Jason Todd Smut - Blog Posts

Okay y'all HEAR ME OUT

Jason Todd x male reader WITH the dynamic from The Boy and The Wolf in mind.

LIKE IMAGINE IT... The size difference.

I just need y'all to understand 😩

Not only that The Wolf has a MOTORCYCLE and is a vigilante literally perfect

This man could put me in a chokehold anytime!!! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡(✿ ♥‿♥)(✿ ♥‿♥). ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

content — black fem! reader, mirror sex, fingering, chokehold, dumbification, backshots, deep penetration, praise, jason talks you through it.

nsfw content ☆ 18+ minors dni. ageless & blank blogs will be blocked

jason todd is the type to fuck you in front of a mirror when he wants to prove a point to you. feeling insecure? he’ll make you watch your reflection while he holds you, his chest to your back as he pumps his fingers in and out of your hot, sticky pussy.

feeling bratty? he has no problem providing you with an attitude adjustment, one massive bicep flexing around your neck and the other holding you by the hip to keep you steady while he pounds you from behind. he stares you down the whole time, grinning smugly at the way you whine and babble for more.

and his absolute favorite? he loves fucking you in prone bone after you’ve had a long day, his weight pressing you into the mattress so he can reach nice and deep. he’ll hold your chin in one hand, directing your attention to the large mirror in the corner of his bedroom so you can see exactly how wrecked you look under him.

“just focus on us, baby.” he husks in your ear, littering kisses along your neck and shoulder while he watches you fall apart. “see how pretty you look right now? you’re doing so good f’me.” he chuckles when you gasp his name, choking out half coherent sentences in between the garbled moans he wrenches from deep in your throat. “shh, princess. don’t want you to worry about a thing, ‘kay? jay’s gonna take care of ya.”

꒰ © nymphodiety 2024. DO NOT copy, modify, repost, translate, and/or enter my work into ai or other platforms! plagiarism will not be tolerated! please read all rules before interacting! ꒱

I need this man Now \(^ヮ^)/(*^‿^*)\(^ヮ^)/(❤ω❤)(❤ω❤)(❤ω❤)

Keep It Down

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…

Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(

Word count: 1k

======

It was all quiet pants and silent tears. 

The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening. 

You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce… 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started. 

He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin. 

Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth. 

As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine. 

“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter. 

Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..” 

Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve… 

Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.

Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down. 

Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…

You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again. 

Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears. 

“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own. 

“As if, you were loud as hell.”

“Shut up…”

i died for a sec but im back

thanks

turkey aint the only thing thats gunna get stuffed tonight 😏😏

i said.. TURKY AINT THE ONLY THING GETTING STUFFED-

pick again !!

jason or jayce?

plans for kinktober. (maybe)

10/10 - Schlatt : mirror sex

10/14 - Ted Nivison: size difference

10/18 - Dick Grayson and Jason Todd: tag teaming

10/22 - Percy Jackson (BOOK PERCY): overstimulation

10/26- Ghostface (any): deepthroating

10/30 - You Choose!

a/n: please note that these are not final, i made these up on the spot so feel free to share whom you would like to be included in my kinktober.

btw if u choose ‘we wanna chose who’ that vote is going towards yay kinktober

DATING HEAD CANNONS - DICK GRAYSON

(there is no nsfw!! also no pronouns are mentioned!!)

(please don’t reblog!)

the start of your relationship

honestly when your first started dating you were really confused why he would constantly have bruises and gashes on him, or why hr just disappears. i feel like it you guys would get in a fight about him keeping BIG secrets, and like he would accidentally tell his secret and your just standing there wide eyed!!! he would probably be so scared that you’ll get scared and leave him. you end up giving him a huge bear hug mumbling “you better not die”! AND THIS MAN WAS OVER THE MOOOOOOOOON!!!!

he would be such a romantic! he will flirt all the time with you but it would be VERY common when you guys first started dating! he will ALWAYS hold your hand and would never let go because he’d be scared if you just vanished! he would immediately introduce you to the batfam! i feel like Damian would rly love you! like at first he was kind of distant but he warmed up to you later and wouldn’t let you be!!! dick probably has to beg Damian to let you be so he can spend alone time with you!

actual relationship hcs :)

STOP HE WOULD BE THE BIGGEST SWEETHEART EVER!!!!!!! you would get small and big gifts! i feel eventually you’d feel a bit bad that he is spending so much money on you but he genuinely insists that its fine!!!

dates would be the most fun thing ever!!! you guys either stay at home and just chill, cuddling just in each others warmth! or you guys would dress up and go to a fancy place!!

he is in love with your lips!! he loves how they feel against his, how warm and soft they are! he loves the colour of your lips (i have a darker top lip and hated it for so long! but you all are pretty so please dont ever hate your lips or anything about you!)

he always has to be touching you! not in a sexual way though! like he loves to pull you close by wrapping his arm around your waist!!

HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS

after a tough night your sweet face makes it all worth it!!!

overall ♾/10 boyfriend

have a great day/night and drink water!!!

Jason Todd stripper?

Ummm ok this is weird but I have to ask, for help on a story. Does anyone know a Jason Todd story like Magic Mike? Like the reader knows he's undercover but somehow goes to the club where he's at and he dances for her? I've been watching magic Mike videos on YouTube but I have to know 'cause I already look like a tomato so why not go full red? Lol

BTW I don't not own the gif.

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more intensity.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

me reading this

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more intensity.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

He feels like he's died and went to heaven.

Let's set the stage. You, his amazing, spectacular, beautiful girlfriend, are not a very physical person. Don't get him wrong, you are affectionate and you like touching him very much, but you don't do it often. You show your love in other ways, you cook for him, you make his favorite foods all the time, you search about his interests so you can have conversations with him about it, you know what's on his mind and you give him space when he needs it. You know him better than he knows himself.

So when you do touch him, it's all the more special. you kiss him on the cheek and forehead, you give him small hugs, ones that don't last very long and don't involve that much contact, you hold his hand when you feel he needs support, and you touch him on the arms and back when you feel like he needs reassurance. Something about having grown up in a non physical household.

More importantly you don't initiate sex, on your normal days that is. He has been always the more physical of the two of you, a surprise to some, given his disposition, but he is the only one that initiates it. That is except for one instance in time.

"Please, please, please, fuck me." You whisper, grinding and rubbing yourself all over him.

You came for him when he was sitting on the couch, watching a show that he can't even remember and then you started your little ritual. You would ask him what is he doing, then you sit on the other end of the couch, then you start inching your way closer to him and you start touching him absentmindedly, and finally you go to the main event, and you plop your pretty self in his lap and when he asks what are you doing, you shut him up with a kiss so ferocious that it takes his breath away. And you start pawing at him, to every piece of his body that you can reach, he starts doing the mental math in his head and it clicks, it's the blessed day. Your ovulation day.

The day that you don't really care about your inhibitions about physical touch and you just want to maul him. For three days up to a week you would be on him like glue. In public you would stick yourself to his side, at home you would jump him every chance you could, not even to have sex, just make out and be closer to him. He would take his fill of you and more, you would wake up and you would kiss him till he can't breathe, you would fuck him till he sees sound and hears colors, and most importantly, you would have long cuddle sessions. God forbids that he wear no shirt around you at that time, you would start biting him. That's another thing about you, you start looking at him like you genuinely want to eat him, and he sometimes feels nervous when you start kissing his neck, but that is what makes it so hot to him.

"Please, I want to feel you, I want you to fuck me."your sweet voice jerks his attention back to you, to the amazing goddess that is perched on his lap. The way that you look, with your hair framing your face and your sleep clothes, the ones that had him audibly groaning at the sight of them, leaving nothing to the imagination. You grind yourself on his cock, nestled up filling in his sweat pants. He feels like a young god because of the way that you desire him. And that makes it all the more special.

So yes. He feels like he has died and went to heaven.

i really really really wanna write for famous(?)musician!reader and finally put out a oneshot but i can’t decide who to write for. help me out pls

j.t. | smutty scenario

pairing: titans!jason todd x fem!reader

an: just a little bit of ✨S P I C E✨

warnings: smut, begging, bad writing.

jason was eating you out like a man STARVED. flicking your clit with his tongue, his middle and ring fingers deep inside you, brushing by your cervix every once in awhile.

jason curled his fingers inside you, pressing on that spot that made your eyes role to the back of your head, “jay! i’m gonna cum…” your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear.

he saw an opportunity and took it, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and stopping all movement of his mouth.

you get up, obviously pissed that he stopped, “what the fuck? why’d you stop?” you whined, jason smirks, “you wanna cum, beg for it.”

“…i’m not in the fucking mood.” and this little cocky shit goes, “well, i guess you’re not cumming tonight.” he shrugs, as if this bitch doesn’t have the biggest hard on- 💀🤚🏻

you pout, finally giving into what he wanted of you, “please…” it’s like your pride held you back from saying what you wanted, and of course that isn’t enough for jason, “i’m gonna need more babe.”

rolling your eyes, even though you kinda enjoyed begging, “please jay, please make me cum, i need it…”

jason, finally satisfied with your answer, smirked once again and gave you what you wanted.

before you know it, his fingers are back inside you, and his tongue is back on your clit. “fuck! mmm feels so good-“ that familiar pressure returns and you’re on cloud nine.

fuck im bad at endings- 💀

also inspired by one of @smellslikemultifandomimagines amazing head-cannons!

JASON TODD who is not very good at hiding what he wants. oh, he’ll try. he’ll cradle the side of your face, kiss you softly, slow, and treacherously tender—and he’ll try to play it off when you tease him. but that hunger is unmistakable, it’s deliciously obvious on his tongue, and it’s painfully irresistible. one look into those eyes, and you’re done. clothes adorned across the floor, plucked like flower petals all in a second. he’ll have you laid out beneath him on the bed, kissing every inch of you like a solemn prayer before dinner. tightly grasping onto your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, and closer—until he shudders, breath heavy and skin damp, pressing his forehead against your own, a pretty little curse escaping his mouth. “....fuck.”

Back When You Left Me

Jason Todd one-shot

Pairing: Jason x Reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW/

Tags: mutual pining, slowburn, childhood crush, age difference, mentions of abuse, class differences, glow ups, sexual tension, emotional smut, reunions, sex, thigh riding, first kisses, first time, virginity,

Episode 1 - Your Apartment

The malfunctioning fan at the corner of your living room rotated from side to side, occasionally providing a faint breeze in the heat.

Spring swept by in a blink, and June came in with full steam. Baby hairs that have fallen out of your braids were sticking to the sweat of your forhead. In your lap was your graduation gown, in your lips, a pair of pins. Needle held carefully in your fingers, you threaded the design of a flower onto the blue gown that once belonged to your older brother. There was no point in buying a new one. Almost everyone in your eighth grade class had an older sibling whose graduation gown was passed down to them. It was cheaper that way.

Every once in a while, you glanced at the tv screen, watching the pretty reporter sitting in an air-conditioned studio and announcing the latest updates.

Another building had been demolished. Third time this month. Purchased by a millionaire and destroyed to be rebuilt into his own luxurious complex. Its tenants displaced and sent to social services.

You recognized the building. One of your classmates, Rose, had lived there with her family. You wondered what was going to happen to her now. Would her parents find another place to stay? Should you offer yours? Doubtful. Rose had four siblings, and you barely had enough room with your mother and brother in the two-bed you shared.

Shawn dropped out of school to get a part-time job and help your mother with rent. When you offered to do the same, you were met with screams of "over my dead body" from both of them. So you did your best to keep your grades up. For their sacrifice.

A clutter came from the your ceiling, drawing your attention from the TV. There was screaming followed by a door slamming and footsteps heading down.

Your upstairs neighbour, Mrs. Todd must have been in another one of her moods. Either that or her boyfriend was on another drinking binge. Those two gems did all they could to rid the entire complex of any peace and quiet.

Sure enough, a moment later, your door opened and in walked mrs. Todd's son.

Tall, broad, and brooding as always, Jason gave you an acknowledging look as he headed straight for the fridge.

Your heart spiked the way it always did whenever he was around, but you schooled your features with a tight-lipped smile.

Jay was a junior like your brother. Short and messy black hair fell onto his forehead just so, above blue eyes you could see from across the room. His beautiful face was usually always cut or bruised, and he wore a piercing on his left ear.

Unlike Shawn, Jason didn't drop out. He had received a scholarship in his freshmen year and kept the grades to maintain it throughout. But that didn't mean he attended every day.

Like Shawn, Jason worked to help pay rent.

Standing by the fridge, he leaned down to inspect the contents.

"Ah," he said when he found what he was looking for, pulling out all bags of frozen chicken and plopping down at your kitchen table, holding it to his eye.

Grease stains clung to his rolled-up sleeves, the fabric stretched tight across arms you tried not to stare at. Tried and failed.

Your friends and classmates had already begun dating. And despite everyone at school knowing your brother's reputation and protectiveness, some had even asked you out. To no avail. You politely declined invites to dates, saying you weren't interested.

But really, they never stood a chance.

Since the first time you saw Jason stumbling into your apartment, all scraped up elbows and torn jeans, it was over for you. He got in a fight that Shawn pulled him out from and brought him to you to get stitched up so that he wouldn't have to go to the hospital.

Your hands had shaken too much. You were used to sewing clothing, not bleeding skin. Ironically, Jason was the one to calm you down.

There were two many people in the room, too much noise, he asked the to leave because they were distracting you. When it was just you two left, he spoke to you in a calm town, even though it must have been hard with his torn shoulder.

"You're okay, kiddo." He'd whispered to you, sitting up on the couch. "This is just like one of your designs. Same technique."

You'd sniffled. "I-i don't know, Jason. We should call the hospital. What if I mess up? You could get hurt–"

"Are you kidding? I've seen that bird you sowed onto that ugly French thing you like to pretend is a hat."

"The beret you mean? That's a very popular style all around the world."

"It can't be."

"Jason!" You giggled. "Don't make me laugh right now."

"You're right. You're right. Im sorry." He said, wincing as the wound on his shoulder pulsed with blood. "But what I'm trying to say is I trust you. You can save me, darling, I know you can. Please try..."

You swallowed, staring at the wound. "Okay," you said, keeping his words in mind. "Okay,"

You did what you were used to, cleaning the wound and slowly, carefully stitched him up. By the time you were finished, Jay was pale, but his breathing had calmed. The bleeding stopped.

He took a painkiller as you wrapped gauze around his shoulder, and he eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.

Since that day, you developed a crush that held you in a vice like grip.

Jason played dumb, but it was a defense. You’d seen the glint behind his eyes when he solved problems. And he was kind. He tutored the neighbourhood kids and brought groceries to your elderly neighbours. He took care of his mom, even though she didn't deserve it. He worked hard. He cared about his friends. Enough to join a brawl for them, no questions asked.

Sure, he only saw you as his friend's little sister, and sure, each time he brought a girl home, it hurt like a punch in the chest, but some part of you hoped that one day...

"Ah!" He hissed, drawing you from your thoughts. You looked to where he'd placed the frozen chicken on the table, shaking his hand as if it he burnt it.

"Here," you stood up from the couch, setting your sewing kit on the coffee table and made your way to him, bare feet against the hardwood flood.

You wrapped the chicken in a paper towel and held it gently to his eye.

Even seated, Jason towered over you. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, leaning into your hand. This close, he smelled like a mixture of sweat and cheap cologne. He smelled like home.

You lifted the pack off his face and studied the damage. The skin around his eye was beginning to bruise. You pressed the cold towel softly to it.

"Jay," you spoke softly. "Did your mom–"

"Is Shawn around?" He cut you off. His voice raw, like he was holding back a growl. One look at his clenched hand confirmed he was trying to calm himself down. Before you could stop yourself, your other hand rose to brush his hair away from his eyes.

He stilled. But his hand unclenched, and he took a calm breath.

"He went out to the store earlier." You said. "He'll be back soon."

He hummed.

Your phone buzzed, the screen flashing with a message from your classmate.

Parlour tn?

You quickly grabbed your phone and shoved it in the pocket of your shorts. Maybe he didn't see it?

"So, you're going to the parlour." Jason asked.

"Yep." You muttered.

"You know people go there to drink and hook up."

You snorted. "Oh my god, what?" Then rolled your eyes. "Are you gonna tell my brother?"

"Of course I am."

You shook your head, grinning. "Whatever. You guys were my age when you started going there."

Jason was quiet. "Just be careful. All men are dogs."

"Not all," you grinned, your eyes catching a hole in his shirt. Right at the seam above his left shoulder. Was that new?

"Do you want me to fix this?" You asked, fingers brushing the ripped material.

"Nah, don't waste your threads." He gave you a smile, despite his voice sounding tired. He must have taken extra shifts at the shop. "I'll ruin it the next day anyway."

Your heart clenched from the exhaustion in his tone.

Of all the people who you knew at the slums, if anyone deserved out. It was Jay.

Episode 2 - The Parlour

The parlour was in full swing. The skate park was covered in neon graffiti. Discarded bottles and solo cups lay around as skatebords, bikes, and Rollerblades glided across concrete to rock music blasting from the speakers.

You sat on a ledge overlooking the river, enjoying the brush of summer wind against your skin.

Swinging your legs in the air beneath you, you hoped your jean skirt and t-shirt combo was enough to keep you warm.

You eyed the construction site a block away. A new condo was being developed. A month ago, it was another old apartment building.

"I wonder what the view would be from the top of that crane." You mumbled.

"Okay, that's enough of that." Your friend Emma giggled while taking away the bottle of... something wrapped in a paper bag you'd been holding. "I know you like climbing, but it's not exactly the tree in our school yard."

You chuckled.

As the night went on, you went from drink to drink, from person to person. You weren't sure how you ended up in the construction site, wandering your way to the crane.

You heard low voice behind you. "What the hell are you doing?"

You froze, turning around to see him. The bruise around his eye had lightened.

You closed your eyes, lifting your hand to your heart. "Jay, you scared me."

"You scared me." He folded his arms in front of his chest. "What are you doing at a construction site?"

"Don't know... ," Your gaze veered to your surroundings. "What do you think they're building here?"

He shrugged. "Who cares?"

You turned around. "I do."

He kicked a piece of debris, leaning against the side of the crane.

"And you do too." You informed.

His lip quirked up in amusement. "You know me that well, hmm?"

You took a step towards him. "I know you like to act like you don't give a shit."

His jaw ticked as you got closer.

When you reached him nervously and slowly, you lifted your gaze up at him.

Jason gazed down at you. His expression unreadable.

"I know you don't like the people that are kicking our friends out of their homes." You said. "I know you're a good guy. You punched Billy Vincent for saying his shoes cost more than our house."

He blinked. Blue eyes narrowing at you. "How do–"

"Shawn told me." You raised a brow, risking a step closer to him. Your hand lifted to his cheek–

He backed up. "Don't. Don't do this–"

"Why?" You asked. "Would it be so bad?"

"Yes!" He looked at you in disbelief. "You're your Shawn's little sister!"

"Who cares?" You argued. "I know what I want."

"You want me, then. Yeah?" Suddenly, he turned an interrogating gaze to you. "With all my baggage?"

"I do." You lifted your chin. You loved everything about him, why couldn't he see that?

Jason shook his head. "Trust me, you'd be better off with guys like Freddie Fletcher."

You were taken aback. What did this have to do with your classmate?

"Dont bother." Jason shook his head. "He told everyone the two of you slept together. Shawn almost killed him."

"He's lying!" Anger rose in your chest. "Nothing happened! I never even had my first kiss!"

"... you haven't?"

His smirk made your skin burn.

Folding your arms, you looked away from him and at a pebble on the ground.

"I mean, I could have." You kicked the rock. "Several guys at school have tried..."

You risked a glance at him, seeing the faint amusement on his smirking lips.

"But...?" he prompted.

"... But they weren't you." You admitted.

Ocean blue eyes wavered. Then he began walking towards you.

Your pulse spiked, breath catching as he got closer and closer.

For some reason, the silence felt suffocating, and before you could stop them, the words spilled out of your mouth. "I dont care what Shawn or anyone else thinks. I'd choose you over any of them–"

Then his mouth was on yours. Dry lips, soft breath, years of memories collapsing into a single exchange. You made a sound like a half gasp, half sigh — as your fingers threaded through his thick hair, tugging just slightly.

He tasted like cigarettes and gum.

When he pulled away, his breath hitched. Like he hadn’t meant to go that far.

His gaze was locked on yours, black pupils blown wide. You had to look away, afraid you’d say something too weird. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

"You are... not a good kisser." He chuckled behind you.

Seriously?

He was laughing at you?

After your first kiss...

You spun around, heat rising in your face.

"That's not what Freddie Fletcher said." You snapped.

His expression shifted. One brow lifted — not in surprise, but calculation. Like he didn’t like hearing that name in your mouth.

"You're right." He drawled, ocean blue eyes teasing. "Fletcher said you rocked his world. And now I know he lied."

Before you could tell him to go fuck himself, his lips covered yours again.

Episode 3 - The Batman

You were standing over the kitchen stove, stirring the contents of the chicken soup for your mother. She came home from work sick a few days ago, and since then, things haven't improved.

Your phone flashed with a text from Shawn.

Not gonna make it for dinner. Hitting up town with the boys.

You replied "Be safe."

While the food cooked, you cleaned up around the house, gave your mother medicine, watched some TV, and flipped the channels until you found a romcom to watch.

A few hours later, your front door opened, your brother and his friends stumbling in, sweaty, and breathless.

Jason wasn't with them, likely he went straight to his mom's.

You looked at them, confused by their disheveled states. "What the hell–"

Your brother turned to you, bewildered. "We saw him. The fuckin' Batman!"

Your mouth dropped.

You were little when rumors began. A masked vigilante man doing the work the police were too powerless to do. It made the people in your neighbourhood happy. Finally, someone was punishing Gothams criminals and gangsters. Maybe their children will have bright futures.

At the same time, though, you found him terrifying. You heard stories. Gang members beaten to a pulp and tied up for the police to find like presents, scarred and broken beyond repaid and too petrified to move.

"We were at the shop when we heard a crash. Went to see what happened, and it was him. Cape, bat ears, all that shit." He chuckled. "He made the whole gimick look badass. Oh! And he was in this huge, fucking tank of a car– holy shit you should have seen it!" Shawn shook his head.

"Anyway, he ran into Montana's convenience store– Apparently they're hiding guns for the Hell hounds–"

"What?!" You blinked. Aubrey Montana was one grade above you. Her dad always seemed so nice...

"Listen, listen!" Shawn urged. "The batman, he's busy fighting those guys, right? We all look at his car, then at each other. And we have the tools. So we get to work."

They what?!

Your hands shot to the top of your head. "Are you insane?"

"Okay, maybe we had a little too much beer." He laughed.

Not finding it funny, you urge him to tell you what happened.

"Jay figured out how the car worked — magnets or something. We tried to strip it, but Batman caught us mid-heist. He was pissed. I've never run so fast in my life."

"Oh god," your hands covered your mouth.

"But he shot us with some stun gun or something. Kept us there and interrogated us until someone confessed to figuring out the whole magnet thing in his car. We kept our mouths shut but then Connor, damned pussy, breaks out and cries that it was Jay."

