Bae Is Ready For Me 🤭

My inner freak has come out hehehehehe 😏😏

❥𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝒈𝒇 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝒘/ 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛 💕 thanks to this edit:

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

❣︎𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: （𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑠）𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔/𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝐽𝑜𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘, 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁 𝐵𝐴𝐷 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚, ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛，𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘, 𝑚𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠✬𝑥, 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑝✪𝑟𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡，𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑖𝑙, MINORS NO😡

． ．．．

“𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐳’ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐...“

Innocently enough you were actually supposed to be doing something on campus. Yet here you are currently with your dress rucked around your waist, tongue kissing and grinding on your Blonde Babe™️ boyfriend.

Sorrows and prayers to your responsibilities.

He’s not even supposed to be in your room. Inside a strict all girl dormitory with rules against “gentleman callers” and such. Your concern for that, however, goes out the window when you feel his big rough hands feel up your body, thumbs teasing your hard nipples through your dress and trail down, squeezing your ass. He feels so good. And he’s so pretty…god you need him to ruin you.

“Mmmh- Joe-…”, you moan softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at him. Bad idea.

His half-lidded blue eyes are nearly black, lips swollen and shiny. “Wanna stop?”, he breathes out, the husk in his already deep voice adds to the heat inside of you.

“No-!”, stopping was the LAST thing you wanted, “I just wanna be on top this time”, having to choke the words out because of him suddenlu sucking wetly all over your throat. Moaning when his broad tongue licks up your jaw before slotting his plump lips over yours, kissing you deeply. Distantly aware of the fact that you’re dripping all on him as your eyes roll back into your skull. Body hot with every pulse of your cunt.

Joe isn’t opposed to you being on top but, you’re already so fucked out just from a little kissing and humping…

“Mmm okay. S’fine with me”, and that’s your green light as his voice paired with his gaze sends you into a frenzy.

Clothes can’t come off fast enough.

He’s so effortlessly hot that it’s unfair. And honestly, that’s how you two got like this. It was all his fault really. Sexy blonde hair, the constant bedroom eyes, goddamn tall, focused, and easygoing demeanor.

Naked and ready to rock his world, you give him a quick peck insisting you don’t need prep when he asks. Which is usually necessary since he’s so big all around. Broad chest and shoulders, thick muscled arms, thighs, and massive hands. Your fingers barely touch when you wrap them around him but it’s fine. You look up but he’s already looking at you.

“Y’need me to help ya put it in?“

Fuck, shit, hell, damnit, that’s the last straw and you sink down on him.

Gasping, it burns as he stretches you out, like actually hurts, but it hurts in the best way possible. Moaning in unison, Joe grabs your waist tight, suckling wet kisses all over your chest, breathing in your sweet scent.

You smell so good that he wishes he could bend you over and eat you every day.

The pleasure that rips through you has you gasping while you roll your hips and start riding him. His cock hits every spot as it fucks into your sopping cunt over and over. Your eyes water but you keep them on anything but him because the way he looks at you is too much. It’s bad enough that you’re so soaked it’s audible. Wet smacks, heavy breathing, and your near crying as Joe slams you down on his fat cock.

Sometimes he’s gentle but when you get like this he really can’t bother to be. Such a tight, soaked, little hole, with your mischievous doe eyes and sweet smiles…teasing him. Always such a cheeky little thing but it all stopped when he got you like this.

The groan that comes out of his mouth is sinful as he feels your walls pulse erratically around him. You’re close.

Grabbing your cheeks, he makes you look at him. The cockdrunk, dazed look on your face inspires something dangerous in him and he grinds his fat tip against that special spot inside you, hissing at the gush of slick that follows.

“Fuck me, that’s it. Y’gonna make a mess huh? Yeah. I know you are…cuz she’s squeezing me so tight”, he whispers hotly against your lips, taking the rough pad of his thumb to wreak havoc against your aching clit. Looking straight into your teary blown eyes as you cry for him.

“Shhh, it’s okay…thatsss it..cum for me sweetness. Let me have it baby”. Joe’s sultry low voice with the way he strums your swollen stuffed pussy makes you orgasm so hard it hurts. Whining and screaming through the almost endless waves of white hot pleasure, you don’t even notice Joe swearing, brows furrowed, biting his lip at the ring of cream around his base. There’s a possibility the whole dorm heard you and by the end of it, you’re boneless.

By the tume you come down, it takes a minute for the change of position to click until you see Joe above you. Smiling, he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth where you had drooled when he evicted your soul from your body, licking his lips after. (Like this man is a freak and I won’t hear otherwise)

“Wait-! Did you…?”, your hoarse question doesn’t linger in the air too long but Joe’s answer has that heat stirring up again.

“No…but don’t worry. I will, n’ this time, I’ll be on top….because I wanna watch it leak out of ya when I do. S’that okay, baby?” He swears he’s never been this hard in his life as he looks down at you dreamily. Soft, warm, and sated. Fuck.

But you? Are reeling.

Where did he learn how to talk like that?

Nodding weakly, it’s “whatever you want”. Gasping when he smacks the thick head of his tip on your clit, you spread your shaky legs wider. Ready for round 2 and that’s his cue.

Getting between your legs, folding your knees to your chest….

“So don't tap out on me just yet.”

😫😫

CRAVE

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Plot: It starts with innocent kisses, just making out on the couch. But then you're grinding against him, and now you're soaking through your shorts, panting, trembling, desperate for more.

