Jason Todd X Fem!Reader

Hear me out

Jason todd seeing you wearing nothing but one of his shirts, just barely large enough to cover your ass

I can't write, but I need closure to this little idea that has been floating in my brain, also heard you wanted asks so...

oh my god oh my god oh my god………(i love the way u think)

18+ Content, Minors DNI

warnings: dom! jason, teasing jason (are we rlly surprised), sub!fem!reader, slight belly bulge if u squint, size difference mentioned. (please inform me if i need to add more, thank you!)

the morning after

sunlight filters gently through the window of your apartment’s kitchen, bathing everything it touched in a golden glow, your eyes catching in the light, the rays dripping off your form like warm honey. you hum a soft, dulcet melody as you lean your hip against the edge of the kitchen counter, the whirring sound of the coffee maker the only thing that disturbs the peaceful atmosphere.

just as you stand on your tiptoes to reach for the mugs in one of the taller cabinets, the material of your boyfriend’s shirt riding up your backside, you feel Jason’s hand on your hip, pulling you away as he takes it upon himself to grab them, his sheer size practically dwarfing you as he leans over, a smirk on his lips.

“Let me get that for you, doll.” he drawls as you turn around, his hands now placed on either side of you, resting against the counter, caging you in, and you can’t help the way your thighs clench as you look up at him, mind racing with thoughts of how he had you in a similar position just last night, relentlessly pounding into your throbbing cunt.

Jason couldn’t stop looking at you, how could he? the fluid movements you make as you walk around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for today’s breakfast, the way your hair swayed with each movement. you were so sweet, he thinks to himself, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he continues to watch you, only for his softened gaze to intensify with a passionate fire as he catches sight of the lacy pair of red panties barely covering your ass—then he remembers how sweet you truly were, the soft whines that would slip past your lips, the low and breathy moans as your chest heaved up and down while he sucked and lapped up your sopping cunt.

could you really blame him when you had such a perfect body? mewling and writhing against him, reacting to his touches so perfectly, his good, sweet girl, taking him so well? and good god, the way that shirt draped over you, only reaching a little past your hips, rising just by a fraction to show off the round, soft flesh of your ass that once bore his marks, pink hand prints from his rough, calloused grip, and hickeys from when he ate you out from behind—just you wearing that shirt, seeing it ride up to show off the marks he’d left last night, it was your fault for teasing him, for wearing his shirt. why would you ever want to hide that body of yours from him anyway when he could worship you so well?

so really, you should’ve known better. now you were bent over the kitchen counter you once were making coffee on, back arched like a cat’s as you felt him draw a line over your weeping slit, your cunt pulsating with a heat only he could draw out from you.

“Please, Jay,” you whine, bucking your ass against him, hoping for some sort of relief as you rub your slicked pussy against his own angry tip, leaking with pre-cum. “Need you—need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, leaning over you, his hand pressed up against your throat to press your back to his broad chest. “Y’need me that bad, princess? Need me to stretch out that tight pussy, have you make a mess all over my cock?”

there’s a teasing edge to his words as he swipes at your hole, already dripping with your slickness, pushing his tip in just to give you a little taste of the stretch—as if his words weren’t enough to make you whine and beg—but pulling out just as quickly, the cocky bastard. he loved seeing you like this, so desperate for him.

“Please, Jason—“ your voice comes out strained from desperation as you attempt to wiggle your ass closer to him, your cunt nearer to his hard, thick cock, only to let out a frustrated mewl as Jason holds your hips steady in place. “Need you—need your cock, wanna have you fuck me full, fill me up with your cum, please.”

“‘S that so?” Jason grins, wolfish and wicked as he continues to tease you, running his fat tip along the length of your cunt, purposefully bumping your clit with each stroke. “Such a filthy mouth on you, doll. Makes me wanna stuff my cock in it, see how dirty it can really get.” he chuckles, licking his canines in lustful amusement as he feels your opening clench around his tip at his words.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Y’like being all dirty f’me, don’t ya, doll?” his voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble as her murmurs in your ear.

“Mhmm..” you nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, thighs already trembling in anticipation. “Jus’ wanna be good f’you, Jay.”