You swallowed, listening with anxiety as he went on. You couldn't wait for this dumb story to end.

"Anyway, batman's threatening to keep us there til the cops show up and arrest us. But then Jay stands up and tells him he'll fix his car if he lets us go."

"... and?" You whispered, fearing the inevitable.

"He gave him this whole speech. ‘we’re not criminals, just poor’ blah blah. Batman looked like he might puke."

You don’t laugh. "So?"

"He let us go. Kept Jay."

That landed like a gunshot.

You urged. "Shawn. The atman kills people!"

"He does not."

"Okay, he doesn't. But he hurts them! Badly! We have to go after Jay!"

Something about Shawn's expression shifted.

"Relax," he sneered. "Your boyfriend's gonna be fine."

You stilled. "He's... not my‐"

“He told me you two kissed,” Shawn muttered, bitter. “Guess I was wrong about you being smart.”

You froze. “Excuse me?”

“Jay doesn’t stick around, you know. Not for anyone.”

You considered his words, knowing they were cruel and that you shouldn't believe them. So wiping your nose, you ran into your room and closed the door behind you, not caring that you were acting like a child.

You weren't sure what kept you awake that night more. Your brother's words or your worry for Jason's safety.

Episode 4 - His Asence

Jason didn't come home that night. Or any night after. Everyone assumed the batman did arrest him. But no one actually knew what happened to him until months later, when he made his first appearance on TV as Bruce Wayne's new ward.

The rumor going around was that Jason went to Juvie and got out. Worked odd jobs until eventually scoring a gig at WayneTech.

It was really impressive, considering he only had a high school education.

You were partly relieved. When he didn't come back, you'd assumed the worst. So seeing him healthy and happy on TV, surrounded by heiresses and models, was... bittersweet.

You remained in the slums with your sickly mother and your brother, who was falling deeper into a life of crime.

It was clear Shawn resented Jason. Accused him of abandoning his best friend for the privileged life.

"You abandoned him first." You once reminded him, annoyed by his 40th rant of the week.

Shawn didn't like that.

"Or maybe he had nothing worth coming back to." He spat at you.

Your eyes swam with tears, and you stormed out of your apartment.

Years went by, and you got accepted into a good fashion program, worked to help provide for your family. But you soon realized that the pay wouldn't keep up with constantly rising rent.

Your friend helped you get a second job at a high-end bar uptown. The usual crowd were Wall Street types or rich college kids, so you earned more than your fashion internship from tips alone.

That's where you met Selina.

She was a beautiful woman, confident, elegant, and resourceful. She never paid for herself.

Grateful the bathroom walls muffled the deafening music, you washed your hands when silky voice spoke up behind you. "You should act more interested in what they have to say. That'll get you bigger tips."

You looked up at the mirror to see her standing next to you. Tall, athletic, and lithe, she filled out her dark blue dress perfectly. Instinctively, you straightened your back to tred to stand tall, but you were still quite scrawny next to her in your cheap black tank top and skirt.

"Is that what you do?" You asked.

Her lips widened into a grin, and slowly, she walked up to the mirror, reapplying her lipstick.

Your eyes were glued to her. Every movement was precise, almost artistic.

"The shade is called Royal Red. Dior." She said, puckering her lips. "And before you ask, no, I didn't pay for it."

You frowned at the comment.

The way it was phrased made you think she stole the product. But she most likely meant that it was a gift from one of her admirers.

Then she turned to you, raising the lipstick to your face. Caught off guard, you gasped, then stood still and let her brush the red across your lips.

When she was done, you turned to look in the mirror, your eyes widening. The deep crimson on your lips was enticing.

"Red looks good on you." She was smirking.

It did. You looked... kissable.

"It's about the fantasy," she was smiling behind you. "You dont have to do much. Just make them think you're interested. Attainable. And let them pay for the rest. Also, clothing goes a long way. The tighter, the better." She winked.

You nodded, marking her words.

The following day, you used your tip money on that months rent. And whatever was left you took to the fabric store.

If Shawn had a problem when the shopping bags you'd brought home, he didn't say anything about it. That evening, you pulled out your sewing kit and some old clothes and got to work.

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror and experimented with different makeup and hairstyles.

The following night, you showed up to work in a tight leather skirt, knee-high boots with five inch heels, and a silk red top that clung to you like a second skin.

You felt ridiculous at first, but then the makeup and clothing almost acted like armor and a mask. The looks you got boosted your ego, and your movements and behavior came naturally with it.

You batted your eyelashes, bending over extra slowly when putting down drinks at a table with a bunch of businessmen.

Your tips tripled.

"Love the choker." Selina sat at the bar in front of you, sipping a martini.

Your hands rose to your neck, fingers brushing the velvety material of the collar-like necklace that had a single charm dangling in the front. It was shaped like a gun.

You smiled to yourself, and lowered to whisper to her. "I got it at hot topic."

She laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "As long as it's their money, you're spending."

You developed a new routine, working, spending time with friends, talking to Selina, taking care of your mother, avoiding your brother, and soon enough, Jason left your mind completely.

Episode 5 - Back When You Left

Strobe lights distorted your vision as speakers blasted techno from all sides. The effect was made to make everything seem like it was in slo-mo.

Used to it by now, you easily maneuvered your way through the crowd with your tray.

You suddenly clashed with a tall man in what looked like a brand new Armani suit. "Oh, im so sorry!" Your hands brushed his arms. "Are you okay?"

He blinks down at you, pupils dilated as they devour your dark red sleeveless top and matching colored skirt. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You made sure your voice was extra breathy. "I can be such a kluts when they turn on the strobes."

His eyes were soft when they landed on you. "Y-you're alright, sweetheart."

You offered him a smile before brushing past him, his expensive cufflinks safely hidden in your left palm. He was left none the wiser.

It was a game you and Selina invented when days were particularly uneventful. You competed to see who can get pickpocket the most expensive object. She usually won. But she was the master. It took you a few weeks to be able to tell high fashion from cheap knock-offs. And a few more weeks to learn slight-of-hand.

"You're not bad with your fingers," she once said. "It's good you know how to sow."

It took you some time to grow comfortable with the entire idea of stealing. But Selina said something that changed your mind.

"You think these guys care that their gold came with money they got from kicking people out on the treet?"

You thought of your friends back home. Your mother, brother. How they worked tirelessly to be abke to afford living in squalor. Suddenly, you lost all sympathy for Gotham's one percent.

The key was to move your fingers quickly while distracting them. Selina had taught you moves in her flat. Demonstrating on the clasp of a bracelet, she swiftly removed it from your wrist before placing it on her own for you to try. It took a lot of practice, but eventually, you got the hang of it.

You weren't sure what she liked about you, but you were happy she did. She was like the big sister you never had.

You quickly stashed away the cufflinks in a makeup bag of you keep behind the bar before you're called to table 5.

"It's a bunch of trust fund kids." The host, Felix, grinned at you before making a gesture with his hands like he was making it rain dollar bills.

You laughed and made your way over the booth, planting your hand on your hip. "Good evening, boys. What can I get you–"

You faltered when a pair of ocean blue eyes met you gaze.

The last time you saw those eyes was the night you got your first kiss.

He sat surrounded by friends, huddled over a game of cards.

He wore a white button-up with a gucci pattern. The top few buttons were undone, offering a view to the expensive silver chain hanging off his neck and down his pronounced collarbone. His breaches, Hugo Boss. Sleeves drawn up to his elbows, tanned skin contoured in muscle and scar tissue. The Rolex resting around his left wrist was the last accessory you registered before your eyes shot up to his face.

Sharper now. Angular. Almost aristocratic features. The black stud he used to wear in his ear was replaced with a small golden hoop.

He was bigger now. Not overly so, but definitely bulkier. Like he'd been regularly working out. Like he had a healthy diet.

You wanted to hate him. You should hate him. For stealing your first kiss, making you fall for him, and then abandoning you. No goodbyes, no explanations, nothing.

But you couldn't bring yourself to feel anything other than heartache.

He looked good. Happy and healthy. There were no bruises around his eyes or cuts on his lips.

Of all the people who you knew at the slums, if anyone deserved out. It was him.

Jason’s own gaze was wide with shock. Then, slowly, his eyes traveled from yours down your body.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks – hopeful it was hidden by your make-up.

It was ridiculous. You flirted with billionaires, playboys, and bachelors like it was a game. And yet, one look from him undid you completely.

Someone's hand was circling your waist drew your attention to your side. Jason followed the movement on your hip with a gaze that could burn his buddy's hand.

"Hey gorgeous," the trust fund brat holding you said. "I know my boy's quite the looker–" he tilted his head in Jason's direction, "–but I told you my order twice now."

You blinked. He did? When?

Trust-fund-brat put his free hand on his heart. "You're gonna break a poor man's heart like that, baby."

Oh, god.

You masked your grimace with a shy giggle.

Trust-fund-brat looked at your mouth.

"Sorry, I thought I recognized him from somewhere." You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Glancing at Jason, you saw his dark brows drawn together in confusion. He was wondering why you had just lied.

"Please repeat that, handsome?" You asked the trust-fund-brat, and he repeated his order with a triumphant grin, then they all went one by one.

When it was Jason’s turn, he almost looked nervous. And he masked it by looking unhappy.

Hand rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat. "Uh... Macallan 18."

Your heart ached once more a how he had changed. The Jason you once knew would beat up anyone with a pretencious drink order like that.

Nodding, you wrote down his order, meeting his eyes one last time before turning to the next guy.

He looked unhappy still.

Sweetly pulling out of the trust-fund-brat's hold, you promised you'll be back soon before heading to the bar.

"What the was that?" Selina asked, wide-eyed when you returned to mix drinks.

"What?" You mumbled.

"Don't play dumb. That boy with the Rolex had you practically drooling."

"It was a really nice Rolex." You lied.

Selina lifted her brow. "You know him, don't you?"

"No."

"So you wouldn't care if I went over there and introduced myself?" She raised a brow.

The thought of her going anywhere near Jason made your teeth vrind together.

You loved Selina like a sister, but Jason wasn't like one of those men she took advantage of.

Was he?

Something about your reaction made Selina laugh.

"Come on, who is he?" She asked, eager. "Your ex?"

"I have to work." You said, balancing the tray in your hands.

She popped a cherry in her mouth. "It's okay, I'll wait until your shift is over. I'm guessing he will, too."

Ignoring her, you headed to the booth and handed the drinks out without any more "drooling." It was quite easy, actually. All you had to do was avoid Jason.

The rest of the night, you were on high alert, feeling a weird vibration in your side, coming from that booth.

Eventually, your shift had ended, and you headed to the staff room to pack up. As you were getting your bag, you heard the door open and closed behind you.

Turning around, you froze in place. "What are you–"

"You," he rasped, voice gravel and heat, "What the hell are you wearing?"

You blinked, pulse thudding in your throat. "You’re one to talk." Your voice came out shakey. "I almost didn’t recognize you without the grease."

Jason’s gaze dropped, dragging along your body like it hurt him to look. "You’ve changed."

"So have you," you snapped, finding your confidence at last. And then, because you couldn't help yourself, you added. "I guess all those yacht parties with supermodels–"

He backed you toward the wall of lockers. Two fingers lifted your chin up before his lips claimed yours. You let them. You hated that you let him.

He pressed you back. His thigh slid between yours as he crowded into your space, making you forget the rest of your sentence.

Feeling an unbearable rush of need, you let your hands rise to his face, your fingers threading into his hair.

Jason let out a strangled breath, like he’d just been punched.

You understood the feeling.

His hands slid down, gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the bench behind you. You parted your legs automatically to keep him close.

His thigh pressed up again, and you gasped. That felt good. You wanted to feel it again.

Pulling him back into a kiss, you leaned back on your hands, rocking your hips against him the way Selina once described.

But it wasn't perfect. It was clumsy. A little awkward.

Jason didn't tease you.

What he did surprised you even more. He cupped your face gently. "Slow down," his voice was quiet. "Let me show you."

Then he pulled you closer and guided your rhythm, hands firm on your waist, breath in your ear.

The friction was delicious. Maming your breathing uneven.

Is this how you take charge? You could almost hear Selina's voice chastising in your mind.

He was leading the whole thing.

And you liked it.

And that's when you understood. None of it mattered. All this time spent working, studying, enjoying life, and not thinking about him. It wasn't real. You had always missed him. He was entrenched in your skin.

The door pushing open had you two drawing apart.

With impressive speed, Jason maneuvered you to stand behind him, blocking you from the person who had entered the room.

"Oh! Sorry." You recognized the gasp of one of your coworkers, Stephanie.

"No, it's my bad," Jason let out a charming chuckle, hand coming to scratch his head in a shy gesture. "Thought my girl would find this type of thing romantic."

He tightened his hold on your wrist, leading you out the door behind him. You cast your gaze down, hiding behind the fallen locks of your hair until you two were in the safety of the dance floor.

Your heart beat louder in your ears than the beat of the music.

You tried to slide your hand out of his hold and escape but he wouldn't let you. Instead, he pulled you to his side, sliding his hand possessively around your waist, leading you around the room towards his booth.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Jason called out to his friend. "Montgomery, can you pass me my jacket?"

Your old friend, the trust-fund-brad, turned in Jason's direction, his mouth dropping oce he took in the view of you in Jason's arms.

You were in quite a shock yourself.

You risked scanning the room until a pair of Cheshire eyes locked with yours. Again, you attempted to twist out of Jason's hold, only to be pressed further against him.

Help-me you mouthed to Selina.

Dont-be-so-dramatic she mouthed back.

You turned back just as Jasons grabbed his jacket from a slack mouthed Montgomery, threw a bill on the table, and flashed his friends a wink. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

He didn't wait for their reactions, pulling you to the exit. But you didn't miss their laughter and cheer, and Montgomery's silence.

The next few minutes were a blur. You registered sitting in the passenger seat of a fancy red convertible. Jason drove. There was no conversation.

You remembered the entrance of a fancy high rise in a part of town you've only seen on pictures. Taking the elevator. Somewhere around this time, you seemed to regain some of your self-awareness.

This was Jason's fancy new apartment.

Smooth hardwood floors, leather furniture, floor to ceiling windows with a view of the harbourfront and walls with paint that didn't chip. Slack jawed, you stood at the entrance, taking it all in.

"Nice place," you finally found your voice.

His thumb brushed against your jaw like he was scared you’d disappear.

"I used to dream about you," he murmured, like it embarrassed him. "Every night. I’d see you in that pink dress— the one you made..."

"With the black stitching on the hem?" you asked, voice caught in your throat.

He gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That one. You’d wear it and… it was over for me.”

You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Even after everything, that tiny confession broke you in the best way.

"Jason what happened?" You asked him. "Did he arrest you? The batman?"

His gaze softened. "You could say that... but he also bailed me out."

"So then why didn't you come back?" Your voice broke.

"I couldn't, sweetheart." The admission looked like it hurt him to say, like he was reliving a bad memory. "She'd kick me out for getting in trouble... or hit me or I don't know. I couldn't go back ther–"

Unable to take the pain in his words, you rose up on your tip toes, claiming his lips.

It was slow. A little shaky.

Memories. Regrets. Longing. His hands were held your waist like it was a lifeline.

His lips were warm on your skin when he murmured. “You must hate me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t. I can’t. I’ve tried.”

Jason’s lips claimed yours again, lifting you in his arms like you weighed nothing. This kiss was more intense, deeper, with the intention to go further.

"God, I've missed you." He breathed. "You're the only thing that felt good back then. Still are"

You didn’t realize you were trembling until he pulled back and looked at you.

"Whats wrong?" he asked, brushing his nose against yours.

"Nothing."

A beat passed.

"Wait, Jason…" You felt your cheeks flush. "I’ve never…"

He froze. Just for a second. Then his brows softened. His voice went quiet.

"We don’t have to," he said.

"I want to," you whispered. "I just… thought you should know."

He smiled softly, looking at you like you were something precious. "I’ll go slow."

He kissed your forehead first, then your cheek, then the edge of your mouth. His hands moved to your back, warm and wide.

Clothes came off one by one. Not rushed. Slow. Just fingers finding zippers, mouths, and meeting skin. You were certain your heartbeat could be heard through your skin.

He pulled you onto his bed.

He looked like a boy sculpted into a man. Same messy blacm hair, same sharp jaw, same challenging gaze. But everything else bigger. Broader. His chest was smooth planes and definition, trim waist, dark happy trail below the waistband of his jeans. You used to daydream about what was under his shirt. Now you were seeing it — and it was better than a dream.

When his mouth moved down your neck, your hands tangled in his hair.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he whispered, lips against your collarbone.

You nodded, and he kissed your chest, wide shoulders flexing as he lowered to kiss your nipples, your stomach, your thighs. His actions were seductive but calming at the same time. Worshipful in a way. Like tasting your was a privilege.

Everything he did had your thighs rubbing together, moisture slowly building up in between.

He rose to hover over you, lining himself up, his eyes locked with yours.

"This okay?" he asked.

You nodded, heart in your throat.

But the moment he pushed in, your breath hitched. Your hands grasped at his sheets. The pain flared hot and bright.

You bit your lip from the pain. "Jason–"

"I know, I know," he whispered, kissing your temple. "I’m right here. Try to relax around me. Just breathe."

You whimpered, trying to follow his instructions.

His hand slipped down between you, moving in slow, practiced circles over your clit. You had become so sensitive, and the feeling his hands was... unbelievable! The distraction served you well. Slowly, your body adjusted to his size. Your hands came to clutch his biceps, grounding your in his warmth, his presence, his whispered reassurances in your ear.

"You’re doing so good, sweetheart," he murmured. "God, you feel so fucking good."

The ache gradually softened. Pleasure started to curl around your body like a rush.

You moved your hips experimentally, and Jason groaned low, his restraint weakening.

"Fuck," he rasped, "you sure you’ve never done this?"

"Actually," you said, breathless. "Now that I think about it, Freddie Fletcher–"

He laughed, forehead against yours, rolling his hips deeper.

You gasped — not from pain this time.

That friction of his fingers on your clit. That stretch. That feeling of being filled and wanted and with him.

Your crimson painted nails clawed at his back, pulling him closer.

You just wanted him. Like you always did. Always would.

"Jason!" You cried as your body shook from your orgasm.

Jason’s fingers wrapped in your hair, tugged on it with a hint of desperation as his hips met yours, each movement had his hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

As exhaustion invaded your senses, you felt yourself held steady in his arms.

Episode 6 - Crimson

"So he disappeared just like that?" Selina interrupted you mid story. "No goodbyes, no nothing?"

You sighed, sipping your coffee. "Pretty much. He always wanted out of there. So when he saw his chance he took it."

"Leaving you behind."

"It's not that simple." Even now, the need to defend Jason was something like a second nature. "I was safe with a loving family."

"And Shawn." She added.

"Again, not comparable." Your head was shaking before she even finished speaking. "Shawn may be annoying and mean but never raised a finger against me."

Silena had a contemplative expression on her face. Studying you again.

"I'm extremely lucky." You added, feeling the need to fill the silence.

"Poverty can make people mature way before their time." She mused before raising her own coffee to her lips. "Anyway, I hope you gave him a tongue lashing back at his place..."

"Wel..." The back of your head felt suddenly itchy, the contents of your cup fascinating. Anything involved not meeting her gaze and admitting you let Jason take your virginity. And then make sure it was gone one more time that morning.

Selina was rolling her eyes when you risked a glance at her.

"Was it at least good?" She drawled, but there was a smirk.

You nodded eagerly, conjuring up images of last night. Grasping hands, sliding hips, lips on your skin, smoldering blue eyes.

"Oh my god, pull yourself together!" She threw a sugar cube at you, grinning.

"I can't!" You whined, your face dropping to the palm of your hand. "I've tried... it's him!"

Selina was quiet for a long moment. Peaking between your fingers revealed her looking out the window, reminiscing with a longing expression.

You cleared your throat. "You said you wanted me to repair something?"

That drew her out of her thoughts. "Correct." She pulled a black garment out of her bag and let it fall on your kitchen table. It looked like a bodysuit.

You inspected the material, taking in wear and tear. The material was strong... There were rips, dirt, ashes?

"What is this for?"

"Dont ask questions, darling." There was a glint in her eye. "Just name your price and do whatever you can to mend it."

That got a chuckle out of you. "Yes, boss."

As you got to work, Selina watched you carefully. The gears in her mind are already turning with ideas and plans.

One thing was for sure, if her color was black. Yours would be crimson.

Hit List Pt. 3

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Jason Todd/Red Hood X (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, toxic relationship, ptsd, trauma, blood, dark romance, mafia romance, objectification, thigh-riding, biting, smoking

Jason slumped against his seat as the crowd around the boxing ring cheers on. Picking up his bottle of Jack Daniels, he took a sip.

"Yo, Jay-"

Jasons fingers tightened around the bottle. He felt a surge or anger, the same as he always had when someone called him that name.

"- buddy, baby." His bookie, Carlos, ran up to the surrounding walls of the box. "Maybe slow down with the drinking, eh? I got a lot of money on this fight."

"You'll get your money." Jason says without looking him in the eye, he's focused on his opponent, slumped and bleeding across from him. Poor guy. Jason looks at his bruised up eyes, wondering if he should call off the fight due to unfairness.

"Yeah, I mean sure, I trust you, but you're kinda... swaying." Carlos said. "I mean, you know how you are. Ya tend to drink more than a normal person." He laughed, clapping Jason on his cheek, right on his "J" scar.

Jason grinds his teeth at the uninvited touch before turning to Carlos with a glare. "Do I look like a normal person to you?"

Carlos gulped and pulled back his hand, not saying anything.

The bell rang, and Jason got up, still in the same cargo pants he wore as the Red Hood. He knew no one would notice. No one pays attention to anything in this goddamned city.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Flashes of your expression from last night flashed in his mind. Your mascara stained cheeks and your glossy parted lips as you shuddered with your first orgasm. You listened and wore a skirt to work, grabbing him simple access to your panties when hed broken into the lab and came to stand behind you as you worked.

"You're not allowed to smoke in here," you had said weakly when you hurt him, light his lighter and take in a breath.

"Still a rule follower, I see." He muttered, lisped by the cigarette between his lips.

"You used to like that about me." You argued.

"Used to." He said. Then, his gloved fingers closed your nose, and his cigarette was placed between your lips. Your breath hitched, and you struggled against him, trying not to breathe in. It was no use. He was twice your size and three times stronger still. Your pushing arms were little more than a nucance to him.

"Shh," he spoke in your ear. "Just breathe, baby."

Running out of breath, you inhaled the only way you could, through your mouth, pulling in the contents of the cigarette hanging from your lips. Mercifully, he took away the cigarette and put it back in his mouth, leaving you a cughing mess. You turned around, eyes tearing from the caughing. "What the hell is wrong with -"

His lips crashed down on yours. You protested against him before realizing it was futile. You pulled back, extremely overstimulated. "Ugh, Jason!"

