Summary: You had a few new shades of lipstick you needed to try, and decided that your boyfriend was the perfect canvas to test them on.
Pairing: Tim Drake x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Content Warning: FLUFF, Suggestive at the end, Tim is down bad, reader likes makeup, second person, no use of y/n
A/N: It’s my fav robin and almost bday twin’s birthday :P so yall KNOWWWW I had to get something out. This was a request from my wonderful dada @bat2nsignia thank you for thissssss I hope you like it <3 and as always my lovelies, I hope you enjoy
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
“Baby,” you call out quietly.
Your boyfriend, who’s seated right next to you, hums at the nickname. It’s his way of telling you that he’s all ears for you, without removing his eyes from the monitor.
“Are you busy?”
His fingers hesitate on the keyboard, weighing the answer before finally deciding on, “A bit.”
Your eyes sparkle in your mirror before dropping the question that always makes him fold, “too busy for me?”
And like clockwork, his fingers pause indefinitely and rest on the keys before turning to you. There’s a slight upcurve of his lips, with a tease lingering in his eyes when he narrows them playfully at you.
“You know the answer to that.”
You did. It was always never.
It’s almost funny, you would’ve never imagined that Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne had separation anxiety. From the beginning of your relationship, he was the most avoidant guy you’d ever gone out with. He’d say it was fine if you couldn’t see him for a week, or went a full day without talking, or hell even going to bed before saying goodnight.
He wasn’t good at letting himself want things- not truly anyway. Then after a few months and you both got more serious, it was like a light switch flickered on.
He rarely wanted to be apart from you. He’d be with you every opportunity he could. It didn’t always have to be a date, you guys didn’t even have to talk. It was just comforting to know that you were somewhere near him, choosing to exist with him.
It was actually so serious, that when he started organizing the apartment for you to move in, he made room next to his desk for your vanity. While he would spend hours on his computer working on files or looking over spreadsheets for WE, you would spend hours testing new makeup looks. This was just another way for him to coexist with you- a parallel play of sorts.
When you both visited the manor last week, Selina gifted you a brand new lipstick collection someone sent her in the mail. After her wedding to the most eligible bachelor in Gotham, brands began to send her thousands of packages of PR.
She knew realistically, she wasn’t going to use it all. So, most of the packages ended up donated to woman’s shelters or regifted to some of the bats or bat-adjacent people, like you.
Now, after weeks of putting it off, you finally got to cleaning your vanity. While taking in your work, you began eyeing the new collection from where it rested in front of you for a few minutes; debating what to do with it when the idea hit you.
“Well, Selina gave me these lipsticks when we were at the manor last week,” you start off the pitch and he raises an eyebrow, amused.
“I remember,” he removes his hands from the keyboards. Pushing off the desk, he crosses his arms over his chest turning all his attention to you.
“And I was thinking, how on earth could I test all of these and see what I think of each shade?” opening the drawer to your left without looking away from him, you retrieve the small packet of makeup wipes from it and place it on his desk.
His eyes shoot to it for a second before turning back to you. “I don’t know darling, how do you plan on doing all that?”
A big toothy smile creeps onto your face and he mirrors it. He knew what you were planning, but it was always fun to watch him play along when you got in your moods.
“Well I just remembered,” leaning over, you drag his chair to right in front of you, “I have the perfect canvas right here.”
He laughs, it’s not loud and it doesn’t fill the room, but it fills your heart. It’s a quiet thing that eases every discomfort you’ve had through the day. This little laugh is him unguarded, it’s him giving you a part of him he doesn’t give anyone else.
There’s a small shake of his head, before he picks you up and sits you on top of him. Your legs are straddling his and a small giggle escapes you when he places a hand on your back. Leaning forward to grab the box filled with thirty different lip sticks, he moves them to his desk.
“Come on Ms. Arteest, make me beautiful.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes you. He’s relaxed back on his chair ready for you to attack him with different shades of red, pink, and mauve.
Opening the first one, you twist the bottom to apply it on your lips, and he springs into action. Carefully taking it from your hands, he whispers a quiet domestic “let me,” before applying it for you.
And that- well that, has your face burning to a red that rivals your lips. Tim was always an acts of service guy, so this wasn’t particularly new, but it was still sweet. It winded you sometimes because it always came from nowhere. It was out of the blue when you least expected it, he would jump at little things.
His eyebrows furrow together with a barely there wrinkle between them when he focuses, making sure to apply it on your lips just right.
Pulling back to admire his work, no amount of strength from you biting your cheeks could hold back the smile.
You place the first kiss on his cheek and back away, admiring the first of many. Then Tim reaches behind you and picks up a makeup wipe from your pack to clean the shade off for you, and the process repeats.
You filled his right cheek, then his left, then pinned back his hair to paint his forehead, then his neck. And when you ran out of room, you pulled over his shirt and continued going down. Giggles echoed in the vents of the apartment you shared, and Tim thought he could die happy in this chair looking up at you.
When you got to the last shade, you dropped the kiss right above his heart. His face was pink for an entirely different reason now.
Without saying anything, he holds you close to him and stands up. Your legs wrap around his waist with a yelp. He moves to look at both of you in the mirror and grins.
You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look this happy before. In your reflections, you don’t see the mastermind vigilante Red Robin. You don’t see the boy who held the world on his shoulders. No, you see your boyfriend. You see the man who always shows up for you, the man who didn’t think he was ever going to be loved, and the man who adored you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“What do you think?” your voice is breathless while making eye contact with him through the mirror.
“I think,” his face has still has the ghost of all your laughs lingering in his cheeks and you would treasure this sight forever, “I think that this one,” he points to the bright red stain on the center of his forehead, “is my favorite.”
Then he turns away from the mirror and starts making his way across the apartment, peppering your face and neck with kisses of his own. Sounds of Joy filling the hallways as you give yourselves a break from the world.
Arriving to the bedroom, he drops both of you on the bed. Caging you under him with his arms, he has a wicked smile before whispering above your mouth,
/ ɛnˈkaʊn tər / means to come upon or meet with, especially unexpectedly
pairing: supermodel!reader ✗ prince of gotham!jason todd
tags: mdni 18+ノsmokingノmen being creepyノuse of y/nノproofread by @cherryvvave <333 (edit: forgot to put age warning)
word count: 2,540 words
author's note: first chapter yay! i'm so happy to start these series and hope you guys will love it just like i do<3 change of the divider colour means different pov (red for jason and brown for reader)
series masterlist | next >
Iceberg Lounge, 9pm
Gotham's biggest night club and casino shone with dozen of cold white lights calling and tempting everyone to come in. To forget about everything and test the luck in casino, to lose yourself in music pulsating in your ears and drinks served.
The only place in the whole city where everyone gets to be equal for some time.
Nightclub's main dancefloor was full with people as usual, scent of musk, citrus and alcohol was filling the air. Clinking of glasses, raucous laughter and talking were deafened with the noise of music. Sequin dresses, jewellery of all kinds, shoes with transparent glass like platforms were glittering under the blue and white neon lights.
Comparing with the casino environment, which was located one floor down, the nightclub was always messy. Always chaotic in a way that it perfectly reflected the chaos of Gotham. Casino though was calmer. Same scent of citrus and alcohol in the air, but with addition of expensive perfume and — instead of vibrating EDM music — jazz.
One place will suffocate you with chaos, the other will suffocate you with the fake face of nobility and superiority over others.
Yes, pure reflection of Gotham in her citizens through and through. Same plot, different actors. Nothing unknown.
Jason was sitting on the terrace outside, having a dinner by himself. Suzie Su, his bodyguard wasn't always near him, keeping the distance but kept an eye on him. He sipped his champagne, watching the Sun set below the horizon and enjoying the quiet moment of solitude. He thanked himself and Blanc for deciding to invest in soundproof walls. With their help, people outside weren't disturbed by the noise.
When he was finishing, Jason noticed with a side glance his assistant approaching him.
"Excuse me for disturbing your dinner, sir."
"Nah, I'm almost done already, what is it?" Jason turned his attention to him, putting the fork aside.
His assistant glanced at his tablet before speaking again. "The special guest I've told you about two days ago is here. The one who ordered a separate table in the VIP area. He… made a wish to meet you."
Jason rose his eyebrows. Now it's getting interesting.
"Huh, what's his name?"
"Dacre Bell, model manager and promoter from local fashion modelling agency. He's accompanied by four other models that are appearing on Gotham Fashion Week."
Jason sighed. "Can you please tell him that I'm currently busy and cannot have any conversations."
Tell him to fuck off for me in a formal way please.
"Sir, as much as I know you find such conversations unpleasant, they affect the whole image of Iceberg Lounge sometimes."
Todd closed his eyes, running a hand down his face. "You find them crucial?"
"I find them useful." His assistant smiled with corners of his lips.
Sometimes he reminded Jason of certain somebody from his "past" life.
Jason exhaled, standing up. "I'll be in a minute, Mark."
Mark nodded and retrieved.
The air on the second floor of the nightclub felt hotter than on the first. And served cool drinks didn't help. You were sitting right next to Dacre. One your friend and co-worker was sitting on your right, other two were sitting on Dacre's left. The proximity felt uncomfortable. Not because of your friend Tara, no. Since you came in this nightclub after dinner in restaurant on East End, Dacre multiple times attempted to wrap hand around your waist and every time you gently were pulling him off you and multiple times he brought his face closely to yours to say something. So close you could sense the smell of his awful menthol gum. As "polite" as you could be, you kept pushing him back in his chest, creating distance between you two. You rarely went out with him and when you did. his behaviour was often the same.
You noticed Tara's sympathetic looks on you, but you said nothing. At least 18-year-old Larissa —who was sitting on the other side of the couch — wasn't bothered. She kept looking around curiously, sipping her soda.
People were passing by, not even trying to hide their staring at you and other girls.
Suddenly in the VIP section appeared tall figure of the young man. His silk burgundy shirt and a black suit strongly contrasted with the whole cold icy vibe of the nightclub. Your gaze followed him approaching your table as you kept sipping your dirty martini.
You knew who it was. You saw his face before in celebrity magazines and newspaper. You could recognise this white streak of hair easily.
New proprietor of Iceberg Lounge and Bruce Wayne's ward he doesn't mention often. Jason Todd.
Prince of Gotham as somebody in the media called him once.
For once, Dacre stopped rambling and gave mister Todd a wide smile. The right hand that was laying behind you on the back of the couch leaned to squeeze the hand. "Ah, mister Todd. Pleasure to finally meet you. Your manager warned that you might be very busy."
Jason sat in front of him on the square ottoman stool, smiling shortly. "Yeah, well. I always try to find time for our guests. And you wanted to… talk to me?"
You and Tara exchange glances.
Figures
Jason Todd still remains a new persona to Gotham "elite". And Dacre wants to intervene with his "partnership" thing.
Like he always does.
You take a deep breath and when Dacre attempts to touch you again, you stand up taking your purse. "I need fresh air. I feel like I'm suffocating here."
Tara just nodes. Dacre makes a mocking sad face, pouting. "Oh, come on, honey, we just started."
