testing the waters. “This alright, beautiful?”

Roy’s cock against your ass, or the dangerous look Jason has in his eyes as you come eye-level with his leaking cock.

“Answer him,” Jason demands cooly. He lifts your head with an assured grip as he draws your gaze from his twitching cock to his dark eyes.

Your body responds earnestly to all the stimulation, moaning his name with a broken, “Yes.”

The tip of Jason’s tongue pokes out to lick at his lips. You watch as his eyes flicker to Roy behind you with palpable desire as he brings his leaking tip against your pliant lips. He slips in with a groan, hands falling to the edges of the desk, curled white-knuckled to prevent himself from completely ravishing your throat right then and there.

“So good,” Jason praises. His thumb trickles at the corner of your mouth gently while his hips snap slowly but roughly into your mouth. “Now, show Roy how good you are.”

You groan around his thick cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he picks up the pace. At the same time, you feel Roy lining himself up with your cunt and start to suck Jason more ardently.

Roy’s cock pushes against your tight entrance, slipping in slowly with an appreciative sigh from both of you. You feel him bob up and down from within you as soon as he settles. A quick look behind you proves how his orange locks cascade deliciously in front of his flushed, freckled cheeks.

“You feel so good inside me,” you breathe. To gain more friction, you wiggle your ass around his thickness, spurring an accidental snap of his hips. The sharp momentum sends you forward into Jason, who merely cups your face and draws you up for a deep, edging-on, rough kiss that leaves you backing helplessly against Roy for relief. “Fuck!”

He finally offers it, probably knowing he wasn’t going to last for shit, anyway. The redhead’s freckled hands caress and spread your cheeks as he sputters out uncoordinated, breathy thrusts into your tight heat. All the while, he spews the absolute most obscene things you’ve ever heard. Roy wraps your hair around his hand, forcing the rhythm on Jason’s dick as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. This only lasts for so long before you feel the shakiness in his thrusts.

“Jason,” Roy calls out from behind, “I need to tap for a second.”

Jason merely rolls his eyes, drawing you from his cock to his mouth for a lewd, terse kiss that leaves you breathless. You watch as his muscular form moves around the desk to settle behind you by Roy.

“You still good with this?” Jason asks, still a way back from your ass that’s arched over the desk.

You look at him from over your shoulder with a playful glint behind your eyes. “Just fuck me already, Jason.” Jason wastes no time in pushing his tip into your tight heat. He remains like this, creating lewd noises as his tip bobs shallowly in and out of your slick cunt. “Please,” you beg after he continues like this for another beat. “I need you deeper. Jay, please!”

He chuckles darkly, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

It’s all the warning you get before he pushes into you fully. He remains seated as you squirm against the large intrusion, with desperate gasps and moans spilling from you as you do.

Jason’s thrusts start out innocent enough, exploratory in a sense. They soon grow more desperate and harsher as he responds to the wanton cries you produce each time he bottoms out inside you.

Soon, Roy’s tapping back in and the fun truly begins.

That’s how you end up bent over the desk in your dress and heels, holding on to the edge of the desk for dear life as both men take turns fucking in and out of you. It’s completely sadistic how they use your body just the way you need, drawing noises and reactions from you that you’ve never experienced before. If this had been a stream, you know you’d rake in a record amount of tips- how could you not when you looked this wrecked?

You see yourself in the window in front of you, staring at your tits as they bounce in time with the varied thrusts. Eventually, they seem to catch on to what you’re doing and meet your unfocused gaze in the reflection as they make a mess of you.

“Shit,” Jason groans when his tip catches against your entrance as he slows down the pace once again to tease you. It works. You’re left mewling and bucking helplessly against his firm grip that keeps you in place from doing so.

Roy decides he wants you to get a taste of him and take the position Jason had earlier for you to suck him into your mouth. His member is slick and tastes like your pussy, only serving to make you moan wantonly against his thickness. The vibrations only amplify when Jason smacks your cheeks in quick succession, then moves to cradle and soothe them.

You feel completely and utterly used.

Soon, Roy’s breathing sputters in just a way that Jason knows to pull out. He begins to jack off over your jiggling ass as Roy slips inside of you once again. Their lips connect and you watch their sensual kiss through the reflection on the glass as you feel pressure mounting within you.

Your tongue lulls out without you even realizing it.

Jason, however, does.