"You're so pretty like this." He leand on his hands, caging you against the lab table. "All teary-eyed and post desperate." Scarred fingers brushed your hair back behind your ear, as mesmerizing, ocean blue eyes studied you. "Scared," enticing full lips wispered.

"Im not scared of you." You ground out.

His brow rose. As if asking who you were trying to convince.

"Im not." You declared, your hands clenched into fists. "You know why?"

"Enlighten me,"

"Because," you glared at him. "I know that deep down, you're just a sad, scared little boy who's desperate for an outlet for all of your emotions."

For a long moment, he said nothing, then his gaze averted from yours and dropped to the floor as if in self reflection.

"... you're right." He murrmered.

You blinked, your whole body freezing. "... what?"

"I said you're right." He sounded like he hated to admit it. "... I guess im just taking my anger out on you." He huffed. "I suppose what I really want is for someone to sympathize."

You regarded him with a frown. But then you noticed a tear roll down his cheek, over the risen skin of the scar under his eye.

Your heart clenched at the sight, and a hope began to form deep down that you were seeing the boy you once knew.

You reached to cup his cheek. "Jay,"

His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist and twisting it behind your back, turning you to face away from him. You were forced to arch your back to ease the pain.

He cuckled in your ear. "That was too fuckin easy, baby."

You said nothing as you struggled against his hold.

"Let me clear up a couple of things." His low baritone brushed your ear as he spoke. "First, dont try to psychoanalyse me. My mind is the kind of fucked you can only get after being tortured to death. And second - " he twisted harder, his thigh pushing up betweet your legs, pressing against your sex. You moaned before you could stop yourself.

"Im not doing this to you as a cry for help." He mimicked a sad tone before transforming back to a degrading one. "Im doing this to you because it's fun. Don't I deserve to have fun?"

You attempted to muffle the desperate noises threatening to be released, but you couldn't. It felt carnal, primal, and natural to give yourself over to him. Hed always had the same effect on you. as he rubbed his muscular thigh against your heat. "You fucking pshcho-"

"Tsk. I know, baby, I know." He cooed, loving the reactions he coaxed from you. Making you grind on him, your breath hitching. Your noises were a melody to his ears, "Tell me how bad I am." He moaned in your ear, biting the shell of it and pulling yet another delicious response. "Whine about it as you come on my thigh."

You came for the second time.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

You had been despersre so scared then, Jason swallowed, lesning on the chain closing his eyes as a twisted wave of desire rose through him. He adjusted his pants, suppressing a groan recalling the weak little noises you made when he told you. "Youre this far gone, and I hadnt even fucked you yet."

Jason's opponent. The poor guy whose name he'd already forgotten (Okay, it was David) lunged forward, swinging wildly. Jason sidestepped with ease, his reflexes honed by years of training under al Ghul. One punch was all it took - a sharp, brutal uppercut that sent David crumpling to the mat.

The crowd roared, but Jason didn’t hear them. He looked down at the unconscious man, his chest heaving. For a brief moment, guilt flickered across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold detachment he’d mastered so well.

"Stay down, Dave."

Carlos met him at the edge of the ring, his earlier bravado replaced by nervous energy. "Good fight, buddy. Real clean. Hey, drinks on me tonight, huh?"

Jason ignored him, climbing out of the ring and heading for the locker room. He needed to be alone, away from the noise and the watchful eyes of gothams dirtbags. As he passed the mirror, his reflection caught his eye. The "J" scar on his cheek seemed to glare back at him, a constant reminder of his torment.

Jason punched the mirror, and it shattered into a web of cracks. His knuckles bled, but the pain was so familiar by now, he didnt feel it.

His mind drifted back to you. The girl with the bright eyes and the nervous laugh. The girl who had once been his first love, who dreamt of making the world a better place.

Jason’s jaw clenched. He didn’t know if he wanted to punish you or protect you. Maybe both. Either way, it wouldn’t end well for either of you.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and left the fight, the cold Gotham air hitting him like a fresh splash of water.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Roman Sionis was tapping his fingers against his big wooden table. He sat at his office, glaring at Gotham out of his large glass window. He wasn't used to being kept waiting. In fact. No one had ever kept him waiting. Except for this punk. The red hood had agreed to contact him at five sharp. The clock on his desk showed eight-thirty. Angerly, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number that was left on his desk on a note he'd found days ago.

The line picked up after three tones. "Mask," the unfamiliar baritone answered.

Black Mask shot back gruffly. “Hood. You were supposed to call me back hours ago.”

Hood sounded nonchalant. “I’ve been busy.”

In the background, someone released a sharp intake of breath. It was unmistskebly feminine not loud, but it was enough.

Black Mask snapped, gripping his phone. "What the hell was that? Are you preoccupied while I’m fucking talking to you?"

Hood's voice laughed, laced with mockery. "Don’t worry, Roman. I can multitask."

"How the fuck-" he inhaled slowly. "Do not say my fucking name." The man was furious over the phone now. “You think this is a joke? I don’t like being ignored, Hood. I’ll remember this.”

"You do that." Was all Hood had to say before the woman he was with let out a desperste moan and the line cut off.

Hit List pt. 2

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Pairing: Jason Todd/Red Hood X (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, toxic romance,dark romance, dark Jason, psychotic Jason, mean Jason, brain-washing, violence, Jason's death, threatening, stalking, intimidation, blackmail, unethical behavior, mafia au, exes, assassination, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, love confessions, mourning, ruined orgasms.

The door opening snapped you out of your concentration. Your head shot up, eyes wide with surprise as the imposing figure in the red helmet stepped into your lab. Then your heartbeat froze as you recognized the terrifying figure you've been seeing on the news for the past month. The red hood - the crime lord of Gotham - was in your lab.

"Uh... can I help you?" you asked, your voice wary.

The red hood sweeped the room. You shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ve got some questions,” his low baritone was distorted through the modulator.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Prior◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here.

Yeah... asking Batman to let him patrol alone was just another notch down the line of Jason's cocky mistakes. But after doing it for so long, being Robin has become a second nature. He could beat up henchmen with his eyes closed and his arms tied. So, of course, he thought he could handle Joker alone to save his mother. Hell, he might have even stood a chance, but the moment he'd entered the Joker’s hideout, some familiar scent hit him, and Jason became numb in an instant.

Joker had been at it for so long that the boy should no longer register the pain from the crowbar. Only... he did. He felt every cut, hit, punch, every bruising hit.

Joker needn't have bothered with the gag, Jason lost his voice from screaming a while ago.

The newly carved "J" scar on his cheek hurt like a bitch.

"Well? Looks like bats are going to be late to save ya, kiddo." Joker laughed. "Bad traffic, I guess."

Jason didn't bother talking. Too exhausted. Everything after that was blacked out. Then he stopped breathing.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason was in excruciating pain. He was losing his mind. All of the hurt from his torture, from the explosion that followed, attacked his senses all at once.

He was in Ra’s al Ghul’s hidden stronghold, recovering from his resurrection. The room was dimly lit, incense filling in the air as Jason lay on a cold stone slab, his body wracked with phantom pain from his death. Ra’s entered and stood beside him, offering him water and speaking with a calculated gentleness. "You’ve been through a lot, Jason. The cruelty of this world knows no bounds."

Jason spoke with a hoarse "Bruce… Did he…?"

Ra’s tone stayed calm. "Save you? He didn’t even try."

Jason struggled to sit up, his face contorted in confusion. "No. I dont believe you. He would have… he he’s my fath-"

Ra’s directed Jason’s attention to a screen showing pictures of batman running side by side with... Robin, "While you were rotting in a shallow grave, your so-called father was playing hero with the one who replaced you."

Jasons tone was angry yet desperate as tears filled his vision. "No. He wouldn’t - he didn’t forget me."

But seeing the images of the boy in the Robin suit, he shut his mouth.

Jason recalled moments of Bruce’s kindness - of patching him up after a rough mission, smiling at him when Jason mastered a new skill or got an award at school. "He saved me before. He would’ve done if he could-"

"But he didn’t, young one." Ras said. "I did. Who truly values you, Jason? The one who abandoned you to die or the one who gave you your life back?"

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's breathing quickened as his fists pounded the hanging punching bag in Al Ghul’s dojo.

He had overheard an exchange between Ra's and his daughter. The topic of which was Batman, a word which recently became a trigger to him.

Jason continued olbiterating the punching bag, which had tore open where his fists landed, mixing with his bloody knuckles.

I wasn’t worth the risk? I was his son! How could he-how could he just let me die?!

Ra’s placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder making him stop his movements. "Its difficult to cope. You were nothing more than a soldier to him. A pawn in his war. But to me, you are a warrior. A leader."

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

"We found this in your bloodstream the night you were killed." Thalia Al Ghul held up a vial of clear liquid. Jason nodded, hunched over a table with his shirt pulled over. A medic was stiching up a nasty gash he got from a recent mission.

"It's relatively new," she continued. "Not FDA approved. Not even patented. But my men tracked it to a lab in Gotham University. It matches the research on several Academic papers published by a PHD student."

Jason frowned at the colorless liquid, hissing against the anchoring pain of the stitching. "What is it?"

"It's basic form blocks pain receptors. Joker played around with it and manipulated the chemical to immobilize people by overstimulating their nervous systems. It can cause a hallucinatory haze, so they're unable to defend themselves. Sound familiar?" She asked.

Jason ground his teeth and nodded, recalling how disoriented and agonized he felt during his torture.

Then, another memory surfaced his mind. One rainy day at school, when talking to you about your lab research.

"Im calling it 'Chill Mist,'" you said, proudly holding up a vial. "It'll be a breakthrough in healthcare, Jay. It blocks pain receptors and induces a calming state. For when people undergo trauma or surgery." You explained excitedly, spraying a bit of it in the air for him to smell.

"What's the name of the student working on it?" Jason's tone was grave when he asked Talia.

He anticipated the name before Thalia spoke it, but it didn't prepare him from the painful stab of betrayal in his chest.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Raw anger fueled him as Jason stared at the limp body of his duel oponent lying lifeless at his feet.

Ra’s clapped proudly once. "See what you’re capable of? This is just the beginning, Jason. You will become unstoppable."

Jason stared at the blood on his hands, the sword shaking in his grip.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ Six Years Later ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dmitry, a lower level henchman in the Russian mafia, sat across the table from the red hood, swallowing thickly. He felt for his gun in his holster and was relieved it was still there.

He's heard stories about the Red Hood from rival gangs, and he damn near shit his pants sitting across from him now. Worse, so when the man finally spoke, addressing him in his native language. "Привет Дима," (hello, Dima)

Dima looked around himself nervously, wondering why he was here instead of his boss. "Г-где Сергей?" (Where's Sergey?)

"Сергея больше нет. C сегодняшнего дня, я твой новый бос. Продолжим на английском. "(Sergey no longer exists. Starting today, im your new boss.We're gonna continue this conversation in English.)

Dmitry paled, his eyes cast down to the duffle bag resting beside the Red Hood's boots, suspecting the worst. "Бляд..." He swore under his breath. "W-we didn’t know it was your turf!"

The hood let out a sound that might have been a chuckle, but it was distorted behind the mask.

He leaned against the desk, spinning his knife lazily in his hand. "The whole fuckin' city's my turf."

Danny tried to protest, but Jason interrupted. "Here’s how it works now. You want to work in Gotham, you pay me a cut. I keep the cops off your back, keep you alive, and make sure you don’t sell this filth to kids. You mess up, you disappear. Simple enough?"

When Danny hesitated, Jason flipped the knife into his hand and buried it in the table beside him. "That wasn’t a question."

Danny nodded frantically.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The by-now famous Red Hood walked into Arkham asylum to blaring sirens as inmates shook the bars of their prison cells, shouting his name. Under the fluorescent lights, he could make out some familiar faces. But he was only here for one.

Joker looked up as red hood approached, a grin spreading across his face. "What's this?" He asked. "A fan coming to visit -"

The gunshot rang out before he could finish talking. The smoke raising from the red hood's gun. He climbed out into a nearby window and jumped out, the jokers cold body on the floor behind him.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason's eyes narrowed as he watched you through the window of you lab. You looked different now, older than the girl he once knew, but no less intoxicating. He clenched his fists, feeling the phantom pain of his death crawling all over his body.

You didn’t know. He reminded himself. You didn’t know what the Joker planned that night...

But you made it. That damn toxin that burned through his veins, twisting his screams into something unrecognizable even to himself.

Jason ground his teeth behind his mask. How was it fair that you got to walk away? That you got to live while he had to claw his way out of a fucking grave?

His gloved hand flexed over the hilt of his knife. He wouldn’t kill you, no. But he would make you pay. One way or another, he would make you pay.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Your hand reached for your phone charging on the table, but he noticed. He grasped you by your lab coat, easily pushing you against the wall. His grip was firm as he pinned your hands above your head. The sharp edge of his helmet pressed against your side. "What? Don't you trust me? After all this time..." the words released in a low chuckle.

Confused, you struggled against him. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t-"

He stepped closer, pressing you against the wall and locking your movement. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed in the quiet of the empty room.

You heard a click of metal and risked a glance to see him lift the helmet before dropping it to the ground.

Your breath left in a rush as your world tilted. Impossible...

"Jason...?" you whispered, barely audible.

He smiled down at you. Not the boyish grin you remembered. But a sharp, humorless. "Surprise."

You stared, taking in the stark differences. The Jason you remembered was cocky and boyish. The man standing above you now had sharper features, his body bulkier, and his eyes were hollowed pools of blue - once bright and mischievous - now held pain and anger aimed at you.

You stammered. “You - how - youre dead!”

"Aparently not." He drawled. “And congrats on being the first person to know who’s under the Red Hood.”

The Red Hood. That’s who he’s become. The vigilante-turned-crime lord everyone in Gotham feared or admired. And he was standing in front of you, the same boy with whom you did your homework, the one who pulled your hair at school, who took your first kiss, and more.

Jason’s gaze roamed over you, his expression unreadable. "What's wrong, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he said, his tone filled with amusement.

You voice shool as tears filled your eyes. "What happened to you?"

He told you. Step by step. Recounting the literal horror he'd experienced. By the time he finished his story, it was clear to you that Jason blamed you for hia death.

Jason felt a twisted satisfaction in seeing your head shake, guilt evident in your teary eyes.

His hand slid to your body, the leather of his glove cool against your skin. “Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Does it bother you? Knowing that every time I look at you, I see the reason I died?” he emphasized by wrapping around your throat.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Jason’s lips crushed against yours before you could form a single word. It wasn’t tender; it was raw, punishing, a collision of teeth and desperation that left you breathless.

He lifted you with ease and put you on the table you were working on. Worrying about chemical hazards was the last thing on your mind when you were being kissed by a dark reincarnation of your high school sweetheart.

"Jason-" you drew back on a gasp.

His lips brushed your ear before biting your neck, “Do you know how many nights I dreamed of making you feel an ounce of what I felt?” His words terrified you.

"What will you do to me?" Your voice trembled.

"I don't know..." He sounded distracted as his finger glided over your lab coat, unbuttoning it and pulling it down off you, leaving you in your t-shirt and jeans. You were suddenly cold, feeling bumps along your arms. Jason's haze was heated, and you followed it to your chest, where your nipples pebbled under your bralette. You held your breath as he raised his hand to circle one of your nipples, not saying anything.

"If you were me," Jason drawled, attention back on you, though his fingers continued circling your nipple. You suppressed a whimper desperate to be let out. "What would you do to you?"

"I..." Your voice hitched when his finger brushed the spot you wanted him so desperately.

"What would you do if you've defeated all of your enemies, but one." He asked, tone heavy.

Your heart ached at his words, and you shook you head. "I'm not your enemy, Jay-" you wispered.

Something you said made him freeze, a moment passed before he gave your nipple a brief but harsh pinch. “You don’t get to say my name like that,” he hissed, his other hand tightening on your hair.

Removing his gloves and dropping them to the floor with a soft thud. You watched at his scarred, large hand lowered to the buttons of your jeans, undoing them one by one. The sensation made your body jerk, and you bit your lip to keep from making any sounds.

Jason noticed and brought his lips up to yours, biting down on your bottom lip before saying. "Dont hold back now, baby. You never did before -"

"I've missed you." The confession left your lips in a quick breath.

That made him freeze again. Just like when he did when you called him by his nickname. Carefully, you reached to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing the "J" scar under his eye.

"Stop," he said under his breath.

"Jason," you wimpered, your voice strained. "I missed you so much-"

"Stop." He growled.

With tears in your eyes, you begged. "Please! Jason, I still love-"

He kissed you again, desperate to silence you. He was pretty sure the next words out of your mouth were going to break his conditioning completely. He couldn't pet that happen - not after how far he's come.

His fingers reached your sex, coating themselves in your slick and sliding up to rub your clit. "If you don't shut up for your own good, I'll have to find something else to keep your mouth busy."

The ministration on your sex, the words, and the fact that the love of your life was speaking them to you all sent your mind spiraling. But the sensations he caused in your body overtook any intentions in your mind, and you arched against him, desperately pushing yourself closer to him.

"That's right," he chuckled, his mind back where he deeded it to be. "Give up control, baby."

You were so close.

"Give me my revenge." He laughed, grinning against your ear.

You moaned just as you were nearing your climax.

He withdrew his fingers, ruining your orgasm.

"No!" You protested.

Pleading, your eyes sought his out in the darkness. He wore a wolfish smirk as he reached up and licked his fingers. His eyes were hooded as he glared at you. He didn't say much. Just hummed as he slowly approached you. Frightened, you tried backing away as far as you could. "Dont! Jason, I'll call the cops. I'll tell them -"

"Tell them what?" He pulled you by your hair. It was not a playful tug like he used to do in school, but a harsh grasp that had you gasping. "That the Red Hood fingered you? That he didn't let you finish?" He said in a mocking tone.

You swallowed harshly, not saying anything. This version of Jason was so cruel that you couldn't comprehend it.

"You're not gonna go to the police." He informed you. "You're gonna come to work wearing a skirt tomorrow." He finished before giving you one last kiss.

Before you could come up with anything more to say, he had put on his gloves and helmet, saluted you, and walked out the door.

Hit List pt. 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, smut, height school sweethearts, first time, nerdy reader, jock Jason, bad boy Jason, before Jason's death, prequel,

Jason got arrested while drag racing. Well, not while drag racing - He’d already won, leaving his opponent eating his audi's dust. The arrest happens after the fact. For assault. The thought made his eyes roll.

Translation: one clean punch to the sore loser who couldn’t handle defeat. But hey, he started it! It wasn't Jason's fault the pretty boy couldn't take a punch after dishing one out so bravely.

You were still catching your breath in the backseat of his Audi when you two heard the sirens. Jason's lips pulled away from yours, his brow furrowing as red and blue lights flickered nearby.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing at the rearview mirror. His jaw tightened as his mind worked out they were probably here for him. Then, with a meaningful look at you, he opened the door. “I think you should get out of the car.”

You blinked at him.

"They’re here for me," he explained, his tone disappointed. “Go back to your friends. I’ll handle this.”

"Come with me," you pleaded, clutching his arm.

He shook his head, pulling his hoodie back on over his head. "If they run my plates, they’ll trace them back to Bruce. It’s better if I stay."

The sirens grew louder. Reluctantly, you stumbled out of the car, gnawing on you lip in worry. You glanced back one last time.

"Go," Jason urged, a brief mischief in his eyes. "I’ll be fine."

You returned to your friends, doing your best to act nonchalant.

"Where were you?" one of them asked, thrusting a red solo cup into your hand.

"I had to take a phone call." You offer a fake chuckel, running your fingers through your hair, trying to unmess it up.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce and Jason got into a fight when the elder had to post bail that night. The ride back to Wayne manner was a silent and awkward one.

"The only reason I let you skip patrol tonight was because you 'had an assignment due tomorrow." Bruce shut the door behind them as they entered the mansion.

Alfred appeared at the entrance to take their jackets.

"I finished early." Jason murmered, shrugging at his adoptive father.

"You need to start taking your life seriously, Jason." Bruce grabbed him by the shoulder.

"By risking it running around wearing spandex with you?" Jason challenged.

Jason got punished for lying that night. Sentenced to having to do patrol with Dick for the next month. Bruce told him that if he hated his life with him so much, he could try his luck back on the Gotham streets.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce’s voice is low, but it carries enough anger to make Alfred glance up from his stitching of the gash on his masters shoulder. “He lied to me again, Alfred. Skipped patrol to go drag racing.”

"Did he win?"

Bruce glared at Alfred over his shoulder.

Alfred wasn't deterred. "Well? Did he?"

"Yes."

"Ah, to be young," Alfred replied, his tone even as he threaded the needle. "Filled with rebellion, rage, and on top of that an orphan. Quite the combination.”

Bruce huffed, leaning against the desk. "I wasn’t that bad."

Alfred’s brow lifts, unimpressed. "If you say so, Master Bruce."

"What about Dick? He never gave me this much trouble. He wanted to patrol.” Bruce argued.

Alfred didn't look up from his work. "Master Dick is a hard worker at everything he does. He was eager to please and found purpose in the work."

"Exactly." Bruce hissed against the pain.

"But he also had you.”

"Jason has me too," Bruce counters, his tone defensive.

Alfred pauses, the needle poised in midair. "You’re quite different with Master Jason, sir. Running Wayne Enterprises leaves little room for fatherhood."

Bruce didn't reply, but the words linger on his mind.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason tossed his books into his bag, his shoulders tense.

"You’re really gonna leave?" Dick asked from the doorway, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yep." Jason didn't even glance up.

Dick exhaled, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You didn’t ask for this life. But it’s not as bad as you think."

Jason slammed the bag shut and finally looked at his adopted brother. "Look Dick, you're a nice guy, but this life isn't for me. A room over my head and food on my table is a fucking blessing - don't get me wrong. But all of these fucking responsibilities? The training and running around at night in those ridiculous costumes? No offense..."

"None taken."

"The city’s never done anything for me. Why should I put my life on the line for it? For him?”

Dick shrugged, leaning against the door frame: have you tried telling him you don't want it?

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, like he'd let me quit. By the way, you're stuck with me for the next month. Sorry."

"I dont see it that way." Dick said. "So dont be sorry. And hey, I wasn't Robin for a long time. Only reason why I became Robin was cus I asked him to let me patrol too."

That made jason pause. "Really?"

"Try it."

Jason didnt say anything, the idea lingering on his mind.

Dick took a deep breath before leaving. As he went, he called over his shoulder, "let me know if you leave! I'm gonna turn your room into a gym."

Jason rolled his eyes, but there was a small grin on his lips.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Night patrol with Dick was actually tolerable. Dick’s laid-back attitude made the grind less unbearable.

"Watch this," Dick called out before flipping over a crate with perfect form and landing gymnast-style, arms outstretched.

Jason rolled his eyes beneath his mask but felt a pang of jealousy. "Show-off."

Dick was always good at all the tricks. Whenever Jason tried them, he was always to clumsy, too sloppy, and ended up messing up somehow.

Regardless, he took it as a challenge, running to the edge of the crate and jumping, trying his best to copy Dick's flip. He managed it, however the landing was a different story. He tried to land feet together the way Dick had but ended up losing his balance and having to fall into a crouch with one hand on the ground for balance and one hanging in the air. He laughed to himself because he unintentionally made a superhero landing.