You look at him down with mildly irritated look. "I'm tired and need some time for myself." Dismissing Jason, you leave the table.
Before you reached stairs, you heard your "promoter" saying to mister Todd. "That was [Name] [Last name], our little Stargirl."
"She's actually a sweetheart, but can be difficult sometimes." added another model Antonia. "Don't read into it much"
The last thing you heard was mister Todd replying. "Right…"
You move between bodies, quickly. Heels' clicking is getting deafened by techno. You unintentionally hover over some people which makes easier for you to go through. You could feel piercing looks on your back. Of people who were recognising a celebrity in you, but most looks were different. Straight up staring, that could make somebody shiver.
Those were from men.
As soon as you stepped on the terrace balcony, you took a deep breath. From this place was opening a huge view at the city.
Shining and so deeply flawed Gotham.
You looked around searching for the smoking area. The balcony was wide. There was an area with tables and chairs, empty area with railing to enjoy the view. And the area to smoke.
It was in another corner enclosed by glass walls without the ceiling. There were some people sitting there, but not so much. Clicking of your heels causes men's attention inside. Their gaze follow you as you take a seat on the couch across from them right near exit with a heavy sigh. Smell of expensive tobacco was hanging in the air. LED strip lights were creating a cozy atmosphere.
You take the vape out of your purse and try to inhale a few times. To your misfortune, its battery was low. You curse under your breath, taking a pack of cigarettes out that you often kept just in case. You take one out of the pack and press it between your lips. And suddenly multiple lighter flame appeared in front of you. They were so fast, you didn't even have time to take your own lighter.
Your eyes trace each men. Way older, maybe in their 40s and some of them look smug. How many of them have wives at home waiting for them? How many of them portray themselves as "family men", while also hitting on young women in the nightclub? Are their wives oblivious, don't care about it or actually the same as their husbands? Absolutely disgusting.
You almost roll your eyes and huff, ready to draw them away from yourself, when suddenly they retrieve themselves on their own. And looks on their faces say that it's someone "big".
"Not very gentlemanly to disturb the lady." says the person.
You frown and lift your eyes. Mister Todd.
He was literally talking to Dacre a few minutes ago, why is he here?
Did he follow you or something?
"It would be even better if you all left. Like right now." He smiles at them mockingly.
And they actually rush to leave, putting out their cigarettes in ashtrays and leave.
When they're gone, you lift your at him again. And he looks at you back and doesn't break an eye contact.
Huh
You finally lighten a cigarette and the first drag relaxes you immediately. You lean back on the couch, crossing your legs.
He keeps standing, but then for some reason he decides to stay and sits down.
"That was dramatic." You break the silence first.
"I would've called it effective." He smirks.
"Oh, definitely. Accept my gratitude. Though I thought you were occupied with conversation with my manager." You exhale a smoke in opposite way of him.
"I was told by my assistant that one of my bodyguards noticed a situation." He replies with confidence, mirroring your position.
"That so? And you decided to check it yourself? Wasn't a conversation important?" You keep asking.
He smiles with corners of his lips. "It wasn't. Not to me at least."
Was it too bad that you were happy about Dacre's games not working on Todd? You often heard that mister Todd was detached in some way. He wasn't caught in any drama and that is what led to speculations around him. There were two or three intrudes when he just started running the place, but that was it. After, there was nothing major.
The smoking area falls into silence. You keep smoking, lost in your own thoughts. Your hand with the rehearsed grace that clings to you like a second skin. From time to time you shake the ash off in the tray and press the cigarette back to lips. You smoke and feel his gaze on you. But it's not heavy or creepy. It was a gaze of someone who tries to learn a person in front of him.
Maybe you should've asked him to leave, but you didn't see the point. He wasn't bothering you, didn't pry. Just sat n front of you casually.
"You seemed not to be interested in that either." Mister Todd speaks again. "That conversation, I mean."
"I get tired when I'm around people a lot. And… I also expected you talking to be as usual. Business, fake smiles and promises about future partnership or something, don't get me wrong." You reply, shaking the ash off. You were almost done with a cigarette.
He hums, saying nothing.
You squint your eyes. "And why are you still here?"
He gives you this small smile again. "Just making sure no one dares to disturb you again. Guests' comfort is always the top priority."
You smirk faintly and after last drag put the cigarette out. "Well then, I'm ready to go back into chaos again." You stand up, fixing your mini dress. "Thank you, again. I would also advise you to say something to Dacre later. I bet he found your actions weird. He doesn't like to be dismissed so fast."
Mister Todd simply nods and goes to exit first. He stands right outside, offering his hand to help to go down two or three stairs. Both of you know it's not needed. But you still give your hand. And he still keeps his eyes on you before you say goodbye.
"Maybe we will have a chance to meet again. Gotham is small." You give him last smile and disappear inside.
Later at night Jason was sitting in his office, looking through his papers, and then opened the Internet to search up about this Dacre Bell.
Something in conversation with him earlier that night felt off. The way he positioned himself, his manner of talking, his status in Gotham. Heavy on status. He gave an impression of cocky, arrogant and very assertive person. In the web was nothing major. Nothing that could catch Jason's eye.
Numerous interviews with him about his work, how he "helped" to make a name for many models in the industry, his influence as a whole. And one of those articles led to you. You were standing next to Dacre on some carpet, head taller than him, looking directly at the camera.
Young woman on this photo and who he saw earlier today weren't same. On the photo your gaze is confident, daring even, small smile is glued to your lips. Today he saw exhausted and quite vulnerable in some way person for who it became too loud in the crowd and they craved space.
Jason told to himself that it's just natural curiosity, surfing your pictures. Runway shows, red carpets, event paparazzis. Confident, graceful and smiling, always smiling. Always genuinely approaching fans for a picture and autograph, warming hugs with cancer patients and young girls, visits in Gotham youth centres, refugee camps in different regions of the world.
Truly people's sweetheart
"Remarkable person, isn't she?" Mark entered the office. "Though, as far as I heard, she remains very private about her life and rarely does interviews that have to do with something personal."
Jason didn't expect him to appear so sudden. "You should warn when you come in, Mark. I was just… curious."
His assistant smiled. "My apologies. I came to say that I didn't find anything special on mister Bell. He seems to be clean."
Jason turns to him. "Still would like to keep an eye on him. Something eventually may come out. He doesn't seem very trustful to me."
The way he was treating models that were accompanying him tonight didn't sit right with Jason either. Especially you. Jason didn't sit with them very long after you retrieved, but he noticed unnecessary nicknames and backhanded jokes. when you weren't around. Not only towards you, but also towards the other three ladies that were there.
Mark saw his boss's serious demeanour and nodded. "Of course." Photo of you on the Vogue Cover was still opened on Todd's desktop. "About miss."
Jason lifts his eyes. "What about her?"
"This week in Gotham takes place Fashion Week Show as I told you earlier. And miss [Last name] will perform for the brand on Wednesday."
Jason frowns. "Are you offering me to visit the show?"
Mark's lips twitched in smile. "The invitation to the show is still up. If you remain curious, might as well get to know the Miss better."
He hums, looking back at his desktop.
"Maybe we will have a chance to meet again. Gotham is small"
Jason rubs his chin for a moment and then nods. "Can be useful to learn more about Bell from the inside."
"Right, Bell, of course."
Todd doesn't miss his assistant's teasing, but decides to say nothing.
"Alright. Fashion Show it is…" he mutters and closes his desktop.
suguru has a habit of correcting your posture. a light palm between your shoulder blades to remind you to sit up straight when he sees you slouching. a finger under your chin, raising it slightly just to make you make eye contact with him when you've been staring at your phone for too long.
"good," he whispers when you do as directed.
it shouldn't be as hot as it is, until you remember that he does the same thing when he's slamming into you from behind. one hand on your hip, the other between your shoulders to angle your body just the way you both like it.
the same sweet praises fall like honey from his lips, "there it is," and "just like that." you can picture him with his head tipped back and his inky hair falling down his back as those deep, elongated groans that let you know just how good you're doing for him.
or, when you're in missionary and he tilts your head back with just one finger to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses over your throat. god forbid his teeth scrape the sensitive spots on the sides of your neck - he knows you're weak there and doesn't let up once he starts. he's made you cum like that more than once and is more than happy to do it over and over until you're begging him to stop.
so, if you start occasionally slouching on purpose, who could really blame you? if they knew the images of your husband that it conjured for you, their posture would suffer the same fate as yours just for a small taste of what you experience.
⁺₊⋆ 𖤓 ⋆⁺₊ MRS. ROBINSON // neighbor!jason todd x milf!reader
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ summary: you're so fucked. you shouldn't be debating ending your relationship with your neighbor jason, who's seven years your junior... who babysits your daughter. yet, here you are, fighting the urge to call him over.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ tags: MDNI, oneshot (?), fluff, smut (p in v sex, fem receiving oral, vaginal fingering, handjobs, switch!reader and jason, softdom leaning!reader, sub leaning!jason, tit sucking, breeding kink, slight praise kink, doggy style, jason todd mommy kink) reader has a seven-year-old daughter and is a single mom, reader and jason have a seven-year age gap (22-29), not canon compliant, canon divergence, batfam have stable relationships with each other, jason being great with kids, high school drama teacher!reader, NOT BETA’D/PROOFREAD
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ author's note: hey :D i don’t know if i like this. it took me too long. but it's done!
˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀˙ word count: 10.5k
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
It’s a sick thing. Every mother has her worst fears regarding how she'll fail as a mother. They fester beneath the surface, waiting to reveal themselves until the worst possible moment, the moment you let your guard completely down. When you finally think you're safe or content, the moments you plan to cherish are ruined in seconds flat. There’s no more worrying about becoming a bad mother. You’ve become a cougar. What specifics would grant a woman the title, you're not entirely sure. Does it count if there’s only been one... well, you wouldn’t exactly call it an incident. A happy accident, perhaps. But that’s also what you say about your daughter, Mia.
Tonight, Mia is at her first-ever sleepover- she’s been rattling endlessly about how excited she is to have her ‘very first sleepover’ with her ‘very best friend’, and she ran right out of your arms when you had dropped her off at her friend’s house. You’re sitting on the couch wrapped in a K-Pop Demon Hunters blanket, courtesy of Mia, with your knees tucked into your chest. The television plays Real Housewives of Salt Lake City in the background, and your second glass of chardonnay sits half-empty. It’s Friday night, and you would typically be having a better time, but you’ve been stuck with an aching feeling in your gut for the past few hours. You know she’s just excited to experience something new and true to girlhood, that her little six-year-old brain isn’t quite ready to become independent from her mother, but you can’t help but feel like she’s growing up quicker than you can process it. That feeling has unfortunately tainted other aspects of your life you’ve been kicking yourself over, like the issue that glares back at you in straining blue light. You can’t quite peel your eyes away, despite the static page you stare at.