Words: 3,8k

CW: established relationship, smut, explicit content, dry humping, overstimulation, oral fixation, nipple play, teasing, praise kink, dom/sub undertones, Jason Todd being obsessed with you, minors DNI

A/N: Bestie who requested the dry humping, I hope this is everything you wanted 👀

It starts off innocent enough. Just the two of you, curled up on the couch, your lips moving against his, lazy, slow, deep. His hands are on your waist, warm, steady, grounding, his thumbs tracing little circles over the fabric of your shirt.

You're not even trying to start something—not really—you just love kissing him. The way he melts into you, the way he lets out little breaths through his nose, sighs into your mouth like he's savoring you.

But Jason? Jason always wants more.

His hands start to wander under your shirt, smoothing over your ribs, skimming higher, teasing, just barely grazing the underside of your tits before they slide back down. And fuck, you shiver, gasping against his lips, and he notices. Smirks into the kiss. Does it again.

"What? That get you worked up already, baby?"

His voice is all low and cocky, but his grip on your waist tightens, like he's holding himself back.

And you? You just whine. Shift forward, pressing in closer, feeling the way his thick thighs spread beneath you, the way his muscles flex when you move. You love being on top of him, feeling how fucking solid he is beneath you. And when you roll your hips just slightly—just barely—against his lap, you feel it.

The way he's already getting hard.

Jason sucks in a breath, his hands squeezing your waist. "Fuck."

And you do it again. Slow, just testing, just teasing, your clothed cunt dragging over the growing bulge in his sweats, feeling the heat of him, the shape of his dick, even through the layers. And God, he's so fucking big, thick and heavy and hot, already pressing up against you, already straining. You're always in awe, even though you know every inch of his body like the back of your hand.

His jaw clenches, hands gripping your waist tighter, and for a second, you think maybe he's gonna stop you, maybe he's gonna flip you over, pin you down, rip your clothes off, fuck you proper.

But he doesn't. Instead, he lets you. Lets you grind against him, slow and teasing, testing the waters, even though you know he's not a patient man. And when you do it again, drag your soaked little panties over his dick, he groans.

"That's cute, baby. Keep goin'."

It's a challenge. An invitation. And you take it. Because sometimes, Jason Todd doesn't do teasing, and neither do you. There's no need for games between you two, no need to dance around it. The tension is just part of your dynamic, something familiar, something you've both come to crave.

He's always been like this, and so have you—uncomplicated, raw, and to the point. No room for hesitation here, not when the pull between you both is something you've both learned to savor. When he's this close, when his hands are on you, there's no question. You're already lost to it, and he's always more than willing to take you there.

His voice is low, rough, almost a growl in your ear, his hands tight on your waist, guiding you, rolling you down harder against him. And fuck, you can feel him—thick, heavy, straining against his sweats, rubbing right against your cunt, hot even through the layers.

And God, you're soaked. Can feel how your panties cling to you, sticky and useless, the thin fabric doing nothing to stop the slick mess you're making on him. Every slow drag of his cock presses right against your clit, damp heat pooling between your thighs, smearing over the hard shape of him, and you swear you can feel the twitch of it through his sweats.

It's messy, desperate, all slow friction and building heat, his grip firm, making you move exactly how he wants. And you need it, need him, need more, need everything, because the drag of his cock against your soaking wet panties is just enough—just barely enough—to have your clit throbbing, aching, sending shivers up your spine every time you grind down.

And he knows. Can feel the way you tremble, the way your breath hitches every time your swollen clit catches on the thick ridge of his cock. His fingers tighten on your hips, breath warm, lips brushing against your temple as he groans, deep and wrecked.

"Jesus fuck, baby. You feel that? How fuckin' wet you are? Got my dick soaked and I'm not even inside you."

His voice is strained, almost shaking, his fingers flexing on your waist, digging into the soft flesh of your hips like he's barely holding back. And you? You whimper.

Because it's not enough.

It's not enough and he knows it, knows it by the way you squirm, by the way your little hands grip his shoulders, by the way your hips start to move faster, chasing that feeling, using him to get yourself off.

And Jason? He fucking loves it.

"That's it, baby, keep goin'."

His voice is wrecked, his lips dragging over your throat, hot and open-mouthed, sucking at your pulse as you keep moving. And you're soaked, so wet that you can feel it, that he can feel it, his sweats growing damp beneath you.

His dick is already leaking precum, the fat tip pressing right up against your clit, dragging against it with every desperate grind of your hips. And when you roll down just right—when your swollen little clit catches against the thick ridge of his cock through his sweats—you fucking cry out.

"Shit, look at you," Jason groans, his fingers digging in harder, gripping your waist, helping you move, pushing you down against him. "Ruin my fuckin' sweats, baby. Soak 'em."

And you do. Because you can't fucking help it.

Your body is burning, needy, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your cunt throbbing, clenching around nothing. Your nipples are hard, rubbing against the fabric of your top, dragging against his chest, and when you lean forward, when your lips catch his again, it's sloppy, open-mouthed, all panting little moans and wet heat.

Jason groans into your mouth, deep and wrecked, his lips parting against yours as his tongue slides in, licking into you like he's starved for it, like he needs the taste of you as much as he needs to feel you grinding against him. His teeth catch your bottom lip, tugging, a low, needy sound vibrating in his chest when you whimper for him.

