hinakamiya

Latest Posts by hinakamiya

So glad too see im not alone

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

SOAKED

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 12,4k

Plot: Jason comes home bruised and sore, and you do what you do best: take care of him. But one thing leads to another, and soon, you're on your knees, making him fall apart, only to have him return the favor tenfold.

You don't even remember falling asleep. One minute you were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, Jason's hoodie swallowing you whole, and the next, your eyes snap open at the sound of keys jingling just outside the door.

Your heart stumbles over itself as you push up on your elbows, eyes darting to the clock glowing dimly from the wall. 3:26 am.

Not bad. Not great either, but you've seen worse. You rub your face, still heavy with sleep, and the fabric of Jason's hoodie pools around your wrists as you move. It smells like him, sharp leather and gunpowder, something faintly metallic that always clings to his clothes, and underneath all that, the warmth of his skin, like sunshine baked into cotton. You wear it every time he's out late. Sleeping in your bed without him feels wrong—too cold, too empty—so you do this instead, drowning in the closest thing you have to his arms.

Another jingle, then the unmistakable scrape of the deadbolt turning. Your heart gives another sharp little kick, but this time, it's relief flooding in. He's home.

The door swings open, and Jason steps inside. Bloody.

"Fuck."

You're off the couch before you even realize you've moved, bare feet slapping against the floor as you rush to him, wide awake now and already scanning for where he's hurt.

"Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay? Baby—"

He shushes you softly, reaching up to pull off his Red Hood mask. The metal clatters onto the table beside the door, leaving his hair a mess, damp at the edges with sweat.

"Shhh. It's okay, doll. Not my blood."

Your breath catches, but he says it like it's supposed to make you feel better. It doesn't. If anything, it makes your pulse race harder because something happened, something bad enough to coat his chest in sticky red streaks and leave his shoulders locked up so tight you can see it through his jacket.

His jaw ticks, tension riding every inch of his frame, and you know him well enough to know that he's not gonna talk about it yet. Not until you've pried it out of him or worn him down enough to let him breathe again.

So you step closer, hands skimming over his sides, feeling for injuries anyway. He's solid under your touch, all heat and muscle, even through the armor and blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up," you whisper, voice softer.

You don't push for answers, not yet. First, you get him warm. Get his hands on you. Let him remember he's home. Jason exhales like he's been holding his breath since he walked through the door.

"Yeah," he says, voice lower, rougher, already starting to crack at the edges. "Yeah, okay, baby."

He kicks the door shut behind him with a solid thunk, his boots following right after—one, then the other, dropped lazily beside the mat. His jacket hits the table next, heavy with blood and dirt, and before he does anything else, his hand darts out to flip the lock. You watch the muscles in his forearm flex as he checks it twice, then once more, a habit he's never broken no matter how safe this place is.

Then his attention swings back to you, and his expression softens, just barely, at the sight of you standing there all sleepy and worried in his hoodie, the hem brushing your bare thighs. His lips twitch like he's fighting a grin, but he doesn't say a word about it—doesn't have to.

Instead, he steps in close, warm hands catching your waist, tugging you toward him just enough to kiss your forehead. His breath is warm, lips softer than they should be after a night like this, and you feel some of that coiled up tension drain from his body as he stands there holding you, grounded for the first time in hours.

He doesn't pull away until you take his hand, fingers lacing through his like it's second nature, and guide him toward the bathroom. His steps are heavy, the kind of weight that comes from hours of running and fighting, but he follows without a word.

He's too tired to tease, but not too tired to sneak one last glance at your legs, bare and soft beneath his hoodie, and there's that twitch at the corner of his mouth again. The kind that says Fuck, I love seein' my girl in my clothes, even if he's never gonna say it out loud.

In the bathroom, you flick on the light and step past him to turn on the shower, hand testing the temperature until it's hot enough to chase the chill out of his bones. Jason, meanwhile, starts to work the buckles on his gear, fingers moving automatically. One shoulder piece drops to the floor with a clatter, and you whirl around so fast he freezes, brow lifting.

"Jason Peter Todd."

Your voice lands somewhere between a scold and a soft plea, and his head tips to the side, confused. You step right into his space, small hands nudging his out of the way as you reach for his shirt yourself.

"I've got you. You don't have to—just—let me help, okay? You're all stiff, baby, and you're probably bruised to hell, and you're not supposed to—"

His hands settle on your wrists, and for a second you think he's gonna argue, but all he does is huff—this half laugh, half sigh like there she goes again, and fuck if it doesn't make his heart swell. "Ain't no winnin' with you, huh, pretty girl?"

"Not a chance," you smile up at him, sweet and stubborn all at once. "So stand still and let me."

Jason's bigger than you by a mile, but he knows better than to fight you when you've got that look in your eye. So he does what you say, letting his arms hang loose at his sides while you take off the other shoulder piece, fingers careful around the edges of bruises and scrapes. His skin's warm beneath the shirt, all solid muscle and scars you know by heart, and for a minute, all you can think about is how strong he is, and how soft he lets himself be with you.

You work him out of his shirt, fingers gentle but determined, peeling it off like you're unwrapping something precious even though the fabric's half ruined with grime and blood. It lands in the washing machine with a wet plop, and you barely glance at it before you're on to his belt, tugging at the buckle with a frown so serious, Jason can't help himself.

"Y'know," he drawls, voice low and teasing, "never seen someone so goddamn focused on takin' my clothes off and not tryin' to jump me."

"Shut up." Your nose scrunches, mouth set in that determined little pout that drives him crazy. "If you're gonna come home looking like a crime scene, the least you can do is let me clean you up without the peanut gallery commentary."

Jason snorts, arms loose at his sides, just letting you work. "Ain't my fault you're cute when you're bossy. That little face—shit, baby, you could probably scare Bruce if you tried hard enough."

Your glare could cut glass, but your hands stay gentle, popping the button on his pants before sliding them down his legs. "Get in the shower, smartass."

"Yes, ma'am."

He even throws in a sloppy salute, which earns him a playful slap right on his ass. He turns just enough to look over his shoulder, all smirk and dark eyes, like Careful, baby, do that again and I might forget how tired I am.

You flip him off for good measure, which only makes him laugh harder as he steps into the warm spray. For a second, the air fogs up, steam curling around his skin, and he tips his head back, letting the water rinse away the first layer of the night's grime.

The tension in his shoulders melts just a fraction, but only a fraction, because the second he turns back around, you're climbing in after him, hoodie already on the floor, and thank fuck for whoever designed this shower because the cabin's massive and you both fit in it with no problem.

Jason's brows lift, appreciation written all over his face. "Well, shit. Ain't I the lucky one."

The water's hot, steam curling between you, misting the glass walls of the shower. You step closer, bare feet against the slick tile, and when he turns to face you fully, your heart sinks just a little.

Because there they are. The bruises.

Deep, ugly smudges already blooming across his ribs, darker ones wrapping around his bicep like fingerprints, and a nasty scrape high on his shoulder where something must've caught him just right. You sigh softly, fingertips tracing over the damage, careful not to press too hard, and when you lift your eyes to his, they're already waiting for you.

"What happened, Jay?"

Your voice is gentle, but there's an edge underneath, sharpened by hours of waiting and worrying. Jason closes his eyes for a beat, head tipping back under the spray, water trailing down his neck and over the hard lines of his chest.

"Wrong place, wrong fuckin' time," he mutters, voice low and a little rough. "Some poor bastard got jumped by a bunch of goons in the Narrows. Tried to step in, but it was too late."

His mouth twists like he's already thinking about what you're gonna say to that.

"Then what's with the bruises?"

You cross your arms over your chest, trying for stern, but you just look small, standing there naked and wet, water gliding down your skin while your brows knit together in frustration.

Jason rubs the back of his neck, sheepish in a way only you get to see. "Well, I was on patrol, so..."

You scoff, shaking your head as you pinch the bridge of your nose. The steam makes your fingers damp, but it doesn't hide the way your shoulders curl inward, tension wracking your small frame.

You exhale, voice soft, a little wobbly at the edges. "You promised you'd be more careful."

You can't look at him when you say it, so you reach for the body wash instead, hands shaking just enough to make the bottle slip in your grip. Jason's hand is faster, catching your wrist gently before you can turn away completely.

"Hey, it's okay."

His fingers tilt your chin up, guiding you to meet his eyes, and you're not sure if it's the heat from the water or the look on his face that makes you dizzy. He leans down, lips brushing yours, soft at first, a grounding kiss meant to anchor you both. But the second his mouth presses to yours, something inside you buckles.

Your free hand fists in the wet hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss with a soft, desperate sound. Jason groans low in his throat, like you just knocked the air out of his chest, and his other hand slips around your waist, dragging you flush against him. Your bare skin slides against his, slick with water, and the kiss turns messy, hungry, all teeth and tongue and the kind of heat that leaves you lightheaded.

His tongue parts your lips, slow and filthy, licking into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world. He tastes like mint and something darker underneath—copper and smoke—and you take it all, kissing him like you need to memorize the shape of him. Your bodies press so close you can feel the thud of his heart against your ribs, and his fingers tighten at your waist, like he can't quite let you go yet.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, Jason rests his forehead against yours, water running down the bridge of his nose. "I promised I'll always come back to you," he says softly. "And I meant it. I'm still here, doll. Shit like this? It's inevitable. But it's just a few bruises."

Your throat works around a hard swallow, eyes flicking over the marks on his skin. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just bruises."

Your voice cracks a little, but you cover it by squeezing a generous dollop of body wash into your palm, focusing on the feel of the slippery soap instead of the ache in your chest.

You start at his shoulders, fingers gliding over skin and muscle, slow and deliberate, cleaning him up like it's your own body you're tending to. His eyes never leave your face, watching the way your brow furrows in concentration, how your lower lip gets caught between your teeth every time you find another bruise.

You finish washing him with slow, careful hands, fingers mapping over familiar muscle and scar, every touch a quiet promise—you're home, you're safe, you're mine. Jason's eyes stay on you the whole time, half lidded and heavy with exhaustion, but there's something else simmering underneath, something darker.

When you go to grab the soap again, reaching for your own skin, his hands catch your wrists, his grip gentle but firm. "Nuh-uh, sweet girl. My turn."

"Jay, I'm fine and—"

"Don't care," he cuts you off, voice low and rough around the edges. "Lemme take care of my girl."

And really, what are you gonna do? Fight a man built like him, standing naked and wet in a shower that's already fogged up enough to feel like a sauna? You let him, because even though you fuss, you love this part. The way his hands move with purpose, how he touches you like you're the only thing worth slowing down for.

His fingers are slick with soap when they slide up your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides. The water makes everything slippery, his palms gliding over every inch of skin like he's memorizing you all over again.

But it's when he reaches your chest that you feel the shift, the way his breath catches, how his thumb drags deliberately over your nipple, slicking it up with soap and hot water, until the soft bud pebbles under his touch.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. "Look at you."

You glance down, following his gaze, and yeah, no wonder he's obsessed. The soap drips down the curve of your tits, slow and thick, catching on your nipples and running in slick little trails down your stomach. Jason's hands follow the path, palms curving to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing at the soapy peaks until you gasp, back arching into his touch.

"Jay..."

It's half a scold, half a moan, and all it does is make his grip tighten, fingers kneading like he needs to feel every inch of you. He groans, low and wrecked, watching the way your tits bounce in his hands, slippery and perfect.

"Can't fuckin' help it," he says, voice rough and low, like gravel dragged over silk. "You got these perfect tits, all wet 'n slippery... How the fuck am I not supposed to play with 'em?"

His thumbs roll your nipples again, slow and deliberate, and the heat between your legs flares so fast it's embarrassing. He laughs, low and filthy, dipping his head down to mouth at your throat.

"Bet I could get you off just like this," he murmurs, squeezing just a little firmer. "Just my hands on your pretty tits, workin' you up 'til you're beggin' me to fuck you."

His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver. "Should I test it, baby?"

You kiss him to shut him up, or at least, that's the excuse you give yourself. But the second your mouth finds his, it turns filthy fast. His tongue slides against yours, tasting like water and heat and something purely Jason, and your hand drops between you without thinking, wrapping around his hard cock in one slick stroke.

He groans, deep and rumbling, but it's when you twist your wrist just right that it happens—that soft, needy moan that punches out of his chest, so unexpected you feel it in your cunt. You swallow it greedily, sucking on his tongue while your hand strokes him slow and firm, the soap making everything glide like silk.

"Jesus—fuck, baby," he mutters, forehead dropping against yours as his hips jerk into your fist. "You know what that shit does to me."

"Mhmm." You pump him again, savoring the way his cock twitches in your grip, thick and hot and already leaking at the tip. "Love your moans, Jay."

Your voice is pure sin, all low and sweet, with that dangerous edge that only comes out when you've got him like this. Raw and open, all that Red Hood bravado stripped away until it's just your man, desperate and wrecked in your hands.

Jason growls, hands sliding down to grab your ass, pulling you hard against him so you can feel exactly what you're doing to him.

"Keep talkin' like that," he warns, voice tight, "and I'm gonna bend you over right fuckin' here."

And God, you're already so wet, you could probably take him just like this, no prep, no nothing, but you're not done teasing him yet.

Your hand works his cock slow and deliberate, fingers snug around the thick shaft, every stroke slick with water and his own leaking precum. He's so fucking hard, heavy in your grip, veins standing out along the length, the head flushed and swollen as it slides against your palm. You twist your wrist at the top, fingers teasing over that sensitive ridge just under the head, and Jason's hips twitch, like he can't help himself.

"Goddamn," he mutters, voice low and frayed at the edges. "Always so fuckin' good to me."

The praise makes you shiver, thighs pressing together for a second, and that's all the invitation Jason needs. His hand slides down, fingers tracing your ass, his palm big enough to spread you open like nothing. You barely have time to gasp before two of his fingers slip between your thighs from behind, sliding through your slick folds like he's been waiting all night to get his hands on you.

"Jesus, baby." he groans. "You're so fuckin' wet already."

His fingers slide lower, not rushing, just exploring, tracing over your clit before dipping back to your entrance, dragging your slickness back up with every stroke. It's teasing, maddening, like he wants to see how worked up he can get you before you snap. And it's working, because you're already trembling, thighs spreading wider, giving him all the access he wants.

"Such a good fuckin' girl," he mutters, fingers finally pressing inside you, two at once, slow and steady. "Takin' me so sweet. Always so fuckin' tight for me."

You moan into his mouth, the sound soft and helpless, and your grip on his cock tightens just a little, enough to make him hiss between his teeth, his fingers curling inside you like a reflex. He's filling you so good, even with just his fingers, and the angle from behind only makes it dirtier, your ass pushed back into his hand while your chest stays flush to his skin, tits pressed against warm, wet muscle.

"Greedy little thing," Jason teases, voice warm and dark. "Jerkin' me off while you fuck yourself on my fingers. You missed me that much, huh?"

You don't even try to deny it, you just kiss him again, harder this time, all tongue and heat, your hand stroking him faster. Water runs down both your bodies, dripping between you, and every movement feels slick and desperate, like you're both already too far gone to slow down. Your palm twists over the head of his cock, smearing precum down the length, and Jason groans into your mouth, fingers fucking into you deeper until you can't help but moan right back.

"Fuckin' love those sounds," he mutters, lips dragging down your jaw. "My girl sounds so fuckin' sweet when she's needy."