“That’s right,” he croons, chest welling up with pride at your submission, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he sees the look of adoration in your eyes swirled with desire for him. he lays kisses down your shoulder blades, landing a tender open-mouthed kiss against your nape—a reminder that even through the fiery hot intensity of the passion between the two of you, at the root of it all was a deep and profound love. “So good f’me, so perfect…’gonna take such good care of you, doll.” he murmurs, lining up his tip against your slit, pushing his aching cock into your drenched pussy. the tease that he is, he makes sure to draw out the moment, dragging his thick shaft against the walls of your cunt, eliciting a loud moan from your lips.

the sight of your cunt stretching out around his girth makes a low groan of pleasure slip from his lips as he sheathes himself fully into you. you drag your nails feebly against the marbled countertop, a muffled whine coming out of your mouth as you feel his fat cock fill you up—god, you could never get used to the sting, how good it felt knowing that he was the only one who could ever fill you up this good. your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure as his hand comes to press against your womb, making sure you felt the small bump against the pit of your stomach all due to his massive cock.

“Feel that, doll? Pussy’s all full of me—fuck, s’fucking tight—like it was made f’me, hm?” he lets out a breath, hot and heavy against the back of your neck, a low hiss emanating from his lips; he could never stop the way his cock twitched as he felt your cunt flutter around him, the warmth of your sweet pussy against his throbbing cock made his head murky with lust.

“Pussy’s all yours, Jay—h-hah, s’all for you!” you moan, feeling each vein and the curve of his cock against your spongy walls, his tip prodding and brushing against that spot that always made you see stars.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, his hand still around your throat, the other one holding your hip in place as he pulls his hips back before slamming his cock inside of you, beginning his quick pace. he’d been holding back before, but the way your cunt clenched around him makes any and all self-control slip from his being as he begins to fuck into you.

“Be a good girl and take my cock, yeah?” Jason whispers in your ear, his voice thick with lust as the lewd sounds of your sloppy cunt come into contact with his cock, his pelvis slamming against the meat of your ass.

it was going to be a while before the two of you have breakfast—all because of that damned shirt and Jason’s undeniable hunger for you. fuck breakfast, he had you, and that’s all he ever needed.

HOW DID YOU GET THAT WAY?

YOU DON'T EVEN HIDE HOW YOU FEEL.

18+ / semi-rough sex, exes fucking, female! reader. that's all. i giggled while writing this.

Letting Jason into your apartment past midnight only meant one thing. It's arguing slash fucking. Sure, it's a bad combination, you're his ex— his favorite ex. At least, that's what he told you. Being a hopeless romantic with a pussy that longs for no one but your ex, you happily let him inside when he decides to come over after patrol.

Jason knows you love it. As much as he hates letting you get under his skin, he loves taking out his anger on you.

“Fuck you.” Funny.

He's been trying to get your shorts off while you blabbered about how Roy and you have been flirting back and forth. It’s dumb, he shouldn’t care that his ex and his best friend are flirting with each other. But he does. That’s why he’s here, holding you down to the couch with his jeans gathered around his ankles and his throbbing cock pressed against your dripping pussy. Besides, he knows you're bluffing— Jason knows you'd say anything to make him jealous. And God does he hates how much it works on him.

Jason had the tip of his cock rubbing furiously between your folds, coating them with your slick as he looked down at you. “You’re bullshitting me, [Name].” He huffed, cheeks flushed as his hands gripped onto your sides. “Am not.” You playfully said to him, poking your tongue out as you grind yourself against him. He lets out a deep groan, pushing your hips down as he shoots you a glare.

“Yes, you are.” He rolled his eyes, his thumb reached down to push the head of his cock into your pussy. His lips curled into a smirk when he heard a gasp leaving your lips, “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.” He mutters under his breath, burying himself deeper inside of you as his knees digs into your bed.

“No. Roy and I—”

“Shut up.” He puts his hand over your mouth, muffling down your protests as he easily buries himself deeper inside of you due to how wet you are. And to be honest, he'd hundred percent sure you were soaking your panties the second he went inside of your apartment. Your fingers curled around his shirt, “I hate youuuuuu. Shooo much." Your words slurred as your lips formed a small pout, your eyes flickers down to watch the way his cock stretches you, your lips spread around him as Jason pushes himself in and out of you.