"Not great," Dick spoke with the expertise of a gymnast and the lighthearted one of someone trying not to hurt your feelings. "Dont be too hard on yourself, though. I started training when I was five years old. You're a high school senior-"

Jason rolled his eyes under his mask. "It's this fucking cape. How'd you move in this thing?"

"Poorly." Dick mused, cringing as if he recalled a bad incident. "That's why I ditched it." He gazed down the Nightwing suit with a smile. Jason had to admit it looked cool.

"Nightwing, Robin," Alfreds voice cut their conversation, speaking through their earpiece. "A car chase in pursuit. Two black Buick SUVs pursuit by police on the grand highway, heading towards the exit to metropolis. That's near you."

"Copy that," Dick said, then to Jason. "Let's go."

"How're we gonna stop a car chase?!" Jason asked, bewildered.

"Just follow me!" Dick said, already breaking into a run.

Jason kept up with him, the sound of his boots running against the wet asphalt the only thing they heard. Until the distant police sirens grew louder.

"There!" He pointed towards a series of lights and on the highway.

Dick turned and nodded. "Take cover."

Jason watched as his adopted brother ran from one end of the road to the other, taking something from his utility belt and scattering it where he ran.

The buicks were nearing them, so Jason ran and hid behind a nearby crate and looked around the corner to see what was happening.

As soon as the cars reached their part of the road, explosions went off. Their tires popped, then lit up.

Despite his initial hesitancy, Jason found himself grinning.

"Hey-" Someone spoke beside him.

"Oh, Jesus!" Jason gasped, his fists blindly flying out. Dick stepped aside, dodging it easily.

"When did you get here?" Jason held his hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Just now," Dick said nonchalantly, before nodding to the scene. "What'd you think?"

Jason turned back to see the cars stopped and the cops pulling up, and arresting the men inside. "Not bad," he said. "What explosives did you use?"

Dick took one out of his utility belt, handing it to his brother to assess. "Oh you mean these little guys?"

Jason studied the tiny gadget in his gloves hand. "Its triggered by impact?"

Dick tilted his head, looking impressed. "Yeah, how'd you kn-"

"Do you make them yourself?" Jason interrupted, still studying the gadget. "Can I keep it? What sets it off?"

Yeah, this kid had ADHD, thought Dick, but he still wanted to answer all of Jason's questions. "Sure. And no I dont make them. Bruce’s buddy is a weapons engineer. He does this kind of stuff."

Cool, Jason thought, still wondering about the make up of the bomb as he shoved it in his pocket.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dick sighed. "He was plenty interested in one of these today. Maybe he should meet Lucious."

Bruce turned away from his computer to look at dick. "Yeah," he said with a thought. "Jason likes to break things apart." Recalling the story of how they met. Jason was a runt, taking apart the batmobile, planning to use the parts until Batman caught him.

Exhaled a soft chuckle. "Sure, someday I'll take him to meet Lucious."

That day never came.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

You had your own style outside the school’s strict uniform - a blend of rebellion and practicality that Jason couldn’t help but notice. Oversized baggy jeans slumped low on your hips, and that cut-off green jacket you seemed to live in. It was your favorite piece, worn so often that Jason could recognize it from a mile away. He remembered seeing you in it even before Gotham Academy, back when you were just the girl across the street, before adoption changed both your lives in very different ways.

He never thought he’d run into you here in this pretentious school with its manicured lawns and entitled students, but when you landed a science scholarship, he caught himself feeling oddly proud. Happy, even. You were like him - a kindred spirit in a place that felt like it didn’t want either of you. And he made sure you knew it, showing his appreciation in the most 'mature' way possible: tugging at your hair whenever he passed you in the halls, especially when you were with those same three friends you always stuck with.

Jason was walking down the empty school hall. He had just finished swim practice, water still dripping from his dark brown hair, when he heard your voice behind one of the classroom doors. He paused mid-step, instinctively drawn closer.

"Thank you, sir," you said, your tone carrying an unmistakable enthusiasm.

The door opened, and Jason ducked back, leaning casually against the lockers as you walked out. You were stuffing a folder haphazardly into your bag, your face bright with a small, self-satisfied smile. He couldn’t help but grin as he watched you push your glasses up with that familiar, unconscious gesture.

Then he stepped into view. "Big day-?"

"Oh god!" You startled, nearly dropping your bag as you turned to face him. "Hey," you gave him a wave in greeting, then you made a double take. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Swim practice. Six a.m. sharp." He shrugged, ruffling his damp hair with a towel. "What about you? Private meeting with Fischer? What’s that about?"

You frowned, glancing down at your bag. "That’s none of your business."

He smirked, undeterred. "Must’ve been something good. You looked very satisfied walking out of there."

"It’s called being polite," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Jason leaned in slightly, his grin turning sly. "Polite? Nah, that wasn’t polite. That was more like… out of breath squeaky." He raised his voice to mimick yours with an exaggerated nicenessm "'Oh, thank you, sir! Anything else I can do for you, sir?" He made a show of batting his eyeloashed, ignoring the unimpressed look you gave him.

Shaking your head, you smiled as you brushing past him.

But he didn’t let you off that easily. He fell into step beside you, his tone casual. "I’m just saying-if you’re gonna have a crush on a teacher, maybe aim higher. Fischer’s gotta be pushing fifty."

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. "He is not! He's thirty-four."

Jason’s smirk only widened, and you knew you gave yourself away. Trying to save face, you continued walking.

"So, what are you doing Sunday night?" He fell in step with you again.

You looked at him. "Nothing. Why?"

"I was thinking," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "we could go for a ride. Clear your head from Fischer for a bit. You know, balance things out."

You groaned. "Let me live." Though, you couldn't help but be curious. "A ride where?"

He only grinned, leaving the question unanswered as he turned down another hall. "Just be ready by six pm. Sharp.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason planted kisses on your neck, his hand sliding up your thigh under your skirt, before your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. "Did you bring a condom?" You asked.

He blinked at you in confusion. "Got somewhere you need to be?"

You blinked. "No."

"I'm not gonna jump straight to fucking you." He chuckled.

Your brows furrowed. "Right. Of course not." You forced out a laugh, feeling stupid.

Then his eyes narrowed. "Have you ever let someone finger you before?"

"...No?"

"Have you ever had sex?" His brow rose.

"...No." You felt your cheeks heat up, lowering your eyes. "I'm guessing you have."

He chuckled. "Yeah,"

"What's so funny?" You asked defensively.

"Nothing, nothing." He waved his hand. "Just..."

"Just what?"

He grinned a stupid grin. "Just... im happy."

Well, you didn't expect that response. "Really?" You asked. A small smile tugging at your lips. He wanted to be your first?

"Yeah," he lowered his lips, biting yours. "I'm gonna be your first." he grinned, feeling a wave for pride rush trhough him.

You couldn't help the smile on your lips.

He cupped your cheek. "I'm gonna make you come first, though." His fingers reached reach the top of your panties, pulling them down past your feet, leaving you only in your skirt and bralette. You dressed nice for him, hoping he'd notice, but you were guessing that he didn't care much about the clothes when you could feel his eyes focus on your bare skin. He lowered his mouth to your thinly clad nipple, sucking it through your bra. You arched you back.

Leaning back on your elbows, you waited for what he would do next. Suddenly, you felt pressure on your core, his finger sliding against your folds before settling on a sensitive spot and rubbing it. Your breath hitched as you arched toward him. "Oh."

"How are you doing?" He asked, grinning.

"G-good," you nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his fingers sped up. "Nh...when did you lose your virginity?" You asked. "How do you know to do that?"

"Porn." He shrugged.

You snorted. "And the first question?"

Blue grey eyes looked from side to side. "Last year, Halloween party at Jenna Wharton's house."

"Oh. With Jenna?" You blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. You weren't sure why, but the thought of him being intimate with someone made you upset. Even though you two weren't exactly exclusive...

He grinned as if recalling the experience. "Nah, Jenna's older sister. She was visiting from college."

"Oh," you nodded, swallowing down the wave of envy that rose up to your throat. "Was it good -"

His finger curled inside of you, causing your gasp cut off your own question.

"Shut up." He smiled, lowering to kiss you again.

Every movement he made that night was patient, his fingers trailing along your skin as though memorizing every inch. He came to kneel in front of you, bringing his mouth to your cunt, before licking up your slit.

"Fuck," your head rolled back. "Jason, please! Oh my god."

He groaned, grinning against you. He kept licking around one particular spot that made your breath hitch.

When he entered you for the first time, you both gasped. He paused before pulling out of you slowly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Too much?”

“No,” you managed, your voice trembling. “It’s perfect.”

Jason chuckled softly, the warmth of his body feeling dvine aganist your skin. His lips curved into that familiar, boyish grin, and he brought his lips to yours. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

"Me too," you smiled, feeling like you were floating as the intense pulsing took your core.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here...

Taglist

@x-gabrielle-x

Excerpt from a Jason Todd story I'm working on

Jason's eyes narrowed as he watched you through the window of your lab. You looked different now, older than the girl he once knew, but no less intoxicating. He clenched his fists. He itched to have you in his hold, only to be achored by the phantom pain of his death crawling all over his body.

You didn’t know. He reminded himself. You didn’t know what the Joker planned that night...

But you made it. That damn toxin that had burned through his senses. That incapacitated him while twisting his screams until his final breath.

Jason ground his teeth behind his mask. It wasn't fair that you got to walk away. That you got to live while he had to claw his way out of a fucking grave.

His gloved hand flexed over the hilt of his knife. He wouldn’t kill you, no. But he would make you pay. One way or another, he would make you pay.

Coming Soon

Hey, Neighbor

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f) Reader

Tags: NSFW, mystery, smut, oral (f receiving), sex pollen, Ivy's toxin, pwp, incorrect science (im so sorry to women in S.T.EM.), morally ambiguous Jason Todd, neighbors, nerdy reader, smoking

Chapter 4:

Jason returned home after a long evening of searching Elizabeth Islington's apartment, a sinking feeling in his gut from what he found. The most difficult thought was that he was going to have to leave you one mentor short. As he opened the door to his loft, he was met with an unexpected sight. You, one of your scarves neatly tied around your eyes, eagerly awaiting him in your pink nighty, a bright smile on your face.

"Hey..." he said cautiously, noticing the odd happiness radiating from you. "What’s with the blindfold?"

You sighed dreamily, a sound catching him him off guard. "I’ve been thinking about something, and it requires you not to wear your mask."

Jason raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He indulged, amused by your demeanor. "Alright," he said, removing his helmet and setting it aside.

Your heart raced when you heard him take afew steps towards you.

I want to kiss him. I've wanted to kiss him since the day he stepped in to save me two years ago. Being close to him these past days has been so difficult, trying to keep it together when all I wanted was to be in his arms.

You stood, taking a tentative step toward him, trying to navigate the room in your blindfold. Jason quickly closed the distance, placing a steadying hand on your arm to prevent you from bumping into the kitchen island.

You smiled up at him, your voice breathless. "I've wanted to do this for a long, long time." You whispered before wrapping your hand around his nape and pulling him down for a kiss.

The unexpectedness of your action surprised Jason, his grip on you tightening. He let himself be kissed by you. A small, sweet kiss on his lips. You laid kisses on his cheek, along the stubble on his jaw and down to his neck, running your fingers through his silky hair as he let out a gasp above you. Jason noted how your kisses were filled with the pent-up emotions, I made him eager to return the gesture.

Your hands clung to him, desperate and needy, making Jason's mind race. The softness of your lips, the desperation with which you pressed against him, was the most tempting drug. For now, he let himself be kissed, growing more passionate and urgent. The feel of your lips on his neck, the softness of your arms around him, it was everything he had imagined for the past couple of days. "What brought this on?" he let the question out in a chuckle, his voice low and rough.

You bit your lip, grasping the bottom of his shirt and hiking it up to place kisses on his abdominal muscles. "I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Red." You said, licking his skin, unable to resist him. On your exploration, you felt places where the skin was raised, signaling his scars. Your need to know who he was behind the mask overwhelmed you. "Being close to you, to my hero, it's been so hard not to. I just... couldn't hold back anymore."

Your words faded away as his vision slowed down suddenly. The drug, the kiss, the sudden turn of events. It all rendered him powerless against the primal hunger that surged inside him.

Oh god.

He was an idiot. He was drugged. You were drugged. But that meant… had Ivy been in here? How did she get in? How did she drug... Fuck... your lips... your lips on his skin... what had he been thinking about?

He pulled you close, his lips engulfing yours, Groaning, he pulled away for a breath, leaving you whimpering at the loss of his touch. "We can't..." he said weakly, his restraint waning.

"Hmm?" You asked behind the blindfold. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, the need to touch him, to feel his body, muscles, scars, was urgent, mixing with the pounding of your heart.

Jason was forgetting what he was resisting when you licked his nipple. “Mhmm," he groaned, the sound sending a spark of electricity to your core. "Y/n, we can't -"

You blinked behind the blindfold, utterly confused. "Why not?"

"You... hmm, I don't know..." His words were slurred though he sounded genuinely concerned as he continued. "I think... we're not... I... things."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind the blindfold. Then you let out a giggle. "You're funny, Red."

"Im not. Trust... me..." Jason gasped, closing his eyes before dropping his forehead to yours.

The heat in your core mingled with the fog in your mind. All you knew was you needed him. It was a primal, animalistic need, fueled by the pheromone-laden kiss.

She's a minx, a vixen, Jason thought. Against his better judgment, it excited him. He pulled you flush against him and finally allowed himself to kiss you back. You responded eagerly, hips moving as instinctively as your heart, giving into the primal hunger that had been building up within you for such a long time. His hands roamed over your body, mirroring your own. Your breath came out in short pants, as the world around you fell away in the face of his lips meeting yours, claiming you with a certainty that left you breathless.

Jason's grip on you tightened, and he lifted you onto the kitchen countertop with ease. You gasped when you felt the blindfold being lifted from your eyes. Your vision swam, adjusting to the dim light coming in from the afternoon rainclouds outside as his eyes met yours.

Deep, dark blues that you recognized right away looked at you drunkily. They consumed you. You looked into his eyes, into the eyes of the Red Hood. The eyes of your neighbor, Jason.

As his eyes bore into yours, the surprise and confusion you felt began to wither away, replaced by an undeniable realisation. It was him: the man who had been haunting Gotham with a vigilant fervour; the man who had single-handedly turned the tide of crime in favour of the residents; the man who, try as you might, had captured your imagination every night in a new fantasy.

Was this real? You wondered, your heart racing. Can this be happening?

“Jason?” You breathed, your voice trembling as his name left your lips.

You needed confirmation that the man whose lips you so desperately craved was indeed the city's guardian. "Jason?" You asked again, voice shaking with a mix of excitement and confusion as you processed the situation.

He nodded

Oh god.

It was so much to take in. Your heart was racing; you couldn't think. "Jason, oh god,"

This whole time, it's been him. He was the one. The one who saved you. More than once. The one that took you in. Who acted like he didn't know you. Who drove you insane with his touch and words these past few days.

"Oh god, please, Jason," Your whispered words burned through his mind, making him clench his teeth as his control slipped further away. He looked at you, the hunger and desire etched deeply on his face.

He moaned your name. You couldn't express how good it felt to hear it on his lips. Lowering his lips in a trail of kisses down your throat. You gripped the countertop, arching your back as a moan escaped your lips. It was like all the pieces were finally falling into place. He was your hero and savior. Your Jason.

He pulled down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts. Your nipples pebbled immediately in the cool air of the room. His lips claimed one of them flicking at its twin with his finger. Your hands gripped his hair. The toxin you were both affected by made every sensation heightened, overwhelming. Your nipples felt like two live wires, electricity coursing through them and into your core. Every flick of his skilled fingers made you moan and arch into his touch.

You've read studies about some people’s ability to reach orgasm from just nipple stimulation. But nothing could have prepared you for the way your entire body seemed to shiver at Jason's touch.

The feeling was exquisite, almost painfully so. It was as if your nipples had been directly linked to your clit, the sweet sensation of pleasure travelling down with every flick and touch of Jason's fingers and lips.

You cried out again, gripping his shoulders as you arched further against his touch.

He knew exactly what you wanted, but the need to hear you plead for him was like an aphrodisiac. He felt himself harden further, his erection straining against his underwear.

He pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch up into him. The pain mingled with the pleasure of his lips on your skin, and your hands grasped at his shoulders desperately. You tried to speak once more, but it was more of a breathless gasp than anything coherent. You felt a familiar feeling as your body began to shake. "Jason, please... don't stop."

You moaned, desperately trying to grind your aching core against him. The pulsating heat and growing wetness between your thighs seemed to be a never-ending source of discomfort and need. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking relief against him. But Jason held back, placing his hands on your hips to still you. His forehead dropped to yours, and he took deep breaths, trying to regain control.

Jason nuzzled into your neck. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jason captured your lips in a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. "Fuck, baby. Ever since I saw you on that porch..." he muttered against your lips.

"That night you moved in?" you slurred in a wisper.

"Mhmm." He nodded. "You wore the cutest little skirt. When you sat up, I could see your pink panties." His hand went under your dress. The feeling of him touching you there through your soaked underwear was too much. You bit your lower lip.

He groaned, clenching his jaw at the intensity of his want. Crouching down before you, he tugged up your silk dress. The cold air of the room ghosted over your wetness, making you shiver. Feeling his gaze locked on your exposed sex, you looked down to see him staring at you with a primal hunger that seemed to steal your breath away.

"Please..." you whispered softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing as though savoring the sensation. When he opened them again, his expression was harder than ever.

Without warning, his tongue flicked out and tasted your entrance. You gasped, and your hands flew to his hair as he devoured you with hunger. Your heart raced as he held you in place, his tongue sliding against your slit. Taste of your arousal on his tongue was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer to him as he delved deeper into the folds of your sex.

You gasped, shuddering as raw need pulsed through you. The intensity of Jason's touch was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and your body responded instinctively. You arched your back, pressing against his mouth as your fingers tangled in his hair. When he began to lick rough circles around your clit, your body began to shake and your back arched as your orgasm took over your senses.

Carried away by the sensation, you wrapped your arms around Jason's neck, pulling him closer.

Jason gripped you tightly, breathing you in through your climax as if he never wanted to let go.

The sensation you felt was warm, desperate, and full of the pent-up emotions that had built up between the two of you.

Only... only you began to feel odd. Oddly good... like, so, so, good. You wanted to fall asleep.

Jason wouldn't have thought anything of it, he's had plenty of women falling asleep after he'd given them orgasms, and yours was an intense one at that. Only... your lips... we're turning green. A beautiful, mesmerizing shade of green. He didn't want to look away... until one voice in the back of his mind kept repeating the word "poison".

Jason sat up. He picked you up and stumbled as he carried you to the couch, laying you down. "Oh fuck, fuck!"

He rummaged through his kitchen, looking for the antidote Batman and Alfred had created for Ivy's toxin that all of the Wayne's had stored in case of emergencies.

When he finally found the vial, he first took one sip of it, knowing he'd needed it first if he was going to take care of you. Then he stumbled back to you, gently tilting the antidote into your lips. "It's okay, baby. You're okay, you're alright," He wispered as you moaned, disoriented and sleepy against him.

Since it hasn't been too long since he had been affected by the poison, the antidote took effect quickly enough. But for you, it took some more time. So Jason stayed on the couch, wrapping his arms around you as you came down from the toxin. The entire time, all that was on his mind was a hope that you'd be okay.

I'm sweating omg.

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL ♡

pairing: bodyguard!jason todd x bratty!fem!reader x bodyguard!dick grayson

summary: for the first time ever, jason needs dick's help with a client. upon meeting you, dick understands why. you're a handful - bratty, needy, the whole deal. luckily for everyone involved, dick has a soft spot for brats and jason has a tendency to follow in his footsteps.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hair pulling, praise/degradation, gun play, brat taming, dacryphilia

wc: 12.9k

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, but i am physically incapable of shutting the fuck up unfortunately. anyways comm for the sweetest ever @fearcvlt. thank you again hehe. as always reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Dick watched the numbers above the elevator door light up one at a time. Every couple seconds, the soft glow moved one space to the right. It started with 1, 2, 3 and now landed on 67, 68, 69. Finally 70 lit up and a soft ding sounded through the cabin.

He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and took a deep breath. When Jason had texted him a few days ago, he made this situation sound dire.

Dick had been in the middle of working out, pulling himself up and down using the rings hanging from the ceiling of the gym. The chime of his phone pulled him from the focus that came with his muscles burning and sweat dripping from his hairline.

'Are we allowed to drop clients?' was the first message he saw.

But then another quickly followed.

'It's been a full twenty-four hours.'

At first he wondered if it was a joke, but Jason didn't really joke about clients.

He tried thinking to himself what case he'd even been assigned to. That gig at the shipping yard had wrapped up by now, and that stalking victim had canceled on them for another security firm.

Then he remembered. That Monday Jason was supposed to start with the senator's daughter.

Something must have really been wrong for him to want to drop that. It was one of the best jobs they'd been offered since starting up their agency. It was full-time protection, meaning round the clock, 24/7 pay.  Also a high profile contractor like a senator meant word of mouth getting around to his colleagues, similar types who would want some security for their own twenty-something-aged brats.

'We can't drop her. Maybe I can see about someone swapping cases with you. Did something happen?' was all he responded with.

The reply was instant. 'I'll take literally anything else.'

'She can't be that bad,' he sent in return.

'You take her then. Find out for yourself.'

He rolled his eyes at his dramatics. There was no way you could really be so awful. While Jason didn't joke about work that much, he loved to complain. Shaking his head, Dick typed back a final message.

'Keep your head for the next few days. I'll come see what I can do over the weekend.'

So that was what he planned on doing for at least the next five or so days. He had said the weekend, but it was Thursday now, and he didn't have to do anything else till next Wednesday. Plus, he figured Jason would try his hardest to rope him in for longer if things with you hadn't changed.

He walked into the entrance hall of the penthouse, eyes briefly scanning his surroundings like they always do upon entering somewhere new. The design was sleek. A classy white end table sat below a large mirror with delicate decorations adorning its surface. A plush rug rolled down the hallways to a set of French doors.

One glance around told him this was all expensive. Every detail chosen by someone young, experiencing their first taste of independence. It was cute in a way. At least he thought so. He could only imagine the distaste Jason had reacted with upon seeing the pink candles or vases of dainty flowers.

He continued in the direction of what he assumed was the living room. Though he had only taken a few more steps across the fuzzy rug before he heard loud voices muffled by the doors ahead. He paused and narrowed his eyes for a moment, trying to determine the severity.

The first voice he knew belonged to Jason. It boomed with annoyance, loud and brash. The other was higher pitched.  He waited a few moments, feeling out the rhythm of the argument. Back and forth, back and forth. There was no third party, which meant it wasn't any serious danger.