His lips find yours again, slower this time, tongue licking into your mouth in lazy, filthy strokes, and you know—you just know—this is only the beginning.

The thought hits you so suddenly it's almost embarrassing. How much you want to get your mouth on him, to taste every inch, to feel his dick sliding down your throat while water beats down your back. You want to swallow every groan, every curse, every helpless little noise that slips past his lips when you've got him too deep, choking on it.

You shift against him, one hand on his chest, the other still stroking his cock as you gently guide him back until his broad shoulders hit the shower wall. The tile is cool against his skin, but the way you look up at him—all wide, needy eyes, water dripping down your face, lips already parted—that's what sends a little shiver down his spine.

"Baby—" he starts, but you're already moving, already tugging his hand from between your thighs, even though your pussy clenches around nothing in protest.

You need him in your mouth more than you need his fingers, and the second you sink to your knees, Jason's head tips back against the wall with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuckin' hell, doll," he mutters, voice all gravel and heat. "Gonna kill me with those pretty fuckin' eyes."

You smile, sweet and filthy at once, licking up the underside of his cock, tongue tracing that thick vein from base to tip. He's so hot in your mouth, the taste of salt and skin mixed with the faint bitterness of his precum as you swirl your tongue over the head, lapping up every drop like you're starved for it.

"Goddamn," Jason hisses, one hand finding your hair, fingers sliding in to grip the back of your head. "You're so fuckin' pretty down there. Look at you, baby—fuck, lookin' at me like you wanna swallow me whole."

You hum around him, keeping eye contact as you take him deeper, lips stretching around the thick head, your tongue flattening against the underside. He's big—too big, really—but you love the stretch, love the way your jaw aches already, love the way Jason's chest rises and falls faster the deeper you go.

"Such a good girl," he mutters, voice just shy of breaking. "My good girl. Look at you, takin' me so sweet, fuckin' droolin' for it."

You are, slick spit dripping down your chin already, mixing with the water, and you love it. Love how messy it is, how desperate you feel, how Jason's fingers tighten in your hair like he's holding himself back from just thrusting into your mouth.

"Goddamn mouth was made for me," Jason growls, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, gathering up the slick mess and smearing it across your cheek. "Prettiest fuckin' sight I've ever seen."

You take him deeper in response, throat fluttering around the tip, eyes watering as you try to swallow him down, and he groans, low and broken, the sound vibrating all the way down to your cunt.

"Shit, baby, you're gonna make me lose my fuckin' mind."

You pull off him with a wet pop, lips glossy with spit and precum, breathing hard like you just ran a mile. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, slick and shiny, and you look up at him through soaked lashes, eyes dark with need.

"Jay," you whisper, voice a little wrecked already, throat raw from just what you've taken so far. "Wanna feel you deeper." You swallow hard, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. "Wanna feel you fuck my throat."

Jason's whole body tenses, a shudder running through him so hard you feel it under your fingertips. His jaw tightens, water dripping down his face, and you swear you can see him debating it for a split second. Like maybe he's worried he'll get carried away, worried he'll ruin you if he really lets go.

"Baby—" his voice is hoarse, almost strained. "You sure? Don't wanna hurt you."

You fucking melt, because underneath all that roughness, all that unhinged hunger, there's him. Your Jason. Who always asks, always checks. Even when you're on your knees, begging for it.

You nod, so sweet, so sure, giving his cock a slow stroke just to make your point. "I want it, Jay."

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters, voice already breaking. "C'mere."

You grip his thighs, steadying yourself, fingers digging into thick muscle as you let him guide you—both hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, so gentle it makes you ache. But the second your lips part and he slides back in, the tenderness shifts, replaced by hunger so sharp it steals your breath.

"Open up, baby," Jason rasps, hips rolling forward slow and steady, letting you adjust around the stretch of him. "That's it, such a good girl, fuck."

His cock slides deeper, the head nudging the back of your throat, and you gag—a wet, helpless sound that makes his hips jerk. His fingers tighten in your hair, his own breath hitching in his chest, like the sound of you choking on him just flipped some feral switch in his brain.

"Shit," he groans, low and guttural. "Takin' me so deep—look at you, baby, fuckin' perfect."

Your nails dig into his thighs for balance, your knees slipping slightly against wet tile, but you don't stop. You want all of him, need to feel him hit the back of your throat again and again until your eyes stream and your pussy drips. Your moan vibrates around him, and Jason's head drops back against the wall with a sharp curse, fingers tightening until your scalp stings.

"Holy fuck, you love this, don't you?" he growls, looking down at you with wild eyes, water running down his chest. "Love gettin' all sloppy and fucked out for me."

You hum around him, too full to answer, tears burning at the corners of your eyes as his cock slides deeper. Your throat spasms around him, gagging again, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin to your tits, mixing with the water like you're just a mess made for him.

Jason moans, a real, broken sound you almost never hear—low and desperate, like the feel of your throat wrapped tight around him is enough to unravel every last shred of control. And fuck, that sound alone makes your pussy ache, slick dripping down your thighs in hot, needy trails.

"You're gonna make me fuckin' lose it," he grits out, voice rough and thin. "You feel that, baby? Feel how hard I am for you?"

You moan again, louder this time, hips shifting like you're searching for friction, desperate to grind against something. Jason's fingers stroke your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, gathering up the spit that's spilled there, and when you glance up at him—all wide, tear bright eyes and swollen lips—his cock twitches hard.

"Fuck, you're so pretty like this," he mutters, voice all low heat and reverence. "My pretty girl... on her knees, lettin' me fuck her throat like the greedy little thing she is."

He thrusts a little deeper, slow but deliberate, and you choke again, body shuddering, tears finally spilling over. But you hold still, nails digging into his thighs, moaning around him like you love the struggle, like you love knowing you're the only one who can make him fall apart like this.

Jason swears under his breath, something low and filthy, and you swear his hips tremble like he's fighting not to lose it right there. He pulls back with a wet pop, his cock slipping from your throat, leaving you coughing softly, spit clinging to your lips and chin, drooling down your neck in glossy trails.

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, gathering the mess you made, and the way he looks at you—like you're the filthiest, prettiest little thing he's ever seen—makes your thighs squeeze together, your pussy pulsing helplessly.

"Breathe, baby," he rasps, voice raw with need, like he's the one who just had his throat fucked, not you. "Did so good for me. Fuckin' perfect."

You take a shaky breath, chest rising and falling fast, before you flash him that wicked little smile, all slicked with spit and swollen, and you tilt your head, tongue flicking out to lick the tip of his cock.

"Not done yet, Jay," you whisper, voice hoarse from all the choking.

Jason groans, head falling back against the tile as his fingers twitch in your hair, trying not to yank too hard because fuck, you're gonna ruin him. Your throat is already raw from how deep he's been, but that wicked little smile you give him says you don't care.

Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, slick with spit and precum, and you stroke him slow, dragging your thumb over the thick vein that runs along the underside. His hips twitch, a barely there thrust that he immediately stops, like he's trying to be good, trying not to shove himself right back down your throat.

But then you press a kiss to his flushed tip, then another, before dragging your tongue over the slit, tasting him—salty and thick, all Jason—and you hum in approval, sending a shudder through his entire body.

"Shit," he hisses through clenched teeth, his grip in your hair tightening.

His thighs flex, like he wants to spread them wider, give you more room, but he's already backed against the shower wall, nowhere else to go but into your mouth.

And you want him there.

You tilt your head and take him in again, slow at first, sucking him down inch by inch until your lips stretch wide around the thickest part of his cock. Your free hand slides up, resting against his lower stomach for balance as you start to move, bobbing your head, tongue dragging along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein.

He groans low, almost desperate, his breathing ragged as he watches you. "Fuckin' hell, baby—"

And then you take him deeper.

You breathe through your nose and sink down, letting him slide past your tongue, into your throat, until your lips are pressed right against the base. His dick twitches inside your mouth, hot and pulsing, stretching you open in a way that has your pussy clenching around nothing.

Jason curses, head snapping forward to look down at you, his pupils blown wide. "Jesus—" His jaw goes slack as you swallow around him, muscles flexing around the thick length in your throat, and he groans deep, guttural, something torn straight from his chest. "Goddamn it, baby—"

You moan, the vibrations making him jerk, his fingers tangling in your hair as he fights the urge to fuck into your mouth. But you want him to. You need him to.

So you pull back just enough to breathe, spit slicking your lips, his cock shiny and wet from your mouth. You blink up at him, all pretty, wrecked eyes, and whisper, hoarse but teasing, "C'mon, Jay. Give it to me."

His restraint snaps. He cups the back of your head and pushes back in, slow at first, just to watch your lips stretch around him again, just to hear that sweet little gag when he hits the back of your throat. Then he does it again. And again.

Fucking your mouth with slow, deep thrusts, his dick hot and heavy on your tongue, your jaw aching, your throat stretched wide to take him. Spit drips down your chin, strings of it connecting your lips to his cock every time he pulls back, only to snap when he shoves in again.

"Fuck, baby—look at you." His voice is hoarse, full of raw need as he watches you swallow him down like you were made for it. "Takin' me so fuckin' good—my perfect girl, so fuckin' greedy—"

You moan in response, your fingers digging into his flexing thighs for balance, your eyes locked onto his as you let him use your mouth just the way he likes. It's filthy, messy, raw, the wet, slick sounds of your mouth working him filling the steamy bathroom, and when his abs tighten, his breathing turning ragged, you know he's close.

But not yet.

You pull off of him with a gasp, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his cock, and you tilt your head back, mouth open, tongue out, voice wrecked as you murmur, "Cum on my tongue, Jay."

His moan is broken as his cock jerks in your grip, his fingers twitching like he wants to grab your face and wreck you all over again. Instead, he lets you set the pace, his back pressing to the shower wall as you stroke him slow and deliberate, your slick hand working over his cock, all the way from the base to the leaking tip.

"Shit, baby, fuck," he mutters, head thunking back against the tile. "You're gonna—fuckin' hell—gonna make me blow just like that, lookin' at me with that dirty little smile."

You keep your eyes locked on his, wide and dark and utterly shameless, your tongue peeking out like an invitation. And when he curses again, hips bucking into your grip, you pull him right to the edge of your mouth—lips parted, tongue out, waiting, just like his fucking dream girl.

"Gonna cum for me, Jay?" you whisper, all soft and sweet, hand twisting at the head of his cock, smearing precum all over your tongue.

His whole body tenses, abs flexing hard, his dick jerking in your hand as his breath stutters out in a ragged groan. "Fuck, baby, fuck—gonna cum—shit—"

It hits fast and messy, the first thick spurt of cum painting your tongue, hot and salty and so much of it. His cock throbs in your grip, pulsing with every ragged heartbeat, more cum spilling over your tongue, dripping down your lip in messy streaks. Jason watches, jaw slack, eyes heavy-lidded with pure wrecked hunger, like the sight of his cum all over your tongue could send him spiraling right into a second orgasm.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he mutters, voice rough and almost reverent.

You tilt your head back, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him, his cum glistening on your tongue, a filthy little pool of him. His fingers cradle your jaw, thumb tugging at your bottom lip as he groans, low and guttural, like the sight alone is enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

"Swallow, baby," he whispers, dark and sweet all at once. "C'mon, swallow my cum like the perfect little thing you are."

You obey without hesitation, tongue curling back as you swallow every drop, throat working around it. Then you open your mouth again, all pretty and empty, just to show him you took it all, and he swears under his breath, dragging you up onto your feet so fast your head spins.

Jason pulls you up, kissing you hard and deep, not even caring that you still taste like him. His hand cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling into your wet hair as his tongue slides over yours, messy and hungry, all low moans and deep groans vibrating against your lips.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you flush to him, his cock still heavy and slick between you, smearing precum against your belly as the two of you kiss like neither of you is fully in control anymore.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters against your mouth, thumb tracing your jaw, "gonna taste you, wanna fuckin' drown in that sweet pussy."

Before you can respond, Jason sinks to his knees right there in the shower, water dripping off his hair, running in rivulets down his broad shoulders and sculpted chest. His hands grip the backs of your thighs, urging you to spread them just enough for him to fit between, and then he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, opening you up for his hungry mouth.

"Goddamn," he mutters, mouth so close to your slick cunt that you can feel his breath ghosting over your clit, "this fuckin' pussy, baby."

And then he's on you, tongue flat and wide, dragging up your slit, slow and filthy, groaning like the taste of you just knocked the air out of his chest. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue flicks lower, dipping right into your entrance, fucking you open with deep, sloppy strokes.

You cry out, hand flying to his hair, fingers fisting in the dark strands as you try to keep yourself steady, but it's useless. His tongue is relentless, devouring you like he's starving.

You try to close your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue dragging against your sensitive walls, but Jason's grip tightens, holding you open just for him.

"Uh-uh," he mutters, voice muffled against your cunt, "stay open for me, baby, let me see how fuckin' wet you are."

His tongue moves back up to your clit, circling it in slow, torturous patterns before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard, and you damn near scream, hips jerking into his face.

"Jason, fuck—oh my God—"

He hums against your clit, tongue flicking faster, and the vibration sends shivers all through you, your knees threatening to buckle. Then you feel his fingers—one thick finger sliding into your soaked pussy, sinking all the way down to the knuckle, curling just right, pressing against that spot that makes your vision go white.

"So fuckin' tight, baby," he mutters, adding a second finger without warning, your walls fluttering around him. "Gonna stretch you open nice and good for me."

He fucks you with his fingers, slow at first, dragging them out until you're whining, desperate, then slamming them back in, curling every time, fucking you open while his tongue stays glued to your clit. The combination is too much, the perfect rhythm, his fingers filling you just right while his tongue flicks and circles and sucks, and you can feel your orgasm building too fast, that sweet heat curling in your belly like a molten knot about to snap.

"Jason—gonna—fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, baby, cum for me," he groans, fingers speeding up, tongue licking harder.

And you do—you cum hard, soaking his fingers, your cunt fluttering around them as your clit throbs under his tongue. Your whole body shudders, thighs shaking so hard Jason has to hold you up, his free hand gripping your ass, keeping you steady while he licks you through it, sucking every last drop of your wetness onto his tongue like he can't bear to waste a single drop.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he mutters, lips shiny with you, kissing your trembling inner thigh, fingers still buried deep inside your pulsing cunt. "Always so fuckin' pretty when you cum for me."

You're still trembling when you tug at Jason's hair, urging him up from his knees, and he follows without hesitation, his broad frame rising above you, all wet skin and slick muscles and that hungry look in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. You crash your mouth onto his the second he's close enough, kissing him messy and wet, tasting yourself on his tongue as he groans into you.

There's no finesse, just raw, desperate hunger, teeth knocking together, tongues tangling, water running between you while his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush to his still achingly hard dick.

"Fuck me," you murmur against his mouth, breathless, lips swollen, and Jason gasps like the air got punched out of his lungs, eyes going dark with that primal heat you know so well.

"C'mere, pretty girl," he rasps, guiding you toward the built in shower bench, and really, bless whoever designed this apartment.

Jason grabs a folded towel from the shelf, laying it over the bench to cushion your knees, always thinking of you even when his mind is spinning off its axis with lust.

"Bend over for me," he says, voice low and rough, and you don't need to be told twice.