His hands slip lower, squeezing your ass, spreading you open as he grinds up into you, as he meets your movements, making the kiss even messier—all spit and moans and ragged little gasps, your tongue stroking against his as you rock down harder.

It's desperate, greedy, like you're trying to swallow each other whole, like you're both chasing something just out of reach, the pleasure mounting between you, tight and unbearable. And it's so good, so fucking good that your fingernails dig into his shoulders, your body tensing, the pressure building, building, building.

Jason's growling under his breath, low and rough, all heat and gravel, his fingers squeezing into your ass, gripping, spreading, yanking you down harder against him. And fuck, he can feel you.

Soaking. You're soaking through your shorts, through his sweats, your pussy leaving a damp patch right against his dick, needy and messy, dripping for him.

His breath is ragged, hot against your lips, forehead pressed against yours like he's trying to ground himself, but he's fucking losing it.

"Baby, fuck—you're drippin' for me." His voice is wrecked, and his fingers flex, digging into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you, rolling you down harder against his aching cock. "So messy, pretty girl. Keep goin'. Wanna feel you cum just like this."

"Jay…" you whimper, voice breathy, wrecked, your fingers fisting in his hair. "Fuck—"

And God, you want to.

Your clit is throbbing, rubbing right against the fabric, right against the shape of his dick, the flex of his muscles making you gasp. It's too much, not enough, too fucking good.

"God—feels so good," you breathe, hips rolling faster, more desperate, because you're so close, you can fucking taste it.

And Jason? Jason is fucking mesmerized.

Because you're so worked up, so desperate, using him to get off, grinding down like you need it to live. His cock is aching, leaking, straining against his sweats, and he can feel everything—the heat of you, the slick sticking to his clothes, the way your pussy's dripping with every little movement.

And then? He yanks your fucking shirt off.

Because of course he does. Because he needs to see you. He needs to see those pretty tits, needs to feel your bare skin against him. And his chest heaves, a rough groan slipping past his lips because fuck—fuck—your tits are bouncing, soft, perfect, your nipples hard, dragging against his skin as you grind down on him, desperate and soaked, making a fucking mess all over his lap.

His breath is ragged, his hands everywhere, groping, squeezing, a big, hot palm curling over your breast, fingers teasing your nipple, rolling it, making you gasp, making your pussy clench.

"Oh, fuck—"

Your head tips back, your back arching, pushing your tits further into his hand, and fuck, that does something to him.

Your skin is flushed, damp with sweat, your lips parted, moaning, your body soft and perfect, and all he can think about is how fucking good you feel, how good you look, how he wants to ruin you.

"Jesus Christ, look at you." His voice is low, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you down harder, making sure your clit drags over the length of his cock. "So fuckin' pretty, ridin' me like this. Can feel how soaked you are, baby. You're gonna make me cum in my fuckin' pants."

That makes you whimper again. Because you're so fucking close. Every slow, slick grind of your dripping pussy against him sends sparks up your spine, making your thighs shake, your breath hitch, your stomach tighten.

His mouth catches one of your tits, sucking hard, dragging his teeth over your sensitive skin, moaning against you as his fingers dig into your hips. His tongue flicks over your nipple, slow and teasing, before flattening against it, circling, making you gasp.

And then he sucks. Hard. Wet. Messy.

His lips wrap around your nipple, hollowing his cheeks, drawing it deep into his mouth as his tongue rolls over it, flicking, lapping, dragging delicious heat straight to your core. The sound of it is obscene, slick and greedy, the warm suction making your breath hitch, your back arch, your thighs trembling where they straddle his hips.

"J-Jason—" you gasp, your nails scratching at his scalp as he groans against you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, like he needs to taste every inch of you.

And he does.

He switches to the other, his mouth just as eager, just as hot, licking broad and slow before closing his lips around you, sucking hard. His teeth graze the sensitive bud, making you shudder, your hips grinding down harder on instinct.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his voice low and wrecked, his tongue swirling over your nipple before sucking it back between his lips, tugging, teasing, until you're whimpering in his hold.

His fingers tighten at your waist, guiding you, keeping you moving against his cock, making sure you can feel just how hard he is for you. "Taste so fuckin' sweet, could do this all fuckin' day."

And that? That nearly fucking breaks you, And God, he wants to push you over.

"You gonna cum for me, huh?" His grip tightens, his breath coming in harsh pants, his hips twitching up against you. "Gonna soak my fuckin' sweats? Make a fuckin' mess all over my dick?"

And you moan, nearly there, nearly fucking there, grinding down harder, so fucking close—

And then you cum. Hard.

It hits like a freight train, tearing through you, leaving you breathless, boneless, shaking.

Your thighs tremble, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you cry out, grinding down hard against him. It's blinding, mind-numbing, that sweet, hot rush of pleasure bursting through you, rippling through every nerve, making you whimper, making your toes curl.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Your head tips back, the strain in your throat making your voice come out high and wrecked, and Jason's fucking mesmerized.

Because Jesus Christ, you're perfect. Your face all scrunched up in pleasure, your tits pressed against his chest, spit-slicked nipples dragging against his heated skin, every slow grind sending little sparks of overstimulation up your spine.

And it's too much. Too fucking much. He grits his teeth, his hands gripping your ass, guiding you through it, forcing you to ride it out. Forcing you to drag your soaked cunt over his aching cock, his hips jerking up beneath you, muscles tight and flexing as a deep, guttural groan rips from his throat.