Jason Todd
Monday, 8:48 PM
hi
i can admit that tonight made things pretty
fucking weird
it’s not that big of a deal to me, but i’m
sorry and i understand if you need time
Read
You suddenly feel yourself starting to regret pouring that second glass of chardonnay, because suddenly, you find yourself typing a response after almost four whole days of ignoring him. Well, more like avoiding him. Deeply embarrassing on your part, the lack of maturity was a lapse you wish would never happen again. You hoped the issue would go away, as if you could snap your fingers and Jason would be out of your life, and all guilt would be absolved. But it isn’t that simple, nor would the consequences be, and now you just want to smash your head into a wall.
You
Friday, 7:32 PM
Hey
Are you available right now? Mia’s at a
sleepover tonight
Delivered
You bite your lip, nails tapping at your phone case as the uneasy feeling in your gut coaxes more anxiety out of you. But you should know better. Within thirty seconds of the text, the ‘delivered’ label turns into a ‘read’, and the typing bubble immediately pops up.
Jason Todd
Friday, 7:33 PM
yeah
be over in a sec
Delivered
A sigh of relief escapes you as the screen lights up with your thumbs-up sticker. Putting your phone down, you shift your attention back to the television, grabbing your wine glass as you watch The Housewives witness a Greek tragedy play based on themselves. But what the hell are you sighing for? You can't be thirty with a situationship. You need to sort this shit out.
--
The dynamic of your relationship with Jason is something out of a rom-com. In the beginning, he was just your super-cute, Gotham-bred, brand-new next-door neighbor.
Jason moved into his apartment in the middle of hot, sweltering July with a pair of crutches and a broken leg. You knew the moment you heard a gaggle of voices and shuffling in the apartment next door that somebody was finally moving into the neighboring unit; it had been empty ever since your old neighbors decided to move out and into a nice house in the suburbs, following their wedding and subsequent pregnancy. Lucky them.
You opened your front door and stuck your head out to catch people moving boxes into the unit. The door accidentally closed behind them, and all that was left was Jason. Both of you froze. He stared. You blinked.
You blinked, and with every one came a snapshot, a new way of seeing him, every time. The curly black locks tangled up with a brush of ivory. A scar on his brow, a scar on his neck, a couple on his jaw, and a lengthy one on his cheek. He felt straight out of a book-- but you weren't sure what the story was.
Thankfully, your daydreaming was interrupted as Mia ran out of the apartment in an ambush and shouted, “Mommy, what’s all that!?”—at the same time, a little girl ran out next door and shouted—“Jay! Which room is your bedroom?”
Your eyes softened in silent appreciation at the sight of Mia, your shoulders dropping. Curls bouncing, Mia stuck her head out the door and saw the other little girl next to her uncle. She pointed to her with an inquisitive look. “Are you my new neighbor?”
The little girl shook her head no. “Uh-uh, Jason is. But he doesn’t have any kids because he doesn’t have a girlfriend or wife. Or boyfriend.”
Jason’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as he leaned over to his niece and whispered in a strained but hushed voice. “Lian, we don’t share personal information with people we don’t know.”
You attempted to stifle your laugh, but your amusement was cut short by your daughter. “That’s okay, my mommy doesn’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend either. And she calls my daddy a shithead.”
“Mia!” Both of the girls began to giggle at your horrified expression. You didn’t mind the fact that Mia called her dad a shithead--he is, which is why he fucked off to nowhere when Mia was two-- but you felt you were being humiliated by children who laughed at your inability to compose yourself. “I’m so sorry, we can get out of your hair, I was just curious—“
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jason interrupted. His fingers combed through his hair. “Nice to meet you, ladies. Jason.” He propped himself up on his crutches and stuck a hand out for you to hold. You cringed as your hand met his a little more enthusiastically than planned.
Strong hands. Rough and strong, you thought to yourself. Wondering about his occupation in the back of your mind, you continued on with introductions, “And this is my daughter, Mia.”
Swaying on her heels in the doorway, Mia waved to Jason with a shy smile on her face, her cheeks slightly warm from laughter. “Hi, Mr. Jason. I hope you really like your apartment and you make it look all nice and cool.”
“I’ll do what I can, but these ain’t gonna help.” He knocked his knuckle against one of his crutches.
Mia's eyes darted to his cast, taking in the plaster that spanned from his thigh to his ankle. She pursed her lips. “What happened to your leg?”
Jason swayed his head for a moment, like he was trying to edit out minor details before settling on an appropriate story for Mia. “I got into a car accident. Doc says I’ll be cleared in a couple of weeks, though. ’S why we always make sure to wear our seatbelts, yeah?” Jason’s eyes crinkled at Mia, eliciting a shy tug of a smile at her lips.
A little hand tugged at the end of your shirt. You leant down to Mia’s height, and she cupped her hands over your ear, whispering quietly so Jason couldn’t hear her question. You smiled in response. “That’s for you to ask him, sweetheart.”
Jason’s brows perked up at the sound of a question. Mia began to hide behind your legs, shy to ask her question of her new neighbor. “Mr. Jason, could I sign your cast?”
Jason opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lian, who jumped and burst out, “YES! You can put it right next to my name! Let her sign it, Jay! Please?” She shook his arm as she begged and buzzed with excitement.
With a chuckle, Jason resigned, against not much opposition, and said, “Of course you can, kid. Got any markers on ya?”
“Yeah! Mommy got me sparkly markers last week!” Mia ran inside your apartment to retrieve said pack of markers— you bought them for her after she had been expressing an interest in art and drawing. Little sketches and pictures hang up on your fridge inside, all signed with her name in uppercase.
She came back quickly, markers in hand, walked up to Jason and held out the pack to him. “Which color is your favorite?”
Jason thought for a second, crossed his arms and smiled. “Definitely red.”
Mia’s eyes widened and lit up in response. “Oh my gosh. We have the same favorite color!”
“That's because only the coolest people in the world love red.” Jason lowered his hand so Mia could high-five him in celebration.
Your heart warmed in your chest. He seemed like a sweet guy and a nice neighbor. You admired the way he connected with Mia so easily despite just meeting her, which meant that he was pretty good with kids. It was an admirable trait. A trait that came in handy when you needed an emergency babysitter.
Jason’s weeks of recovery were interrupted by you, drowning in work and responsibility, unable to hold the load by yourself. It wasn’t like you didn’t have a babysitter for Mia, you knew your schedule as a teacher and you knew you’d have to find someone who could watch her for the time you and your students had after school rehearsal. Unfortunately for you, the college girl who had been Mia’s babysitter for the last year and a half accepted a job offer across the country in Star City, which meant you were stuck finding an emergency babysitter.
When you knocked on Jason’s door, you saw the situation as a favor, something you’d pay him back for and it would be a one and done situation. You had been helping him out the last couple of weeks with groceries he couldn't carry, shelves he couldn’t extend to reach. It was no issue to you, he was hurt and you’d do anything to help out a neighbor-- besides, watching a child is a whole different story, takes a whole different skillset than carrying groceries and reaching for items.
He agreed immediately, expressing his appreciation for the little favors and tasks you had aided him with over the past few weeks, gratitude evident in his face. Mia was buzzing in her place, eager to spend time with Jason, her new neighbor who bought a pack of Blow Pops just to give to her.
After you heard a ‘come in!’ from beyond his door, you entered Jason’s apartment to find Mia and Jason sitting at his dining table, sharing chocolate chip cookies with cardboard princess crowns on their heads. The two of them were drawing together, markers spread out across Jason's dining table. Mia’s eyes shifted your way, and she called out a distracted, “Hi, mommy,” before she returned her attention to her drawing.
You shook your head with a laugh, walked over to her and Jason and took a seat at the table next to her. Brushing her hair from her face, you gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, bug. You had a nice time with Jason?”
Mia nodded as she reached for her cookie and took a big bite out of it before speaking. “We’re drawing now,” she spoke with her mouth full. You’d remember to remind her of her manners later.
“Drawing, huh? I wasn’t aware you were also an artist, Jay?” You joked as you saw a dragon on Jason’s paper that looked like something a child drew blindfolded.
You blushed as he shrugged and flashed a shy smile. “I’ve had a couple lessons here and there from my brother, and now this little Van Gogh right here, right Mia?” He sent a silly wink to her and she giggled in response.
Mia picked up her picture and held it out to you, a big old grin on her face. “Look! I drew me as a princess and Jay is a princess too and we’re riding on a big dragon! Do you like my dragon, mommy?”
“Oh, I love your dragon! It’s so awesome, sweetheart!” The dragon was red, courtesy of Jason and Mia’s favorite color, and was breathing purple fire from its mouth. Inspired choices.
“We were playing princess and the dragon today, which turned into princess teatime, which eventually turned into art lessons. A busy afternoon was had,” Jason said. He watched Mia finish up the last details on her drawing with a smile on his face, and your heart warmed.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, bug?”
“Can Jason be my new babysitter?” Mia looked at Jason, her face suddenly serious, eyes wide. “She can pay you with her big girl money. She has a lot of big girl money.”
You scrunched your brows in a panic. “No, she doesn’t. But she does have some for a babysitter, yes,” you looked at Jason and your shoulders tightened. You felt bad asking him knowing he was already facing inconveniences. With a shrug, you asked, “If that’s something you would be interested in? It’s totally fine if you can’t--”
“I’ll do it.” He responded, as if he was as certain as ever. With a smile on his face, he leaned over to ruffle Mia’s hair. “Besides, who’s gonna teach me how to be the next Picasso?”
From there on, Jason would watch Mia during the week while you had rehearsals for your school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. Directing a high school play was demanding, but unlike other directors you actually had a soul, so Jason would never have to watch Mia past seven o’clock until hell week came. She raved on and on to you about weekday dinner with Jason.
Now, Jason was a fantastic babysitter. There was no doubt about that. He would sometimes bake with Mia when they had enough time together or indulge her in all of her playtime ideas, but once his leg finally healed and his cast came off, he and Mia were going on adventures together.
One day, they went to the aquarium together, which left you with a kid full of marine science facts loaded in her arsenal of a brain for the rest of the week. Another day, they went to go see a movie together and Mia picked up Jason’s habit of adding M&M’s to his popcorn. Some nights, Jason would come over to join you and Mia for dinner once you got home, and on other nights, he roped Mia into making a nice dinner for you.
And these are all wonderful things. Deeply wonderful things. But they started making you second-guess yourself. They started… the issue.
Because the thing about a man doing these things for a single mom, going above and beyond to make her life easier, is an extremely sexy thing.
You want to blame it on the craze that comes from the lack of a significant other, the constant urge to find someone to share the load and your heart with, the celibacy-- the obvious lack of a father figure for Mia. But you can’t excuse the things you’ve already done.
It started with lingering touches and wandering eyes.
It was getting warmer in Gotham, spring was fading into the gentle greeting of summertime. Jason had been babysitting Mia for a few months, and had been your neighbor for almost a year. You invited him to come with you and Mia up to the boardwalk on the shore, about an hour-and-a-half north of Gotham.