“Just… don’t get why… you’re this mad over me flirting with Roy.” A long whine left your lips before you looked back up at him, the bed underneath your weight violently creaked as your nails dragged on his back. “Not my fault, I have needs.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as Jason let out a breathy chuckle when you put up a frown on your face.

“You have me.”

“You’re my ex.”

“And?”

He slammed his hips into you right before you got to say anything, a sheen layer of sweat coating your body as you threw your head back. “Just stop talking about him when I’m balls deep in you, it’s weird. Talk about me instead.” It feels nice, sort of satisfying to know you at least made him sort of jealous that it’s enough to get him to pins you down and fills up every crevices of your wet cunt.

“No fun.” You muttered under your breath, arms curling around his neck as you pulled him down for a kiss. His lips quickly capture yours, ignoring the way your teeth clash against his so long as he has your lips on his own. “Nah, just like it better when you're moaning about how big my dick is.” He flashed you a toothy grin, fingers gripping your waist as he slightly lift your hips to thrust deeper. The veins on his cock rubbing against your gummy walls, a small bump on your lower stomach shows up every time he pushes himself deeper.

“They’re not… big.” You pants in between words, head tilts back into your pillow. He bits his bottom lip back when he felt your pussy squeezes around him, sucking him in. Your eyes turning watery from the pleasure, lashes thick with tears as he clenched his teeth. “Yeah, right." Jason lets out a scoff, pulling back away from you for a split second as he turned your body over as your stomach lay flat on your couch, his hand pressed flat on your back before he forced you to keep your hips up.

His cock finds its way back buried inside of your sopping cunt, your ass pressed against his pelvis as he gripped your hips. His fingers leaving red marks on tour skin, “You better keep your ass up.” There’s a certain firmness in his voice, his eyes looking down at you when you tilts your head to the side to looked back at him. Jason leans down to lean his chin on your shoulder, his lips hovering your ear as he slowly rocks his hips into your again.

“Gotta remind my ex girlfriend who she belonged to again.”

whoever reading this, please send anything sexy about dc men or women... I AM DYING TO JUST RANT ABT THEM c: sorry for the blue balls ending!!!!

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

threesome (bruce x reader x selina), sex toys, overstim, begging, very brief double penetration. first time writing for both of them so pls give me grace

they’re no good together. no, too good together. too good at breaking you, reverting you to a wet and squirming mess at his mercy while she holds you in faux comfort.

“bruce,” you cry to him, legs trembling and cunt twitching around the silicon he’s stuffed inside you over and over, too many times to even count. a little vibrator buzzes at your clit again and you sob, thighs snapping together as salty tears bubble under your lashes. “bruce- I can’t, ‘m done, please…”

his eyelids hang low and large hands grip the underside of your thighs, giving what you can only assume is a glare of impatience. “you’re not done,” he corrects, a light slap landing on your swollen clit that has you flinching open. god, he’s insane- you’re leaking around the thing, lips quivering and clawing at sheets, begging for mercy, yet he’s got the nerve to tell you you’re not done.

he’s mean, you realize, and only one arm is needed to leave you vulnerable while the other force’s the thick toy deeper into your cunt. his tongue rolls along his lips, almost in concentration as he stares you down; no indications of his own arousal are clear, but his enthusiasm for abusing your sore and puffy pussy speak volumes.

“I know you can give me another one,” bruce states in a matter-of-fact tone, brows furrowed further when you still attempt pushing him away. “and I know you want to.” the hint of irritation in his voice alludes to dangerous outcomes- hold out on him any longer and he’ll make sure this doesn’t get better for you. he reads you inside and out without missing even one line. bruce knows what makes you tick- what makes you cry, beg, even demand more. he’s almost insulted that you’d even try to withstand his ministrations, and the vibe against your sensitive nerves kicks up a notch.

“be nice, brucie,” selina chimes in with a little tut, pretty and nimble hands tracing your collarbone and jawline. the delicate scratch of her nails send shivers up your spine and you whine at the faux sympathy. “we’re just prepping her, remember? save the brooding act for later.” shit, just prepping?

“oh my god,” you gasp, not even a second before that coil of overwhelming tension breaks, clinging desperately to selina’s arm as your body convulses. you hold onto her as if she’s your final thread, the only thing stopping you from passing out, and the sentiment has her smirking. “fuck, selina, make him… please- just make him…” the man torturing your cunt exchanges a sly look to his counterpart, a low groan from the depths of the throat prompting you to look down.