Jason tries to hold it back.

Tries to keep himself from tipping over the edge, but when he feels it—the way your cunt throbs against him, the way you soak through his sweats, hot and messy, leaking all over his dick, he just fucking snaps.

His body locks up, his jaw clenching so tight it aches, a harsh, ragged groan tearing from his throat as his orgasm hits him like a fucking wrecking ball.

His cock jumps, straining painfully against the damp fabric of his sweats, his hips bucking up into you, grinding into the mess you both made, desperate, helpless, his vision going white-hot. The first thick spurt of cum soaks into the fabric, hot and sticky, making him moan, making him clutch at your ass, at your hips, dragging you down, forcing you to feel it.

And he just keeps cumming. His cock twitching, throbbing, sending thick pulses of heat spilling from him, the sticky mess pooling beneath his waistband, smearing between you, his abs tight, stomach clenching, body trembling as he rides it out.

His breath is ragged, shaking, his body taut and aching, every pulse of his dick making him jolt, making him curse, making his head tip back against the couch.

And he still doesn't stop. Still grinds against you, still pulls you down against his overstimulated cock, like he can't let go just yet, like he needs to squeeze out every last drop of pleasure. His whole body is buzzing, muscles locked tight, breath coming in heavy, uneven pants.

The mess between you is obscene. Hot and sticky, soaking through every layer of fabric, spreading with every little shift of your hips. His dick is still twitching beneath you, still so fucking sensitive, and yet he can't stop. Can't stop touching you, can't stop dragging out every last bit of it.

Fuck.

Jason Todd just fucking came in his sweats. And he doesn't even care.

Because you did this to him. Made him so fucking needy, so desperate, so fucking gone for you that he just spilled in his own pants like a goddamn teenager.

His chest is heaving, his forehead damp with sweat, his jaw slack, eyes blown wide, fingers still digging into your ass, keeping you pressed against him. His dick throbs, the fabric of his sweats sticky and hot, soaked through with his own mess and yours, and he loves it.

Loves that you soaked him through. Loves that you ruined him. Loves that you're still whimpering, still shaking, still clutching at him, pressing your slick, swollen cunt against the mess he just made.

And God, you're so warm. So soft and pliant against him, your body still trembling, every little breath catching in your throat.

"Jesus Christ, baby—" he pants, his grip unrelenting, his hands everywhere, sliding up your back, gripping your ass, keeping you there. "Made such a fuckin' mess of me."

But he's smirking. Looking at you like you're his whole fucking world.

Your body is still thrumming, overheated, your chest rising and falling in shaky little breaths as reality starts seeping back in.

And that's when it hits you. What you just did.

You just dry humped your boyfriend like a desperate little thing, got yourself off on his dick like it was the only thing that mattered, soaked through your panties and his fucking sweatpants.

But truth be told, so did he. Jason Todd—big, smug, cocky motherfucker—just came in his pants. Because of you.

Your face burns, stomach twisting, and you can't even look at him at first, fingers clutching at his shoulders, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck as your mind scrambles.

Because holy fuck.

Jason's still catching his breath, but he knows you. Knows exactly how your mind works, knows exactly what you're thinking. And he's fucking grinning.

"Ah, fuck, doll, don't get all shy on me now," he murmurs, voice hoarse, teasing, still thick with lust.

His hands rub up and down your back, big and warm, grounding you, pulling you closer. You just whimper, hiding your face further, and he fucking laughs.

"You should see yourself," he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "All fucked out and blushin'. It's cute, pretty girl."

You groan, trying to pull away, but he won't let you. His arms tighten around you, his lips ghosting over your temple, your cheek, making you shiver, making heat curl in your stomach all over again.

"What's wrong, huh?" he rasps. "That sweet girl brain of yours can't handle what we just did?"

Your thighs squeeze around his hips, still sensitive, and he chuckles, because he fucking felt that.

"Shut up," you grumble, still hiding, still flustered, and that just makes his grin wider.

"Can't, baby," he says simply, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

He pulls back just enough, waiting until your gaze finally flicks up to meet his.

He knows that look on your face all too well—the one where you start to overthink, where the heat of the moment makes you second-guess yourself.

He can see it in the way your brows furrow, your mouth pressing into that little frown, the soft blush on your cheeks as you get caught in your own thoughts. And yet, he can't help but tease. It's a part of him that loves the way you respond, how it takes almost nothing to fluster you, to bring you back to him.

But beneath it, there's something else—something deeper, something he won't say out loud but feels in every inch of his fucking soul. He loves this. Loves that after nearly two years together, you still get all shy like this, still blush like he hasn't spent hours between your thighs, hasn't memorized every little sound you make, hasn't fucked you stupid more times than he can count.

Jason hums, tilting his head, eyes gleaming as he watches you squirm.

"Y'know," he starts, voice lazy, playful, "you got me so fuckin' worked up, I didn't even realize what was happening 'til it was too late."

You peek up at him, still flustered, still warm all over. His lips twitch.

"You ever do that before?" His thumb rubs slow circles against your hip. "Get so into it, you just—" he lets out a short, breathy laugh. "—fuckin' lose it?"

Your face burns hotter. You press your lips together, hesitating. And that's when he knows he's got you.

"Oh, baby," he grins, full and wicked. "You have, haven't you?"