“Two guys in your pussy isn’t enough for you?” Jason questions darkly as he makes eye contact with you. “You need a cock in your mouth, too?” You bite at your bottom lip, giving him all the answers he needs. “Tell me where you need me.”

Like he doesn’t already know.

“I need your cock shoved down my throat,” you say, panting lightly. The entire time, you maintain eye contact through the reflection in the window as you respond coquettishly. “Will you fuck my throat, Jason?”

“Say please,” he retorts in a dangerous voice that leaves you bucking back against Roy’s dick with a breathy moan.

“Please, Jason?”

“Good girl.” With this, Jason complies easily, choking you with his length as he thrusts against your pliant lips.

Roy doesn’t last much longer after you beg Jason to fuck your throat again.

“Fucking, damnit,” Roy curses, pulling out of you before you can even comprehend what’s happening. “Man, what the fuck?”

You pull off Jason’s cock with a lewd ‘pop’ as you look over your shoulder.

Roy’s got one hand cupped under his dick to collect his come, with the other running aggravatedly through his hair. It’s definitely not the ending you were expecting and you can’t help but laugh. He’s such a fucking loser and it’s only making you more and more attracted to him for some reason.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone wants to hear from a pornstar they bang,” he grumbles, though his words only make you laugh harder. He smacks you lightly on the hip, motioning for you to turn over so you can press your bare body into his firm chest. “Give me a sec, babe. I’ve got you.

“I’m actually quite flattered to be called me a pornstar,” you jest as you wiggle into the new position.

“Well, what would you consider yourself?”

“A random bitch who does porn.” He looks at you like you’re insane. “Your video got in the fucking tens of millions, dude.”

He draws another easy laugh from you, “'Dude’ is seriously what you’re calling me right now?”

“No,” he starts lowly, “but feel free to start calling me Mr. Harper more often.”

At this, his dick slightly twitches back to life, leaving you to roll your eyes. However, you gasp when he drops to a crouch, now eye-level with your pulsating cunt and inadvertently attempt to close your legs, but he won’t allow it. He pries your thick legs open with greedy eyes and a firm grip, preventing you from shutting them again.

You groan, arching against his restraint in anticipation of what’s to come.

Jason runs a calloused hand through your hair that’s splayed out across his father’s paperwork. He then collects as much of your hair as he can and grips it, using the hold to force your head back onto his dick. His one hand remains in your hair while the other trails down from your tits to rub at your clit.

Your appreciative moans vibrate around his large member, drawing the most erotic noises you’ve ever heard from the man.

Roy’s tongue finally trickles out, teasing you with light licks along your folds, then pressured kisses to your inner thighs.

“‘M so fucking lucky, babe,” the redhead groans against your cunt as he finally picks up the pace. Roy’s tongue seems to know all the right places and all the right pressure to get you bucking against his smirking mouth. “I’ve dreamed about this shit.” He meets your half-lidded gaze as he licks a long, thick trail from your entrance up to your clit. “Fucking you just like this, getting to taste your sweet little pussy,” he says. As if to prove his point, he mouths along your cunt, slurping your juices into his already dripping mouth. “Forced me to sleep in underwear so I don’t have to change my sheets every night, princess.”

“Roy,” you moan. You can’t help but push further against his tongue, hips sputtering against his skillful appendage for more. Your head falls backward, taking Jason back into your mouth with a forcefulness that has him tightening the grip in your hair.

“That’s right, baby,” he growls. “Say my name just like that.”

He eats you out, only removing his mouth to shove a finger inside of you when you’re getting close again.

You let out an embarrassing cry, leaving Jason to remove his cock. He smacks your flushed cheeks with his cock so he and Roy can both hear the full extent of you coming undone.

“Please,” you beg, arching off the desk. “Right there, Roy- fuck!”

With two different people working your pussy, you know you won’t last long.

Jason’s calloused pad against your clit and Roy’s expert tongue is all too much. You’ve never had it feel like this before- not even close. All the while, Roy continues to use moves you’ve never felt, but damn do you want to feel them again.

Preferably soon.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. I need your come on my fingers,” he says your name like a demand.

You have no choice but to obey when he finally manages a second finger.

You come against Roy’s expert tongue. Your hips sputter sporadically against his curled fingers inside of you, all while you force Jason back down your throat, effectively giving you the best orgasm of your life. When you finally catch your breath, you lift yourself weakly onto your elbows. The sight that meets you makes you laugh as both men are standing in front of you, ready for another round.

Fuck.