He took another breath and braced himself to be put in the middle of whatever spat you two were having. Jason still hadn't been clear about what his exact problem with you was, so he didn't know what to fully expect. From the few things he had said over the phone, he gained the impression you were just a spoiled rich girl, and Jason's temper wasn't made to deal with any of those.

Grabbing one of the bronze handles, Dick pushed the door open. From where he stood in the alcove that held the doors, he didn't think either of you had noticed him enter.

The scene looked as he expected. Jason leaned against the pristine ivory island in the kitchen while you stood at the back of the large taupe sectional that spanned through the living area. You had your arms crossed over your chest, your foot looking as if you had just stamped it on the hardwood below. Jason, on the other hand, appeared as though he was about to explode. His fingers rubbed at his eyes before he spoke.

"For the last goddamn time, I'm not taking you, so find something else to do.”

"No. It's not your job to tell me what to do. You're only getting paid to follow me around where I wanna go," you retorted.

"I'm not taking you to the fucking mall!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms open, "Christ, you have a cell phone, a laptop, and an ipad. You could probably even use that watch you got on your wrist to shop."

"But it's not the same," you pouted.

Upon hearing that, it seemed like Jason's brain was actually on the verge of malfunctioning. In an attempt to help out, Dick walked the rest of the way in.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his voice much cooler than the tense argument that preceded it.

Immediately, both sets of eyes were on him. Jason's features melted into relief while yours swirled with curiosity.

"Is this your boss?" you asked. Your arms fell to smooth out the small shorts you had on before they rose again to make sure your hair was in place.

Meanwhile, a sneer spread on Jason's face again. "No. We're partners," he said.

"C'mon, Jason. I like to think of us as friends before coworkers," Dick teased and flashed a smile. That earned him one out of you in return. Right then, he knew this would be easy.

He headed over to the area where you stood, and acting charming as ever, stuck his hand out in search of yours.

You gladly returned the exchange, offering your palm up for shaking like a trained puppy.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he introduced. He wrapped his fingers around your hand with a firm grip.

Your smile widened before those soft lips parted to expel the syllables of your own name. You were being so much sweeter now that your sights had been set on someone besides Jason. Jason, who was currently watching with a mix of disbelief and irritation as your bratty temperament melted away before his eyes.

"Would you mind showing me where I could put my stuff?" Dick asked.

"Oh sure," you answered, "Follow me."

You waved him in your direction before prancing through an archway that led to a small area with a few doors and the stairs.

"I'll just show you where everything is while we're at it. That's the main bathroom. That's the office. And then up the stairs is where all the bedrooms are."

He followed behind you through the small room and then up the curved staircase. Jason trailed behind him, watching like this mask of pleasantness would fall away to reveal your true attitude any second.

Your hips swayed as you walked up each step. He felt like the way your ass jutted out a little as they did was intentional, but it didn't matter. Dick could be professional when he needed to be. He kept his eyes averted and stayed along your path.

After the stairs, you led them down a thin strip of lofted walkway that overlooked the living room and kitchen. With one hand on the silver railing, you explained each door that lined the wall as you went.

"That's the smaller living room. That's the second bathroom. That's the guest room Jason is staying in. And here is yours," you said as you got to the second to last door. You pushed it open and gestured proudly at the space.

"Looks nice. Thank you," he said before heading in. 

He tossed his bag on the bed and glanced around. It truly was nice. The bed looked like one out of a five star hotel. The end tables were polished and seemed as though they'd never seen a visitor throughout their time here. And then there were the floor-to-ceiling windows against the farthest wall. There was nothing to see outside right now. This floor rested so high up, clouds engulfed the glass panes.

"Mhm," you hummed before biting your lip, "And my room is the last door. There's always extra space in my bed if you don't like this one."

"But I thought you said I was a perv for suggesting that?" Jason interjected and shot you a glare from where he leaned against the door frame.

"Ummm, yeah, you are," you deadpanned, "I'm offering it to him, not the other way around like you did, obviously."

"It was a joke," Jason grumbled.

Before the tension could bubble over again, Dick laughed and looked over his shoulder at your teasing expression. "You know, I appreciate the offer, but this looks like more than enough for now."

"Ok, well let me know if you change your mind. I'll let you put your stuff away while I figure out what we can get for dinner," you told him before stepping back out of the room.

Dick waited a few moments to make sure you were really gone before turning to Jason and smirking. 

"That's who you've been having such a hard time with?" he mocked.

"I swear that's the best she's been all week. When it's just me, she doesn't quit. She goes on and on and on. Whining, complaining. It's borderline harassment to be honest," he responded and crossed his arms.

"Oh come on," he laughed, "She's as hard to deal with as a kitten."

"For you," he responded, "Once she gets bored of you, she'll act the same."

"Guess we're banking on the fact that I'm a lot more entertaining than you then, huh?" he teased.

"Shut up," Jason scoffed before turning and leaving the room too.

Over the next couple hours, Dick got settled in his room and then migrated back downstairs to feel out the situation here. Already he could guess why Jason didn't like you, but if things continued the way they were, he wouldn't mind slipping into his place. A full day of pay, and all he'd have to do is flirt back and forth with you every now and again.

In the living room, you laid back in the corner of your couch. Some tv show played as background noise while you scrolled through your phone. He made an effort to talk to you, to subtly observe more of your personality. Fortunately, you were pretty open to his attempts. Once he found a subject you liked, it was like flood gates opened. You couldn't have been more eager for someone to talk with.

Poor thing, he thought. You had everything you could want, but you were still so starved for attention.

As he listened to you chatter about your favorite tv show or something that happened last summer between you and your friend, he could see the quirks in you that drove Jason up the wall.

For one, you had a tendency to pout. He didn't think you were even aware of it most of the time. While he found it kind of cute, he knew that every time your lip started to puff out, it would send Jason's blood pressure through the roof.

You also were very touchy. Over the course of the short conversation, you drifted from your end of the couch to the cushion right next to Dick. Whenever you laughed your hand landed on his forearm. If he joked around in return, you'd lightly shove his bicep.

It was all pretty juvenile, methods of flirting used most often by kids with their first crushes, but he didn't mind. You were sweet and well-intentioned. Just so desperate to feel wanted.

And admittedly, he played into your desires a bit. He knew Jason would have lambasted him if he was down here right now instead of taking a break in his own room, but Dick didn't really care. Technically, he wasn't the one on call. Though even if he was, it's not like was overtly flirting with you. He was just having some fun and keeping you entertained. A few compliments and well-placed touches. That was it.

He straightened out his behavior a little by the time Jason did return downstairs to join you both for the dinner you'd had delivered.

You stood at the end of the table, graciously distributing the containers of food while they took up a seat on either side of you. Things went pretty smoothly overall. Once you each had a plate with your dishes of choice, you sat down and began to eat.

"You have that big kitchen," Jason commented after a few bites, looking over his shoulder at the room in question, "Do you ever actually cook anything?"

You narrowed your eyes for a moment but responded in the most calm tone of voice. "Yes, I do. But not for you."

Luckily, all that came from the tense exchange was Jason rolling his eyes. Neither of you seemed interested in launching into a full argument when you could focus on the food in front of you instead. A few minutes of quiet passed, but then conversation sprouted back up without an issue.

You asked them how they got into “bodyguarding,” making sure to add that modeling had to have been on the table for Dick. As with most interactions, he responded with a charming laugh. Though this time Jason interrupted to give you the spiel about their past - they worked together under the same mentor at a security company and decided to branch off and start their own as partners.

"Yeah, but why?" you questioned when he concluded his story, "Isn't it like... scary? You have to protect people from stalkers and stuff? That sounds so nerve wracking."

"It's not if you're good at your job like us," Jason dismissed.

Dick saw the frown appear on your face, and he swooped in with an answer of his own to make you feel less discarded. 

"It can be tense sometimes on rough cases, but it's really rewarding, you know? Getting to help people and protect them from the worst parts of life gives us a purpose," he explained.

"That makes sense," you nodded before laughing a little, "I could never do what you two do. I'm wayyyy too scared of being shot."

Dick chuckled, but Jason's look didn't soften at all.

"What is it you plan on doing with your life?" Jason asked.

His tone was short, prime for judgement, but you tried to let it roll off you. You kept your shoulders back as you answered the question, like it was a part of an interview you'd prepared for.

"I'm not totally sure what I'm gonna do with my whole life, but in the spring I'm gonna start working for my dad as an aide. Like when he takes office and everything."

"So what was the point of you going through college when you're guaranteed a job like that anyways?" he asked next.

Dick shot him a look across the table. It was one thing to respond to your whining, but picking a fight was another. He could see the question pricked at a real insecurity of yours. You bristled and tried not to let the weakness show itself.

"Because," you huffed, "I'm still supposed to know things and have skills of my own. And we're not like the Kennedys or something. I can't get by on my last name forever."

"Right..." he said and redirected his focus to shoveling some more food into his mouth.

Again, Dick took it upon himself to resuscitate the mood. He chatted with you some more about school and potential areas you were interested in for your future.

As things wrapped up and the three of you cleared the table, he finished by offering to take you on that shopping trip you'd been asking about earlier tomorrow. That seemed to be all it took to fully brighten up your mood. You eagerly accepted before heading off to your room for the night.

After you'd left, the room clouded with silence for a minute. The two of them migrated over to the living room. Both him and Jason took a moment to enjoy the peace that plumed up in your absence. It dissipated when Dick decided to speak again.

"You know, part of the reason she gets snippy with you is because you're not exactly pleasant to her," he started.

"No, she doesn't like me because I won't play into her flirty bullshit like you do," Jason replied and shrugged.

"It's more than that. You dismiss almost anything she says, and you try to provoke her into lashing out at you."

"Like she doesn't do the same to me? All that whiny, pouty shit she does for you, she tried for me at first, but I hurt her feelings because I didn't act like it was cute. It's pathetic"

"Alright, but as the professional, you're supposed to keep the appearance that she doesn't bother you. I'm just saying you could try playing it cool around her," Dick suggested.

Jason glared at him. "I wasn't hired to be nice to her."

"You're not getting paid to be an asshole either."

The harsh look deepened in the other man's green eyes. "What are we getting paid to do here exactly? She's not in any actual danger."

So that was his problem.

Dick sighed, but before he could provide some form of justification, Jason was pulling up your case files on his phone. He turned the screen to Dick.

"Look. Read it. Why'd we even accept this bullshit? He basically admits there's no real threat in the request," he said.

Dick took the small device and scanned over the document with his eyes. He didn't have to read it to know why they accepted it, of course. The money was great and the connections they could gain from it would be even better for the firm. He still skimmed the tiny words staring back at him though. The request for protection that asked you be assigned a full time guard in the potential event of political retaliation. Political retaliation that both sides of this arrangement knew was not coming. Your father had won his race by a comfortable margin. No one even attempted to contest the result. All of his positions were uncontroversial as well.

It was obvious to Dick that he and Jason were simple pawns in a power struggle here. They were the expendable pieces your father could tote around and punish you with for whatever reason. Maybe you'd been too outspoken about something. Maybe you had a tendency to get too wild when you went out. Maybe you'd just outsmarted the last move in this lifelong game of chess.

Whatever it had been, this was just the next subtle method of control. He'd seen it before in rich kids like you. Shitty as it was, it was part of this business.

Handing the phone back to the other man, he answered. "You know why we took it. And I know it's frustrating, but not every case is gonna be something out of an action movie. If he wants to pay for someone to ease his mind, then that's just how it is."

"He hired a babysitter for an adult," Jason spat with disdain, "That's all this is. The only thing I'm protecting her from is maxing out daddy's credit card or taking a laced bump at some shitty party."

"There are worse jobs in the world than watching over a pretty girl, Jason," Dick said and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh bullshit. This isn't just watching a pretty girl. This is listening to her run her fucking mouth. It's putting up with her bitching and moaning in my ear 24/7 about how she doesn't want me here."

"Look. It's not that hard to figure out," he interjected, "She was spoiled rotten growing up, but that also means she probably had a lot of people trying to control her life. She's getting her first real taste of freedom being out of college and living on her own, and then her dad takes it away by hiring us. Can you blame her for being a little pissy about it?"

"So what? Poor little rich girl. She has people who want to be involved with her life and make sure she has a future," he scoffed, "If she doesn't like that, she can take it out on her dad. Why do we have to deal with the fallout?"

"I know it's not what you want to be dealing with, but you're smart enough to know that things aren't that simple," he responded, "Everything in this place - the clothes she wears, the furniture we're sitting on, I'd bet even her phone she carries around - doesn't belong to her. None of it comes from her own money. Maybe her name's on the title of this place, but you know it's not really hers. She probably plays nice and puts up with things that don't really bug her to make sure he doesn't start taking it all away or offering to give it to her in the first place."

Jason still wouldn't drop his scowl. He understood Dick was right, but you were so goddamn irritating, he didn't want to admit you deserved even the smallest degree of grace.

"You don't have to act like a boyfriend or even her best friend," Dick offered as a compromise, "All I'm saying is that if you weren't so aggressive from the jump, she might feel more inclined to listen to you."

"She's a grown woman," Jason grumbled with hushed incredulity, "I shouldn't have to handle her like a little girl or a puppy or something."

"You're right. You shouldn't have to. But it's the way it is, so adapt or drive yourself crazy. It's your choice," he said.

"I guess," he huffed before slumping back in his seat a bit.

Dick relaxed back against the couch as well. Looking at Jason now, he couldn't help but think that part of the reason the two of you butted heads at every opportunity was because you both were in the running for the most headstrong person he'd ever met.

The next day, Dick made good on his promise to take you shopping. The two of you drove to an upscale mall and spent the next few hours roaming the wide corridors. He stayed close to your side, his muscular arms covered in the bands of your shopping bags as you led him from one place to the next. You talked his ear off, but he didn't mind. It was better than lounging around the penthouse and listening to you and Jason bicker. 

And in your defense, while you had him carrying all your stuff, you took plenty of chances to offer to buy him a few things. Anything his eyes lingered on for more than two seconds had you playfully waving around your card. Each time he'd decline. He had to keep some appearance of doing his job. Jason would never let him hear the end of it if he thought he indulged in this shopping spree too.

He was still somewhat playing his part though. His eyes scanned the exits and entries (when they weren't lingering on how your lip gloss shimmered on the soft curves of your mouth). He was focused on making sure no suspicious characters tried approaching you (when he wasn't ogling the way your t-shirt stretched across the swell of your chest). 

"So only one last place, right?" he checked while you typed away on your phone.

"Yup!" you chirped.

You trotted along a few more paces before coming to a stop in front of a store entryway framed by two dark, tile pillars. The words above glowed in a light, classic font. He eyed it and then shifted his gaze to the display windows. That was when he realized this was a store for lingerie.

He let out a laugh and shook his head. "Really?" he said, raising his brows at you.

"What?" you asked, "Don't tell me you're one of those guys that gets all weird about bras and panties. What do you think I'm wearing under this?"

"I don't really think it's my place to be imagining that," he chuckled.

"Well you don't gotta imagine right now. Just stay close to me while I pick some things out," you replied with your own little smile.

Unlike Jason, this wouldn't be a hill he died on. He followed you into the store and remained quiet within a few feet of you while you checked over the stands for items you liked. You seemed pretty picky when it came to this stuff. Your face contorted into contemplative expressions, weighing if you should go with the lacy black or the baby pink.

"So... do you actually have someone to wear these for or...?" he asked while trying to seem aloof.

"I wear them because I like them," you corrected while shooting him a playful glare, "But to answer your question, not yet."

"Ah, yet," he grinned.

"Mhm. It doesn't hurt to be prepared," you said.

He huffed out a small laugh and kept in line with your footsteps. After a while, you selected a few pairs and seemed almost ready to go. You weaved through the array of perfume stands and seasonal racks. On the way to the register though, your eyes caught on a pair of silk pajamas. They were dainty, thin, and striped. Just the kind of thing that looked as though it was sewn specifically for your closet.

"Oh my gosh. Dick, can you hold this?" you said. The question was pointless as you'd already shoved the basket of panties into his arms before the words finished leaving your lips.

You pranced to the display with the sleepwear and looked it over with adoring eyes. With a wave of your hand, you summoned a nearby attendant to ask for a set you could try on.

Moments later the worker guided the two of you towards the back of the store, showing you the changing area. It was nicer than most shops. A large mirror sat on the wall that was covered in floral paper. Next to it a small door concealed the private fitting section, and in the center was a couple seats.

The woman waved you in. She glanced over each of you with a tight-lipped smile before adding that "your boyfriend" was welcome to wait inside for you.

He opened his mouth to amend her definition of him, but before he got the chance, you chimed in with a cheerful "thank you!"

His eyes zipped from the exiting staff member to you. Upon looking in your eyes, he could see your amusement dancing there. You grabbed his free hand and led him to the plush couches. Then you took off with the pajamas in your hands into the private part of the room.

"So boyfriend, huh? Is that my title now?" he called to you through the open space above the door. While you changed, he set the endless supply of bags down on the loveseat across from the one he chose to sit down on.

"It could be," you replied, "Isn't it like safer if bad guys think a girl has a boyfriend?"

He'd dealt with clients flirting with him before, but never one as flagrant as you. Only one day with you, and he could tell you'd never experienced true shame in your two decades and some spare years of life.

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled in return. Even though your confidence humored him, he couldn't deny the part of him that was flattered. The same part that got turned on.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you strutted out. Your luscious legs stretched out from the tiny shorts that bedizened your hips. The button-up top hung off your shoulders and framed the curves of your waist. With a few steps, you stood in front of him, as if you were a model in a fashion show organized personally for him.

"Exactly. So, how do I look, darling?" you teased, doing a little spin for him.

He reached out and grabbed your hips. His fingers dug into your skin, feeling your flesh squish beneath the pads of his digits. Your eyes connected with his as he dragged them up from your waist to your face.

"Stunning, sweetheart," he played right along.

A small giggle trickled from your lips before you turned to the side to assess your appearance in the mirror. He kept his grip on you. Both his and your eyes glided over your frame, lingering on his hands clasped around the bottoms.

"I'll have to get them then," you decided after a few moments.

His pupils shifted up, sparkling under the fluorescents on the ceiling. "I think that's a great choice. Though when you wear them later, you may want to fix the pocket," he said.

Trailing his right hand up from its post on your hip, his fingers coasted over your breast to the shirt pocket that was flipped slightly inside out. He pushed the material back into place, delving two digits beneath the silk flap. The tips teased the curve of your breast. They dragged on the skin just above your nipple through the cloth.

Fortunately for you, he pulled them out seconds later, allowing you to step back and hide the way the small bud had begun to pebble for him. The smirk on his face hinted that he still knew though.

"Ok, well I'm gonna change back. Then we can check out and go home. Maybe we could get some food on the way back or something," you said, laying out the plan as a distraction for the blooming heat you felt in your abdomen.

"Yeah, sounds good," he responded and shrugged.

He watched as you capered back behind that door. You were a tease through and through, and that couldn't have pleased him more. It's what made this all so easy. You could flirt and bat your eyelashes and speak in that seductively innocuous tone, but when you caught scent of any real arousal, you pulled back quicker than a skittish dog. 

It could make it easier for him to remain professional. A way of keeping him from crossing the line that was supposed to divide him and all clients. But it also made you so much more tempting. An elusive prey animal just begging to be caught.

The rest of that day followed the plan you had set in the dressing room.

You checked out of that last store then had Dick carry your collection of purchases to the car. The two of you picked up some food on the way home. Despite your lavish taste in just about everything else, when it came to dinner, you were a pretty cheap date.

When you made it back to the penthouse, Dick shoulders the weight of everything you bought again. The two of you don't bother asking Jason for help, knowing it would only cause more drama. Instead, he let the thin handles on the bags of clothes and jewelry and trinkets dig into his skin and nearly cut off his circulation.

Besides that though, everything went fine. Jason gave you both a look of disdain when he saw the evidence of your shopping trip, but he didn't comment. 

Maybe he was taking Dick's advice.

That seemed to be the case even as you came trotting down the stairs not too long later. You'd changed into your new silk set. The fabric didn't leave anything to the imagination in terms of your figure and that was what it did cover. Most of your legs and a sliver of your chest remained exposed to any eyes that should wander by.

You had a little smile on your face as you entered the room. Of course, you knew how you looked. You were bratty, not stupid.

Upon spotting Jason in the kitchen, you headed in that direction. He'd been standing in the corner where the counters met, eating something for a few moments. The calmness of solitude that had previously filled the space dissolved when he caught sight of you.

As much as he couldn't stand you, Jason was still human. His brows raised and his eyes stuck to your scantily-clad body, raking over your curves and smooth skin. You watched with absolute joy as he finally acknowledged you in some way other than a nuisance.

It only took him a few seconds to catch himself, but the damage had been done. You bounded over to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. He kept his eyes down now, intent on trying not to gauge if you were wearing a bra under that skimpy thing by how your breasts bounced.

"So Jason... What did you do while me and Dick were out?" you asked.

"Desperately awaited your return," he grumbled sarcastically.

The question obviously meant nothing to you. He could hear it in every syllable. It served as a placeholder. A plausible reason you could linger around him to flaunt yourself.

His response brought a laugh out of you in spite of the backhanded nature of the statement. "You could've come with us. It probably would've been more fun," you smiled.

"For you maybe."

"Well yeah for me," you said. You pushed off the island and stepped a few paces closer to him. "What do you think of my clothes? They're new. Dick said he liked them."

You did a small twirl like you had in the dressing room. An attempt to lure Jason's gaze back onto you. He didn't take the bait so easily though and locked his gaze on the food he'd been snacking on.

"If you got Dick's opinion, then why do you need mine?" he shot back.

"Cause I want it," you answered.

With a deep breath, he brought his eyes back to you. He could control himself, both his temper and other kinds of impulses. Plus, there was no way he was going to let you win. You had enough smugness in your voice as it was. No way was he gonna make the problem worse by letting you feel as though you had him intimidated.

"Looks the same as the ones you normally wear," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but I didn't ask that. I just wanna know if you like them."

"Why? Are you gonna throw a fit or something if I say no? Call daddy and have him hire someone with better taste to babysit you?" he mocked.

That put a scowl on your face, which made him smile. The two of you worked like a seesaw of emotions, one extreme on each side, animosity shifting so rapidly the bar could never rest at a balanced middle.

"No," you scoffed with a glare, "I was just trying to be nice to you-"

"Oh really? It felt more like you were fishing for compliments to me," he said, "You bought the clothes, so obviously you like them. Why do you need me validating your choice?"

God, this felt so much better than getting worked up over you. Watching your face morph into increasingly petulant expressions gave Jason more joy than imagining the day a month from now when this job would finally be done.

"Whatever," you huffed and rolled your eyes before retreating to the living room to be with Dick.

That was fine with him. He didn't cause a blow up or have to deal with Dick's lecture while simultaneously getting you out of his immediate vicinity. Though, that was probably for the best for reasons other than his anger too. 

He would never ever admit it out loud, especially not after the point he'd made about it last night, but seeing you in that tiny get up, all desperate for his approval... it had him craving some alone time to quell the heat he felt beginning to simmer within.