But then, he sees it. That little flicker in your eyes, the way your brows pinch just slightly, your lips parting like you're about to protest.

And it clicks.

"No way," he breathes, his grin stretching even wider. "You haven't?"

Your stomach twists. The heat spreads down your neck, over your chest, the embarrassment creeping in like a slow burn. You shift against him, like you can escape it, but his grip is firm, his eyes locked onto yours, watching every little reaction.

"Jason." You say his name like a warning, shoving at his chest, and he just laughs, catching your wrists, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"S'fine, doll. No shame in it," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y'know the last time I came in my pants?" he says, voice low, almost smug. "Had a wet dream at fourteen."

Your eyes go wide, a little shocked laugh bursting past your lips. It's the way he does it—so effortlessly, so him—that makes your heart skip just a little. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows how to disarm you with just the right amount of teasing.

That's all he wanted. To make you laugh, to pull you back from that flustered little spiral, to remind you that this? This is just you and him. And you're fucking perfect.

"God," you giggle, cheeks still burning, still trying to wrap your head around it. "We're like animals sometimes."

Jason snickers, shaking his head, his hands brushing down your sides, over your hips.

"Nah, baby," he murmurs, tilting his head down, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your forehead. "We're just fuckin' crazy about each other. Nothin' wrong with that."

And then he kisses you. Deep. Slow. Drawn out. Like he never wants it to end.

His lips are soft but insistent, warm and plush, parting just enough to let his tongue slip against yours, coaxing, teasing, pulling you deeper.

And fuck, you give in so easily.

The kiss is lazy, indulgent, slow in a way that makes it even filthier, his tongue rolling against yours, sucking, licking, sliding, wet and messy, like he's tasting you, savoring you, not in any hurry to stop.

His hands stay firm at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you who's in control, who's keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And you can feel everything.

Your clothes sticking to you, damp, ruined, your panties a sopping mess against your swollen cunt, your shorts clinging to your thighs.

Jason's sweats? No better.

The thick, sticky mess of his cum is soaked through, clinging to his still-hard cock, and when you shift in his lap, just barely, just a little, he grunts into your mouth, sharp and throaty, like he's barely holding back.

And God, you feel wrecked. Overwhelmed, drenched, raw, but so fucking good.

A little moan spills past your lips, high and breathy, and Jason drinks it down, sucking at your tongue, tilting his head, deepening the kiss even more, as if he can't get enough.

When he finally, finally pulls away, it's with a slick little pop, his lips red and swollen, a little smirk tugging at them. His breath fans over your cheek, his fingers tracing slow, teasing circles at your waist.

And then, low and rough, full of promise—

"Next load goes inside that pretty little pussy."

You guys don't understand.

I would do ANYTHINGGG for this man

How does this white boy have a hold over me

Callum, this. Are you hearing me sir? MORE OF THIS.

"Come home to me" kind of love

— is it a crime? | III.

pairing: austin butler inspired male oc x kat graham inspired fem oc (calisto and alcacia) summary: it’s been some time since calisto and alcacia have spoken. even with the distance between them and the ongoing heartache she felt at the hands of the man she loved, she can’t seem to let him go. warnings: toxic relationship. emotional manipulation. nsfw themes (no smut though). alcohol consumption.language. potential tag list (these people tend to interact the most. let me know if you want to be added/removed): @neeville @dulcewrites @crash-and-cure @cvpidspearl l @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @wacoshuffle @kaitaesupremacy

note: long time so see :)

Calisto’s guilt ate at him like an animal after its prey. He wasn’t stupid. She used every tactic in the Book of Avoidance to delay their meeting and interactions. He practically wrote the novel himself. 

He hardly knew why he was so offended when she swerved past him once she walked through the large double doors of his luxury home. Her green eyes stayed ahead of her and the only thing he caught was the sway of her hips and a whiff of her strong perfume. It wasn’t soft and gentle like he was used to. It exuded dominance and authority. 

She sat across from him, eyes focused on the people adjacent to her, the steak ahead of her, and the wine accompanying her. He found it difficult to keep his eyes off her blood-painted lips. She was never a red lipstick person; he wondered whatchanged. How much she had changed. 

Her voice was raspier than he recognized. She spoke slower and with more intention, like she learned a thing or two. He was mesmerized. He was for her, what she was for him just months prior. However, he was more than aware of how things changed when she cursed him in the bathroom after he followed her. 

The version of himself that neglected and abused her emotions would have been confused as to why his smoldering eyes didn’t cause her knees to buckle in adoration, but for her lips to twist in disgust. After months of reflection, he realized that the pain he caused was a simple effect of his own selfishness and pride. Not only had he lost the woman who’d never loved him to begin with, but he lost the one whom he’d known since childhood and loved him into adulthood. He had never known anyone to be that foolish, save for himself. Such a shame. 

He found himself staring at her phone number off and on for hours. The screen would lock and he’d scramble to come face to face with her name and number again. It taunted him. It knew he didn’t have the guts to call or text. How could he? He saw it in her eyes--she thought of him as the scum of the earth. 

And to some extent, she was right. 

let me love you, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x black fem oc (amelia mae egan)

content: what man wouldn't want to love on his wife?

an: 18+. steaaaaamy. @turn-thy-paige I'm doing your idea for gale :0

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa

Her side of the bed was empty. He slid his hand over the place where she once rested. It was still warm. He groaned lowly and ran a heavy hand across his bare chest before rubbing his eye with the stump of his hand. His movements were slow when he sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed. His hands swept the floor for his pants, which were tossed near the foot of the bed. He slid them over his legs and trudged out of the bedroom. 