He walked into your apartment that morning with a smile and a backpack of items for you, Mia, and himself. Almost like a dad’s typical go-bag. Among the items were sunscreen for everyone, snacks packed for you since he knew you'd worry about Mia, and a first aid kit in case anything happened. Jason himself was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that showed off those scars you never found yourself asking about. The sun brought out a litter of freckles that dusted his shoulders and nose.
As he walked into the living room, he caught sight of you slinking out of your bedroom. You were wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt that was more low-cut than your usual teacher attire. His eyes were locked in on the curve of your bust peeking from the neckline, as if they were to say, Hi, Jason! We exist! You turned the corner to walk into the bathroom, mindlessly calling out, “Hey, Jay!”
Cursing himself, he turned away quickly, a warm flush creeping up his body. “Hey,” he greeted meekly, lips spread into a thin line, “Morning.”
In the bathroom, you studied your reflection in the mirror. You had caught him looking from the corner of your eye. No one had looked at you like that for a long while, especially when you were out with your daughter, and you failed to consider it becoming any kind of reality. It hadn't been an intentional move to bait him into anything.
You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t mess this up for her. For you. You couldn't take advantage of the relationship you and Jason had to fulfill your own selfish wants and needs. But you couldn’t help but feel curious. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a one-time occurrence: if it was just the nature of Jason being a young man who also had his own desires and turn-ons. But there was also the possibility of Jason genuinely being attracted to you, which only piqued your curiosity.
You hated what-ifs. So you wanted to figure it out.
That day, the three of you spent an exciting, jam-packed day at the boardwalk. You had all spent some time at the beach, swimming along the light blue waves and under the scorching sun. You withheld yourself from stealing glances at Jason for too long, but he was delicious eye candy. On the boardwalk, Mia and Jason attempted most of the games, earning her a couple of stuffed animals to bring home. Mia was cuddling Pikachu in her sleep within the first twelve minutes of the drive back.
The next day, you invited Jason over to Sunday night dinner. The gathering wasn't anything out of the blue; in fact, Jason had been coming over for dinner about half the nights of the month, and vice versa. However, the energy in the air had shifted by now. You were giving in to some of your... curiosities.
“Hi, Jay!” You heard Mia greet the second the door opened. She ran to Jason with her arms out and open for a hug, and he scooped her up onto his hip.
“Well, hello to you too, princess,” he placed a kiss upon her head. “How has your day been, sweetheart?”
“It was good! Mommy and I did puzzles together, and then we went to the grocery store and she let me get all the stuff and put it in the cart, and then we made the fancy fries with potatoes.”
“Oh, really?” he asked, walking the two of them into the kitchen where your back was turned as you stood at the stove. A brow arched— he noticed you were wearing a tank top. “How did those fancy fries turn out?”
You turned around from the stove, and Jason was met with a braless you, standing there in a thin-ass tank top. To anyone normal, you just looked like a mom cooking in a hot kitchen on a hot day, but to Jason, you looked like sex on fire. This was by far one of the more revealing outfits you had worn around him, besides that one time you went out clubbing for your sister's birthday, and he babysat Mia. Smudged eyeliner, ripped tights, messy lipstick--
“--They’re turning out pretty well as far as I can tell,” Your eyes seemed to glimmer at him, but Jason wasn’t sure if he was just making things up. He already felt insane, having to clear his throat in the subtlest way possible. “Wanna try one?” You asked, holding up a fry.
Mia nodded her head quickly. “Yes! They’re sooo yummy! I helped cut them.”
Jason gave a tight smile, warring with the thoughts in his head dismantling the defenses he oh-so-carefully built upon meeting you, his hot MILF neighbor who was sweet on him and whose daughter he babysat. Get it together, Jason.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” he agreed. What he didn’t expect was for you to waltz over to him and feed it to him. You tapped his chin, and he opened his mouth, his eyes staring at you as you quickly popped it in his mouth and lifted his jaw shut.
“Good?” you asked once he began to slowly chew.
He awkwardly nodded back in agreement. Once he finished, he turned to Mia in a hurry. With a swift clap, he asked, “How about we get the dinner table set up for your mom, yeah?”
Squeezing out a bright smile, Mia nodded her head. “Okay!”
As the two of them began to grab plates and utensils, you turned back to the stove and cringed at yourself. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren;t going to make a move. You were too far gone for this to be some innocent 'research.'
--
The rest of dinner was spent listening to Mia gab on-and-on about her playtime adventures. Jason, who was usually as talkative as Mia was, had barely anything to say. In fact, he spent most of the dinner refusing to look up at you and establish eye contact, which was strange considering he was sitting right across from you, eating the delicious dinner you made for him. If you had to guess, it was probably because he couldn’t look at you without having to fight the urge to let his pupils fall down, down down...
As soon as everyone was finished eating, Jason immediately hopped up from his seat and offered to do the dishes while actively walking away to do said dishes. That meant that you were free to get Mia ready for bed, which you proceeded to do a bit quicker than usual. As you were putting on her pajamas, she asked you if Jason would read her a bedtime story, which, of course, he would. When Mia was finally done brushing her teeth, she greeted you goodnight and skipped to her bedroom holding Pikachu, shouting, “Jay Jay! Bedtime story, please!”
You went to your room to get ready. Not for bed, but for the rest of the night. You typically liked to chill on the couch with a glass of wine to wind down for the night. While you picked your own set of pajamas, the thought of Jason lingered in the back of your head-- perhaps due to the fact that you could hear him narrating Alice in Wonderland from down the hallway.
As your eyes scanned your dresser, you caught a pair of low-cut black shorts you used to wear to bed back when you had people sleeping in your bed. You grabbed a shoulder-cropped T-shirt and changed clothes with a small smirk on your face.
When Mia was comfortably asleep in her bed, Jason finally came back out to the living room. You were on the couch, legs stretching out as you leaned on your side, a glass of red wine in your hand.
Jason mentally cursed himself. Relax. She’s just settling down for the night.
“How was she?”
“She was great; she settled in pretty quickly. Read around two chapters tonight.
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is,” he smiled as he put his hands in his jean pockets. He shifted his weight around for a moment until he began to speak again, “Hey, uh, thanks for dinner and everything tonight. I think I’m gonna—“
“—Would you like to stay for a bit?” Your satiny voice cut through the deluge of excuses that ran through Jason’s head. “I can pour you a glass if you’d like. You drink Malbec?”
Trying to find his bearings, Jason took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. I’d like that.”
You gave him a small smile as you stood up to grab his own glass, and he took a seat on the couch across from the side you were just draped against. His heart was beating like a hummingbird in a cage. Was that sweat on his brow? Did it get warmer? He took his clammy hands out of his pockets and quickly rubbed the sweat off on his jeans. You returned promptly with a glass for him and a smile still on your face.
“This is nice,” you commented as you returned to your spot on the couch. “The two of us. Chilling. We’ve never done this, no?”
With a sniff, Jason tried to pass off nonchalance. “Uh, yeah, we haven’t. S’ cool.”
“Cool?” You questioned, your brow arching.
Jason sputtered. “No, I’m sorry, I just mean-”
You cut him off with a sickly sweet laugh, the tone of your voice immediately bringing Jason out of his spiral into embarrassment. “Jason, sweetie, there’s no need to worry about it,” you soothe, placing a hand onto his shoulder. The sloped collar of your shirt that hung off your shoulder slightly fell to tease a view of the curve of your breasts to Jason, leaving him with a deep feeling at the pit of his stomach and an unwelcome feeling that began to creep up onto him: perversion.
In that moment, he wanted you to mount him, strip your shirt off, and let him get his mouth on those gorgeous fucking tits of yours. He wanted to drown in them, let you suffocate him as he hungrily sucked and mouthed at your tits, worshipping you the way you deserved.
His thoughts were interrupted by you slowly moving closer to him on the couch. “Listen, Jason,” you purred, voice trickling into his ear like honey. Your hand on his shoulder readjusted, the tips of your fingers gently caressing his skin. “I just wanted to really thank you for everything you’ve done for Mia and I over the last few months. You’ve just been so amazing to us, especially to Mia. I mean, she absolutely adores you.”
Jason’s lips tugged up in a smile. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I also just really appreciate everything you’ve done for us. You’re kind… you’re thoughtful… you’re attentive.” Your lashes fluttered as your eyes met his with a soft glimmer. “You’ve just been… so good to me, Jason.”
In that moment, Jason knows he’s truly fucked. There are two reasons for that: you’ve officially caught on to his crush on you, and he was on your couch, the most bricked up he’d ever been in his life.
The wine glass in his hand was held with a tight fist. His cock was strained through his jeans, the large imprint of a bulge the most obvious sight in the room, almost impossible to miss. Your eyes were still glued to his face. He was entirely red, from his chest to the tips of his ears. His weak attempt at preserving any semblance of coolness was almost adorable.
He tried to talk, but his voice caught in his throat and came out cracked. On his second try, he bit out, “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”
You brought the hand on his shoulder to his cheek. His eyes quickly darted away from your own, landing on the rug on your floor. “What are you apologizing for, hon?” Jason cleared his throat, shooting a quick glance at the tent in his pants. Your eyes widened. “You’re apologizing for this?”
Jason nodded in shame, his head bowed. “You’re basically my boss! I know it’s gotta be a sick fucking thing, the way you’re always on my mind, and when I close my eyes, I—” he confessed.
“Jay, honey, look at me.” He lifted his head and peered at you through black and white strands. You gave him a pitiful look and brushed your thumb back and forth against his cheek. “For how long?”
As hard as he tried to keep his composure, he sniffled, a pathetic and pained look on his face. “Always.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
Had Jason really been attracted to you the whole time? Were you missing the signs along the way that spelled it out before it became so obvious? Or was he just saying this to sugar you up? You would fuck him, he’d get a bonus, and eventually ditch you.
Jason seemed to notice how you were getting caught in your head, and he reached up to hold your hand that was against his cheek. His thumb gently caressed the inside of your wrist. “You okay?”
You blinked, slowly coming back to your senses. There was no reason for you to ruin this moment. You had Jason practically in your lap, soft as a pile of putty, with a blush on his face and a soft look in his eyes.
“Of course,” you replied. “I’m just happy to know you feel the same way I do.”
Jason’s eyes lit up, and a smile broke out on his features. “Yeah?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe it until he had direct confirmation.
“Absolutely. I thought I was crazy for trying this!”
The man let out a relieved sigh, his eyes trailing to your lips as you beamed at him. He attempted to adjust his position on the couch in an attempt to face you fully, but an almost-whimper escaped him as his previously forgotten hard-on strained against the fabric of his jeans.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned.
His desperation elicited a soft hum from you. “Sweet boy,” you whispered gently. You took the wine glass from his hand and placed it down onto the coffee table in front of you. Reaching for his hand, you stood up from the couch. “How about we head to my room, yeah?”
He gave an eager nod and immediately rose to his feet, his hand latching onto yours in a gentle hold. The two of you shuffled into your bedroom, and you closed the door behind you as quietly as possible as Jason stood in the middle of the room. The air in the room shifted as you turned around and walked up to Jason. His breath hitched as you held his hands in yours.
“Jason.”