You turn, hands bracing against the tiles as you arch your back, sticking your ass out for him, knowing damn well how much he loves the view.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans behind you, big hands grabbing your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. "This fuckin' pussy, always so goddamn pretty."

He spreads you open with his thumbs, watching the way your slick glistens under the water, watching how your hole clenches, already desperate to be filled.

"You're gonna fuckin' ruin me, baby," he mutters, more to himself than to you, voice full of awe and heat and hunger.

And God, his thoughts are a fucking mess—his body aches, every muscle burning from tonight's patrol, but none of it matters. Not when you're like this, bent over and dripping for him, all soft skin and curves and that sweet little arch of your back, presenting yourself like the perfect gift.

He feels wrecked, destroyed by how much he wants you, like his skin might split open if he doesn't get inside you right now. You're his remedy, his fucking salvation, and the only way to ease the tension coiled inside him is to bury himself so deep in you that he forgets why his knuckles are bruised in the first place.

He fists his dick, pumping it slow, spreading the slick of his precum along his shaft, hissing between his teeth because he's so fucking sensitive already.

"Goddamn, baby," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, teasing your swollen clit just to make you whimper. "You're so fuckin' wet. This all for me, huh?"

"All for you," you breathe, pressing back into him, desperate for more, for all of him.

He slides the tip just barely inside, groaning at the way your tight heat immediately tries to suck him in, and fuck, you'll never get used to this—to the stretch, the way his cock splits you open every single time. He's so thick, so perfect, and it burns just a little, but it's the best fucking burn, the kind that leaves you dizzy and drooling, the kind that makes your toes curl because you know what's coming, you know how good it's gonna be.

No one's ever fucked you like Jason does, no one's ever filled you like this, made you ache and crave and beg, and you're already gone, already clenching around nothing, desperate to have him deeper.

"Jay, please," you whimper, and that's all it takes for him to sink in, slow but unrelenting, inch by thick inch until his hips are flush to your ass, until you're stuffed full, stretched wide, pussy fluttering around him.

"Fuckin' perfect," he groans, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. "Always so fuckin' perfect for me, baby."

Jason stays still for a moment, letting you adjust, his big hands smoothing over your hips and up your spine, grounding you in his touch. You're stretched so wide around him it's almost too much—almost—but your pussy flutters around his dick like you're trying to pull him in even deeper. Your knees are already weak, breath hitching in your throat as the dull ache blooms into molten pleasure, and then, he moves.

A slow, careful pull back, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, so thick you can feel every ridge and vein, and then he sinks back in, deeper this time, hips meeting the curve of your ass with a soft, wet slap. It makes you whimper, the sound high and needy, and Jason's thumbs stroke soothing circles into your skin, his voice low and tender.

"Shhh, pretty girl," he murmurs, eyes fixed on where his cock disappears inside you, mesmerized. "You're takin' me so good, baby. Look at this perfect fuckin' pussy, stretchin' just for me."

His gaze is glued to the way your slick coats his cock, creamy arousal clinging to him every time he pulls back, webbing between your thighs. "Goddamn," he groans, almost to himself, dragging his fingers down to spread you open just a little more so he can see even better. "You're so fuckin' wet. You missed me this much, huh?"

"Yes," you breathe, voice soft and sweet, trembling around the edges as he sinks in again, slow and deep.

And Jason? Jason's brain is barely functional at this point. All he can think about is how warm and tight you are, how your walls squeeze him like a fucking vice every time he moves. He's aching all over, bruised knuckles and sore muscles, but none of that matters when he's buried inside you.

This is his peace, his salvation, and there's nothing in the whole goddamn world that feels better than this. Your soft little moans, the way you arch your back for him, the way you take him so fucking deep—it's enough to make him lose his goddamn mind.

He fucks you slow, deep, each thrust deliberate, giving you every inch, savoring the way your cunt stretches around him, how your walls welcome him like you were made just for him. The slick sounds of your soaked pussy echo through the shower, mixing with the gentle slap of his hips against your ass, obscene and filthy and so fucking good.

Your thoughts are a mess—all you can think about is him, how deep he is, how good he fills you. The stretch burns just a little, but it's the kind of burn you crave, the kind that leaves you shaking and desperate for more.

No one's ever fucked you like this, like they're worshiping you and ruining you at the same time. Jason's hands are so big on your skin, holding you steady like you're fragile and precious, even though he's splitting you open with every slow thrust.

"Jay," you whimper, head dropping between your arms, face hot, body trembling. "Feels so good—"

"I know, baby," he murmurs, leaning over you, his chest flush to your back, lips brushing your ear. "Love this pussy so much. My good girl. Always so fuckin' good for me."

He kisses the back of your neck, slow thrusts never faltering, and you shiver at the feel of his lips and the filthy praise dripping from his tongue. Your pussy clenches around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans, low and broken.

"Fuck," he mutters, barely holding on, "You're gonna kill me, baby."

Jason's grip tightens on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you feel it, to remind you he's there, holding you steady as he picks up the pace. His thrusts grow just a little faster, a little rougher, each stroke punching soft, breathy moans from your lips.

And fuck, it's everything. His dick feels so good inside you, stretching you just right, dragging against every sensitive spot with every deep roll of his hips. The veins, the ridges, you can feel them all, rubbing against your walls, splitting you open over and over again.

And Jason—Jason's brain is fried. Every squeeze of your pussy around his dick makes his stomach clench, his jaw tighten. You're so fucking tight, so warm, so wet, each stroke is like heaven and hell at the same time. The soft, filthy sounds of your pussy sucking him in are enough to make his abs tense, his muscles coil.

"Shit," he rasps, voice wrecked, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fucks into you, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, enough to make you whimper. "You're fuckin' squeezin' me so goddamn good, baby. Feels so fuckin' good—"

And then—his hand. Big, warm, calloused fingers sliding down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit with ease. The moment he touches it, a sharp little gasp rips from your lips, your legs trembling, and Jason groans against your skin, pressing messy, open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck.

"Yeah, you like that, huh?" His voice is pure sin, thick with lust, dripping with heat. "Like havin' me buried deep in this pretty little pussy while I play with your clit?"

His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, rubbing soft and steady, teasing you, making your cunt throb around his cock. The pressure is perfect, just enough to make your whole body tighten, your breath hitch.

"Jay—"

Your voice is high, needy, desperate, and Jason feels it, the way you're spiraling, the way your walls start fluttering around him.

"That's it, baby," he mutters, rolling your clit a little faster now, keeping the pressure steady, his thrusts still deep and strong. "C'mon, pretty girl, wanna feel this pussy fuckin' cum on my dick."

And fuck, you're so close. Your whole body tenses, your toes curling, your arms shaking as the pleasure builds, hot and fucking overwhelming. His cock fills you so good, the stretch, the drag, the way he works your clit—it's all too much, too good, and then, you shatter.

A high, broken moan leaves your lips as your orgasm hits, crashing over you in thick, pulsing waves. Your pussy clenches around his cock, gripping him tight, rippling around him, milking him as your whole body shakes. Your head drops forward, forehead pressed against the cool tile, breath stolen from your lungs.

Jason groans, deep and wrecked, feeling every flutter of your walls, every wet squeeze of your cunt around his cock. It's almost too much, the way you keep pulling him in, and he has to force himself not to cum right then and there, has to grip your hips tighter, anchoring himself.

"Fuck, baby," he growls, still rubbing your clit, helping you ride it out, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. "That's my good girl—fuckin' squeezin' me so good, baby—"

Your legs nearly give out, and Jason feels it, catches you, wraps an arm around your waist and holds you up, still buried deep inside you, still pulsing, still aching.

Jason's still inside you, cock nestled deep in your soaked cunt, and you turn your head just enough, voice soft and hazy as you murmur, "Jay..."

His lips brush over your shoulder, warm and tender, a sweet contrast to the heavy stretch of his dick still buried in you.

"Yeah, baby?"

You hesitate for a second, just a little sheepish, then whisper, "I wanna sit on you."

Fuck. His dick twitches inside you, a sharp little pulse that makes your spent pussy clench in response, and Jason groans quietly, forehead pressing against your shoulder.

"Yeah? You wanna ride me, pretty girl?"

"Yeah..."

And who the fuck is he to say no to that?

He pulls out slow, both of you hissing softly at the wet, messy slide of his dick leaving your cunt. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the center of your back before helping you shift around, easing you off the bench.

But before either of you can move any further, you tug him down into a kiss, just because you need to.

It's slow and lazy, all warm tongues and soft lips, your mouth still tasting faintly like him, like salt and sweat and something purely Jason. His hands settle on your waist, thumbs stroking gently, and you're already squirming closer, knees a little shaky as you lean into him, deepening the kiss.

When you finally pull back, you're both panting softly, and you flash him that sweet, cheeky little smile before you push at his chest and say, "Sit."

He arches a brow, but there's nothing but pure heat in his gaze when he murmurs, "Yes ma'am."

He sits back, water streaming down over his broad shoulders, and you climb into his lap, knees bracketing his thick thighs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers sliding into the damp hair at the nape, and you roll your hips slowly, grinding your swollen, slick pussy against his hard, heavy cock.

Jason's hands grab your ass immediately, fingers digging in, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. "Fuck, baby... look at you," he mutters, watching the way your puffy folds spread over the length of his dick, your clit catching on the head with every slow drag. "So fuckin' wet, you're leakin' all over me."

You moan softly, hips stuttering when he thrusts up just a little, the fat head of his cock catching perfectly against your sensitive clit.

The jolt of pleasure makes you cling to him tighter, biting your lip as you whisper, "Need you."

"Yeah, baby?" His voice is low and rough, all fucked out warmth. "Go on then. Take it."

And you do.

Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you both groan when the fat tip pushes inside, the stretch still just as dizzying as the first time. You sink down slowly, inch by inch, your cunt spreading to fit him again, walls hugging him so tight he swears he could feel your pulse.

Jason leans back against the cool tile, the contrast of heat and cold making his skin prickle. His muscles are aching, body worn from patrol, but none of that matters when you're sitting on his cock, dripping wet, your face all soft and flushed as you look at him like you need him just to breathe.

"God, baby," he groans, fingers digging into your hips, helping you ease down until you're fully seated, your thighs trembling slightly against his. "Fuckin' love watchin' you take my dick. Look so goddamn pretty stuffed full like this."

You cup his face, leaning in to kiss him again, slow and deep, tongues sliding together, tasting each other, your soft moans caught between his lips. His hands never leave your ass, gripping, kneading, helping you rock against him, grinding down so your clit rubs against the skin at the base of his cock.

It's filthy, wet sounds filling the steamy air, your slick coating his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin, the messy press of your tongues as you lose yourself in the kiss. His cock pulses deep inside you, so thick, so fucking full, and you already know that you're not gonna last long. Neither is he.

But that's the best part.

Your hands brace against his broad shoulders, nails digging into the thick muscle as you start to move, lifting your hips just enough before sinking back down, grinding in his lap when he's buried all the way inside.

Jason groans, a deep, wrecked sound, and his fingers tighten on your ass, gripping hard, as if he can barely handle how fucking good you feel around him. Your tits press against his chest with every slow, wet slide down his cock, the slick heat of your cunt clenching around him, making his breath hitch.

"Fuck, baby," he rasps, lips brushing over your jaw. "You're so goddamn tight—feel like you're tryna choke my dick."

You whimper at his words, the praise making you throb around him. Your pace quickens, thighs trembling as you bounce on his cock, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the steamy shower. Every time you take him to the hilt, you roll your hips, grinding down just right, making him groan beneath you.

Jason's teeth catch your bottom lip, tugging before he mutters, "Fuck, look at you—so needy for it, huh? Bouncin' on my dick like a desperate little thing."

You are desperate. Every slow, deep thrust of his cock makes you shiver, makes your pussy clench, makes heat coil tight in your belly. You can barely think, barely breathe—there's only Jason, his thick hands gripping your ass, his rough voice in your ear, his dick stretching you open over and over again.

Your moans turn breathy, high-pitched, every gasp punched from your throat as your thighs start to burn, but you don't stop. You can't. Not when Jason's looking at you like that, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, sweat beading along his temples despite the warm spray of the shower.

"Fuck, Jay," you moan, pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, his throat. "Feels so good—I love your dick."

"Yeah?" His voice is a low growl, hands sliding up your back, holding you close as he thrusts up into you, meeting your movements. The new angle makes you cry out, burying your face against his neck as he fucks up into your dripping pussy, harder, deeper. "Love takin' my dick, huh, pretty girl? Love gettin' stretched open like this?"

You nod frantically, unable to do anything but whimper and take it, the slap of his thighs against your ass getting filthier, wetter, each bounce sending little shivers through your overstimulated body. Your clit drags against his lower abs, sparking white-hot pleasure every time you grind down, making your legs shake around him.

He growls against your ear, his breath hot, voice rough. "Shit, baby—you're fuckin' squeezin' me so tight—gonna make me lose my goddamn mind."

Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, tugging slightly as your lips brush against his, voice barely above a whisper. "Then lose it."

Jason groans into your mouth as you pick up the pace, fucking yourself down onto his cock harder, faster, each wet, messy bounce making his grip on your ass tighten. The steam in the shower is thick, curling around both of you, heat clinging to your skin as the slap of your bodies echoes in the tiled space.

You're whimpering, moaning, head tipping back as you ride him, thighs burning, overstimulated and aching but too fucking needy to stop. His cock feels too good—thick and deep, stretching you open, hitting that spot inside you that makes you whine every single time.

Jason's hands move, one gripping your hip, guiding your movements as the other slides up, fingers curling around the back of your neck, tugging you until your foreheads touch. His breath is hot, uneven, every exhale heavy as his mouth brushes yours, his words breaking apart with each thrust up into you.

"Fuck, baby—just like that—" His voice is a growl, all low and rough, shaking slightly as he fucks up into you. "God, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum—you feel so fuckin' good—"

Your pussy tightens at his words, a shuddering moan spilling from your lips as you brace your hands against his chest, moving even faster, grinding harder, the wet drag of his dick inside you making you dizzy.

"I'm close," you gasp, mouth brushing his, hands fisting in his damp hair as his own grip tightens on your hips. "Jason—fuck, I'm—"

"I know, baby," he rasps, and suddenly, he snaps his hips up into you, thrusting hard, dragging a gasping, wrecked sound from your throat. "C'mon, cum for me. Wanna feel you—"

And that's all it takes.

Pleasure slams into you, intense and overwhelming, your whole body shuddering as your pussy clenches tight around him. It's too much, too good, a sobbing cry ripping from your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of raw, blinding pleasure.

Your walls flutter around his cock, squeezing him like you're trying to pull him deeper, and Jason feels it. He groans against your throat, voice wrecked and shaking, like you're undoing him right alongside yourself.

"Jesus fuck," he grits out, but he doesn't stop.

If anything, he fucks you harder.

His hips snap up in fast, brutal thrusts, thick cock driving into you again and again, forcing out these soft, desperate little whimpers as overstimulation starts to creep in. You twitch against him, body trembling, but he just grins, biting down on your neck like he likes how fucked out you're getting.

"Sensitive, baby?" His voice is all teasing, but there's something dark underneath, something hungry.

His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you pinned, making sure you take it. His cock drags against your swollen, overstimulated walls, pushing you closer and closer to that sharp, unbearable edge again. He can feel it, the way your cunt flutters around him, the way you're already slipping into another orgasm before you can even catch your breath.