He cleaned up his plate that was now empty and then ran a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment, and he let out a sigh. After a few moments, he decided he didn't need to shove down the feelings. He'd been pent up enough over the last week. Nonstop hours of you trying to get under his skin and make him snap. It left him yearning for some outlet, for some relief. Maybe that was why he was so pissed off all the time.

Right now, Dick was with you. The chances of you wandering up to his room to bother him were slim. He could sneak off for a while, spend some quality time with his right hand and chill the fuck out.

So that's what he did. He headed off upstairs and shut the door to his room.

Now you sat beside Dick on the couch as an old movie played on the tv. You were so close to him that your bare thighs rested against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

It wasn't that late, but only a third of the way into the movie you felt yourself sinking into the cushions behind you, tiredness overtaking your body. Your eyes grew droopy and glazed as you tried watching the action playing out in front of you.

A few minutes later, you started to accept this might be a pointless effort. In your defense, shopping was a tiring activity! Malls were big and required lots of steps to get through. When you combined that with doing all the spending math in your head, talking to Dick, and trying things on, it made sense that you were beat.

You let your head slump over and hit his shoulder. Your temple thudded against the curve of it as a yawn made its way out of you. You brought your legs closer to your body and wrapped one of your hands around his bicep as well. If you were gonna go for an inch, why not take the whole mile?

His head swiveled in your direction when he felt the gentle contact. He didn't protest like you knew Jason would have though. Rather, he let you grip onto his muscular arm and rest against his broad frame before bringing his free hand over to smooth down the nape of your neck.

"Are we still playing boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open as you tilted your face up to look at him. After a moment's thought, you bobbed your head in a lazy nod.

Upon seeing your confirmation, a lascivious smile spread across his lips. He leaned back further into the couch himself and stretched his legs out onto the extended part of the sectional. Once he was adjusted, he pulled his arm free of your grasp. You showed slight dismay at first, displeased with the loss of support and heat. Though it quickly evaporated as he draped it over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

"Well if I was your boyfriend," he said, drawing out the syllables pointedly, "I think we'd be sitting like this."

Even in your tired condition, you felt a bit flustered. You wouldn't show that though. It would take more to get you to willingly show how he affected you. You snuggle into his sculpted side and nestle your face against his chest. Below his skin, you hear the faint but steady beat of his heart.

"You're probably right," you mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt, "It's comfier like this."

"Mhm. Safer too," he teased.

You nodded, not needing words this time around. One of your arms encircled his waist to keep you snug against him while you continued to watch the movie. 

It was honestly a miracle in your own eyes that you hadn't passed out yet in the few seconds you'd been sitting like this. He was so warm, and he smelled so good, like fresh laundry. And now his hand had started rubbing up and down your back. The steady rhythm of his palm and the perfect amount of pressure seemed like it would be lulling you into unconsciousness in minutes.

But then he spoke again.

"And if I was your boyfriend, we'd be doing a lot more than just watching this movie," he whispered.

The words hit your ears in soft puffs of air, sending chills down your spine. You bit your lip and willed your eyes to open wider before looking at him again.

"What else would we be doing?" you asked.

"What do you think? With you sitting here, all cute in your little outfit..." he began, lowering his mouth to your neck. A soft gasp left you as he began laying kisses up your throat to your ear. His teeth scraped over your earlobe before his tongue grazed the skin behind it. "I think I'd have a pretty hard time keeping my hands to myself," he finished lowly.

The skin of your shoulders prickled beneath the satiny material of your top and continued to do so down your arms and legs. You weren't completely inexperienced, but you'd never had such intense attention focused on you. You'd never felt like the center of someone's entire world like you did right now.

Your hand lands on his thigh, gripping the meat of it with your fingers. You turn your head into a brief kiss before pulling back an inch.

"If you were my boyfriend, you wouldn't have to keep your hands to yourself," you murmured.

And that was the last thing he needed to hear.

He dove in and kissed you like it was the millionth time. His lips moved against your own sensually before his tongue found its way into your mouth. A tender moan slipped out of you in response. He played the part of your boyfriend better than any actual candidate for the role before him.

Your palm migrated up from his thigh to his lap. With a few delicate swipes, you coaxed a bulge into rising against the fabric of his pants. Your hand then fled the area and trailed up his abs onto his chest. Every inch of him felt as though it had been crafted by divine beings. A gift for anyone who should have the pleasure of experiencing him.

He tugged you closer, guiding you so close that you were all but in his lap. His right hand groped the dough of your ass while his left crept onto your breast and gave it the squeeze he had wanted to earlier in the changing room.

You squeaked like a chew toy in response, which drew a laugh out of him. He teased the mound again by kneading it a few more times. His fingers dragged across the soft curves before zeroing in on your nipple, tweaking and pulling at the sensitive little nub. That brought some whines out of you.

"My little girlfriend's so responsive," he whispered. 

He knew he was acting like an idiot right now. He wasn't just crossing every client-contractor line in the book, he was practically leaping over them with joy. If Jason came down here and saw this opening to a porno playing out on the couch, he would never hear the end of it. But he just couldn't stop now. The way you arched into his touch was fucking intoxicating. You had him hooked, and he hadn't gotten farther than feeling up your tits.

And then you whimpered and nipped at his bottom lip. It wasn't like you could really defend yourself from his words. Every touch had you keening for more.

He hummed at the mini bite before pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. The arm wrapped around your back continued to support you while the set of fingers that had been playing with your chest fell towards the junction of your thighs. You seemed a little nervous at the start of the descent, but by the time his hand made it there, your legs spread open for him with no hesitation.

Both of your harsh breaths drowned out the sounds from the movie that had been long forgotten by now. And then your soft, sweet moans joined them.

He started out with a few loving caresses over your center. A few pets to get you warmed up. It was all you needed to let out those cute little noises. You rolled your hips at his hand, already signaling your need for more.

Without a second thought, he obliged you. His hand slid beneath your waistband and into your panties before his fingers slotted between your lips, finding your clit with expertise. They danced over your bundle of nerves and pressed down on it. More whines trickled from your mouth. He could only hope his lips on yours did a sufficient job of muffling them.

"That's it, sweetheart," he crooned, "You're so cute. Not worried about anything but feeling good."

You bucked your hips without a care in the world now, just like he said. They rocked up into the friction his digits were providing. Wet sloshing sounds emanated from where his hand moved beneath your shorts.

After a little while longer of just touching, he worked a finger inside of you. Then another. He pumped them in and out, relishing each precious mewl that erupted from you in turn. His digits curled. Each stroke inside you brushed a tender spot that made your thighs quiver and jerk.

"Fuck," you inhaled sharply before reaching forward to try palming at him, a haphazard attempt at returning the favor.

His free hand brushed yours away though. Those cerulean eyes glimmered with cockiness.

"I can take care of myself, baby. I'm being paid to service you, remember?" he purred.

Your eyes rolled back, and your head followed in that direction, hitting the backing of the couch. You weakly nodded before allowing the pleasurable sensations to cloud your head. He just kept thrusting his two fingers in and out while his palm ground against your clit.

You vaguely felt him start to grind his hips against the side of your leg. He used the pressure as stimulation, giving himself some muted relief while tending to you.

In the throes of bliss, you hadn't realized how close you were until the edge was right there. You whined and squirmed, trying to alert him that you were a few skillful pumps away from unraveling.

"Dick... gonna..." you whimpered.

"Yeah, I can tell. You're getting nice and tight," he murmured.

You nodded. Your lip started to jut out, those pouty habits making themselves known in the heat of the moment. He grinned before kissing it away.

"Let go, baby. Soak through your new shorts. Get 'em all messy for me," he cooed.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as your toes curled. It was impossible to resist the urge to release when he was guiding you to it like that. Your whole body tensed up and then relaxed over and over, the highs of pleasure washing over you in waves.

He watched every little move you make, drank it all up like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara.

"You look so pretty while you cum," he praised. You heard him say the words; though, they sounded distant amidst the haze of bliss surrounding you.

When you finished, he could tell you were exhausted. Your eyelids drooped as if keeping them open was an impossible task. You laid there limp beside him, just about ready to melt into the couch.

He chuckled and slipped his hand from your shorts. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucked them clean and then ducked in for one last kiss. You squeaked in surprise but didn't pull away. He let you taste yourself for a moment before retreating.

Even though he hadn't cum himself, he figured it would be fine for tonight. There were four weeks left of this job after all. He'd have more time with you. Tonight he could deal with finishing himself off in his room after taking you to bed.

He shut the tv off and then scooped you up. Your body draped between his two arms. You didn't complain or protest; rather, just leaned your head into his shoulder and accepted the aid. He walked with you up the stairs, down the walkway to your bedroom. The last door on the path.

Nudging the door open with his foot, he crossed the threshold into your space. It appeared like the rest of the apartment, just more concentrated. A more pure embodiment of you. All the other parts of this place he'd seen had traces of your personality throughout, but each and every part of this room represented a piece of you.

He didn't spend any time snooping around or getting a better look. Like the perfect gentleman, he placed you in bed, draped a blanket over your body, and made sure you were situated. Then he retraced his steps back out into the hall. He headed down to the guest room and slipped inside, planning on taking care of himself and then passing out for the night.

The next morning, Dick woke to a thudding on the wall behind his headboard. Knock. Knock. Knock. The noises pounded against the barrier in an even-rhythm, every second or so. He wasn't sure how long they'd been going on by the time he reached full consciousness. They'd invaded the last part of his dream, so he assumed maybe a few minutes.

Even though the sounds should probably concern him, all he felt was annoyance. The wall behind his bed was the one connected to Jason's. He figured the noises were a result of him working out or moving some things around. Maybe you two had gotten into another argument and he was packing his things in anger.

Dick dragged himself out of bed and stretched. He'd slept longer than usual last night. A lazy smile rose to his face as details came flooding back to him. How you'd felt around his fingers and whined for him to keep pleasuring you.

Once he'd figured out what the noise was about, maybe he'd head over to your room, see if you were up yet. It'd been less than twelve hours, but he was already craving another taste of you.

He stepped out into the hallway, walking in the direction of the room the noise was coming from. As he got closer, he could hear some grunting too. It sounded pretty intense. Either Jason was working out really hard or you'd really pissed him off. Maybe a combination of both.

"Hey, Jason. Some of us are trying to sleep. You don't need to compete with the construction crews around the rest of the city with all this-" he started to call out, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw the source of the banging.

He felt like a flash grenade had gone off in the room he was looking into. The source of the loud sounds was no longer a mystery. It was coming from Jason's headboard slamming into the wall. The headboard was doing that because the man in question was kneeling on the bed with you pinned down in front of him, fucking you like he was an animal in heat. Dick saw your body jerk in panic as soon as you heard the sound of his voice close in.

"Jesus, man!" Dick said and spun away from the explicit sight before him. His mind reeled and tried to grasp onto what he just witnessed.

As he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he just saw Jason balls deep inside you, he also realized that the lewd noises weren't stopping. He slowly turned back to get another glance - just a curious one, he told himself.

His eyes found the two of you again. Jason kneeled on the edge of the bed. One of his large hands gripped your hip while the other held your face down against the pillows. Now that Dick was really listening, he could hear your little muffled whines and squeaks.

Jason's body glowed, flush from arousal and shimmering with a sheen of sweat. Your limbs were folded up like pieces of a portable chair. Dick tried not to focus on the flicker of heat in his gut, and instead, think about how even with another set of eyes, neither of you had stopped going at it. In your defense, he didn't think the decision was up to you. Jason had manhandled you into a position that gave him all the leverage.

Finally after another second or two, the other man looked his way.

"You need something, Dick?" Jason grunted as though he'd been interrupted while reading a book rather than pounding you into the mattress.

He blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Do you really have to ask that? You're not a prude, and you're far from innocent," he mocked. His voice was breathless as though he found some deep satisfaction in this act. Dick believed that. He'd felt how soft and tight your cunt was last night, warm enough to melt even someone as tough as Jason down a bit.

"I'm not a prude, but you could at least shut the door," he responded. The absurdity of this situation then began to dawn on him. He stepped closer to the bed. "Really, Jason. What the fuck are you doing? She's a client," he finally said.

That brought a laugh out of the younger man. "Client, huh? That's not what I was hearing last night when you had her out on the couch."

Dick tensed in the face of the accusation. Shit. He'd thought the two of you had been quiet enough. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

"That's different..." he defended weakly.

In reality, he of course knew that it wasn't. Him fooling around with you last night was, on a technical level, no different from what Jason was doing now. Either one if found out by your father, their employer, would get them fired and possibly slapped with a lawsuit.

But he did feel it was honestly different on some level. He'd just been playing with you. Going along with your flirting. Having some fun. Jason was fucking you. Every thrust was like an act of revenge for all the pouting and whining and huffy glares. He bullied his cock deep into your cunt with every swing of his hips. Your body jolted from his momentum, your fingers curled around the edges of the pillow. It was intense and raw.

"It is not," Jason denied, "Plus, I thought you'd be happy. We're not arguing anymore. You wanted me to act cool with her? Well she thinks this is pretty fuckin' cool. Don't you, princess?"

Before you could mumble something against the satiny linens below you, he looped an arm around your neck and pulled you up against him. You squealed at the sharp angle this new position put you at. Your eyes rolled back, and the only sounds that came from your lips immediately were hazy babbles.

You eventually collected yourself enough to nod. He laughed in your ear, slotting his face right next to yours. You could feel his breaths against your cheek, his sweat smearing on your skin.

"Use your words, sweetheart," he purred.

A shudder coursed its way through you. Your dazed eyes opened just enough to connect with Dick's bright blue ones. You didn't know what to say, so you let out the easiest thing you could think of.

"F-feels good..."

Dick nearly winced at the fucked-out sound of your voice. It was sultry and slurred. If you weren't so disgustingly rich, he was sure you'd make a killing doing this stuff on camera.

His eyes scraped over the shape Jason had you propped in now. Your body was arched like a bow, tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. He had your arms hooked over one of his behind your back while his other was wrapped around your throat. Your chin rested on the thick muscles there. Saliva spilled from your mouth while the beginnings of tears pricked at your eyes.

Everything about it was turning him on, but he tried to disguise that fact. He shifted where he stood in an attempt to readjust himself and not let his cock fill out. But then his eyes caught on the slight bulge in your stomach. The faint outline that protruded in rhythm with the man behind you thrusting.

He almost came on the spot. A groan worked its way up his throat, and he ran a hand over his face into his messy hair.

Jason huffed out a laugh at the noise. "You should've seen her. She came in here trying to pick a fight. Probably a warm up before she scampered off to your room to get you to relieve her frustration."

"Nuh uh," you whimpered pitifully.

In response, he released your arms and shoved you down onto the mattress again. You whined at the force he put into slamming your face against the blankets. His hips rutted into you even harder too, clearing any further words of denial from your mind.

"I wasn't asking," he chided. He gave your ass a firm slap before holding onto your hips. 

You mewled and clawed at the soft bedding.

"Maybe you are being honest though. Maybe you didn't plan on getting Dick to help you out. You probably knew he couldn't give it to you like you needed," he said. His green eyes flitted up to the man standing beside the bed, letting him know it was an open challenge.

Dick knew he shouldn't take the bait. This was weird enough as it was, standing there and watching the two of you fuck. But wouldn't it be weirder not getting involved? If he just left, he'd still be half-hard. He'd probably skulk off back to his room to jerk off, and that would be more pathetic than whatever he was about to agree to.

"Sure, Jason. If that's what you have to tell yourself," he mocked, "She knows how good I can make her feel. She just knows that you're easier."

Jason’s usual scowl appears on his face. "You cracked first. Gave into her and acted all sweet," he grumbled.

"Yeah, but look at you. She didn't have to work at all to get you to fuck her," he taunted, "I'm sure she'll be so tempted to not act out anymore when this is how you deal with it."

He closed the gap between himself and the bed, reaching for your face. He cupped your jaw and tilted your head upwards to face him. Swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, he smirked at the cute, pouty look on your face.

Jason growled and tugged you back. His hips clapped against your ass. You whined in a mixture of pleasure and pain, screwing your eyes shut. He leaned over your body like a dog guarding its favorite toy while continuing to pound into you.

"You know I'm right," Dick said, "You're so rough because you know you have to compensate."

Now Jason was actually getting a little pissy. He was the one who made this competitive, but it didn't take much to trigger his temper.

He let go of your body and pulled out. "You think you can do better? Go ahead then," he said, gesturing to your twitching form. You whined at the emptiness you now felt, but it did nothing to change his mind. He gave you a quick swat between your legs, ripping a cry from you. 

"No whining, little brat," he said, "Not when you're getting so much attention. More than you deserve."

Dick watched with interest before connecting his stare with the other man's.

"You just want me to what? Strip down and fuck her?" he asked.

"Why not? Don't act like you don't want to. I can see the tent in your pants," he responded.

Looking down, he knew he was right. The front of his sweats had puffed out with his desire. He didn't bother feeling embarrassed about it right now though. Jason was shameless as could be, so why should he try to keep up an appearance of modesty?

He shrugged and began peeling off his t-shirt before pushing his pants and boxers to the floor. Both pieces crumple up next to his feet as his cock comes into view. He gives it a few lazy strokes while reaching for you.

You glanced up at him, your pupils dilating upon seeing his length. It was slightly skinnier than Jason's but just as long. Your mouth watered for a taste. He chuckled, your admiration stroking his ego.

"Come here, baby," he cooed, much more gentle than Jason.

The sound of his voice revived you from your fucked out state, and you were happy to be guided into his arms. He sat against the headboard and took you onto his lap. Pressing a few kisses to your lips, he ran his fingers down your jawline.

He knew he wouldn't have to do anything to get you ready. You were already dripping onto his thighs from the mess Jason left between your legs. He shifted you around by your waist, laying you back against his chest. The both of you faced Jason who sat at the end of the bed.

"You think you can ride for me?" he murmured against the shell of your ear.

Your legs were wobbly and your mind still felt a little cloudy from the euphoria Jason pumped into your veins, but you nodded anyways, not wanting to disappoint Dick.

He rewarded you with a grin and pecked your temple. "Such a good girl. Gonna show him how sweet you can be when you're treated right, huh?"

Again, you nodded, but he also caught Jason rolling his eyes.

You rose onto your feet and positioned yourself above his lap. He helped you out a little, lining his shaft up at your entrance and sliding it through your slick.

Slowly, you began sinking down on him. He couldn't help the choked moan that slipped out of his mouth. "Fuck, you're tight," he rasped.

You didn't let up, lowering yourself all the way down in one go. Your ass rested against his pelvis, and he gave you a few moments to adjust. Hell, he needed them too to catch his breath. He couldn't cum too quickly right now. Not with Jason watching. He'd never hear the end of it.

But eventually you do start to bounce. His hands hold onto the little divots in your side to help you keep balance. Your warm slippery walls squeeze around him with each of your movements.

More whiny sounds seep from your lips. They were higher-pitched than last night. Less drawn out and delirious. Each time you took him all the way, your hips jerked. He reached around, swirling his fingers over your clit.

"So sensitive," he teased.

You whimpered and continued to bounce yourself in haphazard bursts. Your pussy gushed for him, your juices dripping down to his balls. By the time you finished, there would be a wet patch for sure.

He tilted his head back against the headboard, just letting himself feel for a moment. Meanwhile, your eyes meet Jason's. He had a fist wrapped around his cock. He kept his strokes slow, as if trying to hide the fact that he was doing it at all.

"Feeling good?" he asked, but you know it was intended to mock you, "You like sweet and gentle? Better than how I do it?"

Before you could answer, Dick slammed you down on his cock. Your eyes fluttered, and you loosened up, allowing him to take over in lifting you up and down on his shaft.

"If you're asking, that means you know you're losing," Dick chimed in a sing-song voice.

That just spiked Jason’s blood pressure. He stood up. "My turn again," he demanded.

Dick openly laughed in his face while continuing to pump you like a fleshlight. "No," he said.

"Yeah. You've had your turn, now it's mine. Give her back," he said. He was getting more agitated because he realized how petulant he sounded.

It only brought more laughter from Dick. "Give her back? What is she? Your favorite doll or something?" he taunted, "It doesn't really seem like she wants to go back to you. I think I'll keep her here till she finishes."

"You're the one who interrupted."

"You're the one who practically invited me to."

"I don't care. You had enough time, now it's my turn to show you. I'll get her at fucking gunpoint if I have to."

Both of them knew he was just blowing off steam. When Jason got mad, he would say things like that without thinking twice. But you'd never heard his voice so gruff, dripping with the potential for violence. When he got pissed at you, he was annoyed and agitated. Frustrated more than anything else. This was something else, and it turned you on.

You clenched around Dick's cock and let out a shaky whine. They simultaneously dropped their bickering and looked at you. Dick slowed the pace as he eyed you, but Jason's lips curved upward. 

"Oh you like that idea?" he chuckled, "Thought you were afraid of guns, princess?"

"I- I am," you said, trying to backtrack.

His dark locks swayed from side to side as he shook his head. The moment he headed towards the nightstand Dick knew what he was doing.

"Jason-" he started, but his gun was already in his hand. The dark pistol pointed towards you.

"Come here," he said.

Your eyes widened, thighs quivering as Dick stopped moving you and let you slide off of him. He watched as his cock slid out of you, still coated in your arousal. You crawled forward towards the man pointing the gun at you.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair when you were close enough and dragged you the rest of the way. His cock kicked at the yelp you let out.

"That's a good girl. You know to come when you're called," he praised.

You whimpered in response, looking up at him with wide, puppy-eyes. He didn't soften in the slightest though. Scooping you from behind, he dumped you onto your back.

"Spread your legs for me nice and wide," he directed. You clasped your own legs behind the knee and made sure there was ample room for him to get at your center.

The gun remained aimed at you. It kept your heart pumping so hard you could hear it in your ears. A sick combination of fear and lust ran through your limbs. Jason didn't mind the shakiness though. With his free hand, he guided his thick cock back to your entrance and slid right in.

"Fuck, you take it so well for such a prissy little thing," he growled.

He didn't give you the adjustment period like Dick had. Instead, he pushed all the way in and then dragged his hips back before slamming in again. You mewled at the stretch. The sweet burn of him splitting your cunt open.

"Jason..." Dick said again in the tone of a parent about to count to three.

Jason didn't drop it though. He leaned forward, pressing the cool metal barrel against your shoulder and folding you in half under his bulky frame. He was so deep inside you that you couldn't really say he was thrusting anymore. Just grinding his hips. Deep, even rolls. Those tears that had been teasing you before leaked out freely now. You hiccuped out a broken sob as he continued fucking you within an inch of your life.

"She's fine," he grunted, trying to suppress a moan of his own, "Fuck... you know I'm careful."

It was true. Dick didn't actually believe Jason would shoot you, but still, this felt like the exact opposite of what they were supposed to be doing. This was probably the most danger you'd been in over the course of your entire life. It was definitely the first time you'd had a gun aimed at you.

Heat sweltered between you and Jason, making it almost impossible to breathe. Your head lolled back in search of some relief. Some semblance of breathing room. But he was just all around you. Every part of your body felt under his control.