“Hm?”
“As much as I’d love to get the full experience, my kid is two doors down the hall, so we need to keep it down low.”
His lips curved into that familiar bashful grin of his. “I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse,” he joked. His eyes trailed to your lips; your mouth had quirked up into a doting smile. “Now, can I please kiss you?”
“Of course, honey.”
With your permission, Jason’s hands came up and gently held your face in his palms before he slowly leaned in. The kiss started off a bit hesitant, as if both of you couldn’t believe the situation you were in. But Jason was there, with you, holding your face in his hands and kissing you like it was something he never deserved. But he did, and you wanted nothing more than to prove it to him.
One of your hands snaked up his back and to the nape of his neck, where your fingers immediately found purchase in his soft black locks. Your other hand came up to Jason’s waist and gave you the leverage you needed to pull him closer into you and deepen your kiss. You swiped your tongue across Jason’s lips, and they parted instantly, giving you access to his warm mouth. He was slowly but surely moving the two of you backwards, the slowly-building passion of your kiss rendering him absolutely weak, and soon enough the two of you found yourselves falling backwards onto your plush bed.
Jason’s hands were stuck on your face, so you took one of them and guided it to your waist, breaking apart from the kiss quickly to say, “You can touch me anywhere you want to, Jay.”
His eyes widened, and he let out a quiet exhale and nodded in response. Soon after, his lips chased after yours to kiss you again. As he kissed you again, this time slower and sweeter, he tried to memorize the way you tasted on his tongue. With the desire to explore you, his hands had begun to caress and paw at your body, squeezing at your curves and searching for your warmth.
As he explored your mouth, his hands maneuvered you on top of him, so you were straddling his waist as your kisses deepened. Refusing to break away from the kiss, you tugged Jason’s bottom lip in between your teeth, pulling a needy little gasp from his lips. He wiggled around beneath you, his cock heavy and pulsing in his jeans, trying to do anything but grind up into you fully. Your lips trailed down to his neck, tongue dragging the veins under his heated skin.
A smile crept up on your face as you began to give playful nips to his neck. Your cool breath tickled his skin as your teeth caught on the junction by his shoulder, your hands slowly creeping under his shirt. His abdomen was warm and soft under your touch, and he shivered slightly at the feeling of fingertips ghosting over his skin.
“Could you take this off for me?” you asked, tugging at his shirt. Jason complied, quickly ridding himself of his top to reveal a scarred but beautiful torso he had. Your eyes quickly trailed to what looked like an autopsy scar that spanned the length of his chest. Jason watched your face for any traces of judgement, but found nothing. Instead, you looked him dead in the eyes and said, “I want to eat you like a fucking popsicle.”
It wasn’t long until Jason’s pants were stripped, and soon his underwear, with your clothing landing on the floor not long afterwards. You sat in his lap, the two of you sharing languid, hungry kisses as Jason’s hips began to rut up into yours, his hard-on finally receiving attention after being ignored for so long. Your heats met with dizzying friction, wetness seeping from your clothed cunt and dampening the fabric beneath it.
With every thrust of his hips, Jason let out a soft moan, the pleasure leaving him buzzing. You whined as the head of his cock brushed against your lace-covered clit and his right thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a lightning strike of arousal into your core, leaving you gasping for more. “Fuck, Jay.”
“Yeah, ma?” Jason breathed out. His right thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a sharp feeling of pleasure down into your core, leaving you gasping for more. “S’okay if I taste you for a sec? Need to see how sweet that pussy tastes.”
His words sent a chill up your spine, and you shivered in anticipation. “Do whatever you want,” you breathed out.
His smile broke into a grin, and he got off the bed to stand at the edge, grabbing your legs and pulling you his way. You watched as he sank to his knees, his hands finding purchase on your thighs as his knees met the floor. Hands slipping under your panties, he began to slowly slide them down your legs, until they were fully off and he threw them across the room. You watched as his pupils dilated at the sight of your pussy. His jaw dropped, mouth watering.
He wrapped his arms around your thighs, bringing your heat closer to his mouth. Starry-eyed, he flattened his tongue against your clit, lapping at the bundle of nerves, eager to draw out your slick juices. You began to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips jerking up to meet his mouth. You find yourself trying to memorize the way he grips your hips: how his fingers dig into the fat of your hips, soft enough to not bruise, but firm enough to handle you.
The sound of Jason beginning to slurp and messily lap at your weeping hole began to fill the room. He wasn’t being quiet enough. You found your fingers tugging at the back of his head, latching onto his curly locks and tugging him into your cunt to muffle his noises. Jason let out a groan in response, his hips bucking into the side of the plush mattress.
You whimpered as you felt his finger begin to tease your hole, slowly but surely pumping in and out of your plush and soaked folds. Once the length of his digit was fully sheathed in you, he added another, then crooked his fingers slightly upwards, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.
He pulled his mouth away from your pussy. “Shh, ma. We gotta be quiet, remember?” You whined in response, your hips chasing after his mouth.
Your fingers curled into the sheets as Jason’s lips wrapped around your clit, softly humming in relief as he sucked on the bundle of nerves. He added a third finger alongside the previous two, and you fluttered at the stretch of your pussy. Your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm begin to approach, eyes rolling into the back of your head, the more Jason’s nose bumped into your clit as his tongue met his fingers at your sopping hole.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” you strained out, hips wriggling in the hold of Jason’s arm. The fingers inside you got deeper, quicker, and Jason’s bicep flexed as he curved his fingers within you. You felt the sharp knife of heated pleasure encroaching, until it finally cut at the rope of tension and you fell into your orgasm.
You came with a wrecked whimper, a result of a poorly suppressed moan, and Jason continuously lapped at your wetness, his fingers, mouth, and nose completely drenched in slick. He cleaned you up until your thighs began to spasm from overstimulation, weak little whines pulled from your lips.
Jason got up from the ground and back onto the bed with you. His eyes pinned on you in frozen devotion. You smirked, deciding to straddle his lap again. Jason looked absolutely disheveled-- pre-cum pooling on his stomach, with silky strings of pearls that formed each time his cock twitched in anticipation. Your breath caught at the look within his eyes. How could he ever maintain his composure around you now that you’ve had his fingers in your cunt?
“Jason.”
“Mhm?”
“Feeling okay?”
He blinked slowly. “M’ fine. I just--” he paused completely for a moment. Your fingertips tapped lightly over the freckles adoring his flesh, the raised scars amassed from whatever past he’d left behind. With a clearing of his throat, he regained his bearings and met your gaze, his lips pursing into a shy smile. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this for so long,” he admits.
With a heated hand, you cupped his face and brought it closer to yours. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light. “I hope it’s everything you ever wanted,” you whispered in a low tone.
He let out a needy little gasp the second your hand made contact with his weeping cock. You lifted your hips, eyes refusing to leave Jason’s as you lined up his cock with your weeping slit and began to sink down. His cock slowly entered your warmth, his hips stuttering as a whimper was forced from his throat. He watched your lids drop into a hooded expression as you began to realize how much he was struggling with your tightness around him. You let out a chuckle. “You good, honey?”
Jason choked out a moan, his voice straining as pleasure began to consume him whole. You began a slow grind on his cock, deliberately dragging your cunt over his tip for longer before slamming down onto his length, no warning. “You’re just… you’re so fuckin’ tight, ma,” his voice trembled, nails digging crescents into his thighs.
“There’s no reason for you to hold back, baby,” you comment after catching him trying to resist. He looked downright sinful: his curls sticking to dewy skin, misted emerald eyes that seemed to only beg for more, and greedy, possessive marks you left behind, tattered on his skin to become tomorrow’s problem. He looked absolutely divine. You were so fucked.
You began to pick up the pace of your hips, and Jason squirmed in delight as you milked more and more of his length with your cunt, dropping until he was fully buried to the hilt. Jason gasped, head thrown back in ecstasy.
“C’mon, Jay,” you purred against his ear. “Show me how much you’ve been wanting this…”
“Fuck, okay, okay.”
When the high was over, you went down with a slow slump onto Jason’s chest. You were almost heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. Jason rolled both of you over, and a groan left you as he slowly pulled out of you.
“Oh, messy girl—” he cooed. There was a pool of cum where you and Jason were connected, slowly seeping from your hole and onto your thighs and ass. “—I’ll get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” He moved away, the warmth of his body disappearing, but you felt his arms lay you down against the pillows, adjusting you to be as comfortable as possible.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before standing up and swiping a washcloth from your dresser drawer.
How he knew where those were, you don’t know. Had he been around you enough that he finally knew where all your things were? Or had he been tracking that from the start, out of consideration? Fuck, was Mia about to wake up and discover Jason still in your apartment? Would you have to sneak him out of the apartment before she woke up? Would he even be staying?
Before you could spiral more, Jason came back into the bedroom with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. Your questions went unanswered as he softly wiped at the mess in between your thighs, leaving soft kisses on your face in between. You kept your thoughts to yourself as he helped you get dressed for the night, tucked you in, and turned off the light. You didn’t bat an eye when you felt him get under the covers next to you, or when he kissed you goodnight.
You weren’t sure what it would turn into, this thing between Jason and you. But what you did know, when it was an hour later, the sheets had been tousled about, and Jason Todd’s body was lax in your arms, warm breath against your chest, was that you were sure you loved this man. He knew you better than anyone else, and you’d officially reached the point of your relationship where you wanted him more than you had ever anticipated. And it scared you.
Perhaps that fear was always a warning. A last call from the universe to scare you off a path labeled ‘danger.’ But you turned a blind eye for the first few weeks.
Following your and Jason’s hushed-sexy night tryst, the two of you began a relationship. There weren’t any proper labels, and it was anything but a situationship, but it was still a relationship. Kisses were snuck around corners and behind couches. Late nights called for secret meetings and a sneaky baby monitor placed outside of a doorway. You unfortunately just hadn’t had the time to go on a date yet, or be in each other’s space without having to worry about Mia. Even worse, it was nearing the end of semester, show week, and overall, tech rehearsals.
For a high schooler, theater productions were zero-sum games. Despite sharing a passion with your students for the stage, you failed to comprehend why life was so serious to them at such a young age. No matter how hard you tried to drill in the fact that theater was supposed to be fun to your students, they always found ways to stress themselves out and exhaust themselves. You just prayed to god this year no one would get mono.
You walked into the auditorium following teaching your eighth-period intro class, and immediately upon arrival, you spotted five different students on their first energy drink of the night, and another handful finishing their coffee from the day. You waltzed down to the apron to leave your things at your director’s chair. From your peripheral vision, you could spot your head of set design already on a mission to discuss something with you, judging from the way he marched over to you with a purpose, a familiar stress in his jaw and practiced maturity in his green eyes.
“Miss, I need to discuss the upcoming--”
“Damian, I just got here; if it can wait five minutes, that would be much appreciated.”
“Of course.”
Damian Wayne was one of your brightest students. You had only arrived at Gotham Academy three years prior, so you were still getting acclimated to the wants and needs of your students and their overbearing parents. The first day Damian was in your Performance Production class, you had asked him why he selected your course for his elective. You remember him replying, It’s the one thing I haven’t done. From there on, you knew you’d enjoy teaching him throughout the semester.