"Yeah," he groans, rough and deep, pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to your jaw. "That's my girl."

Jason doesn't let up. Not even for a second. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he fucks into you, hard and deep, each wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the shower.

You're still trembling from your last orgasm, body twitching with every thick drag of his cock, but he just grins. Watching you, watching the way your tits bounce, watching the way your pretty little cunt stretches around him, all wet and swollen and so fucking perfect.

"Gonna give me another one," he murmurs, rough and dark, like it's not even a question. Like it's just fact.

You try to say something—anything—but all that comes out is a breathless whimper, because fuck, every time he thrusts up, your clit drags against his skin, the friction hot and slick and just right. The pressure builds too fast, too intense, your body already wound up so tight you feel like you might snap.

Jason feels it, the way your walls squeeze around him, the way your thighs start to shake. He groans, dropping his head to your throat, teeth grazing over sensitive skin.

"Yeah, there it is," he rasps, voice thick with satisfaction. "Fuck, you get so tight when you're close. You gonna cum for me again, baby? Gonna let me feel you squeeze my dick all over again?"

And then he grinds up into you, slow and deep, making sure your clit drags right against him, making sure you feel every inch of him rubbing you just right. It's too much, sharp and unbearable, your pussy clenching around him as the orgasm slams into you, so hard and overwhelming you swear you stop breathing for a second.

Jason groans, almost pained, his grip on you tightening as he forces himself to keep fucking you through it, his cock dragging against your overstimulated walls with each deep, filthy thrust.

"There we go," he grits out, watching the way you shudder, the way your body reacts to him. "That's my good fuckin' girl."

He's so close it's unbearable. Every thrust has his cock throbbing, sensitive to the point of pain, but he can't stop. Can't stop chasing that high, can't stop fucking into you, hips snapping up in desperate, stuttering thrusts as he buries himself as deep as he can go.

And you? You meet him halfway, taking every inch, riding him through it, moaning as his cock grinds right against your swollen, overstimulated walls. You're just as desperate as he is, clenching down around him, pulling him deeper, body made for him, and fuck, Jason's brain short circuits.

"Jesus fuck, baby," he groans, voice wrecked, forehead pressing against yours like he's struggling to hold himself together.

But he isn't. Not really. Not when your pretty little pussy is milking his cock, not when you're squeezing him so tight he can feel every flutter, every slick, wet drag of your walls around him.

He needs it. Needs to cum. Needs to fill you up. Needs to fucking ruin you.

Until he grits out your name through clenched teeth, his cock throbbing inside you as he cums, a choked, broken groan rumbling in his chest as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you up as his hips jerk up into yours. He's moaning into your mouth as he pulls you in for a kiss, soft and lazy, tongues sliding together as he pumps you full, hot ropes of cum flooding your tight, clenching pussy.

"Fuck, baby—" he mutters, hips stuttering, because your pussy is gripping him, sucking him in so tight, so fucking wet as you tremble in his lap.

Your lips brush against his, softer, lazy and slow, little whimpers still spilling from your throat as he keeps fucking into you, each thrust pushing his cum deeper, until his pace stutters and he finally still.

The bathroom is all foggy, warm steam wrapping around both of you as you come down slowly, still tangled together, his dick still buried inside your messy, puffy cunt. His hands slide up your back, holding you close as you press kisses to his jaw, his neck, still catching your breath, still feeling fucked out and hazy and warm.

He exhales, tilting his head slightly as his lips brush the top of your head, his fingers splayed against your back, keeping you tucked close.

"You okay, baby?"

"Mmhmm," you hum softly, arms wrapping around him, hugging him tight, but not tight enough to hurt his bruises.

Jason sighs, low and warm, his hands smoothing up your back, keeping you close, his body still loose, relaxed from his orgasm. The heat of the shower clings to both of you, water still running, steam curling around you in thick ribbons, sealing you into this little moment—this quiet, safe moment.

But it doesn't last.

Because your throat feels tight, your chest aching, a little sniffle slipping out before you can stop it. You squeeze your eyes shut, fuck, you don't want to cry, not now, but...

You love him. You love him so much it hurts.

And you know, you know how important he is to Gotham. You know the good he does. But sometimes, when you see him like this, when you see the bruises blooming across his body, when you think about what could have happened, you wish he'd just stop.

The thought of losing him scares you. It grips your chest in a tight, suffocating hold, twists your stomach, makes your pulse jump into your throat. You need him. You can't imagine waking up without him. You can't imagine getting a call. You can't.

Jason feels your shoulders tremble, hears the soft, shaky sniffle you try to smother against his neck. His stomach twists, his heart aches, and he holds you tighter, even as his own throat goes tight, even as something in his chest breaks.

He hates this. He hates making you feel like this.

And sometimes—when he sees the way you look at him, eyes big and wet and scared—he wonders if he should've never gotten into a relationship with you at all.

Not because he doesn't love you. God, no.

But because he knows how hard this is for you. He knows how much it hurts you. And tonight? Tonight isn't even bad.

But one day—one day it will be. One day, he won't just come home with bruises. One day, he might not come home at all.

And fuck, if that ever happened...

Jason presses his lips to the side of your head, closing his eyes. He doesn't know what the fuck he'd do.

"Hey, shhh, shhh," he soothes, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. It's not dismissive, not even close. He just wants to calm you down, to ease the weight pressing against your ribs. "C'mon, baby, don't cry. You're gonna make me look like a real asshole."

He tries to joke, his voice light, teasing, because sometimes that works. Sometimes, he can get you to roll your eyes, to huff a laugh, to shake your head and kiss him instead.

But when you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes red, your cheeks wet with tears that he put there, and his throat closes up, and the joke dies on his tongue.

Because Jason Todd might be a fucking idiot, but he's not that insensitive.

His chest aches as he cups your face, brushing his thumbs over your damp cheeks, his lips following the path of your tears, kissing them away one by one.

His nose brushes against yours, warm and soft, and your lashes flutter, another sniffle slipping from your lips as you murmur, "I'm sorry."

Jason shakes his head, his hands still cradling your face, his lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, lingering there for a beat.

"Nah, doll," he says softly, voice low and gentle. "It's okay. I know."

You nod, a little sheepish, because you know he doesn't like seeing you like this. And truth be told? You hate crying in front of him like this. You try not to. Because even if Jason never says it out loud, even if he'd rather die than admit it, you know it hurts him.

You see it in his eyes every single time. And if you can't handle seeing him like this, then you know he feels the same way about you.

Jason exhales softly, his forehead still pressed to yours, and his voice is softer when he murmurs, "I love you, pretty girl. I'll always come back, yeah?"

Your chest tightens, your lips parting, but you don't say anything, even though you want to, even though every part of you wants to argue, wants to tell him he doesn't know that. Because Gotham is cruel, because he's already died once, because one night, one mistake, one bad fucking second, and he might be gone.

But Jason? Jason is not a liar. Not with you. Never with you.

So you swallow back the lump in your throat, push those thoughts away, and nod again, voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, "I love you too, baby. So much."

And when Jason smiles, soft and tender, pressing another kiss to your lips before murmuring, "I know."

Your chest still aches, but you let yourself believe him. Jason exhales softly, pressing another kiss to your lips before murmuring, "C'mon, let's finish in here, yeah? Otherwise, your pretty little toes will get all wrinkled."

A laugh bursts from your lips, breaking the last of the tension in your chest, and you shake your head with a sniffly little giggle. "My toes?"

"Yes, yours," Jason says, grinning as he runs his hands down your back, easing you off his lap. "I don't make the rules, baby. I just enforce them."

You roll your eyes, but you let him help you, gasping softly as his dick slips free, thick and spent, his cum painting his own skin as it drips from your pussy, streaking down your thighs. And when he glances down, catching sight of it, then catches the way your cheeks turn bright pink, and he barks out a laugh.

"Still shy, huh?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are soft, warm, adoring as he reaches up to cup your cheek. He grins as he rubs his thumb against the heat of your blush. "Almost two years, baby. And you still get all flustered."

You groan, slapping a hand over your face, and Jason laughs again, tucking you against his side as he reaches for the showerhead to rinse you both off. He washes away the remnants of slick and sweat and cum, running warm, soothing hands over your skin, making sure you're comfortable before finally shutting off the water.

He grabs a towel and wraps it around you, rubbing it over your damp skin before gently squeezing the excess water from your hair. You could dry it properly, but honestly? You're so blissed out, and your limbs feel heavy.

Jason dries himself off quickly before helping you into a pair of panties and one of his shirts, the fabric warm and soft against your skin.

Then he kneels, pulling fuzzy socks over your feet, shaking his head as he mutters, "Your feet are always cold."

You grin, nudging his chest lightly with your toes. "That's why you're here. To warm them up."

He huffs out a laugh, tugging on a pair of sweats before standing. "Oh, so I'm just a personal heater, huh?"

"Mhmm," you smile sweetly, looping your arms around his neck." That, and my personal bodyguard, my punching bag, my—"

Jason kisses you before you can keep going, swallowing the rest of your words with a slow, lingering brush of his lips. You hum into it, melting into him before he pulls away, squeezing your hip gently.

"Come on," you murmur, taking his hand, guiding him back toward the living room. "Sit with me."

Jason chuckles, but follows easily, letting you tug him along. "Aren't you tired, baby?"

You shake your head, and Jason sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright," he relents, squeezing your fingers. "I'll make some tea for your throat, okay?"

You nod, but when he tries to step away, you follow, staying close, pressing yourself against his side. Jason doesn't say anything, just kisses the top of your head, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek as he leads you into the kitchen. He pulls out a chair, urging you to sit before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Two seconds, baby."

He makes the tea quickly, moving through the familiar motions with ease, filling the quiet with soft clinks of mugs and teaspoons. When it's done, he sets it in front of you, crouching beside your chair as you take a careful sip.

"Good?" he murmurs.

You nod, your fingers curling in his hair as you take another sip, humming softly when his hand rubs up and down your thigh, warm and solid. Neither of you sleeps until the early hours of the morning.

You just exist in the quiet together, curled up on the couch, snuggled as close as possible, warm and drowsy and safe in the dim glow of the living room lamp.

He lets you cling to him, lets you need him, lets himself need you just as much.

You talk about nothing and everything—lazy conversations and soft laughter and sleepy, lingering kisses pressed to cheeks and lips and jaw between bites of snacks.

At some point, your words start to slur, your voice growing soft and drowsy, and Jason knows you're fighting it, but you don't stand a chance. Not when you're warm and full and safe, wrapped up in his arms like you belong there.

Jason shifts, scooping you up easily, carrying you toward the bedroom. "Sleep, baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've got you."

And you do.

List of Vocal Sounds for Smut

I present to you a - probably quite incomplete, I’m sure I’m missing a lot of speech sounds - reference list and a bit of a guideline for the different ways one can describe the sounds your characters make whilst writing smut. I’ll definitely be referring to it, because I sometimes get stuck on exactly how to describe a particular noise. (aka, “he can’t groan again, he just groaned last paragraph”)

Sounds (noun, both independently and describing speech): breath/breathe, gasp, moan, groan, pant, whimper, whine, shout, yelp, hiss, grunt, cry, scream, shriek, sob, growl, curse, sound, sigh, hum, noise, squeak, snarl, howl, roar, mewl, wail, choke, keen, purr

Sounds (noun, describing speech): rasp, husk, drawl, plea, murmur, whisper, beg

Descriptors (adjective): loud, hushed, quiet, low, high, high-pitched, little, tiny, soft, deep, unrestrained, restrained, strained, breathy, rough, sudden, short, drawn-out, sharp, harsh, hard, thick, smooth, thin, heavy, impassioned, insistent, hungry, passionate, repeated, filthy, debauched, sweet, slow, deliberate, guttural, languid, surprised, husky, distracted, happy, pleased, satisfied, wordless, cut-off, bitten-off, contented, hoarse, extended, long, depraved, aching, choked, strangled, broken, helpless, shuddering, shaky, trembling, urgent, needy, desperate, wanton, shattered, pained, eager

Combine a descriptor and a sound for best effect - for example, “needy moan,” “pleased hum,” or “sudden scream.” You can even use two: “low, rough grunt,” “sweet little cry,” “desperate, filthy noise,” as long as you don’t repeat a word that means the same thing, unless you really want to emphasize it. Avoiding repetition is pretty key here. You don’t usually want to say “hushed, quiet gasp” except on rare occasions when it’s very important how soft the sound was.

Use your own common sense, as well; some sounds and descriptors don’t generally work well together. “Deliberate shriek” probably wouldn’t work well, and neither would “languid grunt,” but again, this is all very situational - play around! Have fun.

Feel free to add to my lists, use for your reference or pass them around. It would be fun to see a randomized generator made, too, I’m just too lazy to do it myself. ;)

they should invent activities for sleepy people with no energy

Jason Todd

Haven't I given enough?

Would the Bat boys date someone older or younger?

How many kids do they want? How many do they actually end up with?

How the batboys would react to you labeling them as your property.

Referring to him as your boyfriend

Flirty partner

Cat Jason

Hard Day

Jason x Fem mechanic

Gala with secret girlfriend

His birthday

Protecting his peace

Hiding his girlfriend from his family

Hiding his girlfriend from his family pt.2

Bubble Baths

Jason x Empath

Gentle love

dress up

Club owner Jason x employee

You turn into a cat

You're depressed

He hates wearing his glasses

Panic attack

His apartment is empty

Tender intimacy

Praise Kink

Worst Habit

He needs control

Your parents adore him

How long does it take them to get engaged and married?

He likes your pulse

Restless sleeper

Feeding from you

Mistrust

Jason x Southern Bell reader

Give and Take

Unlovable to everyone but him

Useful

Saving his partner during a crisis

Coming back from patrol

Boxer Jason x owners' daughter

He can't get sick

He's insecure

Jason x burnt out student

Your attire is always perfect

His family doesn't believe he has a wife and daughter

Sharing a new interactive Tsukishima Kei x Reader fanfic, where you play as Reader! It works just like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.

Title: Strawberry Shortcakes

Description: You're going to karasuno, and a fateful meeting with one particular tall blond has changed the course of your life's boat…

Author credit: Kanan

Link to play: https://glimmerfics.com/stories/d885cd2c-strawberry-shortcakes

"it was in 2020" oh so like a year or so ago. a couple years. im sorry 5? did you just say five? five years ago ?

★ DON'T FORGET TO KISS ME OR ELSE YOU'LL HAVE TO MISS ME. tsukishima kei

.ᐟ Content summary: Boyfriend Tsukishima headcanons part 2

.ᐟ Includes: Tsukishima x fem!reader

.ᐟ Word count: 1.75 k

.ᐟ Content warnings: none, just fluff, sfw, kinda realistic?)

.ᐟ A/N: Since the first Tsukishima bf hc were so well received, i wrote a second part as a thank you for all the support on the first work <333. The title of this it's lyrics of this song by beabadoobee.

.ᐟ ☆ Part 1 ☆

☆ He gets very offended if you don’t want to share a spoon or straw with him. He actually finds it disgusting to share any cuttery, straw or glass with somebody else because well, ew, only god knows where their mouths have been and he’s not taking any chances. But with you, it’s a whole different story. If you even dare to wipe the rim of his glass before drinking from it, he looks at you so offended and literally gives you a narrowed eyed look like daring you to keep wiping. He takes this as you non verbally saying you find him disgusting, just a little dramatic, right? But of course it’s nothing serious and he knows you both are joking. After the aforementioned occurrence, he would act very much offended until you give him some kisses to show him you are not disgusted by him and of course, he always gives in.