“aw, make him what? make him keep going?”

she’s evil.

they’re both evil.

“just greedy,” selina coos, only now choosing to ignore your more elaborate pleas of clarification. your mouth hangs open with drool near the corners, and you’ve seemingly resorted to the gods above to grant you mercy- then her thumb drags down your lip and rests on your tongue. it quiets you down as she shushes you, gaze landing back on hers. “greedy, isn’t she…”

“since you want me to be so nice,” bruce hums as the head of his cock prods at your pussy, not even bothering to move either of the toys; fuck, you feel like you’ll die from how much he stretches you out. “i’ll give her what she wants so bad.” ❧

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“honey, I laugh when it sinks in / a pillar I am of pride / scarcely can speak for my thinking / what you’d do to me tonight”

there are a million thoughts running through jason todd’s mind as he fucks you — how good you feel around him, how pretty you look with one of your legs over his shoulder, how obscene your moans sound echoing off the bedroom walls — but his favourite is always the way you look when he first sinks into you.

the first few times you fucked him, all he could look at was the sight of your greedy pussy taking him in, transfixed by your warmth and the way he stretched you. after those first few times, however, he thought to look at your face instead, and it was like the planet shifted on its axis. he found your eyes where his had been moments prior, fixed to his cock as it breached your tight hole. he took in your expression, a mixture of apprehension and lust and anticipation, and found a moment to pause and admire your beauty. he noticed the way your lips parted as he inched into you, and when he finally bottomed out, he saw the way your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned his name, pride swelling in his chest. he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“what?” you whined, eyes opening to meet his as he slowly unsheathed himself from you.

“nothin’, ma,” he breathed, a cocky grin still plastered on his face. you gasped as he thrust back into you. “just keep takin’ me like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing, 

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

🦟 if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way 🦟 and maybe also a plague

♯ ATTRACTIVE THINGS THEY DO . . . without realizing

BRUCE WAYNE

rolling his sleeves

bruce wayne sat at his desk, eyes scanning the papers in front of him with a focus that bordered on obsessive. his brow furrowed slightly as he sifted through the reports, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. with a sigh, he leaned back in the chair, his broad shoulders rolling as he stretched, the fabric of his shirt straining just enough to hint at the muscle beneath.

he reached down to his cuffs, fingers moving with practiced ease as he undid the buttons. the action was simple, but there was an undeniable smoothness to it. slowly, he pushed the sleeves up, the fabric tugging against the defined muscles of his forearms as they flexed with the motion. the shirt rode up slightly, revealing the veins beneath.

once the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he flexed his fingers briefly, feeling the weight of the day settle into his body. there was no rush, no hurry. bruce wayne wasn’t just a man who wore suits—he was a man who controlled the world around him.

looking down and leaning in to hear you better

he stood tall, his imposing presence filling the space as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. the difference in height between you made the moment feel all the more intimate, as though the world around you had faded into the background. his broad shoulders, strong and steady, seemed to fill the room with the weight of his silent power. every inch of him radiated control, and yet, there was something almost magnetic about the way he was focused on you now, narrowing the gap between you.

he tilted his head just a little, his gaze softening yet still intense, before his lips parted slightly. with a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, he leaned closer, his height forcing you to tilt your head back just to meet his eyes.

“sorry, what were you saying?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the words lingering in the air between you. there was no rush in his movement, no hint of impatience—just the steady presence of a man who knew the effect he had, who made every action feel deliberate, calculated.