Your vision went spotty for a moment, but when you came back, you saw Dick's face above yours. Jason had leaned back a bit, allowing you to cool down. His hips maintained a steady rhythm though. 

The older man stared down at you, stroking your cheek gently. He swiped your tears away with your thumb. His palms kept your head cradled as if you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. It just made you cry more.

"You're so pretty crying like that," he crooned. His knuckles swept over your heated skin. "Such a sweet girl. Not used to getting it so rough."

"She'll be used to it by the time the month is over," Jason said. He put the gun aside now, using both hands to hold onto you.

Dick rolled his eyes and continued showering you with soft words and tender touches. It was like each half of your body was in a separate world.

You could tell Jason was close by the way his thrusts were becoming more sporadic. His breaths puffed out in harsh pants while his fingers gripped you tight enough to bruise. Luckily, you were getting there too.

The only one left behind was Dick, but he wasn't worried. He had the patience for you.

Jason thumbed your clit, dragging you the rest of the way to the finish line. You came with a scream so loud that both of them were thankful the penthouse suite meant no neighbors to hear you. Your body quivered and convulsed. You sobbed out cries for both of them. Your hands flew to Dick's wrist to hold onto something.

Jason kept pumping into you for a few moments more, but you were tight as a vise. He knew he was about to cum, and he knew he should pull out. But as he was going to, you locked your shaky legs around him and shook your head.

"I'm-" you tried before cutting yourself off with a whimper, "I'm on the pill."

In that moment, it was like he heard an angel speak to him. He slammed into you as hard as he could and collapsed onto your body. His larger chest crushed you against the bed, his face nuzzling into your neck as he spilled himself inside you. You swore you heard him whine, but it was hard to tell with everything going on.

He fucked his cum into you, not pulling out until he was completely satisfied. Once he was and that dreamy bliss of post-release had settled over him, he reluctantly rolled off and landed next to you flat on his back. His chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths.

But you weren't done yet. Dick slid around to where he had been and pushed his cock into your hole that was still leaking Jason's cum.

"The best goes on last," he teased with a lazy smirk.

He sighed, his long lashes dusting his cheeks at the sensation. His grip was much softer. He took his thrusts slower too, knowing your poor pussy was aching from how rough Jason got.

You whimpered and twitched at the slight overstimulation.

"Shhh, doing good for me," he cooed, "Pussy's so warm and soft. She wants me. I’ll make her feel all better."

The sounds coming from where your bodies connected were absolutely obscene. And even though Dick wasn't going as fast, he was getting just as deep. His tip brushed your sweet spot over and over. Your toes curled and your back arched. This time it was Jason you held onto. You gripped his hand tight as you could, and he let you. He didn't baby you like Dick did, but he allowed you the comfort of his large, warm palm around yours.

You were totally gone by the time Dick was ready to let go. He angled his hips to guide you into another release. Your walls fluttered around his length. His head tilted back and he let out a groan, feeling his own peak bubble up inside him.

He came inside too, pumping your cunt full of another load. Like Jason, he fucked it all in. He stayed snug in the tight grip of your pussy for a moment before pulling out. Sticky, white cum gushed out, dripping down onto the bed.

Dick landed on the opposite side of you from Jason. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

The three of you laid in silence for a little while. For you, it was out of pure exhaustion. You wondered if it was that for them too, or if they were processing what they'd done. The lines they'd crossed and the secret they'd now have to keep.

But you didn't get the chance to dwell on it for too long because soon enough, Dick guided you off the bed.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said.

With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to your bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. You assumed Jason stayed behind to take care of the bedding, but you didn't ask.

Dick drew you a bath and helped you in. He did like he said he would, cleaned you up. Every move he made he did so with all the care in the world. Gentle hands wiping the dried drool and tear streaks from your face.

When you were done, he helped you out and dried you off. He let you go about the other parts of putting yourself back together on your own, taking a few moments to tend to himself. 

You didn't know how the rest of the day would look. If things would be awkward now or if they just wouldn't acknowledge what happened. You waited on your bed for Dick, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes and your skin smooth after being lathered in lotion.

He came in after you a few minutes later. Immediately, your fears of things being weird were extinguished by the smile he gave you. The same charming one he'd had since a few days ago. He climbed on the bed with you and laid back against your pillows. You followed in suit, leaning your head against his shoulder.

You were content like this, just relaxing with him. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the quietest you'd been since he arrived.

Moments later the door opened and Jason came in. He crossed the room without a word. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he basically answered the question when he reached the other side of your bed.

He laid down next to you like Dick had on your other side. You eyed him suspiciously. Never would you have imagined he'd willingly spend time with you. He caught the look though and gave it his usual frown.

"What?" he scoffed, "I was the one actually hired to watch you. I gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble."

Unlike before, his speaking didn't provoke you to whine or insult. Instead, you smiled and wrapped your arm around his bicep.

"It's ok. I won't make you admit that you wanna cuddle too," you grinned.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm just doing my job," he asserted, "Plus, I think I won the contest, so it only makes sense that I'm the one who stays with you."

"Hey, we never decided on a winner," Dick cut in.

"I mean, we didn't have to because it was pretty obvious."

"Well we got a whole month, so if you're so confident, we can always have a rematch later," Dick challenged.

"Um, you guys didn't even ask for my vote on who I think won," you interrupted with a pout.

They both turn their eyes to you. For once, Jason didn’t look at you with total disdain. In this moment, you could see some fondness under the top coat of annoyance.

"There's that attitude. I guess it was naive of me to hope we fucked it out of you," he said.

Dick chuckled at that. "It'll take a couple more rounds before that's even a real possibility."

You glared at the both of them, but like Jason, your eyes didn't hold real anger or frustration now. Only the hope that they'd try to put you back in line again.

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤLOVE MY BODYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : The Most Basic Question. Tits, Ass Or Thighs?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : There are some +18 parts. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Tits. 100%. Classy.

You catch his eyes dipping to your chest mid-conversation. Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing—a tight dress, his button-down shirt, or even just a tank top and pajama pants—he’s looking. Bruce is an ass man in public, a thigh man in theory, but when it comes down to it? He worships your tits in private like they’re sculpted by gods.

He's the type to wrap a diamond necklace around your neck, only to trail it slowly down between your breasts, eyes hooded, voice gravelly:

“You have no idea how hard it is to focus when you look like this.”

Loves sucking on them when he’s stressed. Burying his face in your chest when he gets home late. One hand palming your breast while the other types on the Batcomputer like nothing's wrong. He’s obsessed in that quiet and unrelenting way. The way a storm looms on the horizon. Cold fingers sliding under your bra while you’re trying to talk about something innocent.

And when he’s really in the mood? He’ll sit you in his lap, kiss down your chest like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, and say with that low rasp:

“These are mine. You know that, right?”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Ass. Without shame.

Dick is an ass man to his core. It’s not even a debate. He’s the type to openly admire it in the mirror while you’re getting dressed. The kind who walks by and gives you a casual, playful slap that’s way too possessive to be innocent.

His hands naturally find your hips, always pulling you closer until your butt’s flush against him. He’s the type to lay on the couch with you on top of him, hands running down your sides just to grip your ass like it's his anchor.

“God, babe… you’re killing me. You seriously expect me to behave when you’re walking around looking like that?”

When you bend over—even slightly—it’s over for him. He gets feral. He’ll pause mid-sentence just to gawk. Like a golden retriever seeing food.

Dick’s favorite position? Anything where he can grip, spread, and praise that ass like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. He’ll smack it, groan like a sinner in church, and whisper against your skin:

“You’ve got the best ass in Gotham, baby. Don’t even argue.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Thighs. The Sinner’s Choice.

Jason is a thigh man and you know he is. It’s the way his gaze lingers when you’re sitting with your legs crossed. The way he kisses your inner thighs for way too long before doing anything else. The way he grips them like a man starved.

Big hands squeezing your thighs while you're straddling him? That’s his therapy. That’s his church.

He especially loves when you wear thigh-highs or those tiny shorts you think he didn’t notice. You’ll catch him staring, jaw clenched, knuckles white, and five minutes later he’s on his knees, spreading your legs, murmuring,

“You really gonna tease me like that, baby? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Jason doesn’t even try to hide it. He’ll rest his head on your lap and just inhale you like your thighs are made of heaven. Obsessed with hickeys on your inner thighs—territorial and tender at the same time. And when he's feeling really possessive?

“No one gets to touch these but me. Say it.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Tits & Thighs, but he lies and says it’s your mind.

Damian acts like he’s above it. That he’s too focused, too honorable, too disciplined to be distracted by something so carnal.

But the second you stretch, yawn, or lie on your stomach in one of his shirts? His eyes zero in like a falcon on prey.

He’ll never say it out loud, but he’s a tits and thigh man. Dual weakness. He worships your body with that intense, reverent devotion that makes your heart race. He doesn’t just look—he memorizes. The curve of your thighs when you're asleep, the weight of your chest in his hands, how your nipples react to his touch. He's studious and unrelenting.

When you ask him directly?

“What do you like most about me?”

He’ll narrow his eyes, smirk like the smug bitch he is, and reply,

“Your intelligence, obviously.”

All while his hand is halfway up your thigh and his other is resting on your chest.

He kisses your thighs like he's pledging allegiance, palms your breasts like he’s claiming a throne. In private he’s downright filthy. He’ll pull you into his lap, growl in your ear in Arabic, and say with absolute finality:

“You are mine. Every inch of you. And I will never tire of you.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

Ass. But he tries to pretend he's not down bad.

Terry thinks he’s slick. Thinks he’s keeping it cool. The boy grew up in Neo-Gotham, wears a skintight Batsuit, flirts like he’s Bruce Wayne himself—but he’s not fooling anyone.

He’s an ass man through and through.

You’ll catch him staring when you walk away. You’ll feel his hand ghost over your lower back during hugs, just low enough to be suggestive. And when you call him out, he’ll smirk like he’s innocent.

“What? Just admiring my girl. Can’t a man appreciate fine art?”

Terry likes bending you over his bike, holding you tight against his chest with a hand planted firmly on your backside. Night flights? Always an excuse to touch. Back home? He’s got your ass in both hands, eyes glazed over like it’s the cure to every bad day.

But the filthiest part? He talks during. Low, breathy praise in your ear:

“All mine. You know that, right? Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody touches what belongs to me.”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

Thighs. Gentleman. Pervert. Dangerous combo.

Barry looks like a soft, calm man. Wheelchair-bound, polite, smiling, with warm hands and careful eyes.

But beneath that? He’s got the mind of a freak and a thigh fixation that runs deep.

It’s all about control for Barry—the way your thighs twitch when he kisses the inside, the way you squirm when he goes slow. His hands are always on your legs. Stroking them, gripping them, resting possessively over your knees in public like a silent claim.

“You're always so tense, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

He has a special seat adjustment in his chair so you can straddle him when he pulls you into his lap. There’s something sinful about the way he kisses your thigh with adoration, then bites like he’s claiming you inch by inch.

And when you wear short skirts around him? You’re not leaving the house without a long, lingering stare and:

“Don’t test me. I may not walk—but I’ll drag you back to bed.”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

Tits. Doesn’t understand why he’s obsessed. Just is.

Cassian doesn’t speak a lot. He expresses himself with action. Touch, breath, the sound of a soft grunt in your neck.

But the one thing that makes him visibly weak?

Your tits.

He gets flustered when you’re in anything low-cut. His eyes dip without meaning to, jaw tightening like he’s mad at himself for looking—but he can’t stop. He likes resting his head there. Likes the feel of you against him. The way you fit in his lap, soft and warm and everything he doesn’t think he deserves.

But don’t mistake his silence for innocence. Cassian touches you like he’s memorizing. Like your breasts are sacred, fragile, and sinful all at once.

kiss, kiss, press his cheek to them, breathe hard—groan like a sinner breaking.

He’ll get rough sometimes—biting, sucking, marking—but afterward, he looks at you like he’s ashamed of how much he needs you. Like he’s afraid he’ll ruin you just by loving you too hard.

You tell him you like it, and he just nods. No words. Just pulls you to him again and palms your tits with reverent, desperate hands.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

Ass & Tits. Greedy.

Stephen is energetic in the sheets. The type to laugh mid-makeout, worship you like a goddess, and never stop touching you. But if he had to pick?

“Ass. No, wait—tits. Shit. Can I pick both? Please? Come on, don’t make me suffer.”

He’ll literally spin you around in his hands, grabbing your ass, motorboating your chest, moaning like you just gave him a million bucks. Every moment with him is hands-on, mouth-on, needy.

He’s the one smacking your butt in the kitchen, squeezing your tits while you brush your teeth, throwing himself into your lap like he deserves it all.

“You’re so hot, babe, I could write poetry about your curves. Limericks. Whole damn musicals.”

Stephen’s a playful lover, but when he gets serious? He gets serious. Pushes you against the wall, whispers in your ear with a trembling voice:

“No one’s ever gonna touch you like this. I’ll kill them. You get that, right?”

Then immediately follows it with, “Also, your tits are amazing. Just saying.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

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

U write sub Jason so fucking good it's not even funny im foaming at the mouth and going feral

Can u write some body worship for him please the man could really use it

Addicted to the idea of making him kneel in front of a mirror for me while I grab his chest and thighs and make him watch how pretty he is when he blushes UGH

I fear this is just going to become my legacy now (jk I love writing sub Jason)

synopsis: Jason has a few choice words about himself and you’re not about to let somebody talk about your boyfriend like that

notes: NSFW MDNI, also, some of the tags look scary (eg. spanking, pet play) but genuinely just tagging them bc they’re featured but they’re in no way central

tags: anal fingering, masturbation, mirror sex, very minimal spanking, vague undertones of pet play (this wasn’t intentional), overstimulation, reader is a little mean but I promise they’re making a point, gn!reader, 1.7k words, no use of y/n

idk either, just enjoy — also, big boy Jason

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

You were sitting on the bed, waiting for Jason to change out of his clothes so he could finally join you. You didn’t mean to be a creep as you watched him undress, but the sight of his back muscles flexing when he pulled his shirt off made you wolf whistle and grin.

He blushed as he turned back to face you, a small frown on his face.

“The fuck are you whistling for?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know why people whistle?”

He rolled his eyes, as if offended you’d question his knowledge of anything.

“I know why people fucking do it. I’m asking what you’re whistling at me for?”

“What do you mean? You’re insanely hot.”

“No, I’m not.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as you regarded him, waiting for him to break character and laugh and tell you that he’s just pulling your leg and he didn’t mean it.

Because how dare he imply that your boyfriend wasn’t the hottest piece of ass alive.

“Come here,” you said, as you clambered off the bed and took his arm, leading him to the large full length mirror hung on your wall. Jason followed, very much reluctantly, like he was about to drag his feet like a toddler. “That-” you pointed to his reflection in the mirror as you came to a stop, “-is the hottest man I’ve ever known.”

Jason crossed his arms, a frown still tugging at his lips as he angled himself away from the reflection and towards you, “Okay, well when the only men you’ve ever known are me and your father, I sure hope I’m the hottest.”

Any other time, you would have laughed sarcastically, punched him in the arm and said something quippy back—but now an actual sadness settled in your gut, wrapped around your heart and lungs like thorns. That was the shit you couldn’t let slip and you’d be damned if you did nothing about it.

“Drop the sweatpants for me,” you said as you stepped back to give him a little more space. He raised an eyebrow, sceptical, but complied soon enough, dropping his pants, and then his underwear when you gestured him to do so. You beckoned him closer with a wave of your hand before gently nudging him to turn towards the mirror.

“The fuck are you playing at?”

“Proving to you that you’re hot as shit,” you said as you stood behind him, “On your knees.” He dropped to sit on his heels, legs almost nonchalantly spread as his soft dick hung between his thighs, hands rested on them.

“I don’t think I’m ugly,” he said as he looked up at you in the mirror as you stood over him, “I’m just not-“

You hushed him softly as you placed your hand against his mouth.

“Shut up,” you said kindly as you ran your other hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp softly, making him close his eyes and sigh, “You’re more than hot; you’re fucking gorgeous—got that?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t, considering your hand was still placed over his mouth.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you said as you tugged his hair back, bending his head back so he’d look up at you. You removed your hand from his face, smiling softly when you met his eager and tender gaze, “You’re going to jerk off, you’re not going to look away from the mirror—that’s all you need to worry about, yeah? You get to cum when I tell you so.”

He nodded as best he could considering you were still gripping his hair.

“Give me your right hand,” he obliged, reaching his right hand up for you—you leaned down to lick it, wetting his palm before you straightened up and let go of his hair, “Go for it, big boy.”

His wet fingers wrapped around his limp cock, making himself groan as he slowly began to pump his cock, making it stir to life beneath his own touch. A gentle blush bloomed across his cheeks: from your gaze or the sight of himself in the mirror, you couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter—Jason kept to your word, eyes on his reflection as he touched himself.

You got down onto your knees behind him, making sure you could still see your reflections as you reached around his back to rest your hands on his chest. The touch was soft at first, almost innocent as you ran your hands across his skin, feeling him up, watching as his blush spread to the tip of ears down his neck.

“I love your tits,” you said against his ear as you kissed the shell of it, squeezing the pecs in question, pushing them together in a mock-cleavage.

“They aren’t-“

You pinched his nipples, tugging on them and rolling them between your fingers, effectively silencing him as he moaned in favour of talking.

“That’s not what you say when somebody compliments you,” you chastised softly as you continued to play with his nipples, watching him as he arched his back into your touch and quickened his hand, “You have nice tits,” you repeated.

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered out as he pushed his hips into his hand, matching his own pace with his thrusts.

“You’re welcome, big boy,” you cooed before your hands finally left his chest, freeing him from the soft torture. You trailed your hands downwards, brushing over his tummy, feeling muscles quieter under your touch: it wasn’t that he was unhealthy when you first met him, but two years into the relationship, he had gained a healthy layer of chub on his body from the meals you had shared together and there was quite literally nothing sexier.

You squeezed his waist, fingers dimpling his skin, before you shifted a little from behind him so you could comfortably dig your hands into his thighs.

“I really like these too,” you said as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, feeling the shift of his body with each stroke of his cock. You brushed your hand over his butt, groping him there too, “And your ass; both very fuckable.”

“I- I’m not-“

You knew he wasn’t expecting the harsh slap to his thigh from his startled yelp and his temporary pause.

“Try again,” you said as you knead his ass.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he began to stroke his cock again, now slick from the pre-cum pearling from his tip, red and eager. You hummed, pulled your hands away from him before presenting him with your middle and ring finger, and pressed them to his lips. “Suck. Don’t stop touching yourself.”

He took you into his mouth comfortably, sucking and lapping at your fingers, moaning noisily. You met his gaze in the mirror, saw his eyes roam over his reflection, his desperate body and leaking cock and parted lips: he was a painting and he was gorgeous.

You finally pulled your fingers out of his mouth when you deemed them wet enough before brushing them across his asshole.

“Fuck…” His hand stuttered for a moment, like his brain couldn’t process both sensations at once. His fist around his cock tightened ever so slightly, likely not enough to hurt himself but enough to not cum on the spot.

“Ready?” You pushed the first finger in before getting a response and Jason tensed, a small strain keen leaving his mouth. “Relax, baby. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

It took him a minute to finally relax and you were able to push your entire finger into his rectum, thrusting in and out slowly to begin stretching him up.

“Keep touching yourself,” you reminded him softly—which he did, moaning a little louder as the dual stimulations pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, please, I need to…”

“Do you need to cum, big boy?” you cooed softly as you thrust your fingers into him a little faster, making him whimper and writhe. His walls clenched around you, hot flesh trying to suck you in, keep you there. “You know, you’re so pretty when you beg.”

“Thank you,” he panted, “Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

Carefully, you introduced your second finger, still slick from his spit, forcing him open a little faster, brushing your fingers along his warm, tight walls, curling them into his prostate.

You laughed softly as he yelped, pressing down against his bundle of nerves again just to see him grow more agitated and needy again. His own hand picked up pace again, thighs quivering as he brought himself closer.

“Please?” he asked softly as he looked down at you, puppy eyes pleading and desperate. “Please, please, I’ve been good-”

“You have,” you acquiesced calmly as you nodded, “You’ve been so good for me, the prettiest boy I know.”

“Thank you, thank you, I-“

“Come for me, baby.”

He obliged, letting his orgasm slam into him full force. He came into his hand as you continued to finger him, dragging your fingers across his nerves over and over again, leaving him trembling and keening from pleasure and overstimulation. You kissed his shoulder as he finally fell limp.

“Good boy,” you cooed as you watched his entire frame wracked with shivers as you continued to pleasure him, even after his cock softened and he sank down on his haunches. “One more.”

“C-can’t,” he mumbled out as his breathing stuttered, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath but you wouldn’t physically let him. You moved to gripped his cock when he let go, using his cum as lubricant as you kept your fingers buried deep inside his ass, teasingly pressing down against his prostate.

“I know you can,” you kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder and he trembled beneath your lips, whining loudly as the overstimulation overcame him, with nowhere to flee. “Just one more.”

“Too much, too- ah!” The second orgasm caught him by surprise, his limp cock giving a valiant twitch as it spurted cum again, dribbling onto your palm, which you promptly licked up. His eyes followed your hand as he practically went limp, leaning his body weight against you. “Mmh, ah- baby, baby, enough, red.”

You’d had no plans of continuing after his second orgasm, but you thanked him softly for the use of his safeword as you pet his thigh.

You were kinder this time around when you pulled your fingers out of him, mumbling soft praises when he whimpered.

“Who’s a pretty boy?” you asked softly as you both admired the sight of his debauched body in the mirror.

“I am.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

a/n: I actually rewrote like 90% of it because I was so displeased with my original draft—I still don’t know if I did the prompt justice but I’m happier with this version

request are temporarily closed as I work through my current ones and start on my assignments (but the ask box is still open, refer to my pinned post or dm me if you have more questions)

(AFAB reader, more subby, comes fast, eager Jason at the people's request 🤲)

IF you praise Jason while he's inside of you, he will come first.

Jason thinks that this is a design flaw. You... disagree.

You discover it by accident the second time you have sex. The first time is negligible—Jason was nervous about being intimate with you and doing a good job, and he was a big ol' virgin, so obviously when you stroked his face and told him what a good, sweet boy he is, he blew his load. Obviously.

The next time has him seeking you out after patrol. He's freshly showered and maybe a little worn out, but he misses you. Moreover, Jason is prepared to fuck you. Show you that he can take charge and not rut on you like a dog. Jason's one of the most disciplined people ever. Certainly the most disciplined that you've known. You're telling him that you sink onto his cock and all of a sudden, that control swandives out the window? Impossible.

No, Jason knows better this time. He's going to be gentle, obviously, but he's focused on your pleasure. He finds you in bed already but not asleep because you can't sleep until he's home, not completely.

He prowls the bed, trying to hone his instincts. Having sex with you is just like any task he has assigned. Everything narrows to this moment. All of Jason's attention is on making you come first.

You greet him softly. This is where Jason is tricked. Jason forgets what a soft voice belies. You don't even realize you're doing it. You tell him you missed him and kiss him hotly, kiss down his neck, rake your hands through his hair. You tell him what a good man he is, keeping Gotham safe, protecting you and everyone in it, and Jason is hard.