☆ Asking for affection isn’t something he does, but when he wants you to hug him or kiss him he starts to play with your hair or gets really close to you. If you are oblivious to his attempts to convey his affectious needs, he just sulks for like 5 minutes before asking something dramatic like “why are you being so cold with me today?”,while looking at you like this. He does initiate affection with you often but he just likes to be dramatic because he knows you play along in his little game and after his dramatic complaint, you give him all the affection he craves.

☆ His phone has a different notification sound for you. You are the only person on his phone who has a distinctive ringtone and notification sound, it sounds like something normal but considering how Tsukishima doesn’t look like he cares for those little details, it took his family and friends out of guard when they figured it all out. The call ringtone he chose for you it’s the Nana theme song or some sound similar to that one because for him you sound exactly like that, and for the notification sound it’s something that sounds like the sparkles in the movies, something cute and whimsical like that. It’s a little cheesy but this is peak Tsukishima being a discrete loverboy for you.

☆ Gaming together it's a must. So any game works for him and most of the time lets you choose what you want to play but i feel he 100% loves to play cozy multiplayer games with you, like Minecraft or Stardew Valley, these two are his favorite. In Minecraft you are mostly building stuff and having a competition about it, and you always win because he has 0 creativity sense and what he builts always looks plain and a little wrong placed. Now, Stardew Valley was a game he found silly and a waste of time because it looked boring, but he actually got hooked on it pretty quick after he tried it for the first time. As I mentioned before, he sucks at decorating so you take care of your little farm so everything looks pretty while he goes in search for all the items you need, you forage, make artisan goods and fish while he collects wood, rocks and goes into the mines to fight the monsters there because it’s fun for him and he always gifts you your favorite crystal at the end of the day <3

☆ It may be a little silly but you have a shared tamagotchi that it’s like your child. The idea of this was surprisingly his. It happened because he got the tamagotchi as a plus gift after his mom bought something in a random store so his mom let him keep it even though he didn’t want the damn thing, he thought of throwing it away but thought that you might like it so he gifted it to you. After that, you were constantly taking care of the little virtual mascot to a point that got Tsukishima wondering about all the effort you put in taking care of a bunch of pixels and how you got stressed sometimes you got when you were busy and couldn’t attend the necessities of the virtual thing, so being the sweet boyfriend he is, he offered to take the tamagotchi and take care of it even if he didn’t saw the appeal in taking care of it. Soon he came to find that even if the whole thing of taking care of some virtual pet was a little dumb, it was funny (in a good way) to think of you basically co-parenting that dumb virtual pet that he grew to like. Then one day he said you should share the tamagotchi because it was already like your child, when you agreed, he took his role as a father very seriously and actually took good care of your virtual child.

☆ You know how in some couples it happens that there’s a person that it’s really picky with food and the other person eats basically everything that’s edible, yeah well, in your relationship Tsukishima it’s the picky eater. It may be that you are also a very picky eater but he takes that to a whole new level. Yes, he doesn’t like green peppers, he can’t stand any onion except spring onion and yes, he doesn't eat chicken if it’s not nuggets or chicken breast because he’s disgusted of the cartilages and chewy things, that’s all very reasonable and all but he sometimes he has very specific and a little odd pickiness habits. There was this time when you had started dating in which you were having a little date in a cafe and of course you both ordered some cake, he ordered a strawberry shortcake and started to take the strawberries off the piece cake… When you asked the reason for this, you expected that maybe he was saving them for the end but no, his answer was calm and nonchalant: “I don’t like strawberries.” You were dumbfounded, he just shrugged and continued his task before explaining he liked the taste the strawberries left lingering in the cream of the cake but he hated strawberries and only liked that almost unnoticeable flavor they gave to the strawberry shortcake…  Dating him after that meant to deal with his very unusual picky eater preferences, but well, you learned to love his suspiciously neurodivergent habits. For the record, if you are the kind of person that eats pretty much everything, he’s gonna be placing on your plate everything he picks off out of his food <3 (as i was editing, this tiktok popped up in my feed and this is basically Tsukishima i'm afraid lol)

☆ His family loves you a lot. His mom loved you even before personally meeting you because of how much Tsukishima talked about you to her, a mother knows, and she knew you were good for him because she could see how Tsukishima seemed more cheerful and full of life after he started dating you and that gained you her approval. Now, his mom always invites you constantly to lunch or dinner at their place, invites you to family outings they have and you regularly receive some food or baked goods from her. Now Akiteru, Tsukishima’s brother, he absolutely likes you and it’s happy about your relationship, but since he and Tsukishima are still working in building their brotherly relationship up, he keeps his distance a little bit but he’s always nice to you and stubbly let’s you know how glad he is you are taking care of his little brother.

☆ His love language is acts of service and physical touch. So, he isn’t good with words and love it’s a very complex kind of feeling, expressing it it’s hard or easy depending on the person and Tsukishima in this case, couldn’t bring himself to say all he feels for you out loud, he just can’t, so instead of just keep quiet and no do anything about it, he found another way of letting you know how much he loves you; acts of service and physical touch. He always carries your bag for you, even your handbag if you use one, he always pays for everything and doesn’t accept your money when you want to pay him back, walks in the side of the sidewalk, always gets you your favorite snacks and food, fixes your hair when the wind ruins it, tells you when your makeup it’s smudged and sometimes he even tries to fix it, pays attention to everything you say, opens the doors for you, places his hand on your head or covers the table corners when you bend down so you won’t hurt yourself and so on. Now physical touch it’s a tiny bit more important to him because he is very vulnerable when he’s affectionate towards you, he’s shy about it but tries his best to be nonchalant and casual when he holds your hand, wraps his arm around your shoulders as you walk, when he hugs you by the waist, when he nudges your noses together, when he kisses your cheek or your forehead, when he kisses your lips as his hands cradle your face… In all of those acts of service and touches, he completely pours out his heart and hopes you know how much you mean to him.

☆ Like it’s stated in the previous point, kisses are a very meaningful thing to him, whether the kisses are pecks, small kisses, long kisses, makeout sessions and any of that, kisses are not something Tsukishima takes lightly. The first time you kissed he almost passed out from the rush of emotions, the memory of how it felt and how you tasted it’s engraved deep in his brain and the more you kissed with the pass of time, his fondness for kissing you grew and grew more everytime your lips met. His kisses depend on the place you are, it can be a peck if there’s too much people around or it can be a long lasting kiss if you’re alone, whatever it is but he always has to kiss you goodbye, that became almost a non-spoken rule, he has to kiss you whether it be on the lips or your cheek or your forehead but he has to or he’ll be feeling so uncomfortable about it, like an itch that he has to scratch to kiss you as soon as you see each other again. If he forgets to kiss you, he’ll be missing you until his lips met with yours once again <3

tsukki, contrary to popular belief, actually really likes being little spoon -- because it's hard to be big spoon all the time, hard to always be the one doing the holding -- and sometimes, even guys who act tough (especially guys who act tough) are the ones who want to be held the most.

so you hold him, your arms looped around his middle, pressing kisses to the nape of his neck, the place where his spine meets his skull, nuzzling your nose against the soft blond hairs there, and he curls in, presses his back against you till you're sure you can feel every ridge of his spine ribbed along your chest.

"you smell nice," you mumble into his skin. he shifts in your arms, grumbling slightly.

"i smell like me," he says, his voice muffled by the blankets tucked around his shoulders.

you smile, nuzzling in further, "yeah... and you smell nice."

he hums, reaching down to lace his fingers with yours over his stomach.

"what do i smell like?" he asks.

you burrow ever further in, breathing in his warm, musky scent.

"you smell... kinda like sourdough," you say, giggling as tsukki makes a strange, sleepy, indignant noise.

"i smell like bread?"

you giggle, "the best, most delicious kind of bread."

tsukki sighs, shifting as he twists in your arms to face you. like this, he can easily flip you over and pin you down, do whatever he pleased with you, and you'd be helpless to do anything to stop him. the thought makes you shiver, makes your skin pebble up with goosepimples.

instead, he leans down to press his forehead to yours.

"and you smell like butter, sometimes," he says.

you nod, letting your eyes flutter shut, "sounds like we were made for each other."

tsukki scoffs, turning back around, "cheesy."

"nope, just buttery," you grin, pressing your lips to the warm, bare skin of his back. you feel him relax against you.

"go to sleep."

you nod, settling in, "you first."

"i've been trying but someone keeps on saying that i smell like bread."

you crinkle your nose, "i just said you smell nice. you were the one who asked for details."

tsukki makes an aggrieved noise, but doesn't turn around again. instead, he tugs your hand up to press a soft kiss to your palm before bringing it back down to his stomach.

"sleep," he says.

you grin, nodding, leaning forward to press your forehead to the nape of his neck. you take a deep breath in, reveling in the warm scent of him.

finally, you agree, in a soft, satisfied voice, "yeah... sleep."

─── 𓈒 𝓨EARNER!𝓙ASON TODD 𝓗EADCANONS ❪ SMUT ❫

𝓖𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 : ; smut headcanons for 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 who yearns. or, well, jason todd who’s ovulating from yearning for you more.

𝓒ONTENTS : : yearner!jason todd. smut. foreplay mentioned. praises. ooc(?). female!reader. smut. light smut. masturbation. sweet nothings. fluff. aftercare. both are of age !! gramatical errors. yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner

BOOKS — DC BOOK

REQUESTED ; SUGGESTED : : @yeoniverseee : I sent you the request on ig not here 😭 I'm sorry, boo. Okay. I need need need need need yearner! Jason Todd headcanons. Begging. Jason Todd in general is already a yearner so it's like ovulating! LMAO

ᨦ𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ : : my....... first...... time.......... writing........ smut............................... I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS— I'M NOT GOOD AT IT AT AWLL SO I'M SOSOSOSO SORRY😓 also, these are HEADCANONS,, & how i see yearner!(ovulating)jason. so.. yeah.. inspired by my two works, most ardently ( mostly this. )& my love. ion think i will ever write smut again... i only wrote this bc my pretty girl was the one who requested 😭( luv u so much. ) sighs.. okay. it's fine. it's cool. && OVULATING!JASON IM SOBBING LDMAO. i made this TWO WEEKS AGO btw.. yeah.. that's how difficult writing smut is for me... so don't expect much. will do a fluff version.. bc no waayyy.. ... but i love-love hannie 😋 god my blog is not sfw anymore. & layout is once again, inspired by eli < 3

yearner!jason todd who touches you like you're a secret he never imagined he'd be able to keep. every time. slow hands. he's committing you to memory. like if he dies again, your skin will be the final thing he sees & feel

yearner!jason todd who gets hard just hearing you say his name. especially when it's soft. or needy. or when you whine while pulling him closer. like, like, it physically affects him. sometimes he bites his lip to keep himself from coming too fast.

yearner!jason todd who always, always, always, always kisses you first. regardless of how desperate he is, regardless of how quickly it begins. there's always a kiss. kisses. kiss. kisses. because to him, it isn't merely sex. it never is just sex. it's a "i missed you. i love you. i fear of losing you." kind.

yearner!jason todd who's a foreplay guy. like…like… he's making out with you for 30-ish minutes before he even considers doing anything else. thighs jammed between yours, his hands pressing up under your shirt, moaning( he moans. like come awn. ) into your mouth like you're air.

yearner!jason todd who wants to go down on you more than he wants to breathe. legit, legit, literally, literally his favorite thing. his hands on your thighs, his eyes on you, humming into you just to feel you squirm( 😛 ). he needs, needs, needs you falling apart because of him.

yearner!jason todd who never, ever, ever, hurries your clothes off. it's slow. like he's unwrapping something holy( but will be doing something unholy,, ). kissing each inch of skin as he takes them off you. whispering little sweet nothings ( well. yeah. shh. it is. he's sweet. very sweet. ) like "so fuckin' beautiful. god, ma, look at you."

yearner!jason todd cried during sex,,, he insisted it was sweat. you both knew otherwise. like. nu-uh. he came so hard he gagged on his own breath, then buried his face against your neck & sniffled. his voice cracked when he said "fuck. i didn't think i'd ever get this.” ( #yearner )

yearner!jason todd who whimpers. not grunts. whimpers.( dc mls, please normalize whimperer!jason. im tired of people saying he only scowls( who scowls during sex though… i don't read smut allat…… ), groans, grunts.. it's yearner!jason anw so yay!! okay i'll stop. ) when it's good. when he's close. when he's overwhelmed. his hips stutter & catch in breath & his hands hold on to you like you'll vanish.

yearner!jason todd who speaks so much in bed. i said it. & not cocky dirty stuff. like emotional crap. "i love you so much." "you feel like heaven." "you make me feel real." between gentle moans & curses & kissing your shoulder. ( like. i changed my mind. put a baby in me already. take that fucking condom awfff. )

yearner!jason todd when he bottoms( or well, let you take control..,, for a bit ), he stops. not because he needs to. because he needs to feel you. needs you to feel him. chest to chest. lips moving. arms trembling. "jesus christ━━baby━━i'm so fuckin' in love with you."

yearner!jason todd who gets overwhelmed. sometimes he freezes in mid sentence just to hug you. arms wrapped tight. face buried in your chest or your neck or your shoulder. grounding himself. because he still can't believe it's real. can't believe that you're real. can't believe that he's real.

yearner!jason todd who says thank you. after. during. every time. sometimes a whisper. sometimes a broken moan. "thank you. fuck. thank you. i needed this. i needed you."

yearner!jason todd who's top kinks are……….. praise, desperation, & you. he doesn’t care where, when, or how. as long as you’re there. tell him he’s good. tell him he’s perfect. he’ll lose it.

yearner!jason todd who he always finishes with his face pressed to you. in your neck. on your chest. buried between your thighs. somewhere soft. somewhere safe( yes, your cunt is very safe for him ) .

yearner!jason todd who loves watching you cum,, multiple times. because.,,, gets so hooked. hooked on your sounds, the movement of your body, the way you moan his name as if it's the only thing you know.

yearner!jason todd who's aftercare is crazy. insane. five stars. warm towels, water, checking your skin, running a bath, walking you. he won't stop unless you make him. he needs to know you're alright. that he didn't mess it up. that you're still his. “don’t think i know how to do this” my ass.

yearner!jason todd who'll l kiss each & every mark he made. each bruise, each scratch, each hickey. mumbling little sorrys( that you are convinced he doesn't mean.. but does at the same time.. like. yeah. ) & "mine" simultaneously. it's possessive, but also very, very, gentle.

yearner!jason todd who needs touch you even afterwards. clingy. messy. burried you onto his chest, or snuggling into your arms. hand in your shirt. leg between your legs. mumbled half asleep,,, "don't leave. not yet."

yearner!jason todd who masturbates to thinking about your first time all the time. not because it was sexy ( although it was ), but because it mattered. because you made a choice.& that choice is him. he'll stroke himself slow, moaning your name into his pillow, hips jerking like he's there. & kaboom. woah.

yearner!jason todd who's an absolute menace when you’re teasing. brushing against him, wearing something skimpy, straddling him casually. he gets shaky. hard. clenches his jaw. begs with his eyes before he even opens his mouth.

yearner!jason todd who's hands tremble when he's desperate. like when it's been too long, or when you kissed him too slowly, or when he's been missing you. he'll press his forehead against yours & plead, softly, "please angel, please let me have you."

yearner!jason todd who loves, loves, loves it when you ride him. looks up at you like he's beholding a god( or zimba, your choice ). mouth open. hands on your waist. little compliments with each bounce. "that's it. fuck━━look at you. you're everything."

yearner!jason todd who groans your name when he climaxes. no censorship( lol yeah no no ). loud, oh, loud, sometimes strangled. like it's being torn from his chest. like it's the last word he'll ever speak. like he's dying again but in a good way.

yearner!jason todd who keeps something of yours in his pillowcase( with permission, of course !! actually, you gave it to him ). for nights when he can’t have you. a shirt. a scarf… your underwear. bra. sweater. something that smells like you. he presses his face to it, wraps around it like he’s holding you. sometimes he’ll jerk off holding it. sometimes he just cries.

yearner!jason todd who needs it to be about love. even when it's complicated. even when he's complicated. even when you're complicated. he'll bite your shoulder & grab your hair & swear under his breath, but he always slows down to kiss you like you saved him. ( #needthat #isthisavailableonamazon #howaboutshein #maybelazada #orshoppee )

© spcherryygirl

Late night secret

I feel terrible but I still have my fav character

batman shooting somebody is crazy itself. BUT AT HIS SON?? DIABOLICAL.

boo tsukki's masterlist

welsome to boo tsukki's masterlist, a place where you will be able to find all my works.

please, check the warnings for every post as some of them may contain smut or specific topics that may trigger people.