DICK GRAYSON

stretching

dick grayson towered in the middle of your bedroom, a small stretch escaping him after a long day of training and patrol. with a soft grunt, he raised his arms high above his head, his back arching slightly as his muscles flexed in the motion. the action was simple, but the way his body moved with effortless grace caught the light in just the right way, accentuating the sleek, toned lines of his chest and abdomen.

as he reached upwards, the hem of his shirt lifted slightly, revealing the faint line of his happy trail—dark and subtle beneath the fabric. his abs tightened with the stretch, his posture perfect and confident, yet so natural.

when his arms finally lowered, he relaxed, a small, satisfied smile curling on his lips, unaware of the effect the simple stretch had on your wandering gaze.

running a hand through his hair

he leaned back against the post of your bed, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath after another long night of patrol. he was tired, but not exhausted—just enough to feel the strain of the evening settling into his muscles. his hand moved instinctively to his hair, running through it with a relaxed sigh. the motion was effortless, but there was something undeniably attractive about it. his fingers tangled in the dark strands, pushing them back, only to leave them even more tousled than before.

his hair, usually neatly styled, now fell in messy waves, a little wild and chaotic—much like dick himself. as he scratched the back of his head, his tousled look gave off a carefree vibe, as if he didn’t have a care in the world despite the weight of his responsibilities. the slight rumple only added to the charm.

his lips quirked into a soft, knowing smile as he caught the look in your eyes, momentarily lost in them—so damn predictable. he had you right where he wanted you.

JASON TODD

leaning against a doorway

jason todd stood in the doorway, his posture relaxed yet undeniably intimidating. his arms were crossed over his chest, biceps flexing slightly with the movement, a stance that spoke of quiet confidence and a hint of defiance. his shoulders were broad, his body leaning casually against the doorframe, but there was an edge to him—something hard and unyielding beneath the surface. the way his weight shifted ever so slightly to one side gave him an almost effortless air, as if the world had to adjust to him, not the other way around.

his dark eyes scanned the room, taking in everything with a sharp focus, though he didn’t seem to be in a rush to move or speak. the leather jacket he adorned hung from his frame, the subtle creases and folds of the material giving it an air of worn-in familiarity, like it had seen too much for too long. but his gaze—intense, guarded—never left your figure, as if he was watching for something just out of reach, something that only he could sense.

the way jason held himself in the doorway, arms crossed with a hint of tension in his posture, felt like a silent challenge for most, though there was nothing overtly aggressive about it. it was just the quiet power of a man who was used to being underestimated, a man who didn't need to say a word to command attention.

wearing a shirt that fits just right

he moved through the motions of his training with practiced precision, the rhythm of his strikes steady and controlled. his black shirt clung to his body, the dark fabric stretching over the defined muscles of his chest and back as he moved. the fit was snug, highlighting the sheer strength in his frame, the subtle curve of his biceps flexing with each punch and kick.

swaet began to bead on his forehead, trailing down his temple as he focused on his technique, his breathing steady despite the exertion. the shirt, stretched tight across his shoulders, rode up slightly as his arms reached high, the lines of his stomach momentarily visible as he performed another series of rapid, forceful punches. his torso flexed, muscles tightening and releasing with each movement, and the shirt seemed to accentuate the sculpted definition of his body.

as he paused, catching his breath, the shirt clung even tighter, the movement of his chest beneath it noticeable with every rise and fall of his breath. jason didn’t seem to notice—or care—how the fit of the shirt left little to the imagination. his focus was on the work, on pushing himself further, but the way the fabric outlined his form only added to the unspoken intensity of his presence. even when he wasn't speaking, his body did all the talking.

This is so yummy

Escarmiento- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader

a/n- spoiler warning for astv!!! Some of the things in this I don’t agree with based off of my personal opinion for certain characters, but y/n, for story sake, agrees with Miles

warnings- eventual smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass

—————————————————————————

“You’re an anomaly. You don’t belong here, you don’t even belong in your universe. Everything you’ve done…”

The sound of your husband’s voice rang between your ears as you squeezed between the growing crowd, the dark blue and red of Miguel’s “lair” reflecting off the suits of the hundreds of spider people slowly congregating around the boy you knew as Miles Morales. For weeks, Miguel was infatuated with this Morales kid, infatuated with the idea of capturing him so that he could save everyone, so he could save you, as he loved to say.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself standing at the front, watching as the young boy was on the receiving end of a very familiar type of lecture. “-kid, you can’t have everything, you can’t save everyone. Spider-man makes sacrifices, that’s the way it has to be,” Miguel’s tone was strong, unwavering, as he told the kid the unfortunate truth of the situation.

Gwen, Peter, Hobie (who could not care less about the situation), Jess, and your husband all battered the kid with their takes, with their opinions on the situation and you could tell that he wasn’t having any of it. The others in the room also thought it their place to partake in this ping pong match of morals, their voices overstimulating even to your ears. It was obvious that Miles felt suffocated, lied to, attacked, and you couldn’t just sit back and watch.