But one semester turned quickly into another, and once you’d come back from winter break, he was already on the spring production sign-up sheet for production, sending you a curt nod as he left his signature. Soon enough, Damian was on set design, then head of set design, and you enjoyed seeing him work with fellow classmates he once had never spoken to, under a shared goal of success.
After taking a lengthy chug from your water bottle, you sat down in your chair. Relief. Letting out a small sigh, you turned back to Damian, who was waiting patiently and quietly for you to get settled.
“Alright, kid. What's up?”
Damian crossed his hands behind his back, a solid tell that he was feeling anxious but unable to show it. “Regarding the upcoming parent-teacher conference, I must let you know that Father will not be in attendance, for he has business in the city that day.”
“Ah, I see,” you responded, an understanding nod sent your student’s way. Your head tilted slightly. “Your mother won’t be joining us next Monday?”
Damian’s lips quivered into a small smirk. “She and Father got into a disagreement over the way she pressed you last year. She isn’t allowed to question any of my teachers again.”
Letting out a laugh in response, you shook your head, the memory a fond one of yours. “I really didn’t think she meant to offend me. She seems like a lovely woman, but she’s very… passionate… about your education.” You remember the way Bruce Wayne sat in your classroom, head in his hands as Talia Al-Ghul drilled you on your knowledge of various performance histories.
You watched as Damian’s hands dropped back to his sides, the tension in his body slightly dissipating. “Well, anyway, I wished to inform you of that. If the circumstances change, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Thank you, Damian.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
You hadn’t thought anything of that conversation. Damian wasn’t anything other than a student of yours. But that Monday couldn’t come any faster. In fact, it felt like you closed your eyes Friday night and woke up on Monday afternoon.
The night had been objectively going well-- none of the parents had yelled at you or blatantly disrespected you yet. Most of your students were performing well, especially within your senior capstone class. Those students were in the middle of directing and starring in each other’s limited productions, ones they would perform at the end of the year separate from the drama club production.
Damian had decided that he wanted to direct a production of True West, a slightly absurd play with an ungodly amount of toasters. He seemed to be having fun directing his friends and also putting his best food forward in productions he was acting in. You were slightly upset you wouldn’t be able to share his successes with his father, but you knew he’d receive love and support from him nonetheless. In fact, Bruce and Damian were supposed to be your last pairing of the night, but in anticipation of getting to leave early, you had already begun to pack your things up, when--
“Wait!”
You looked up to see Damian standing in the doorway.
“Hey, kid. I thought you weren’t coming tonight?”
“I wasn’t, but apparently Father decided to send one of my brothers tonight to represent him,” he scoffed quickly. “A stupid decision, nonetheless.”
“Oh, wonderful! Well, where’s this brother of yours?”
Damian sighed, taking a quick peek down the hall. He turned back to you. “One moment,” he announced, his pointer finger in the air, before leaning out the door and shouting, “TODD!”
You snorted, both at Damian yelling at his brother and at the fact that Damian’s brother seemed to be named Todd, which seemed like such a silly name for a Wayne boy.
“Knock it off, I’m here now— the fuck?” Your eyes widened at the man standing in your doorway. The same man who had been inside you just the night before. The same man who not only left early morning to avoid awkward questions with Mia, but took the time to make breakfast before he left.
“Jason?” You sputtered.
From across, Damian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Todd? How does she recognize you?”
The look on Jason’s face was priceless. He turned to his brother in a panic, his typical reserved nature completely out of the window. “The hell is she doing here?”
“I am his teacher—” The two brothers turned to look at you now, their angry staring contest put on pause. “—and neither of you will refer to me like I’m not in the room. Jason, please, explain?”
Instead, his eyes darted away from yours as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Oh. Perhaps he was finally feeling the embarrassment that came with dating you. You frowned. Damian cleared his throat. “Father adopted him many years prior to my arrival. There are three others,” His eyes narrowed at Jason, before muttering, “Cassandra is the better of all of you.”
You held a darting glare at Jason, standing there, curled in on himself. Yes, you were blindsided and slightly upset, but you had to maintain some kind of composure. A question suddenly hit you. “Your last name isn’t Wayne.”
Jason’s face twisted into a pained grimace, too many emotions quickly washing over him before he found any words. He bit his lip. “It… it technically is. But it’s—” Pausing, his expression faltered as your face fell in embarrassment, disappointment, awkwardness, or whatever negative feeling it was that you were feeling within the moment. “—hard to explain…”
“Jesus…," you muttered to yourself. “I mean, this has to be some kind of ethical violation, or something—”
“May I ask what is the matter?” Damian interjected, his hand raised in the air. “I do not understand what is causing such tension between you tw— oh… no.”
One slow blink was shared with each other, then at Damian, who was slowly going through all seven stages of grief upon realizing that his teacher and his brother had been involved with one another.
“I see.” He took a step back. “I shall leave you to it.” He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Jason in the room with a mountain of space between you. The two of you remained frozen, unbearable disbelief grounding you to the earth until Jason finally speaks up, a stark difference to when Damian was in the room.
“Please, ma, I need you to listen to me—”
You raised a shaky hand, cutting him off. You looked off to the side, avoiding his eyes, your own glistening with uncomfortable tears. “I need to get home. You should get him home, too.”
And with that, you grabbed your bags and pushed past Jason, walking off to your car to return home for the night.
But now, you’re here. On your couch. Chugging your second glass of wine before Jason arrives. You gulp the alcohol down quickly, almost shamefully, before setting your glass down onto the coffee table. Not even a second later, a resounding knock is heard from the front door, and you find yourself clinging to the couch and shouting, “Come in!” instead of letting him in like a normal person.
Jason enters the apartment, eyes scanning around for you. He slips his shoes off by the door as usual, hanging his jacket on the coat rack before shuffling over to you.
You feel your lips tighten as your eyes meet for the first time since Monday night. All you’ve dreamt about since then has been him. Little things around the apartment like the labels on your spices, the shoes lined up neatly at the door, and a working bathroom door hinge have all reminded you of him. Reminded you of the short distance between you from both sides of your shared wall.
You can’t help but feel absolutely horrible. Some semblance of a guilty apology starts to form in your mouth, but before you can spit it out, Jason’s already on his knees in front of you.
"I don’t know why I never told you; guess it just slipped my mind in the end.”
“Jason.”
“—And I’ll make it up to you, baby, I swear—”
“Jason...”
“—If you want me to fuck off, I can, I just—”
“—Jason!”
Gently, you take Jason’s face in your hands. Your thumb skims over the scar on his cheek, soft freckles at his cheekbones, the plumpness of his lips, and you take in his beauty. The little things that make him Jason. That seems to completely disarm him for a moment, shock covering his features before realizing you aren’t bullshitting him, his shoulders tensing. “Wait, seriously? I didn’t piss you off?”
“I overreacted,” you reassure him, pulling him into a much-needed hug. Melting into you, his body relaxes as your fingers card through his curls. “I should be apologizing to you for making assumptions.”
Jason pulls away from the hug, hands on your shoulders so he can get a good look at you, a puzzled look on his face. “‘About what?” he asks, incredulous.
“Well, you know. You’re young. You should be at the club, or whatever. If you didn’t want to be with me or it embarrassed you, I’d understand why. I’m inconvenient to be with.” Eyebrows scrunching tight, Jason looks at you, his head tilting as if you have three heads. “What?”
“Bullshit.” You scoff in response, but Jason doesn’t seem to want to hear it. “Bull. Shit. Do you know how fucking lucky I am? Nothing is inconvenient when it’s with you.”
You melt, “Jay…”
One of his arms rests atop your thigh, the other on your hip. Head bowed, you take in the pout on his face and tears brimming in his eyes. “Please,” he begs, soft and desperate. Nuzzling his face into your thighs, he lets a couple of tears fall. Jason seems to relax as he nuzzles at your soft skin. He takes a deep inhale of your natural scent, closing his eyes in satisfaction before looking back up at you. “I’m all yours,” he breathes into you. A kiss to the skin below. “All yours, ma.”
Dropping your hand, you take Jason’s face into your palm. “You mean it?” you question.
Jason responds with twinkling eyes and a soft nod. “More than anything,” he places another soft kiss on the inside of your thigh, which turns into another, and then another, until he’s kissing up your thigh.
He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt. His calloused hands paw at your breasts, fingers finding your nipples and rolling them around, watching as you squirm in pleasure. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, gently teasing them to a peak, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the inner curve of your breast.
“So soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your warm skin. Diving back in, Jason presses a kiss to your other breast, much like the other one, then proceeds to give an experimental flick of his tongue against your nipple.
With a sharp breath, you feel the wetness pool between your thighs, leaving you hungry for more. Jason begins to lap at your breast, spit-slicked and hungry, and your fingers take rein in his curls.
Jason moans in response, his hips digging into the couch as you tug and tug at his hair, only breaking away from your tit to pay mind to the other. Plump lips swell as they latch on and suck, kiss, and suck at your breast, strings of pearlescent string connecting the two of you. Head falling backwards into the arm of the couch, back arching up into Jason, you let out sharp, needy little gasps.
“Baby, please— I need to feel you.” Your eyes are half-lidded and dark. Jason’s twinkle back at you from your chest, keeping your gaze in an unrelenting hold as he flicks at your nipple with his tongue again.
“Mhm,” he moans. “Anything,” Lick. “For you,” Lick.
He finally pulls away from your tits, mouth covered with spit and his lips red and swollen from the attack on your breasts, and he’s never looked more divine. You cup his face with your hand, whispering a simple, “C’mere,” before he leans in compliance and meets your lips for a kiss— this time, languid and warm.
Jason’s unraveled you into a complete, pining mess, leaving you feeling like the lovesick girl you once were and, at the same time, a woman who’s got something entirely new and good in her life, no stipulations. He pulls away with a shy smile on his face. “What was that for?”
You kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m keeping you forever,” you reply.
Jason lets out a hum in response and noses at the column of your throat, heat spreading over his cheeks. “And I’ll stay forever,” he echoes. “Now can I get these off, please?” He tugs at your sleep shorts, fingers jumping beneath the fabric to lightly snap it against your hips.
“So impatient,” you quip as you lift your hips.
The two of you are quick to undress, mere days far too long a time to be separated from one another. Eyes darken with maddening hunger as both of you take in the other’s current state, a certain electricity in the air between you, passing in between short, staggered breaths.
His lips chase after yours as he teases the tips of his fingers against your folds, spreading the slick around your cunt, feeling it warm underneath his touch. You swallow him down, coaxing a broken groan from his chest, the sound reverberating against your chest from his, your hearts beating together under the rumble. Manicured fingers tug at the hair at the back of Jason’s neck, soft tufts of curls grounding you as he slips two fingers inside your sopping cunt, a result of his steady, teasing ministrations. Jason hums in delight as he curves his fingers against your velvety walls, pulling a moan out of you. You twist and turn as he plays with you, spreading your slick around and slowly but surely working his digits further into your cunt.