HAIKYUU!!

tsukishima kei

aita series – a series where tsukishima kei asks reddit about his relationship problems

*aita extra*

a pleasant surprise

scary movies with you

his whole world

the graduation gift

uncle kei

the best of the world

our white lie series - ongoing series! on hiatus until july! tsukishima kei tells his friends he has a girlfriend. but that's not the truth, the truth is that you're just his neighbour-turned-fake-girlfriend.

operation: does tsukki like (y/n)?

bouquets of our love

the velveteen rabbit

a mystery ring

miya atsumu

interruptions

have you ever tried... this one?

miya osamu

the feeling of her hands

jigsaw

kageyama tobio

secret's out

a life… together?

bokuto kōtarō

the olympic kiss

the show

am i the asshole?

"AITA for...?"

a series where tsukishima kei asks reddit users for their opinions on his problems.

warnings: english is not my first language so there may be some mistakes lol, you can read this as a stand alone or as a series, eventual smut????, fluff, angst, aged-up tsukki!

part 1 "AITA for pushing my best friend away?"

part 2 “AITA for asking my girlfriend to be quieter during a practice match?”

part 3 ""AITA for "stealing" photo booth pictures from my girlfriend?"

part 4 "AITA for telling my girlfriend I want to be with her for the rest of my life over the phone?"

part 5 "AITA for saying my 5-year anniverary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?" “Hey Reddit, an update”

part 6 "AITA for telling my pregnant wife she should start wearing maternity clothes?"

Tsukishima Kei's intense gaze falls to the ground, a flush at the tips of his ears, slowly spreading to his face.

"Excuse me? To be your fake-girlfriend?"

Tsukishima nods. You're by no means friends. You're only... neighbors.

A story where Tsukishima tells a small white lie to his friends and invites you for the ride that it becomes.

warnings: aged-up haikyuu! characters (+20), university student! tsukishima kei x university student! fem!reader, fake relationship, stangers to lovers?, friends to lovers?, fake dating, eventual smut!, trying my best at slow burn, mention of low self-esteem, toxic relationship with ex, angst.

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full fic masterlist!

hi hi hi! welcome to my new fic! i hope you enjoy it!

the taglist is CLOSED!

Currently on HIATUS! (exams coming up!)

jason todd as an ex is... insufferable. not to you, no, even seperated he dare not pose as a nuisance.

for whatever reason the break up happened, and as much as he blamed it on you when you left, stood his ground and watched you go, he always blamed himself. but of course, he couldn't gather that courage to speak, to beg you to come back— to make things alright.

because it hurt to see you not look at him with stars in your eyes when you crack a joke. it hurts not to be the reason you laugh or smile or feel giddy with love. it fucking hurts to see someone else giving you their jacket— someone else holding you.

as much as he claimed to have been moved on, scoffing "it didn't matter to him". it did matter to him, it mattered to him so much he lingered.

he lingered at a distance when you were out with someone else, oh he was just making sure you were fine, he's just being a good human— a good vigilante making sure the people are alright. he lingered even when you were fast asleep, peering into your bedroom through the window from the terrace of the opposite buiding. or if you were a vigilante too, he lingered in the sidelines of a mission you clearly had under control.

he lingered like the ghost of your past, like the shadows— like he's a part of you.

he smiled unknowingly when you laughed, looked your way when he passed a witty comment to see if you laughed like you usually did, if you didn't, it would wilt his sad little heart. everyone noticed the onslaught of jokes and sarcastic comments when you were present, side eyeing him. at first everyone was simply amused, they teased him endlessly— but then when days turned to months, and months turned to a year, the amusement morphed into pity. pity because it killed them to see such obvious yearning, so much so that it gave them a damn migraine.

but jason thought he could take it, he could still get over you. getting over isn't that hard, he's done it before. its just taking a little more time with you.

he thought he was content by just watching you live, the ache was lessened by your smile.

oh but he's a selfish bastard. fuck the noble act.

his brow twitched and a vein popped on his forehead when he watched another person look at you the way he did, hold your hands for way too long— that vein almost burst when he tucked back a lock of your hair.

and suddenly his mind is clear, clearer than it ever had been. what use is this pride, this useless ego, if he doesn't have you in his life? what use are these arms if not to hold you? what use are his eyes if not to adore you? what use is this stupid heart of his if not to belong to you?

he couldn't take it anymore.

so you should have expected it to be honest, when you entered your lonely apartment only to be scared out of your wits at the sight of your ex lounging on the couch with his legs spread and head cocked to a side, staring at you menacingly.

"enjoyed your little date, sweetheart?"

you should have expected it when he cornered you, taunting that sorry excuse of a man— and your lack of taste.

"that desperate to forget me, hm?"

you should have expected the surge of butterflies wrecking chaos in you, heat searing your body. so you retaliate, your words even more sharp and cutting. you shoved him back, digging your boundaries against him, shielding yourself.

and its like the poor man lost all his sass and wits in a second, he sputtered, at a loss for words. scared, scared that he's messing up again.

he mumbled a quiet, defeated "sorry." and you thought he'd leave. so you did not expect his lips on yours the next second. each kiss, each touch were accompanied with an apology. he worshipped and repented at the same time.

so you really should have expected to see him in your bed next morning, body tangled with yours, sleeping so deeply as if he hadn't in a long time.

you sighed before a triumphant smile came on your lips as you kissed his forehead, proud that your little plan worked.

you had expected it all.

NOTE: i had wanted to write pure angst but my need for a happy ending prevailed unfortunately

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

@kokokoula this one’s for u <3

"Jurassic Simp"

K. TSUKISHIMA

They were just hanging out. Chill. Normal. Quiet. Tsukishima had gone downstairs to get snacks or argue with Akiteru, and Y/N was left alone in his room. In the silence.

With the dinos.

The neat row of dinosaur figurines on his shelf stared at them. Judgmental. Plastic. Powerful.

Y/N narrowed their eyes.

“…You little prehistoric gatekeepers,” they muttered, standing up dramatically. “I know you know things.”

They picked up a tiny velociraptor and held it like a tiny, scaly therapist. “Tell me the truth. He acts like he doesn’t care, but last week he folded my laundry without being asked. Do you know how intimate that is? That’s practically marriage.”

Next, they picked up the T-Rex. “Don’t look at me like that, short king. Your owner has the emotional range of a rock but then he kissed my forehead after I sneezed. Do you even understand what that does to a person? I blushed for five hours.”

They turned to the triceratops. “I bet you’re his favorite. You seem grumpy. I like that. You’re real. You get me.”

They sighed, flopping onto Tsukki’s bed, cradling the dinosaur like a plushie. “…I love him, okay? Even if he pretends he’s allergic to affection and only softens when he thinks I’m not looking. He could call me an idiot and I’d thank him. That’s the level we’re at.”

Then. The door creaked.

They froze.

Standing in the doorway: Tsukishima Kei, holding a bag of chips and a can of soda. Expression unreadable. Eyes fixed on them. And the dinosaur in their hands.

Silence.

“…Were you just trauma-dumping to my T-Rex?” he asked, monotone but with a glint of dangerous amusement.

Y/N cleared their throat. “…He’s a very good listener.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. Walked over slowly. Placed the chips on the desk. Took the dinosaur gently. Stared at it.

Then—very softly—he smirked.

“…He says you’re not subtle.”

Y/N blinked. “He talks to you too?”

Tsukishima sat beside them, leaned in just slightly, and whispered:

“He says I love you too, dumbass.”

But it didn’t end there.

The next day, Tsukishima came back from the mall with a smug face and a small box.

“You got a new dinosaur?” Y/N asked suspiciously, eyeing the shiny new figurine.

“Limited edition,” Tsukki replied, carefully unboxing a sleek, green spinosaurus with unsettling charisma. “He’s cool.”

Y/N scowled. “He looks like a homewrecker.”

Tsukki choked on his juice. “What?”

Y/N pointed dramatically. “That guy looks like he listens to Arctic Monkeys and flirts with people in the geology section of bookstores. I don’t trust him.”

Tsukishima was full-on laughing now. “You’re jealous of a $9 figurine.”

“He’s giving 'third party in a drama' vibes,” Y/N muttered. “Plot twist energy. He’s here to ruin lives and I’m not letting him steal your affection.”

Tsukki leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching them bicker with a plastic spinosaurus. “…You need help.”

“You need to stop emotionally cheating on me with this edgy lizard.”

Tsukishima walked over, picked up the triceratops (aka Y/N’s ally), and placed it gently beside the new dinosaur.

Then he looked at Y/N and deadpanned: “They’re friends now. It’s called character development.”

Y/N gasped. “You’re turning my son against me.”

“I didn’t know we had kids.”

Y/N blinked. Then grinned. “So you admit we’re married?”

Tsukki paused. Realized what he walked into. “…I hate you.”

But he was smiling. And he didn’t pull away when Y/N wrapped their arms around his waist and whispered

“Don’t worry. I still love you more than the dinosaurs.”

“…Even Jeff?” “The triceratops is different. He’s family.”

Tsukishima kissed the top of their head and whispered, “Jealous of a plastic toy… You’re such a freak.”

(Hey guys! This chaotic story was rotting in my drafts, so I’m finally setting it free)

"I love you. I'm sorry."

Jason didn't mean to say it. Not like this. Not now. Not when he's buried deep inside you, holding you like this might be the last time he gets to.

But it happened when he wasn't thinking - just feeling.

You don't even notice it at first. You are lost in the rhythm, the warmth, the way he looks at you like you're the only good thing he's seen all his life.

You don't notice how his hands tremble, how his breath catches every time you sigh his name, when you moan it into his mouth.

He's not rough. Not tonight. He's soft, taking his time, like he's trying to memorize the feel of having you against him.

Jason is all calloused hands and desperate lips, tracing every curve and dip of your body he can reach, worshipping you in ways you didn't think were possible.

When he finally lets go, he trembles, both from exertion and emotion. He's buried in you, breaths coming in stutters because the feeling in his chest has nothing to do with the pleasure he felt. Because it's too much and not enough all at once.

Your eyes are closed, lips parted, and to Jason, you're poetry incarnate. You're someone who sees him, without the mask, without the guns, and you stay.

You see the broken boy who carries too many ghosts, and you still stay.

The feeling in his chest is unconscionable, and then, it slips. Soft, quiet, like someone ripped it out of him.

"God, I love you."

Jason freezes the second it's said, eyes wide, and you feel the panic in the way his body tenses. Like, he could reverse time with sheer will. Like, he wants to pull it back into his throat, but it's too late.

His truth is out there now, raw and naked.

You blink at him, dazed, a little breathless beneath him and his stomach tightens.

"Forget it," he says, voice sharp, not cold. But you can sense the fear underneath.

You know. You always do.

He tries to pull away. Tries to pretend like he didn’t just shatter himself open.

But you grab his face with both hands and force him to look at you.

"Jason," your voice is soft, but it makes him flinch.

Like, he's bracing for another person to tell him there's no love.

Like, he's waiting for you to laugh at him.

Like, he's waiting for you to see him the same way he sees himself.

But you smile. Warm, real, knowing, and it kills him.

"Say it again," you whisper, pressing his forehead to yours.

Jason shakes his head because saying it again makes it real; it means giving meaning to the storm of feelings inside him.

"I can't -"

"Yes, you can."

Your fingers slip into his hair, thumbs brushing the edge of the mask he wears even when it's not on his face.

Your expression softens when you look into his eyes. Scared, shining with tears, and carrying many more emotions than he thought he was capable of.

"Say it again, Jay."

He closes his eyes, and his walls crumble.

"I love you," His voice breaks at the words, and he's barely holding on but the last thing he wants to do is sob into your neck like the pathetic, scared boy he is.

But he also knows that you'll let him, that you'll hold him, and tell him it's okay.

And that terrifies him. Because you treat him like he's worth all the demons he brings along.

You're everything Jason convinced himself he would never deserve.

Jason inhales, blinks away the tears in his eyes, and then; lets go.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

He buries his face in the curve of your neck and you hold him there.

He repeats the three words like they've been circling inside his chest since he met you (Spoiler: they are).

He says them like it physically hurts not to.

And then, after a few quiet moments, his face still hidden against your skin.

"I didn't mean to say it like that," his voice is soft, slightly shaky, like he's trying not to cry, "not like this. Not until I knew... you felt it too."

You laugh at that, "Of course I do, you idiot."

Jason pulls back at that, a ghost of a smile on his face, and presses his forehead to yours again.

"I love you, Jason."

His smile widens and he closes his eyes like he wants the words to seep into his bones, like he wants to carry them in his heart.

Because he never thought he'd hear them. Not like this, not from someone who truly means it.

"I'd die for you. Again."

He says the words, and suddenly your heart feels too big for your chest.

"I know, but I want you to live for me."

Jason nods and exhales like he's never breathed before. Like nothing made sense until this moment.

Like he could live here forever, and it still won't be enough.

After, he holds you all night. He falls asleep with his arm thrown around your waist and his nose pressed against your collarbone.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Tsukishima thinks breaking up with you is the stupidest thing he's ever done.

Despite completely rationalizing it in his head, watching his grades slip as you two grow closer and closer, the only reasonable thing to do is break it off, right? You've started to become a distraction- an obstacle in his path to his future.

It's not like you two were dating for long- nothing important happened in the 6 short months you two were together. So even as his heart cracks as he watches you silently sniffle and leave his car, his grip tightens on the wheel, he sits in silence as he drives away.

His schedule becomes mundane once again, his room silent instead of the sounds of your laughter, or the videos you'd watch on your phone with the volume high enough to catch his attention. His meals continue without a dessert, ones that you'd normally bring nearly every other day. You aren't at his games, and he still finds himself scanning the crowd to search for you nonetheless.