John looked curiously throughout their home for his wife, who seemingly disappeared during the early hours. Her soft hums coming from the kitchen led him straight to her. “Morning, baby,” she spoke once she noticed his presence. She gave him a tired smile and continued grabbing utensils from the drawers to begin making breakfast. John’s eyes glanced at the wall clock above her head. 6:28am. 

“What’re you doing up so early?” 

Amelia shrugged, stating she wasn’t extremely tired and wanted to occupy herself while he got rest. John hummed lowly and slipped past the counter to stand behind her. His strong arms traveled around her midsection, one hand rested on her lower stomach, while the other came dangerously close to chest that was covered by a thin nightgown. 

Amelia shivered at his touch. He was meticulous with the way he touched her. Even the simplest graze of his thumb against the peaks on her chest made her breath hitch. “John…” Her tone was warning. Her tone was warning yet she made no attempt to interrupt his movements. Rather she pressed against him.

“I just want to love on you for a second, doll. Can I do that?” He was an experienced man. The anatomy of a woman was engrained in his mind; he knew it like the back of his hand. Women were different, this he knew, but his familiarity with the body of a woman opened an entryway to a sacred world of pleasure and euphoria that he only felt with her. 

Amelia didn’t respond. John brought his lips to her neck, soft and warm. One of her hands fell from the counter and gripped one of his hands which lowered to caress the front of her thigh. Her chest heaved and her breathing pattern shifted. Unamused, John said, “You didn’t answer me.” 

“Yes,” she finally replied, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. There it is. John hummed. He turned her body to face him, his hand now against the base of her neck. “Bedroom, doll.” 

Amelia turned on the balls of her feet, his fingers laced through hers, and walked to the bedroom. John’s eyes fell to her waist, focused on the way her hips swayed like the water. She pushed the door open, dropped her shaw on the floor, and laid on the disheveled sheets; looking like an angel in the all-white covers. 

“I love you,” John whispered against her lips as he hovered above her. 

She smiled softly and carded her fingers through his hair. “I love you more.”

My top Rafe Cameron writer 🙏🏽🙏🏽

Can i request a rafe cameron oneshot please? With daddy kink, something like Rafe manipulating reader into believing he's the only one who would love her since not even her dad loved her, it can start with them figthing and making her cry just to console her with the same hands that hurted her <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ; ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ! ᴋɪɴᴋ; ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʜʜʜʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʜɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴅᴅᴅ! ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʜʜʜʜ! (ᴛᴀɢ: @rvfecamerons ɪʟʏʏʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴋɪɴᴅᴅᴅᴅ)

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You stand in the dimly lit living room, your heart pounding as you watch Rafe pace back and forth. His eyes, once a soft blue that you loved, now seem dark and unreadable. He's furious. You don't know why, but you assume it's his father. You’ve been building up the courage to say this for weeks, and the words finally tumble out, even though you know you shouldn't say this now.

“I’m leaving, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.” you whisper, your voice shaking.

The air grows still. Rafe stops pacing and turns to face you. His jaw tightens, and you can see the fury building behind his gaze. You take a step back, regretting your choice of words, but it’s too late to take them back now.

You pity yourself. You know you're not brave or smart enough, actually. That's how you felt your entire life. That's why you thought leaving Rafe. He is everything you aren't: smart, rich, admired. You're just the dumb, overly emotional girl who has never been loved. And also...his agressive acts are getting worse, reminding you of your father. And you hate that with burning passion.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerously calm, sending chills down your spine. You let out a shaky sob, closing your eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.

"I asked you a fuckin' question!" he yells, the sudden change of tone making you flinch. When you don't answer, he laughs, half annoyed, half patronising.

"Oh, wow..." he says, raising his hands mockingly, "not so brave anymore, huh?"

"w-well..I-" you start, trying to make your voice sound steady.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. The suddenness of his movement and the intensity in his eyes make you gasp. His fingers dig into your skin, and you wince, the pain mixing with the terror that’s quickly rising inside you.

“Are you talkin' back, tryin' to get fuckin' smart with me?,” he shouts in your face. You screw your eyes shut, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your insticts make you pull away, but his grip tightens. "Hey!" he yells, pulling you into his chest, his hands gripping yours unforgivingly. "Open your fuckin' eyes and look at me!" he demands.

When you don't obey his command, one of his hands leaves your wrist and connects with your jaw. He holds your head up, forcing eye contact, and your teary eyes meet his dark ones, sending new waves of pure terror through your body. The grip on your jaw is painful, but not as the flashbacks that flood your mind.

You remember the way your father used to do the same thing when you talked back or refused to do something he asked you to.

Panic makes you choke on air, and you let out a frightened 'I cannot breathe, R-Rafe...'

The room seems to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the pain in your wrists and the darkness in Rafe’s eyes.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You think you can just leave? Okay, do it, baby! Where you goin'? To your daddy's? That used to beat your ass?.” His voice is harsh, making you whimper. His words hurt more than anything.

He finally loosens his grip slightly, just enough for you to gasp for air. But he doesn’t let go. “You’re not leaving,” he repeats, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, desperate to placate him, to make this nightmare end.