Sex with Jason feels like the first drink of a crisp, cool Coke after walking in the desert for years. It feels like all the cacti you’ve encountered, the heavy lifting and distances you’ve traveled, the sights you’ve seen and bullshit you’ve dealt with, are worth it when he’s got you with your legs by your head, bullying his cock into your cunt.
The two of you have moved from the living room to your bedroom upon realizing that the couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to have passionate makeup sex. Your bedframe creaks and scratches at your wall with every thrust of Jason’s hips. He swallows you down with his gaze; sweat brews at his brow and nose as he rolls his hips into yours.
Brows pinched together, your head falls back as the blunt head of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot against your spongy walls, your cunt squelching in response. You attempt to arch up into it, trying to target Jason’s thrusts against the sweet spot, but it doesn’t work out.
All of a sudden, you feel Jason’s hands on your hips. With one quick move, you’re belly down on the bed with Jason’s cock buried further inside you. His lips brush against the shell of your ear. “S’ that what you wanted, ma?”
“Mhm,” you whine out, voice straining as Jason lifts your hips so your ass is flush to his hips as he milks your heat with his length, the tip once more meeting your most sensitive spots.
Jason leans into you fully, his bodyweight against you, tucking his face into your neck. “So tight,” he croaks. His thrusts are frantic and deep as you’re held in his embrace. You raise your ass up just a hair, and a groan leaves Jason. “You trying to make me fill you up already? Hm? Want me to make you a mommy again?”
“Yes, yes, please, baby—“ Taking hold of your plush hips once more, Jason ruts deep into you, fervently burying his cock into your cunt over and over again. His thrusts settle into a deep, relentless rhythm, cock dragging across your velvety walls at a dragging pace. “Fuck!” You pant, feeling the breath knocked out of you. You bring your hand down to rub at your clit, feeling yourself involuntarily clenching around Jason’s fat cock, pistoning in and out of your pussy. As you rub tight little circles into the bundle of nerves, you feel your orgasm begin to approach.
Jason turns your face to the side and kisses you messily, strings of spit in between your mouths as his tongue licks and teases at the cavern of your mouth. He only pulls away when he feels you clench and spasm around him again, your pussy squeezing the base of his cock in a vice grip. “Fuck, mommy, you gonna cum?” You nod frantically in response, feeling your abdomen tense as lightning rods of pleasure shot through you.
At this point, Jason is fully panting and trembling with every thrust. You arch further back. “Don’t hold back,” you beg. “M’ gonna cum—“ The second he feels you clench tight around him, the walls immediately burst, and he finds himself bullying his cock into your core as he comes inside you with a hoarse groan, his face buried in the heat of your neck. The sheer force of Jason’s release is enough to trigger your own, and you find yourself coming with a ragged cry, unable to suppress your volume from overwhelming pleasure.
Jason topples over, pulling you into his chest. You tremble as his cock pulses inside of you, his ropes of cum slowly spilling from your cunt. The two of you are blissed out, sharing deep breaths as you catch up with your bodies. You feel little kisses being peppered onto your head. “Feeling good, ma?”
Nodding, your eyes speak for you, drooping lower and lower the longer Jason holds you in his arms. You realize that this is what life is supposed to feel like with a man, that life as a mother can fit someone else to come into the picture-- as long as they're right and they work for you. And you're damn sure that Jason works for you.
"I feel amazing," you answer. "Fantastic. The best, even. I'm not joking when I say I'm keeping you forever."
Jason drops a kiss onto your lips. "Do I get a bed?" he quips playfully.
You’re about to speak when your phone suddenly rings. The caller ID reads the name of Mia's friend's mother.
You pick up on the second ring. “Hello?” Jason watches as your furrowed brows slowly relax as the person on the other end speaks. You end the call quickly after.
“What’s up?”
“I have to get Mia. Someone got sick, so the kids are being sent home to avoid getting sick themselves.”
Jason shakes his head. “No, no,” he places a hand on your naked shoulder. “How about I start you a bath, then I can pick her up while you get yourself cleaned up?”
You still, a smile and blush growing on your face as you look at Jason, who’s got the most serious and determined look on his face. Your heart warms at the sight. Leaning in to kiss him, you announce, “We’ll go get her together.”
i love you shy reader-inserts i love you naive reader-inserts i love you soft-spoken reader-inserts i love any and all reader-inserts and you should not complain about them in the x reader tag. by doing so you are putting down someone's creative work and efforts when you could have simply moved on, or even better, written your own story
bf!jason todd who spends his free nights sat in your shared bed, with pride and prejudice in hand, blue-light glasses perched on his nose, and—most importantly—you sat in his lap. he loves to read his novels with his pretty lady curled against him.
bf!jason todd who climbs in through the window after patrol and immediately seeks you out, sprawling out atop of you. he doesn't even bother taking his suit off—he just whines softly, reaches for your hand, and shoves it into his hair.
bf!jason todd whose favorite position is either mating press or doggy. on one hand, he loves to have your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds into you, looking into your pretty eyes, seeing drool spill from your mouth. on the other hand, he also loves to see the deep, pretty arch of your back as your face is smushed into the mattress—loves to see the jiggle of your ass as his hips slap against yours.
bf!jason todd who always twirls your hair around his finger while you rant to him. his eyes never leave yours, attention never drifts away from the words pouring from your pretty mouth.
bf!jason todd who def whimpers and cries when he cums, especially if its inside of you. his broken past makes intimacy a sacred thing to him; he feels so incredibly safe and loved when you're making love that he can't help but whine as he releases.
bf!jason todd who practically eats your face when you make out. his head is tilted at such a deep angle so he can reach the deepest depths of your mouth. his long tongue? down your throat. his lips slide lewdly against yours, and he lets out the softest little grunts and groans. his hand grips your throat firmly—not so hard that you can't breathe, but enough to remind you that he's there, in the flesh. his other hand rests on your ass. he's a very messy kisser too—lots of spit, everywhere.
bf!jason todd who calls you all kinds of sweet little names. darling, babygirl, baby, love, sweet girl, mama, ma, lovie, you name it. how can he not come up with the most loving titles for his favorite girl?
bf!jason todd who can never keep his hands off you. he's always feeling you up, groping you everywhere. just woke up? he's engulfing you in a cuddle, hands sliding down your back and squeezing your ass. showering? his slick, soapy hands can't help but paw at your tits as you face away from him, rinsing your hair.
bf!jason todd who can be such a cuddly dog when he's at home with you. big body being spooned by you as you guys watch TV, head in your lap when you're reading, chest pressed to yours as he nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder, eager to hear you lull him to sleep with sweet nothings in his ear.
bf!jason todd who's 8 inches long and thick with a little bit of left curve.
my gorgeous goddess semiu would LOVEEE body worshipping her beautiful girlfriend, especially in front of mirrors!! she'd finger you slowly with one hand and use the other to grip your jaw, forcing your eyes to fixate on your nude reflection and coo, "my baby is so pretty, isn't she?"
mdni.
semiu would be so be into mirror sex!! sat against the headboard of her bed with your bare back flush against her chest (she's still fully clothed while you're nude), her legs forcing yours to stay open, strong enough to keep them wrenched apart when they start shaking.
she would start from your tits, torturing your nipples until they're all flushed and sensitive, until your pussy is leaking sap even though she hasn't even touched you yet. kissing your neck, those spots that make you gasp and squirm.
it's all because when she actually does touch you when you need her most, you cum almost instantly. so pent up and needy, the first few rolls of her fingers over your clit are enough to make you shatter. but oh, you thought she was done? no, absolutely not. her pretty girl was so good and patient, waiting so obediently to be touched. so now she is going to touch you properly. your sensitive hole has drooled so much that she meets no resistance when slipping two fingers it, practically scooping up your slick and bring it to your mouth. you're just adorable when your tongue lolls out to lap at your own essence.
once she's properly coated in your spit she finally goes back to your clit, building up another orgasm, gentler this time. it's after the third orgasm that she really starts getting mean, heels pressing into your inner thighs while her fingers plunge in n' out of your messy cunt, your squirt pooling on her sheets, now turned three shades darker. and she makes you watch every moment of you turning into a dumb little doll for her, free hand gripping your jaw tight enough to squish your cheeks together, spit trickling down your puckered lips. you stopped formulating actual sentences long ago, your whines and sobs the only thing leaving your throat while she talks your through it the whole time.
question to my european girlies, what box dye is the best in eu? because i wanna dye my hair but i dunno what brand will be good (i don't wanna schwarzkopf, garnier or wella)
do u think enjin or gris would get off on u being super loud .. questions questions 🤔
FINALLY GETTING TO THIS!! mdni.
enjin would. enjin DEFINITELY would get off on you being loud because, well, it means he's doing a good job, isn't he? being able to wrench out all those cute little moans even if you're trying sooo hard to keep them down...he thinks you're the cutest little thing!
it's one thing when you're in either his room or yours, but when things get heated in a public space? oh baby you're in danger. because enjin WILL do his best to make sure someone hears, but he's not going to tell you, no. instead, he'll tease you the wholeeeee time. "what's that, pretty girl? shhhh, you don't want someone to hear us, do ya?" while his mouth makes the loudest and most sinful squelches and slurps on your pussy, big inked hands finding purchase on your ass to keep you glued to his merciless tongue. maybe you're in an alleyway, back pressed against a brick wall, biting into your forearm in a silent attempt at muffling your moans. "nghh...j-jin!" you sob into your bitten skin, the clear struggle in his voice enough to make him leak in his boxers a bit.
yeah, he's just a piece of shit like that.
/i too am using the pretty sparkle dividers now...am i cool?
☕️ you patch up batman’s wounds. || this can be read as after alfred’s death, kinda hurt/comfort with fluff? if that makes sense, drug usage for medical purposes, headcanon format, reader doesn’t know batman’s identity, … || ⋆˚࿔ main masterlist
Batman loves it when you patch him up.
Or at least, that’s what you think since he always comes to you.
You don’t know his real identity and even though you are dying to know, you won’t try to find it.
But you will patch him up no matter what.
Ever since the night he ended up in your fire escape, lying there like a wounded animal after getting a stab wound, he came to you whenever he needed to be tended.
You, without even realizing, have become his private nurse.
Whenever he ended up in your flat, you were ready to care for him.
He was not a burden for you. How could he be? He was the savior of Gotham, your hometown. That was the least you could do.
But you were curious… Did he not have somebody to care for him? Was he so lonely that he trusted a total stranger?
So, one night, you decided to ask. “Don’t you have another person for these?”
There was a beat of silence. You couldn’t see his face because of his cowl, but his lips parted— maybe because he was not expecting to be asked this.
“I— Sorry for bothering you—“
“No,” you cut him off immediately. That was not what you were saying. At all. “I’m glad to help you. I was just curious.”
He leaned back to the couch again. You were stitching a knife wound on his thigh. He was half naked right before you.