Against his hopes and to his dismay, his grades get worse. He's losing sleep and shows up late to practice, his bitter mood bringing down the team. No one nearby is safe from a snide comment or an instigating remark.

Every single time he closes his eyes, turns around the corner- he sees you. He hears your laughter echo in the hallways, but every time he (not so subtly) quickens his pace to get a glance- you're gone. It makes him wonder if you were there in the first place.

He's nearly yanking at his hair, groaning in frustration before sighing, letting his hands flop onto his desk as he glances at the picture next to his laptop- the only photo he's ever bothered to frame. You're smiling up at him with a bouquet of flowers he'd gotten you for your birthday, gleaming as the sun highlights your eyelashes.

-

The winter chill has set in and the snow lightly falls outside your window, you almost consider calling Tsukishima to cancel your date- maybe postpone to the next weekend. Before you could even open your phone, a firm knock on the door interrupts. You're greeted by Tsukishima, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a drink tray in another.

You take the flowers from his hand before opening the door wider to let him in, "I was just about to text you!"

"About what?"

"If we should've canceled- I didn't think you'd want to drive or even walk in this weather."

He nearly glares at you, almost offended at the proposal. "It's your birthday. Why would we postpone it?"

You shrug, looking down at the flowers before setting them down, taking his coat to hang it up before turning back to hug him.

"Thank you. The flowers are beautiful."

He lightly pouts and looks away, not quite used to how open you are with physical affection. Still, his arm pulls you closer and his face turns red, "It was the first one I saw."

A total lie, he spent a good hour and a half in the flower section before buying different sets and arranging one himself. You didn't have to know that.

You admire the flowers one more time, admiring the pinks of the roses and the light purple dusting the edges of the snapdragons, down to the way the baby's breath flows alongside the greenery. Your smile is bright as you look up at Kei, noticing how he takes his phone, the shutter of his camera snapping quickly before he deftly puts his phone away, turning to hand you the warm chai he grabbed before he came in.

-

The dried bouquet of flowers on your windowsill is haunting, menacing almost. The sight of them alone makes your stomach bubble and churn at the memories that accompanied them.

It's darker now- the petals brittle and fragile. You had made the effort to dry them and immortalize their memory- an action you've come to regret since he broke up with you. They still remain perched delicately on your windowsill, the vase tied with a ribbon and a note that had "happy birthday" in his handwriting.

The days passing by had felt like a blur- meshing together as each day grows more repetitive. Kei was no longer nearby to tease you, to berate you for getting questions on the homework, to hold your hand as you walked through the freezing winter to school. The mindless chatter and gossip from your friends went stagnant in your head, all you could think about was Kei.

Spring has come to a full bloom, the cherry blossoms littering the sidewalks as you stroll through the streets. The "ding!" of the cafe bell rings as you walk in, only to be met with a familiar head of blonde hair, slightly mussed and unkept.

You almost wonder if you should turn around and leave- but you decide against it. He broke up with you for a normal reason. His grades were slipping and he's just trying to be considerate about his future. He wasn't mean or unkind, there wasn't any reason to hold a grudge or hide from him.

You take your spot behind him in line, thankful he doesn't peek behind. It's not until he moves to the side and hears you ordering does he turn around to see you.

And oh, is he drinking in the sight. You're as beautiful as ever, hair cascading down the back of your sweater, half held up by a clip to get a clear view of your face. He can't decide if he's relieved or upset to see you. Tsukishima stares, nonetheless, tired eyes locked onto you as you happily conversate with the barista before eventually moving to the side as well, locking eyes with him.

Tsukishima is normally well kept, but today he looked- for lack of a better word, like shit. If his hair wasn't a dead giveaway, the bags under his eyes were. His shirt was crinkled and half tucked in, and his zip up had a mustard? stain on the left side.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement before looking off in a different direction, and Tsukishima swears his world ended. It was what felt like the worst day of his life and the person he wanted most won't even glance at him.

It's his fault, either way.

He feels like a creep as he waits outside the cafe, waiting for a chance to talk to you. Usually quick-witted and composed, Tsukishima struggles to figure out what to even say to you. Why he wanted to talk to you in the first place.

As you exit the cafe, he watches you briskly walk away, barely noticing him as your face is buried in your phone. Kei barely thinks as he follows behind, grabbing your wrist to turn you around.

When you look back up at him, his heart swells at the sight of your face. He's stuck once again, hand dropping to his side as he looks at you as if it's the last time he'll ever see you again. It might as well be, if he fucks up this chance.

"Hi."

You look at him hesitantly before smiling, "Hey."

"How are you."

A laugh almost escapes your lips at how stiff he is, frozen still as his brown eyes bore into your soul.

"I'm doing alright, how are you?"

"Terrible."

Your brows furrow as he looks down and to the side nervously. Eyes slightly flitting as he waits for a response.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

It's silent. Painfully silent. He wishes you would start talking and never shut up like you used to, for something, any kind of response. He's never felt so strained while talking to you. He's never been this stuck, this frozen while standing in front of you.

"I should have never broken up with you. I'm sorry."

You stiffen and Kei's heart drops to his ass, knowing he definitely fucked this up. You're never going to want to talk to him again and he won't be able to see your face, tell you where you misplaced your things, to hear your voice first thing in the morning once he leaves his house. He's already gone this far- his accidental blurt put him six feet under. It probably wouldn't hurt to dig a little more.

"You weren't the problem. You're not a distraction. I've done exponentially worse in everything, and my teammates are sick of me. I haven't been able to sleep because every time I try to close my eyes; I think of you and how stupid I was to break up with you because I thought you were some stupid distraction."

You're still stunned a little bit, and to his surprise, you laugh.

He thanks whatever god might exist, because he thought he might never hear it again. He doesn't even care if it might be at him or the situation, all Tsukishima can do is admire as you catch your breath.

Tsukishima swears he might actually become religious, because instead of breaking him off and walking away, which you could have done, you invite him for another drink in the cafe.

-

Tsukishima's voice is soft as you dry his (now freshly cut) hair, "I love you."

You snicker as you throw the towel at his face, "Love me so much that you broke up with me?"

He can't argue, so he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss to shut you up.

122524. i keep thinking about how tsukishima kei is perceptive but is awe-struck when he meets you because you’re worse. because you’re far more understanding and painfully receptive to harsh truths. you’re sharper but much more softer. and when you meet him, that awe-struck would slowly turn into something unsettling because of how casually intimate you are with your friends—with him.

you pat him in the back. or just rest your hand there. give him a look, a half-smile and eyes wholly meeting his. i’m here. “look, it’s your favorite,” or “you sound like this song.” you eat lunch with him, he doesn’t know if you’ve purposely situated yourself by his side but he dares not ask. you include him in your book shoppings, and you’re not fazed when your friends cancel in the last minute. you say he should bring his friends—he could only scoff at you and shake his head no.

and even though you give so easily—even though tsukishima kei holds no such attachment to miniscule gestures, or trinkets, the ones you would slide or plant in his palm not as a gift but just a normal thing to do as friends— it still feels weird. feels…nice. there’s warmth in it, a genuineness he can’t find in the common.

your definition of friends is blurry to some. thus, people would think you’re flirting with them. and they fall for you in the process. everytime this happens, he’s already prepping for midnight snacks & creative witty jokes as your name shows up on his screen. calling him. he’ll listen to everything: how you hate it when people think they’re special just because you gave them your undivided attention, how they think you owe them when they’ve showered you enough affections, for you to reciprocate them, for you to feel something over such trivial things.

that’s not how you operate, he knows. you give and give and give. you only take what your hands can carry, but it’s ironic, how you can receive harsh truths over someone’s heart ready to take care of you. how you’ll choose to have this casualness than to think about a love for a lifetime’s worth.

you deserve it, though. a love for a lifetime’s worth. to meet your gentle hands and knowing gazes and easy laughs. a love that doesn’t feel like a chore, just a normal thing to do, a habit—like you and your trinkets that you save.

in the distant, kei thinks you’re afraid of a few harsh truths. if there’s a light in your kindness, there’s a dark and hollowness that comes with you, too. your big heart means a bigger pill to fucking swallow.

you’re his harsh truth. but one he doesn’t choke on. only aching in some vague, hidden way.

and kei knows he’s a fool for it.

for letting himself get tangled in the ache. for leaning into the quiet way you fill the room—not with noise, but with presence, with weight. the kind that sneaks up on him when he’s least prepared, the faint murmur of your voice pulling him out of his head, or your hand always resting somewhere on him; on his shoulder or his back or even atop his hand at random.

you don’t try to fix him, and maybe that’s what draws him closer, what keeps him tethered to you despite the sharp edges you unknowingly press against his ribs. you see through people too easily, yet never pry. you offer but never push, even when he knows you should.

that hollow kindness of yours, the dark undertone of it, really perplexes him. there’s a careful distance you keep, no matter how much you give. you’re too soft with the world and too harsh with yourself, like you’ve already decided there’s a limit to how much you’re allowed to take. somehow, kei becomes part of that equation—close enough to feel the warmth of your light but never bold enough to reach out and hold it.

he tells himself it’s better this way. that your strange intimacy is manageable only because it’s casual. that you’d pull back if he ever pushed.

but the truth—the harsh, undeniable truth—is that he doesn’t know how to navigate this thing you’ve become to him.

it’s not friendship, not really. friendship doesn’t taste like the bitter pang of jealousy when someone else claims your attention. it doesn’t feel like this quiet, bone-deep longing to hold onto every piece of you before it slips away.

and kei is perceptive enough to know that it will slip away. that one day, your hands will stop reaching for him, your laughter will echo somewhere he can’t follow, and all he’ll have left is the memory of trinkets he didn’t think to keep.

but not yet.

for now, he lets you be his harsh truth. the ache that he doesn’t choke on, the weight he doesn’t know how to carry but refuses to put down. because for all the hollowness you carry, you’ve filled something in him he didn’t even realize was empty.

and that’s enough.

for now, at least, to have you so casually is enough.

it’s better than losing you completely. to sit with you in the silence, in this limbo he doesn’t want to name.

he won’t pry if it means keeping you close.

what a strange, cruel truth to admit—that he loves you only for an inch, not ready to take the mile.

i dont have the spiritual writing energy to expand this all im feeling rn is yearning 😆 i’ll reblog this if i find the time to write the whole version. merry christmas! 🎁

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

@kokokoula this one’s for u <3

don't worry, we're still close — tsukishima k.

third yr tsukishima k. x third yr fem!reader│word count: 2.4k

synopsis: Tsukishima just wants to spend time with his girlfriend, but after a brutal volleyball match, he feels sleepy.

cw/tags: fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

The moment they stepped through the front door, Tsukishima was already tugging yn’s wrist, muttering something about how she could talk to his mom later. Yn had barely managed a polite smile in his mother’s direction before she was being guided up the stairs, past the familiar picture frames and the smell of dinner just starting.

No more delays. He’d waited all week for this.

“Kei! Yn-chan should stay for dinner!” his mom called from below.

“She hears you,” Tsukishima replied over his shoulder, too tired to make it sound anything but clipped.

Yn answered sweetly anyway, her voice echoing back downstairs as Tsukishima opened his bedroom door. He let go of her to dump his bag beside the desk, kicked off his shoes, and dropped face-first onto the bed with a soft grunt.

Everything hurt. Legs, back, brain. Volleyball matches this deep into the season were nothing short of brutal. But even now, he could feel the tug in his chest more than anywhere else—because yn was still by the door, and he wasn’t spending time with her.

It had been nearly two months since they’d last properly hung out. They’d both been swallowed up by their clubs and the looming pressure of college entrance exams, barely managing hallway greetings and late-night texts. That’s why, when she called him last week to say she was coming to his game, he wasted no time asking her out for a movie date afterward.

He cracked an eye open, the sound of her voice still lingering as she spoke to his mother. The golden light from the setting sun caught in her hair, painting her skin in this warm, glowing filter that made his already-tired heart squeeze.

She looked right at home standing in his doorway. And she was still kind enough to reply properly, to make his mom smile. He couldn’t stand how much he liked that.

“Close the door,” he mumbled into the sheets. “She’ll start asking about the game and I’ll lose you for an hour.”

Yn chuckled, finally closing the door before padding over to his bed. “It’s because you never fill her in.” The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat beside him and lightly poked his cheek. “You should be careful, you know. Soon, I’ll be the favorite child.”

“Pretty sure she already likes you more than me and Nii-chan,” Tsukishima sighed. His hand caught hers—intending to push it away, maybe—but instead, he pulled it gently to his cheek.

“Ooh, imagine if she adopts me,” yn teased, eyes sparkling. “I’d be your sister.”

Tsukishima jolted upright, pinching her waist with a scowl. “Don’t even joke about that. It’s gross.”

She shrieked with laughter, swatting at him as his hand chased her across the bed, his exhaustion forgotten for just a moment. She was always infuriating with her dumb jokes.

But it was nice to hear them again instead of just reading them through texts.

Eventually, they both collapsed into the mattress, the energy slowly draining out of their laughter, leaving behind a comfortable silence. Yn laid beside him, their shoulders just barely touching, her hand still in his.

A lazy feeling settled in, blending nicely with the soft hum of life downstairs and the distant clatter of kitchenware. Tsukishima let his eyes fall shut again.

They should be watching something right now.

“Give me five minutes,” he muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ll set up my laptop.”

He felt her shift beside him. “Are you sure?” she asked softly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not,” he replied flatly, eyes still closed.

“Kei.”

There was a different note in her voice this time. Not teasing. Concerned.

He opened one eye just enough to see her watching him. Her brows creased, lips pressed together in a way that made him look away almost instantly.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she said gently. “I came to see you. We can just hang out. Or nap if you want.”

He hated how his heart fluttered at that.

Tsukishima rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm flopping over his eyes. “I didn’t ask you to come all the way here so I could nap.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she pressed on. “I’d just... rather you rest if you need to.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, very quietly, he mumbled, “I missed you.”

He felt her fingers twitch against his, a tiny, startled reflex.

Tsukishima kept his arm over his eyes, his voice low and gruff. “So, no. I’m not gonna fall asleep. I want to spend time with you.”

The honesty hung between them, vulnerable and heavy in the sinking golden light. She leaned over and gently tugged his arm down until he was looking at her.

“I missed you too.”

Her eyes softened, full of quiet affection. She withdrew her hand from his and reached up, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead, fingertips featherlight.

“But I still don’t want you pushing yourself. There’s always next time, you know? You don’t have to cram all your energy into one night just for me.”

Tsukishima blinked down at her, her touch loosening the knot in his shoulders. But even that comfort turned on him, stirring the fears he’d worked so hard to keep quiet.

“That’s the thing,” he muttered, voice low. “I’m not so sure there is always a next time.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then sat up slowly, not looking at her right away. His hands were folded in his lap, fingers fidgeting like they were trying to twist themselves.

“I know we said we’d make time, but we’re going to different colleges. You’ll have your own schedule. New people. New routines. And so will I.” His jaw tightened. “But even before that’s started, it already feels like I barely see you.”

Yn listened quietly, not interrupting, her eyes steady on him.

“And it’s not like I think we’ll fall apart or something,” he added quickly. “It’s just…” He trailed off again, searching for the right word to shape the fear he didn’t usually let himself acknowledge. “It’s stupid. I just—I don’t want to look back and realize I wasted the time we do have.”

There was a long pause. Then, he muttered under his breath, “Sorry. I’m not good at saying this crap.”