For a moment, he studies your face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he releases your wrists. You stumble back, cradling them to your chest, your tears falling freely now. Your heart races, and you feel a cold dread settle in your stomach. He approaches you again, pulling you into an intoxicating hug. You sob in his chest, tears soaking his shirt. He gently soothes you, caressing your back. It feels so wrong, but yet there you are, letting the man that hurt you also comfort you.

"Daddy's here, baby..." he says, the nickname he gave himself lowkey making you sick. "I love you, only me", he says, smiling as he grips your chin and makes you look at him. "I'm your everything, baby. Never forget that. I really love you, baby..." he whispers, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You nod again, unable to find your voice, the fear still gripping you tightly. You know in that moment that things have changed, that you’re trapped in a way you hadn’t fully realized before. And the worst part is, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to escape.

"It's okay, baby...Daddy's here." he finished, making your skin crawl.

Reading this at dawn made it all the more sweeter 💕💌

𝜗𝜚 MY LOVE , MINE, ALL MINE, ALL MINE ❤︎𝄢..

📞 — aftercare with JASON TODD 𝜗𝜚

✉️ — contents : : aftercare , mentions of jay's scars , fluff , yearner!jason todd , first time having sex ( in their relationship ) , grammatical errors , ooc (?)

✉️ — word count : : 1.9k

✉️ — vi whispers : : woohoo !! we reached 700!! also,, i'm still in the hospital, unfortunately. but i will be doing an event 😋 just expect,,, late responsdjes. back to my oldoldold format!!! NOW. this is acc for @fromdove !! like,, remember when i told you that i'll write you a reply?? well, here it is !! lol, how dare you be upset. + will be redoing my m.list. couldn't edit this bc my mom took my laptop

your skin still tingles. it's as if your entire body is remembering what just occurred in waves ▰ the weight of his palms, the way he spoke your name like it was something sacred. the air smells of sweat & heat & him. all is black except for the warm yellow light from the hallway seeping in through the half-open door. the blankets are kicked halfway off the bed, wrapped around your ankle. you're there with your chest rising & falling slow, like the only thing holding you to earth is the weight of his body beside yours.

he's on your side, one arm slung over your waist, forehead against your shoulder. breathing hard like he's still trying to come down. his palm glides up. your ribcage ▰ not sexually, just there, anchoring himself with you. his lips brush the back of your neck. you feel him smile a little.

"you okay?" he asks, but it's softer than normal. almost like he's afraid to screw this up.

you hum, nod, still panting. "yeah. better than okay."

jason pulls nack a little so that he can see your face. his hair is standing up in a dozen different directions, cheeks flushed, lips puffy. his eyes are dark & gentle & so, so exhausted. but they're all for you like you're the only thing in the world that exists. like perhaps he still can't get his head around you being with him, still with him after ▰ & not just forgotten like everything else.

"good," he mutters, but he still scans your face like he's trying to verify something. then, a beat behind, he adds, "didn't mean to be too rough."

you snort. "you weren't."

he's not looking convinced. his fingers are drawing small circles along your hip now. he doesn't say a word, just presses a kiss to your temple & exhales like his entire body is deflating. you reach down, grasp his hand in yours & bring it to your lips. kiss his knuckles. it's slow, gentle, & something in his chest stutters. cracks. hitched.

he rolls onto his back, arm still wrapped around your waist, & glares up at the ceiling as if it has answers scribbled all over it. his throat bobs as he swallows hard. you can tell he's thinking too much. his walls are still up, just thinner now ▰ llike he's cracking his door open a little, even if he's afraid.

"you sure you're okay?" he repeats. & it was the first time you both had sex ever since you two officially became a couple. & it's not just sex. it's everything. about how much he wishes he could be good to you. about the thousand demons in his chest that tell him he can't.

you shift closer until you're half on top of him, nose bumping his jaw. "jason," you whisper, & that's all it takes for him to relax a little.

his arm wraps tighter around you as if he's scared you'll disappear if he releases you. his other hand runs through your hair, hesitant at first, then more insistent, like he remembers you like it that way. he kisses your forehead, your cheek, the edge of your mouth. over & over, slow & soft, worshipping. he doesn't speak but his hands do ▰ they say thank you & i missed you even though we live in the same apartment & don't go.

his voice is hoarse when he speaks again at last. "lemme get you water."

"don't wanna move."

"i'll carry you."

you laugh into his neck. "you're naked."

he smiles, a little. "so are you."

"bold of you to assume i'm getting up."

"fine," he breathes, leaning his head to kiss you again on the jaw. "we'll dehydrate together. tragically romantic."

he doesn't actually get up for another couple of minutes. just stays there with you on top of him, fingers brushing the curve of your back, languid & awed. but after a bit he rolls over, pats your leg.

"alright," he says softly, "give me two seconds." & already he's slipping under & away from you.

he stands, stretches, runs a hand through his hair. & god ▰ you look. he's hot. you can't help it. the way his back curves, all that muscle shifting under skin like a sculpture made of marble that stood up & decided to look at you like that. he notices you looking & grins, wicked. bitch.

"take a picture," he jokes, picking up his sweats from the floor. "it'll last longer."

you toss a pillow at him. he catches it in mid·air, smiling. "what, can't handle the view?"