“What if he’s right?”

…

The room went silent at your words, every single spider lensed eye turning to look at you as you stepped forward, a pair of scarlet eyes meeting your own, narrowing slightly. “What if nothing happens? I mean, how are any of us supposed to live if we stay trapped by the rules of the unknown?”

A sigh left the lips of the spider you knew all too well, his gloved hand running down his face as he turned to you. “We’re “trapped” by those rules for a reason. They’re the only thing holding everything together. You should know that more than anyone.”

Yes, you knew all too well what would happen if the canon was disrupted, being Miguel’s only pillar to trust and lean on for him to be vulnerable enough to share his story. That was one case though. One instance out of countless others that were possible.

With careful steps, you walked toward them until you were side by side with Miles, his wide eyes watching you literally take his side, the first out of hundreds to step up.

“Amor.. being bitten by that spider should’ve caused irrevocable damage in his universe, should it not have?” You questioned him, his strong arms crossing as he pondered the fact, “It wasn’t canon, so by your reasoning, all hell should’ve broken loose in his universe. But it didn’t. Miles may very well be an anomaly, but if he can commit non-canon acts without consequences, there’s nothing stopping us from letting him save his father.”

With a scoff, your husband’s hand turned to gesture the scenes projected behind him, the sight of universes crumbling, millions of lives wiped out due to one action. “This is why we can’t let him. If the kid is allowed to do whatever he wants, every single universe would end up in shambles because one little thread of reality was tugged loose.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but to some degree, you did agree with Miguel. You knew how important it was to uphold the rules of the multiverse, but there was just something different with Miles. You couldn’t help but think that this was different, that his case was truly unique.

“He’s staying. I don’t care about hypotheticals or any other possible outcomes-”

Using Miguel’s voice as a cover, as inconspicuous as possible, your gloved hand lightly tugged at Miles’ pinky, and when his eyes glanced at your still frame, you whispered under your breath, “Use your palms.” Miles’ eyebrows furrowed at your comment, his shoulders squaring as Miguel approached the both of you.

“-he’s not going anywhere until we know for sure that he’s not a threat.” Miguel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you away from the boy’s side as you watched him pull a red disk from the air behind him, casually throwing it at the boy’s feet, a red cage snapping up around the panicking kid.

Miguel was immediately battered with pleas to let him go, specifically by Gwen and Peter, as Miles yelled and slammed against his enclosure. Slipping away from the turmoil and shouting, you caught Miles’ gaze and nodded slightly, his eyes going wide at the realization of your words. His hands pressed against the red lining, a muttered sentence leaving his lips before the cage shattered and every single spider-person was thrown backwards by the sheer force. Everyone besides you of course, who was conveniently standing next to a freed Miles, your webbing attached to the floor the only anchor you had to prevent from flying back.

Scarlet eyes immediately snapped to you, your gaze full of guilt as Miles turned to sprint, your legs quickly following as the shout of your name boomed behind you, your eyes flitting back to find a rage-filled Miguel with hundreds of spiders at his heels, pursuing Miles, and unfortunately, you as well.

—————————————————————————

Part Two

“We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.”

pairing. jason todd x reader

warnings. SMUT, use of pet names (ma), Jason being a horny bastard, he refers to your titties as ‘my pretty girls’, and your coochie as ‘she’

prompts used. “We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.” from smut prompt list

a/n. this one made me giggle. Jason just loves his girl

“Holy fuck,” Jason gawked at the sight of you in that pretty little red dress. Dick and Kory had invited the two of you on a double date, much to Jason’s dismay you wanted to go.

You glanced up at him, eyes wide and pretty like that lipgloss you were wearing, his words rang worry through you, “is it too much?” You ask nervously.

Jason snorts, “oh ma, it’s just enough.” He grins as he moves closer, hands on your hips, pulling you into him. His hands wander down your hips to your thighs as he presses kisses down your neck. “Red?”

You nodded, “wanted to wear your colour.”

Jason swears he could cum with just those words alone, the innocent and pure adoration you have for him and wanting to wear his colour. His colour, something to mark you as his.