This round is hazy and steamy as the three of you find a new, sensual rhythm that drives you crazy.

They continue switching off fucking into you with sloppier movements, taking turns kissing you and each other as Roy plays with your clit and Jason plays with your tits. At some point, Jason places his calloused hand on your lower stomach in a way that makes every thrust feel so much more intensified. You know you won’t last long.

Your hips snap tantalizingly against Roy’s thrusts. against his fiery hair with reckless abandon as you feel another orgasm drawing near.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos as your face scrunches up in absolute pleasure. “There we go. Give it to me, I want your come all over my dick. Good,” Roy praises as his fluid thrusts milk out your second orgasm of the night.

Your breathing sputters as you release on his hard length, squeezing down as you spasm around him until he’s forced to pull out. You’re still twitching in Jason’s arms as Roy spatters his come across your pussy and lower stomach.

“So fucking good,” you groan, allowing Jason to support the majority of your weight as you slink against his toned chest.

Roy stares at your fucked-out form in disbelief. He notices your smirk and blushes, beginning his usual rambling that you can’t help but be enamored by.

“If you want, my roommate won’t be in for most of the night.”

Jason snorts, you assume, at Roy’s attempt to get you back to his place.

You surprise everyone in the room, yourself included, when you ultimately agree, “Alright.”

➸💋➸

You wake up with a headache in an unfamiliar room.

There’s a random drum set in the corner, as well as various band tees and posters littered across the walls. Memories flood back to the forefront of your brain as you stare at the picture on the nightstand and groan.

Mr. Harper. No- Roy.

You hear the shower going from somewhere close by and use it as a chance to look around and gather your bearings.

You remember the office sex, driving back with Jason so Roy could put Lian to bed. You remember coming back to Roy’s place and fucking, changing into one of his loose shirts, then watching some dumb movie on his bed with tequila. After that, though, the memories all carry a hazy edge.

You find your dress lying across the desk in his room and silently pad over to it. Underneath the satin fabric is his partially opened laptop that dings out a familiar tone as if on cue. You change back into your evening gown, looking at your phone that lights up with a notification reminder about your stream later tonight. It’s too much of a coincidence for you not to sit there and debate snooping. Ultimately, curiosity gets the best of you as you open the screen fully.

What you find stops your heart.

He currently has tabs pulled up about some sort of mechanical issue with a motorcycle engine, the other tab is about nearby kids museums and activities. It’s the flashing tab all the way at the end that sends chills up your spine.

It’s your cam page.

Not only that, but it’s his chat log with you, showing the last message he sent.

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

Holy shit, he’s a stalker.

Holy shit, you walked right into it.

The shower’s still going when you finally find yourself able to move again. You waste no time in rushing out of his room, searching desperately for an escape. The front door is too close to the slightly opened bathroom door for you to be able to sneak out of. You turn around and find a balcony, sighing when you realize this is your best bet.

Fire escape it is.

Donning last night's dress and remnants of body glitter, you slip out onto the balcony for your first and worst walk of shame ever.

No, actually, it gets so much worse.

“Well, this is a new one.”

You startle, turning to face Jason who’s smoking.

“Jason?” you exclaim in surprise. You’re entirely confused. He’s Roy’s roommate??? You move over to the ledge where he’s standing and look down at the ten flights you’ll have to traverse down in your heels with a sigh.

It’s going to be a long day.

“He slept on the couch, you know,” Jason says, taking a drag before offering it to you. “Nothing happened after the movie. I promise.”

For some reason, you believe him, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still seriously disturbed by what you’ve found. For fuck’s sake, Roy had watched your stream before the parent teacher conference knowing it was you and tipped you after. It’s entirely fucking creepy and way too contrived to be a mistake.

The pounding in your head takes over your senses as you take a hit off the cigarette. You sputter as soon as the smoke hits your lungs, immediately wishing you hadn’t taken the shit at all. Thankfully, Jason holds in the laugh you can tell is bubbling in his throat, something you appreciate.

Inside, the faucet squeaks off and you quickly realize that if you’re going, you better go.

You hand back the cigarette and shuffle down the first few stairs before looking back at Jason, “You never saw me.”

By the time you get to the bottom, you look up to find the man’s already gone.

You need a fucking aspirin.

A/N: work has been stressing me out and I recently got diagnosed w an autoimmune disease so we b dealing with that shit. i saw the eclipse tho and it was p cool!

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#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars #dc x reader #x reader

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