"get me water, todd."

he salutes, tugging the sweats on. "yes ma'am."

you watch him walk out & your heart kind of… swells. not just because he’s hot ▰ he is, but it’s more than that. it’s the way he hums under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening. the way he double checks the temperature of the water before bringing it to you. the way he wants to take care of you, even if he’s still learning what that means.

he returns with water & a protein bar. holds the cup to your lips like you're royalty & he's your servant, which cracks you up again. until he says "drink" with this expression that shuts you up real quick. you sip a few times. he stands there the entire time like your health is the most important thing in the world.

you remove the cup from him & place it, then pull him back onto the bed. "your turn," you tell him, pushing his hair behind his ears. "you okay?"

he stiffens a little. as if he wasn't expecting that. as if he forgot that people are allowed to ask him that too.

his voice is gentle when he speaks. "yeah. i just…"

he trails off. but you know. you know.

you run your fingers over his chest. "you don't have to say it."

he nods, then leans in & kisses you again. slow & deep & a little desperate. like he's trying to memorize this. the safety. the closeness. you let him. you kiss him back until he sighs against your lips, until he lets his shoulders relax under your hands, until he's not red hood or a broken boy or the bat's second sidekick ▰ just jason. just yours.

he buries his face in your neck afterwards, whispering, "you're really okay?"

you kiss his shoulder. "yeah. are you?"

he pauses. "i will be."

you hug him closer.

he's so close. you can feel the thump of his heart in the way he presses his chest against yours. it's a slow thrum. not quick, but gentle. intimate. honest. he's not letting you go anytime soon, & honestly, you don't want him to. his mouth leaves tiny kisses along your neck, slow & deliberate, like he's playing catch-up. perhaps he doesn't realize that you see it, but the way his hands are trembling ever so slightly is all you need to know. he's still hesitant, still so goddamned starved for you even though he already has you. there’s something in him that doesn’t stop needing to touch, to feel, as if it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.

you bite your lip, pushing your fingers through his messy hair. his eyes flicker open & meet yours, half-lidded with exhaustion but intense.

“you’re really here,” he murmurs. like he needs to hear it out loud.

"yeah, jason," you reply softly, tracing your thumb over his cheek. "i'm right here."

he leans his forehead against yours, releasing a breath as if he's not saying anything. his arms wrap tighter around you once more, as if he's worried that you're going to get away if he doesn't hold on. you roll over onto your back, pulling him along with you, the blanket wrapped around your ankles. it's silent for a bit, the only noise is the constant thrum of the city out there & the slow, thudding pulse of his breathing.

then, out of nowhere, he begins kissing you again. slow at first, just his lips grazing against yours. but then, he goes deeper. soft & hungry, his hands cradling your face like you could break. it's warm, it's soft, & you can feel every inch of him. when he pulls back, he gazes at you with uncertainty. his lips red, his hair disheveled, his face too vulnerable for the jason todd you once thought you'd known.

"don't go," he utters softly, & it's as if his entire universe hangs in the balance.

you smile, weaving your fingers through his hair once more. "i'm not going anywhere."

he sighs, a little relieved. but the moment doesn’t last long before his fingers start feeling your body again, gently this time ▰ tracing the line of your spine, the curve of your hip, your stretch marks. his thumb runs over your wrist, brushing lightly, like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t miss a single detail of you.

you reach up to touch his chest, & feel his muscles tighten beneath your fingers. he winces a little when your hand slips down, causing him to brush across a scar, but doesn't flinch. instead, he appears to lean into the touch, as though he's finding peace in it.

"sorry," he grunts softly, looking down. "forgot about the scars."

you glance at him, tracing the line of his jaw with your hand. "don't apologize for them," you tell him softly. "they're part of you. and i… i like all of you, jay."

he swallows hard, his chest tightening. "yeah? even the broken ones?"

"especially the hurt ones," you answer ( & corrected ) without hesitation, your eyes locking with his with all the sincerity in the world.

he nods, lips shaking, before he leans in to kiss you once more. this is a softer, slower kiss, like he's trying to say everything he doesn't know how to put into words. when he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours. his hand wraps around your waist, his fingers digging in a little.

you lay a hand to his chest, tracing little circles over his heart. "you're good, jason," you whisper. "you're more than good."

he shakes his head slightly, closing his eyes for a moment as if your words are too much to take in. then, he nuzzles into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t think i know how to do this,” he says quietly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "like. this. i don't know what you need."

you smile gently, tracing your fingers through his hair once more. "just be here with me," you breathe. "that's all i need."

he grunts in his throat. but he does not argue. instead, he glides closer, holding you against him as if he is afraid you might slip out of his hands. his lips brush the top of your head, & he stays there, his breathing slow & even against your skin.

you can tell he's going out of his way. attempting to do this right ▰ despite not knowing if he knows he's doing it wrong or not, he's learning, kiss by tender kiss, touch by tender touch. he wants you to feel at peace with him( you are ). he wants to take care of you, even though he's terrified that he's going to get it all wrong.

you lean into him, your body against his, & shut your eyes. "you're doing it right," you whisper. "this is perfect. so are you."

his arms wrap tighter around you once more, & for a second, you think you're the only thing that matters to him. his voice is husky when he talks, low & rough. "i'm not perfect, you know."

you kiss his chest, your lips touching the scar on his ribs. "you don't need to be," you say. "just.. be you. that's all i need, jason."

© MINORLYATFAULT 2025

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come.”