“We’re not going anymore, get on the bed.”

“What—” you don’t get another word out when he tosses you over his shoulder, walking you over to the bed. “Jay, we told Dick we’d come.”

“Mhm,” he hums in response, not really listening to you as he presses kisses all over you chest. “You’re gonna be coming alright.”

“Jason!” You shriek as the spaghetti straps of your dress snap.

“Shhh, I’ll buy you another one.” He mumbles, freeing your breasts with a little grin, “there’s my girls. My pretty girls.” His big hands engulf them, pinching at your nipples before sucking one into your mouth.

He worked his way down your body, lifting up the bottom of your dress so its bunched around your hips, the pretty pink lace under your dress on display. “You’re so pretty, she’s all dressed up f’me.” He presses a kiss against the gusset of your panties, right against your clit.

“You ready, ma?” He looks up at you with all the love in world in his pretty eyes. “We’re not stopping until sunrise.. heh.” He snorts, “maybe not even then.” He adds before pulling your panties to the side and diving in.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

the night had worn on longer than you expected—one drink after another, endless conversations, and a pounding music that reverberated in your bones. now, as you stumbled through the front door of your apartment, the weight of exhaustion was heavy on your shoulders. your head felt like it was made of lead, your limbs sore, and your mind foggy with the aftereffects of a night that, while fun, had drained every last bit of energy from you. all you wanted was to sink into the comfort of your bed.

you glanced up at JASON TODD, your boyfriend, who was standing a few steps behind you, his brow furrowed in concern. he’d been quiet, observant, as usual, letting you enjoy the night while silently keeping an eye on you for any troubles. but now, the way his gaze softened at the sight of your exhaustion spoke volumes. you knew he was ready to take care of you.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “let me help you with that.”

you didn’t even need to ask what he meant. he could tell, just from the subtle way you tugged at the edge of your makeup, that you were too tired to deal with it yourself. his eyes softened, and before you could protest, he was already guiding you toward the bathroom.

once you were inside, jason gently pushed the door closed behind him, the dim light from the bathroom casting a warm glow over the space. he leaned against the counter, his green eyes following your every movement. you tried to muster the strength to undress your makeup, but your hands were uncoordinated, your tiredness making the simple task feel impossible. the smudged eyeliner, the lipstick that had begun to fade unevenly—it all felt like too much.

jason noticed your struggle, and without a word, he stepped closer, his presence a comforting weight against the overwhelming fatigue that clung to you.

“let me do it,” he said quietly, his voice soothing. “you don’t have to do a thing.”

his calloused hands, always steady, reached for your face with a tenderness that caught you off guard. you had gotten used to his strength, to his commanding presence when he was on the job, but now, in this quiet moment, you were reminded of the softer side of him. the part of him that wanted nothing more than to take care of you.

his fingers were gentle as they cupped your chin, lifting it just slightly to study your face. he gave you a small, reassuring smile, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“i’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured before he dipped a cotton pad into the micellar water, pressing it gently to your skin.

you closed your eyes at the first cool sensation against your face, letting out a soft sigh of relief. his movements were soft, each swipe of the cotton pad sweeping away the remnants of the night. slowly, gently, jason worked his way across your face, always careful not to tug at your skin. he started at your eyes, where the mascara had long since smudged, his fingers soft as he carefully wiped away the stubborn eyeliner and mascara, knowing how sensitive that area was. the way he worked with such care made your heart ache a little.

“you’re really good at this,” you murmured, half-amused by how effortless he made it look.

jason chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small smile as he continued to cleanse your face. “i’m with you every single night,” he said, the hint of humor in his voice making the whole situation feel more intimate, more personal than anything else. “i guess i picked up a few tricks.”

you opened your eyes, catching his own. he was staring at you with a look so soft, so filled with affection, that it made your heart swell. you weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion or something deeper, but in that moment, you felt seen. in a way that you hadn’t expected, in a way that was rare. jason had always been there for you—through the highs and the lows, through the good and the bad. but here, now, in the quiet of the bathroom, he was taking care of you in the simplest, most intimate way. and it felt like everything.

“such a pretty girl,” he said quietly, his hands finally pulling away from your face once it was clean and bare of all the smudges.

you were left staring at him with hearts and twinkles in your eyes.

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