When he finally met her gaze again, yn’s face lit up with a tender, knowing smile.

“It’s not stupid,” she said, pushing herself to sit upright. “And it’s not crap.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything, but she didn’t seem to expect him to. She went on, her voice dropping a little.

“I think about it too,” she admitted. “The distance. The changes. How fast everything is moving. There’ll be days when we’re too busy or too tired to call. Maybe even weeks.”

She leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “But Kei… I know us. I know that no matter how much time passes, when we do talk again, it’ll still be…”

Her hand found his again, fingers sliding between his, squeezing them. She paused, a small laugh slipping out.

“... you. Probably still messing up my hair instead of saying hi. Fixing the strap of my bag without saying anything. Pinching me when I make jokes, like earlier—ow, by the way.”

That earned a snort from Tsukishima.

“And me? Still making bad jokes on purpose. ‘Accidentally’ stepping on your shoes when you call me short. Pulling your hoodie strings just to annoy you. Trying to act all cute just to hear you say I am.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but she didn’t let him deflect.

“That’s what I mean. It’s never ‘Oh, how have you been?’ with us. We don’t have to start over every time. We just… click back into place. Time doesn’t erase that. Distance doesn’t either.”

When Tsukishima finally spoke, his voice was smaller than usual. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Not confident,” she corrected. “I just know what we have. I trust it.”

He was quiet, his fingers tightening slightly around hers.

“You trust it?” he repeated, like he was trying to taste the weight of that.

“I trust you,” she said, pulling back to look at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You care more than you let on. And I know that if something matters to you, you don’t let go easily. And neither do I.”

That stopped him.

Because for the first time, all those uneasy thoughts didn’t sound like warnings. They just sounded like noise. And maybe this was the answer that he had been missing.

They didn’t have to see each other all the time to still matter to the other. It was never about being together. It was always about what they were to each other.

“… You're really annoying when you’re right,” he muttered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Yn grinned, pretending to grab her phone. “Wait! Say that again. I need to record this.”

He huffed a laugh, finally leaning back into the pillows again. The fatigue crept in quicker this time now that the tight coil in his chest had finally loosened.

He looked over at her, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t think I can stay awake for a movie.”

She chuckled. “I know.” 

Her fingers brushed against his cheeks as she took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

He yawned before he could reply, the last of his resistance unraveling. As he closed his eyes, he tugged her closer, wordlessly urging her to stay beside him.

“I’ll probably be out for a while,” he murmured.

“Mhm.”

“Wake me up… when it’s time for you to go. Okay?”

“Sure,” she whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

And she would. But not until long after he drifted off, his breathing even, the golden light of evening slipping quietly into dusk.

Yn padded down the stairs quietly, the soft creak of the steps barely registering beneath the distant clatter of pans and the gentle bubbling of something simmering in the kitchen. The house smelled like miso and something savory being stir-fried, and her stomach gave a quiet, traitorous growl.

She rubbed her eyes and wandered in, still barefoot and slightly dazed from the warmth of Tsukishima’s room.

“Ah, yn-chan,” his mother greeted with a smile, glancing over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. “Kei knocked out?”

Yn smiled softly, stepping into the kitchen. “Like a light. He didn’t even fight it this time.”

His mom chuckled and waved her over. “I’m making yasai itame for dinner. Want a taste?”

“Maybe later. I’m just thirsty.” Yn went to grab herself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.

They stood like that for a moment. Just two women in soft silence, bound by mutual affection for the tall, tired boy sleeping upstairs.

Then his mother gave her a knowing look. “You’re still looking at places?”

Yn paused with the glass halfway to her lips, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. A few more popped up this week, actually.”

His mom hummed thoughtfully, gently stirring the pot in front of her. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“I am.” Yn’s voice was firm, determined. “I know it’s not a perfect solution, and there’s no guarantee everything will go the way we want it to. But…” She bit her lip. “If I can find a place somewhere in between our schools—close enough for the both of us without losing half a day commuting—I think it’ll help.”

His mom smiled without turning. “You know, I thought you were just being polite the first time you brought it up. But then you started asking about train lines and furniture stores.”

Yn laughed quietly. “I just… I don’t want us to drift apart.”

The honesty of it made her chest tighten. She hadn’t said it out loud before. Not like this.

“Kei worries about it too,” yn continued. “But I didn’t want to tell him just yet. Not until we’re both past our entrance exams. He’s already stressed. If I add more to his plate now…”

“You’re protecting him,” his mom said simply, finally turning to face her.

“I guess I am.”

There was a pause, and then the woman’s expression softened into something fond and just a little proud.

“He’s lucky, you know,” she said. “He doesn’t say it much—not in words—but Kei… he’s never brought a girl home like this. Never looked at someone the way he looks at you.”

Yn ducked her head, flustered. “I’m lucky too,” she murmured. “It’s hard sometimes, but… he’s worth it.”

“Mhm. Just remember—love’s important, but life’s more complicated than that,” his mom said. “You’re both young, and… well, I won’t embarrass you with the talk—”

Yn nearly dropped the glass, coughing as she choked on her own saliva.

“—but just promise me you’ll be smart. About everything.” Her gaze was firm, but not unkind. “College is hard enough without extra surprises. And if there’s ever a question you’re too shy to ask him, or your parents or even me… just remember, there’re clinics near campus that have discreet pamphlets.” A pause. “And condoms.”

Yn turned away, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh my god…”

“Motherly duty fulfilled,” she said dryly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Now, I’ll just have to give Kei my version of the talk when you finally tell him.” 

Then she reached over, patting yn’s hand. “But if you ever need help figuring out the other stuff—laundry, cooking, cleaning—my door’s always open, yn. And if Kei ever slacks off, text me. I’ll guilt trip him for you.”

Yn laughed, the tension dissolving into something lighter. She gave her hand a squeeze in return.

“Thanks, Tsukishima-san.”

“Just call me Mom already,” she said, grinning.

Yn flushed. “That still feels too… early.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing gently in the small kitchen.

As yn finished her water and rinsed out the glass, she glanced back toward the stairs. She already missed being next to him, even if he was fast asleep.

She wasn’t sure what the future would look like, not exactly. But knowing that Kei would be in it, and that he cared enough to worry about it just like she did, made it feel a lot less daunting.

And a whole lot more certain.

are u mad at me do u hate me do am i annoying did i do something wrong are u tired of me are u mad at me do u hate me do u still like me am i boring are u mad at me do u hate me

reblog if you’re okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes

I'd eat ur art but it looks like a lot of people have already gotten a bite... is there any leftovers? (btw I love your art and style!)

thank you^^! happy to hear<3

here are some leftover sketches of Dick and Jason I never posted lamo

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ red marks

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. I won’t lie about that LMAO, I don’t know if this happens to other skin tones, so I am terribly sorry it won’t be as inclusive as I want it to be (I try and make my writing as inclusive as possible for anyone!!). I am white and my skin is very sensitive when I scratch it, so this is very common for me, so I apologise for those who are looking for inclusive skin tone stuff :(

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader in mind, though Jaybin does use “ma” because even if I’m agender, I have a soft spot for him saying that

genre: fluff, kind of slice of life

words: 1k -- should be okay but tell me if there's any mistakes I missed!!

summary: Jason spots red marks on your skin, gets super worried, and won’t stop asking if you’re okay.

art on the right is by @/ciricearts & dividers by @/saradika-graphics!!

You stood in your kitchen, scratching your upper arm for what would be now for the better part of 5 minutes. The noise of sharp yet shorter nails running against skin filled the room, or more so your ears, as you waited for that faint ding of your microwave. The milk filled mug turning in circles as you absentmindedly waited for the timer to hit zero, your fingers running over your skin without you realising. Hot chocolate was always nice company while you waited for Jason to come home. Your brain was starting to blank out more and more while the soft electronic hum of the microwave mixed in with the sound of nails against skin, your eyes slowly losing focus on the dark wooden floor. Maybe you could—

Ding!

Your hand stops its constant up and down motion on your arm, your nails scratching the skin for one last time before you moved off of the counter to retrieve your mug. Your mind blanked once more between the time you got the cocoa and sugar, and the time you were already sipping on your finished drink. And then Jason was back.

He’s tired. He’s tired and he wants to be in your arms more than anything. But at least he’s home soon. At least he’s only tired and not badly hurt. And as soon as he’s held safely in your arms, he’ll be home.

Now, Jason just wanted to go back to your apartment, change and shower, and have the best sleep next to you. But then, of course, some stuff had to go a bit sideways (he’s being a bit dramatic).

What he comes back to instead is your gorgeous self in the kitchen, mug in hand, with big, red, extremely red, marks on your arm. It was worrying. Your skin flaked off a bit, and was red. And his mind went off.

“Sweetheart?” His voice came out a bit cracked as he hurriedly took his helmet off and placed on your table. He was quick to be by your side, your arm gently held by his hands, as if you were a precious jewel he was trying everything in his power to not damage.

You, mind still somewhat blank, shook awake out of your trance. A smile came up on your face as you set the mug down.

“Hi Jayjay,” you spoke softly, your voice portraying perfectly your tiredness. “How was patrol? Are you hurt?” A small worry took over your face, but you knew he’d be acting worse if he was badly hurt.

“Sweets, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter if I’m hurt,” his voice was pure worry, his eyes and body the same. “You’re hurt, what happened to your arm? Does it hurt a lot? We should put ice and cream on it. How’d you get it? Did someone do that? I swear to everything if someone did—” He’d started rambling, moving around the kitchen as his hurried words matched his hurried movements. He’s looking around cabinets and drawers, looking for that cream he’d mentioned, though it never resided in the kitchen to begin with. You just stared at him in confusion, unsure of what he was rambling about. Once his anger came out, showing that side of him that would about hurt anyone for you, you cut him off with a soft sweet laugh. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at you.

“I’m serious ma, did someone hurt you?” He asked again, a pout on his lips, though his demeanour had softened because of your laugh.

“Jay, hun, I have no idea what you’re on about,” a small sheepish smile formed on your face, as he frowned again. “Your arm, ma.”

You looked down at your arms, finding one significantly more red than the other, accompanied with some scratch marks. You were stunned, because when did that get here? You stared down at it for a moment, all the while Jason’s worry was worsening.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt ma?” He asked once more, before jumping back into action. “I need to find you that cream.” He hurriedly started looking through the drawers with a determination to not see you hurting anymore.

You kept staring at your arms as the puzzle pieces clicked together in your mind. And when the picture was done, you couldn’t help yourself but laugh.

You tried calling out to him through your laughs, though he wouldn’t listen.

“No, no! You’re hurt ma, can’t let you be hurt.”

“Jay— Jay, please look at me,” you said between giggles. “Jason.”

Hearing his full name made him stop and turn to you with a pout. You’d so rarely use his full name, it was always a nickname, a pet name, anything different. You’d only use it when he had to listen to you.

“Yeah?” He mumbled quietly, looking at you with that sad pout on his face, his voice so full of worry and care. His boyishness always came out in moments like this.

“Oh hun,” you chuckled, taking a step towards him to cradle his face in your hands. He leaned in on instinct. “I was just scratching my arm, see?” You smiled sweetly, demonstrating it by running your nails against your forearm. Few seconds after, and red-ish scratch marks appeared on your skin, following the path your nails took. Your hands found his cheeks again, as you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m okay, baby.”

Jason gently gripped your forearms as he leaned in closer to you. He gently turned your arm around to examine the marks, who were already disappearing, the big splotch of red on your upper arm already almost entirely faded, to a much lighter colour. Only then did he let out a big breath, wrapped his big arms around your waist, and buried his head deep in the crook of your neck, now breathing you in. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand slowly racking through his hair.

You both stayed like that for a while, holding each other, breathing them in.

…

“Can’t believe you got scared because I had an itch.”

“Shut uppppppppppp”

A long playfully annoyed groan merged with laughter in the quietness of the apartment.

again, this is entirely self-indulgent lmao, this happens to me way too much, I'll barely scratch my skin and then there's red marks on my skin for a good MINUTE, it's annoyinggggggg

I hope you guys enjoyed it, even if it isn't as inclusiv as it could be (which I am again sorry for)

I've been gone for a short minute, real sorry, I've been super busy with school and I essentially shouldn't even have been writting this in the first place considering I'm in exam season but I couldn't help myselfffffff

also!! I'm finally going to be properly setting up my blog soon, so that's going to be fun!! stay tuned for that I guess, and more stories because I wrote this in a day which is considerably really short for me :P

© mxxnechos -- please do not repost, modify, translate, plagiarise, or feed my content into AI. All likes, reblogs, comments, and follows are deeply appreciated!!

So, we all know Jason Todd would spoil the hell out of you, right? He'd know every detail, remember every important date, always do anything to make you feel special and wanted. The compliments would never stop, the random gifts always showed up, the physical affection never dwindled.

You loved it and he loved that you loved it.

But it was so normal (not to say it went unappreciated) that you almost didn't realize how lacking your own gestures were. Jason doesn't notice either, obviously.

However, he certainly starts to when instead of blowing a kiss to him from the couch when he leaves or comes home, you start getting up and draping your arms around him, kissing his cheek and lips. He'd never fault you for falling asleep when he's out on patrol in the middle of the night but feels a sense of warmth wash over him when you start leaving notes on his side of the bed telling him you missed him, or hope he was safe.

(+Bonus points if you told him his favorite food was waiting in the kitchen if he was hungry.)

You always match his energy when it comes to physical affection, holding him right back when he wraps his arms around you from behind or wrapping your legs around him while he holds you during the night, but realizing you almost never initiate it makes you reevaluate.

He notices, obviously, when you start asking him to join you in the shower or begin tugging him into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs and you can play with his hair. When you start smoothing out the few wrinkles on his shirt for him, or kissing his shoulder from behind while he works, sliding him a snack and telling him to eat.

It eventually all comes to a head when he's reading and you randomly start massaging his shoulders out of nowhere. Not that it doesn't feel good, because he always loves your soft hands on him, but he starts asking why you've been so affectionate lately you have no choice but to admit that you feel like you've been taking advantage of him.

"I never seem to give you the same kind of attention you give me," you confess, your hands softly kneading at the knots in his neck as he reads.

His head turns, one of his hands covering yours to get you to stop. "Is that what you think?" He asks, his voice much quieter, almost disappointed when you nod. He sets his book down on the table, dragging you around the chair and into his lap. "I give you attention because I like to," he explains, stroking your hair. "I don't need you to fawn over my every move."

You were his partner, not his parent. He didn't need to be watched over or fed and worried about to the extent you'd started leaning into. He needed your love, your support, your respect. Your honesty, kindness, compassion. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses. You, as you. His best friend and the love of his life.

Your lips pull into a tight line, arms wrapping around his neck. "You don't feel neglected?"

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "No," he states. "Never. I feel grateful as hell that you love me despite my past." He fusses with your hair for another moment before cupping your face. "I like showing you how much you mean to me."

You press your forehead against his. "I just don't ever want you to think you don't mean the same to me," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always had a similar problem to him, struggling to accept love, let alone show it. He knew that.

His lips pull into a small smile. "I know. Believe me I know," he replies. "You don't need to follow me to the door every day or rub my shoulders for me to know you love me." He pauses for a moment, his voice getting a bit more playful. "But if you want to keep inviting me into the shower I won't complain."