Damn. Jason had meant to keep this on his terms. Get hard from your pleasure. But you catch him off guard like this, warm and soft and free with your praise. All you have to do is spread your arms and welcome Jason in and his fat cock is pushing against the waistband of his boxers.

He shudders as you scratch the nape of his neck, nip his ear. But then Jason clears his head, fights through the thick honey of your presence. No, he has a mission. He intends to complete it.

Jason throws himself into your body instead. He knows his size is all-encompassing. You're swallowed up in his arms, caged in between his shoulders. Yes, good. Jason wants you to feel overwhelmed in the best way, the way he feels when he's with you.

You say faster, so Jason goes faster. You say slow down, so Jason slows down. You say rub my clit, so Jason rubs your clit. You pull him closer with your ankles digging into his back, so Jason steadies himself and fucks you deeper.

And then Jason forgets the lesson. Forgets what makes you so persuasive.

And when you gasp in his ear, "you're fucking me so good, angel," Jason feels his gut tighten dangerously.

"Wh-what?" he asks, hips stuttering.

You grin, eyebrows contorting in pleasure. You grab his face with both hands. Jason's brain is sending him warning signals.

"Ease up," you tell him gently, so Jason eases up. Your grin grows.

"You're such a good listener," you say. "That's why you fuck me so good, Jason."

Gut tightening. Jason wrangles his urge to empty his balls in your pussy. No, he's being good! He's a good boy, not a good dog. Good dogs can't do anything but whimper and come and come.

You scoot closer, forcing him deeper into you. Jason shudders. You wrap your arms around his neck, bring his face close to yours. Jason braces himself with his hands on either side of you.

"Yeah, you're so good." You pet his hair. "You were made to be inside of me, honey bunches."

Briefly, Jason thinks about if the roles were reversed, if it was you inside of him. He thinks you'd probably be able to hold off better than he can. This is actually fucking impossible. You're so wet, pussy a hundred fucking degrees. And when you make him slow down, Jason feels the drag of his dick against your walls, and everything in his brain turns to static.

"If you wanna come, you can come," you say sweetly. Danger, danger! You look up at him, having the gall to look innocent. There's no way you don't know what the hell you're doing.

"Wanna make you come first," Jason says, voice stronger than he feels.

You hum sympathetically. "But you're so sensitive, baby. Can feel you shaking."

Jason shakes his head, locks in. No, he's going to make you come first. He starts to fuck you in earnest, his thrusts hard enough to make you squelch against his cock.

And then you go in for the kill.

"You're so pretty," you say. Jason's eyes flutter. Your gaze turns predatory.

"Yeah, pretty and good and strong. You're my big, strong guy, aren't you? You thought about this all day, I bet. Thought about how you'd make me feel good. You don't have to think about it anymore, sweetpea. All you need to do is get hard and come inside of me."

Jason shakes his head again. No, no, he's not going to give in. He can hold it. He can be good.

"Good boy," comes your sweet voice. "Good Jason. You fuck me the best. No other guy could do it for me like you can. You'd tear open anybody who tried, wouldn't you?"

Jason nods eagerly even though his balls feel tight. Yes! Yes, he would! If you told Jason to bite, he'd only ask how hard. He'll drown his muzzle in blood for you.

"Uh-huh," you say knowingly. "I love you, Jason. I love you so much. I'm yours. And you're mine."

That does it. The last of Jason's control shoots into your cunt in hot spurts. Jason tears up out of frustration and pleasure. His mouth is open in a silent shout.

You grin and keep to yourself how easy it'll be to get knocked up off of your boyfriend's fat cock. A few sweet words and he's coming. That's when you start to believe that this is a habit, not an outlier, for your virginal boyfriend.

"Fuck," Jason says, lashes thick with tears. "Fuck, fuck. I was s'posed ta hold it."

You coo, wipe his tears with your thumbs. "It's okay, baby. I don't mind. We can practice."

Yes, you'll practice, alright. Practice how many times you can make Jason come inside of you. And if Jason's truly bent out of shape about not making you come, well, you have no issue with training him how to eat you out.

(The first time Jason makes you orgasm before himself, he gets so excited he comes.)

Jason who's favorite position is prone.

Don't get it wrong, he's a complete amateur when it comes to sex. The first time you two fucked, he cried. So this little discovery, it was an accident, truly. He didn't mean to get carried away but you were squeezing him so good, and the pretty sounds you were making had his knees giving out.

At first, he had you face down, feeding you those deep strokes, the kind that leaves you breathless. But then he began to move, pushing at the curves of your hips, then your spine, forcing you down until your tummy presses against the soft sheets. And he can't help it, naturally wherever you go, he follows. So he lays himself right on top of you, he's so big too. Big thighs cage around your ass, grinding real deep and slow. It’s downright sinful. Jason Peter Todd in all his 6'1 glory, smothering you against the mattress and it's like something inside him clicks. His mind won’t shut the hell up because suddenly, you’ve gone all soft and pliant, and he’s whispering real filthy, “just needed some good dick, huh?”

His mind is so fucked out, he hasn’t realized how good he’s been fucking you until he registers your squirming and soft whining beneath him. Sometimes he forgets how big he is, all of him. Because in this position, he basically kisses your cervix. He’s taking his time, it’s torturous, the slow drag of his hips, and the way he bullies his way back in- pushing up against that sweet spot that makes you cream.

He’s got his lips pressed against your ear, cooing and shushing you so sweetly when you say you can’t take it. One hand pushing past your hips to pet at your sensitive clit, and you paw at his wrist- a weak attempt at pushing him away. It’s too much, he’s too big and he’s talking so fucking nasty in your ear you just can’t take it.

But every time you try to shut your legs in protest, his thighs flex and his ankles lock around yours, easily pushing them back open. Wordlessly saying, “take it, take it, take it”.

And after fucking you through your third orgasm, this man has the audacity to blush. Shoving his face into your neck but at some point, his mind gets all hazy. He latches his canines onto your throat and you cum. Still fucking you through the mattress, he works you up to your fourth. Finally coming down, you sob out a half-hearted “mean”, but he doesn’t budge- just hushes you with a sickly sweet “so good, baby”.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆˙⟡

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSHARING IS CARINGㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Dick Grayson x Wayne Reader x Yandere Jason Todd

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : They aren't really good at sharing things. But one thing that they both can agree on is that they like fucking you.

☆⁠ WARNING : MINOR DNI, straight up smut, threesome, stepcest.

☆⁠ NOTES : Reader is female as usual. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The Batcave smells like sweat, blood, and sex—raw and dirty, the kind of stench that clings to the walls and stains the mats beneath you. You’re fucked-out already, sprawled ass-up on the grimy training floor, caught between Dick and Jason like some twisted prize they’ve been clawing at for hours.

Dick’s got you pinned, his moral bullshit long gone, just a snarling, sweat-drenched man with his cock buried balls-deep in your cunt. His hands are bruising your hips, fingers digging in so hard you’ll feel the marks for days, and he’s growling against your neck, all that golden-boy charm fucked into oblivion. “Jason, you’re fucking her too hard,” he snaps, voice ragged, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to keep some shred of control. But he’s lying—he’s just as brutal, slamming into you like he’s trying to carve his name into your goddamn soul.

Behind you, Jason’s massive hands gripping your waist like a vice as he rams into you from the other end, his dick stretching your ass so wide it burns in the best fucking way. “She’s a big girl, Dickie,” he snarls, voice dripping with venom and lust, his breath hot and damp against your ear. “She can take my cock—look at her, fuckin’ drooling for it.” He yanks your hair back, forcing your face up from the mats, and you whimper, spit trailing down your chin, your body shaking under the onslaught.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna break her,” Dick grits out, but his hips don’t stop, pounding into your dripping pussy with wet, obscene slaps that echo through the cave. He’s a mess—hair plastered to his forehead, sweat rolling down his chest, eyes wild as he watches where he’s splitting you open. His fingers slip, slick with your juices, and he smears it across your thigh like he’s marking you.

“Then don’t be a pussy,” Jason fires back, his thrusts brutal, unrelenting, his balls slapping your skin with every filthy shove. “She’s begging for it. Ain’t that right, princess?” He slaps your ass, hard, the sting making you yelp, and you feel a fresh gush of wetness spill out of you, soaking Dick’s cock even more.

“I’m—I’m fine,” you choke out, voice wrecked, barely audible over the sound of flesh smacking flesh. “Please, Dick, fuck me harder—please.” It’s a desperate, slutty whine, and Jason laughs, dark and mean, his hand sliding down to rub at your clit, rough and careless.

“Listen to her, Grayson,” Jason taunts, his fingers slipping in your slick, making you scream as he presses down hard. “She’s a fuckin’ Wayne—she’s built for this shit. Give her that pretty-boy dick like you mean it.”

Dick’s eyes flare, lust and fury crashing together, and he snaps. “Fuck it,” he snarls, and then he’s gone—fucking feral—his hips slamming into you so hard your tits bounce, your whole body jolting forward into Jason’s punishing rhythm. “You want it? Take it, then,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, his cock driving so deep you feel it in your throat. Your cunt’s a sopping mess, cum and slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the mats in a filthy puddle.

Jason’s not letting up either—his thrusts are savage, splitting your ass open, and he’s grunting like an animal, his free hand fisting his own cock now, jerking himself off as he fucks into you. “Goddamn, you’re tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with raw need. “Takin’ me like a fuckin’ champ—shit, you’re a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Dick spits, but it’s half a moan, his grip on your hips bruising as he drills into you. “She’s not yours—she’s mine.” You feel Dick twitch inside you, close to blowing his load.

“Keep dreamin’, asshole,” Jason shoots back, but his hand’s shaking as he pumps himself, pre-cum leaking over his knuckles. He leans down, spits on where his cock’s stretching you, and the wet slide of it makes you scream, your body bucking between them. “She’s creamin’ all over me—fuck, look at that.”

They’re both losing it, and you’re the center of their storm—fucked-out, dripping, your cunt and ass clenching around them as they take you apart. “You’re a goddamn mess,” Dick groans, his voice breaking as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your face is tear-streaked, lips swollen, and he smirks. “So fuckin’ beautiful like this.”

“Move,” Jason snaps, shoving Dick’s hand away, and then he’s yanking you up by the hair again, his lips crashing into yours in a messy, bruising kiss—teeth and tongue and pure desperation. Dick growls, jealous, and his next thrust is so hard you see stars, your moan swallowed by Jason’s mouth.

“Gonna cum,” Dick pants, his rhythm faltering, and Jason’s right there with him, his grunts turning into low, guttural curses. “Fuck—me too,” he mutters, and they’re both gone—Dick spilling hot and thick into your pussy, Jason unloading in your ass, their cum mixing with yours as you clench around them, shattering again.

You’re a wreck—screaming, shaking, cum oozing out of you as they keep thrusting through it, milking every last drop. Dick collapses first, pulling you down with him, his chest heaving as he buries his face in your neck, muttering your name like a prayer. Jason’s slower to let go, his cock still twitching as he pulls out, cum dripping down your thighs in a sticky, filthy mess.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason breathes, slumping beside you, his hand resting on your ass like he’s not ready to stop touching you. Dick’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you—panting, wrecked, tangled in the aftermath.

“You’re did well,” Dick murmurs, his voice soft, lips brushing your skin.

“Damn right, good girl.” Jason adds, his fingers tracing the bruises they’ve left.

And as you lie there, fucked-out and sweaty, between their body.

— MASTERLIST ☆

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

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤLITTLE FREAKㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : When You Like To Suck On Their Man Boobs...

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

☆⁠ NOTES : There are some +18 parts. Reader probably have mommy issues. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You crawl onto his lap in the dark after a rough day, mumbling something soft, curling into his chest—and then latch. Lips to his pec like it's instinct, soft suckling, warm breath fanning his skin. He freezes.

“...What are you doing?”

“Comforting myself,” you mumble.

And he goes silent. Letting you. One arm around you, the other gripping the armrest so tight it creaks. You’re suckling like you belong there, like he's yours, and he can’t say no.

From that moment on, he lets it happen. After patrol. Before bed. When you're needy. Bruce gives you his chest like it's sacred. He even leans back, pulls his shirt up, offers himself with that stoic daddy face like this isn’t the most perverted, intimate thing he’s ever allowed.

“If it helps you calm down… then it's fine with me, sweetheart.”

He never talks about how hard it makes him. How he aches when you sigh into his skin like you're home. But he thinks about it every night.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

You don’t even warn him. You just crawl into his lap, kiss down his chest, and then suckle. Slowly. Gently. Dick yelps.

“OH my god, are you—?! Babe! You’re—?!”

He’s red. His abs are flexing. His hands are hovering, unsure if he should stop you or shove you closer. But then you whine softly, still suckling, still nuzzling like it soothes you—and he dies inside.

“Okay. Okay. You wanna use me like that? I’m… totally fine with it. This is fine. You’re so cute, I’m losing brain function.”

From then on, he encourages it. Shirtless in bed. Chest puffed. Pulls your head down while cooing in your ear, telling you how sweet and clingy you are.

“You just need your mommy, huh? That’s okay, baby. Mommy’s right here.”

(And yes, he gets off to it later. Always. Every time.)

— JASON TODD ⋆

Jason’s not built for it. You suckle his chest like it’s natural and he blanks out. Like, full system reboot. He was kissing your forehead. Then you latched. And now he’s short-circuiting.

“...Are you serious right now?”

“Mhm. You feel good…”

He just stares down at you. Then lets his big arms wrap around you. His whole body goes gentle, like he’s holding a baby deer.

But then—then—you do it again the next day. And the day after. And suddenly? He’s hooked. Growling in your ear when you try to pull away.

“Nah, nuh uh. You started this, now you finish it. This is mine, right? You suckin’ on me like you need it.”

He’ll strip shirtless and sit with his legs spread, arms open.

“C’mere, baby. You thirsty or just needy? Either way, I got you.”

He gets possessive. You’re his little freak. And he’ll make sure you never go a day without “nursing” on his chest.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You do it once and he loses his entire mind.

He glares at you like you’ve insulted his honor. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop you. Just clenches his jaw while you suckle his chest like it’s your only source of comfort.

“Tch. This is completely inappropriate.”

“Then push me off.”

“...I didn’t say stop.”

From then on, you have him wrapped around your finger. You climb into his lap and tug his robes aside, exposing his chest, and Damian just sighs like you're insufferable—even while he strokes your hair, thumb brushing your cheek lovingly.

“You are ridiculous. Clingy. Absurd. …Are you comfortable?”

But god forbid someone else see it. He will murder. You’re his. He keeps you close, glares at everyone, makes sure you get to suckle whenever you want—because it keeps you soft. Dependent. His.

And when you sleep with your mouth still against his skin, he watches you with a low, reverent whisper.

“Mine. My strange, beautiful girl.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

At first? He thinks you’re being cute. Kissing his chest. Nuzzling against him. He’s like,

“Aw, you’re clingy today—wait. Are you sucking?”

And then your mouth doesn’t move. It just latches onto his pec like you belong there. Warm, slow, wet. Like his chest is your pacifier and you’re not going anywhere. Terry freezes. Blinks. His heart does that thing where it drops into his stomach.

“Baby… what’re you—mm… okay. Yeah. Okay. That’s… yeah.”

Now he lets you do it. Arms behind his head, letting you suck while he talks casually, like this isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. He starts wearing looser shirts around the house. No reason. Just in case you want to do it again.

“You’re kinda insane, you know that? But… I’d let you do this forever.”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

He should be more shocked, but Barry’s been lonely for years. The moment you curl into his lap and push up his shirt, placing your lips to his chest, he goes still—then melts. His hands cradle your head. His voice drops to a murmur.

“You want comfort? This what helps you, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t tease. He just… offers himself. Calm, soft, safe. But it makes his whole body burn. He starts getting hard every time you do it, even if all you’re doing is suckling gently and sighing against him. You mumble about how he feels like a mommy, and he chuckles, brushing your hair back.

“You like being my little girl, huh? Keep going, then. Take what you need.”

His voice is so steady, but he’s feral inside.

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

You latch on without warning. Soft, suckling, making the tiniest sounds like you're trying to fall asleep against him. Cassian doesn’t get it. His whole body tenses like you just broke him. He looks down with wide eyes, confused as hell—then just lets you do it.

Every night after that, he waits for it. Pulls you to his chest. Doesn’t even ask. He just slides his shirt off and holds you there, hand in your hair, legs tangled with yours.

He doesn’t speak, but his eyes say everything. Please stay close. Please don’t stop. You’re not just his lover—you’re his obsession, and this is your way of claiming him.

Eventually he starts doing it back. His mouth on your chest, copying you, learning it, giving it back with trembling need.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

You? Suckling on his chest like a needy little brat? Stephen thinks he died and went to heaven. The first time you do it, he moans out loud, throws his head back like you just blew his mind.

“OH my god. Are you breastfeeding on me? Babe. Babe. You can’t just do that and expect me to not get hard.”

He starts wearing tank tops. Starts offering his chest like it’s free real estate. Arms out, smug grin, like:

“You want my milkers, baby? Come get ‘em.”

Every time you do it, he talks. Teases you. Groans. Calls you “his little baby” and “his needy girl” while cradling you in his lap and rocking you like a lunatic. But under the playfulness he’s gone. Worshipping the closeness, the warmth, the way you melt in his arms and claim him with your mouth like he’s yours to feed on.

“You’re never gonna grow out of this, huh? Good. I’ll let you feed forever.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

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

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAP ONㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : What if you ask them if you can peg them?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Cassandra Cain, Male Stephanie Brown.

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

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

You ask him in bed one night, very nonchalant.

“Hey, can I peg you?”

He freezes. Like full reboot. The Bat-OS is updating. Bruce.exe has stopped responding.

“...Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I think I deserve it.”

He stares. Silently. A slow blink. His jaw clenches, like he's negotiating peace with an international terrorist. You see the flicker in his eyes—he’s considering it, and that terrifies him more than anything.

Eventually?

“Once. You get one.”

But then he comes back for more. Doesn’t say it out loud. Just lies face-down on the bed like a Greek tragedy and says:

“Don’t talk. Just… do it.”

And you never let him forget it. You slap his ass and he growls like a wild animal. Gotham’s protector? Pegged by his princess.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

You bring it up during foreplay, and his eyes sparkle.

“You wanna what??? …Wait, really? Is that like—hot for you?”

He’s immediately into it. Like too into it. He starts googling positions, stretches, prep routines.

“Do we need a safe word? What’s the etiquette here? Should I make a playlist?”

When the moment comes? He’s spread out like a centerfold, full trust, full glutes.

“I feel so vulnerable. Is this how girls feel all the time??? God, it’s kinda hot—”

He moans so loud. Like theater-level drama. Neighbors can hear. Batfam knows. And Dick? He’s glowing for a week.

“So when’s round two, babe?”

— JASON TODD ⋆

You say it casually while he's cleaning guns.

“Let me peg you sometime.”

He chokes. Gun clatters. You hit a nerve.

“You wanna what???”

He’s mad. Flustered. Pacing. But also blushing. And you notice the way he starts testing the waters—

“If I said yes… hypothetically… would that make me less of a man?”

You just pat his cheek like, “No, baby. It makes you a brave man.”

He glares. And then, eventually, agrees. But he makes it a war zone. He's gripping the headboard, growling like you’re in a gladiator fight.

“You better own it, then. I want bruises, I want pain—do it like you mean it!”

Afterward, he lies there like he got hit by a truck. Whispers:

“...Don’t tell anyone.”

You immediately text the group chat: “Guess who just got wrecked by me.”

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

You hit him with it after a sparring match, while he’s sweaty and happy.

“Can I peg you sometime?”

He short-circuits.

“You wish.”

But he’s curious. You see the gears turning. He starts reading medical journals. Watches porn on mute. The ego battles the intrigue.

One night, he corners you like:

“If you must dominate me… you’ll have to earn it.”

Treats it like a duel. He makes you work for it. Grapples. Resistance. Eye contact like a wolf. But when it finally happens?

He groans. Face buried in the pillow. Tries to act composed, but he’s trembling.

“This… is merely… a power experiment.”

Lies. He loves it. But he’ll never admit it. Until he randomly buys you new gear and says:

“This model is superior. More efficient. Less friction. I did… research.”

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

You ask Terry during post-sex pillow talk. He’s already panting, sweaty, pupils dilated.

“Babe… what if next time I hit it?”

He blinks.

“You mean like… role reversal?”

“No, Terry. I mean I peg you.”

Visibly panics. Short circuits. But his toxic trait? He’s a curious little freak.

He’ll act all alpha, but that man grew up on internet forums and old Batman archives. He’s been exposed. He’s thought about it.

“Okay. Okay. I mean… I’m not against it. But like, do I—do I have to do the… arch thing?”

By the time you’ve got him moaning into the mattress, he's lost all higher brain function. Tries to talk tough:

“T-This doesn’t c-change... the fact I’m still B-Batman…”

“Mmhm. Say that again while I hit that spot.”

After everything, cuddly. A little emotionally destroyed. Always asks shyly afterward:

“So... wanna do it again next week?”

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

So Barry's in the chair, coding. You lean over and whisper it in his ear like it's nothing:

“Wanna let me peg you?”

He doesn’t even look up. Just slowly removes his glasses.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“...Wait. That’s a yes?”

“Baby, I can’t walk, but I can take it. Now help me out of these pants.”

This man is confident and freaky. He guides you through. You’re the one sweating and stammering while he talks dirty.

“Mmm, harder. You call that topping? C’mon, use that core strength.”

Afterward he lays there smug mocking you.

“Good job. You get a gold star. Wanna go again or do I have to manspread harder?”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

You say it during your usual makeout, biting his ear:

“Wanna be my pretty little baby?”

Cassian doesn’t speak much. But his eyes go wide. And the blush? It climbs his ears.

At first, he shakes his head—too shy. But a week later, you find him laid out on the bed. On his stomach. Ass up.

Doesn’t say a word. Just… offers himself.

And he’s so sensitive. Bites his knuckle, whimpers through every motion. Has his whole face buried in a pillow, fists clenched, body twitching.

“You’re doing so well, baby…”

Nods frantically. Tries not to cry from how good it feels.

After? Curled into your arms, completely limp, like you just possessed his soul.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

You barely finish the sentence:

“Hey, what if I pegged—”

And he’s ALREADY stripping.

“YES. PLEASE. I WANNA TRY IT. DO I LOOK GOOD LIKE THIS? DO YOU WANT ME TO SHAVE?? I HAVE CANDLES???”

He’s bouncing. Wagging his tail. Sends you like 10 Etsy links for strap-ons. Makes a mood playlist. Packs snacks.

In the bedroom? Drama. Theatrics. Noise.

He’s moaning like a porn star. Gripping the sheets. Begging.

“I’m your good boy! I’m your little toy! Use me, mommy, pleaaaase!”

You have to put a pillow over his mouth because he’s SCREAMING. And afterward, he wants cuddles and tells all his friends:

“I’m in love.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

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