“I had someone.” He mumbled. The drugs you gave him were making him numb. He usually did not want anything to numb him, but tonight, he took it.
“Did they leave you?”
“You could say that.”
You kept stitching in silence after that. When you were finished, you gave him time to get dressed again.
His moves were slow. He seemed tired. You didn’t want him to leave like that. He was under the influence of drugs and he was hurt and tired.
“You can stay.” You said. “I won’t come here until you go. So you can take your cowl off.”
He was considering the offer. He had every reason to stay. He trusted you, you trusted him. He could stay. You wanted him to stay.
Batman didn’t say yes or no but he went back to sitting. You smiled at him and saw a small reflection of your smile appear on his lips.
You brought him a pillow and sheets, readied the couch for him to sleep.
“I can… wash your clothes—“ You tried to offer but before you could form the sentence, he held your hands in his gloved ones.
“That’s not necessary.” He gently squeezed your hands. “Thank you.” And brought them to his lips to press a kiss.
Your heart almost gave up.
You licked your lips, squeezing his hands back. The moment was so intimate, so precious that you didn’t want to leave him.
“Good night, Batman.” You pressed a kiss on his cheek and as your face burned with a shy feeling that came from deep inside you, you left him there in your living room.
That night, you had the Batman sleeping on your couch. That night, you kissed his cheek.
That night altered your small crush into an even bigger one.
heavy angstノyuji's perspective until last two paragraphs.
yuji admired his teachers in jujutsu high.
he admired gojo sensei's down-to-earth attitude and your firmness, being fully confident that he and his classmates could rely on.
so now, after the battle with kenjaku, itadori didn't even register what he was hearing at first from another room of their hideout.
those were sobs.
at first they were quiet, but then were growing louder and louder. utahime sensei was with you, meanwhile others stayed in the main room.
since his acceptance in jujutsu high, yuji itadori has never seen you — his sensei — so broken, so vulnerable.
tsukumo-san and kusakabe-san were tense, carefully listening to you.
"he... his body was there. his body is used after his death, utahime." you mumbled with a broken voice. "why? why can't suguru just rest in peace? after everything."
tsukumo-san closed her eyes.
yuji didn't know what to say and how to react. and from noticing megumi's reaction with a side glance, he didn't know either. like it was a completely new version of their sensei to him. and megumi knew you longer than itadori. way longer.
itadori had only one question in his mind which he really wanted to ask, but it would be seen as obnoxious and straight up rude. why did the appearance of kenjaku in the body of the so called suguru have such an impact on her?
kusakabe-san exhales, running hand down his hair. "almost eleven years passed and she still didn't let him go."
"atsuya." tsukumo-san warns him.
"i'm just saying."
megumi coughed paying their attention to him. "uh, what exactly do you mean under... didn't let him go?" his question is careful, attentive. and yuuji in his mind thanks him for addressing it.
tsukumo-san grumbles, rubbing between her eyes and yuji definitely heard her saying "shit" under her breath. she lifts her gaze at them, exhaling slowly. "suguru geto and sensei were… close during school years. before he started running a cult."
itadori and fushiguro raise their eyebrows. kamo noritoshi and nishimiya momo that were also in the room with them paused as well.
kusakabe-san huffs, rolling his eyes. "please. call it the way it is, tsukumo. they were in love."
"atsuya! i don't think that it was so important for them to know!" tsukumo-san snapped.
"you have to be honest with them, tsukumo! they always hear adults lying around them." kusakabe-san replied and then turned around rubbing between his eyes. "this is really exhausting..."
yuji and megumi shared glances.
in love.
their sensei was in love with the man who later became the biggest enemy of jujutsu society. yuji didn't know a lot about it, but maki mentioned once that it was bad and ended with geto dying.
oh.
before fushiguro or itadori could say something, the door opened and there were you. corners of your eyes reddened after so much crying. your hands were still slightly trembling.
you clenched your jaw and without saying anything you approached boys and pulled them into a hug.
yuji hugged you back immediately. megumi paused before carefully placing hand on your back and burying his face in your shoulder.
you brushed their hair and whispered with firmness. "everything's gonna be alright. you hear me? we will get through this and release gojo."
kusakabe, tsukumo, kamo and nishimiya were quiet, watching how you in order not to fall apart because of grief, took all your energy to support your students who needed you the most.
you lost your lover, both of your best friends and didn't wanna lose another one. but boys lost people they looked up to and almost didn't lose their best friend. your pain could wait.
a/n: "watch jjk" they said. it's a great show they said...
frat!kuna wants to hear your pretty noises (shy!reader)
even though sukuna wasn’t very vocal, that didn’t mean he didn’t want you to be. when you randomly went quiet underneath him, he wasn’t pleased. his thick cock split you open, causing your gummy walls to flutter around his length. you were squirming underneath him with your pupils blown wide as you took him. sukuna was in awe—you looked beautiful under him just as always—but something was missing. aside from the sound of skin on skin, it was quiet. too quiet.
“don’t go silent on me,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “i need to hear you.”
you were flustered. you turned your head away in embarrassment and shook your head. he snapped his hips again, tip nudging your cervix. you bit your lip to suppress the moan threatening to escape from you.
“are you embarrassed?” sukuna asked. “there’s no need to be, i promise.”
you hesitated, moved by his reassurance. he felt good and you wanted to show him that. but, you were shy. plus, it wasn’t like he made any noise other than his praise and a few low grunts here and there. you didn’t want to do it alone.
“taking me so well,” sukuna groaned. “so fucking tight you’d think i didn’t take good care of you.”
you let out a quiet moan, back arching. it was so hard to keep quiet, especially with the way he buried you to the hilt. you were so full of him you couldn’t think straight. heat pooled in your stomach as he fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.
sukuna was close too, how could he not be? your warm walls hugged his length tightly, practically sucking him into your tight cunt. the sight of you under him was enough to get him off. but without the sound of your broken cries, he wasn’t sure if he could finish just yet.
sukuna decided instead of telling you you weren’t alone, he’d show you. the groan he let out snapped you out of it. you clenched around him immediately at the sound.
“‘kuna,” you whined without even realizing it. “feels s’good.”
“there she is. my pretty girl, don’t hide from me. let me hear how good it feels, yeah?”
you nodded and spread your legs even wider. sukuna angled his hips slightly to where his cock reached your sweet spot with each thrust. the delicious stretch was blinding. you cried out his name as you took all of him. his balls slapped against your ass, the lewd sound filling the room and egging him on even more. sukuna groaned into your ear and whispered to you.
“you’re close? come for me, need to hear it and feel it.”
you weren’t as quiet when you came. your orgasm shattered over you at his words. you cried out his name and gripped his bicep. as you came down from the high, you panted, lip quivering as you caught your breath. sukuna followed you right after. he buried you to the hilt with his cock, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside your pussy. he groaned softly before collapsing on the bed beside you. his arms found yours, pulling you close to his chest. you put your ear to his chest and listened. his heart was pounding so hard like it was about to burst. you looked up at him with a small smile. he mirrored it and pressed his lips to your forehead.
“to be honest, i don’t think i can go again without hearing you,” he admitted. “don’t be afraid, i got you. always.”
burlesque dancer!joseph joestar didn't expect to see his two best friends (who he has been crushing for over a year) at a random night in the place he worked at ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
cw: mdni, hurt/comfort, angst, vulnerability, joseph suffers a little here, suggestive, art by catneychu
Thursday nights are always boring in your apartment, Joseph’s out working and none of your other friends want to go out because “it’s a weekday” and “they have classes tomorrow”. So you and Caesar usually settle down for a calm night with a movie in the background while you kiss each other for hours.
You’ve been keeping your little relationship (you’re not even dating, by the way, Caesar just has the most kissable lips ever and knows how to use them) a secret to Joseph because you know he would freak out and make a whole deal out of his two best friends making out every other night.
Like right now, Caesar has you on his lap, hands kneading your ass while you devour his mouth just how he likes it. Tongues overlapping and swirling around each other. You love running your hand through his soft golden locks, making him giggle as you do it.
“Mm, why don’t we go out for some drinks?” you mumble against his lips, breathing out.
“You want to?” He kisses your lips once more before breaking contact, looking you in the eyes while you nod. “Then sure, let’s go for a drink.”
But one drink became two, then three, then you met a group of people that wanted to invite you for shots. Then you’re taking body shots of Caesar’s abs and suddenly someone suggests going to the Burlesque down the street, the only one in town. And your drunk self thought it was the best idea ever.
“Nghh, do we really have to go?” Caesar slurred, grabbing you by the waist as you walked in the street. “The only woman I wanna see naked is… you!”
He tries to boop your nose. “Ow! Caesar, that’s my eye!”
He’s giggling now, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head. “Sorry.”
You and Caesar stumble into the Burlesque club, the bass thumping through your bodies, Caesar’s arm is slung heavy around your waist, his breath warm against your ear as he laughs at something silly you said outside.
“See? This is fun,” you tease, pulling him closer to a spot near the front. “Way better than another movie night.”
He just grins and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “Only because you’re here, bella.”
You both find seats at a sticky table, ordering another round of drinks that you probably don’t need. The crowd cheers as the next performer is announced, and the lights shift to a sultry red glow. Then he steps out.
Joseph Joestar.
Your best friend Joseph, in a tight body suit and star-shaped nipple covers that show way too much of his muscular chest he’s always bragging about. He’s owning the stage, hips rolling, arms flexing in smooth motions that scream he’s done this a lot.
Your mouth drops open. Caesar freezes beside you, his hand still on your thigh.
For a second Joseph spinning and dipping like it’s nothing. But then his eyes scan the crowd and land right on you two. His face goes bright red, eyes wide in embarrassment. He misses a step, nearly trips over his own feet and the smooth dance turns into something awkward and rushed. The crowd still claps, but Joseph bolts off the stage early, muttering something under his breath as the lights follow him off.
You and Caesar just sit there, dumbfounded. The music keeps going, another dancer taking the spotlight, but neither of you can look away from the side door where Joseph disappeared.
“Did... did we imagine that?” you whisper, turning to Caesar. Your heart is hammering from the drinks and the shock.
Caesar’s mouth is still half-open, his pretty blue eyes blinking slowly. “That was Joseph, right?” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to hide a laugh but failing. “He looked good.”
You can’t help it, you start giggling too, the alcohol making everything funnier. “Yeah, he did.”
Joseph’s been “working late” for months and now it all makes sense. No wonder he’s been dodging questions about his job.
Before you can decide what to do, Joseph peeks back out from the side of the stage, now with a hoodie thrown over his dance clothes. He spots you and turns even redder when you make eye contact with him. He hides again.
He paces in the backstage, going a bit insane not only because of the embarrassment (gosh, he doesn’t even want to think about the jokes) but because it was you and Caesar of all people. You and Caesar. For you two, you are best friends. For him, you are the people he dreams about, kissing and giggling together. But now that you saw him like that? There’s no way you’re gonna find him attractive anymore.
You and Caesar take a moment to react
“We should go to him, right?” you say in a breath.
Caesar nods hard. “Fuck, yes. We can’t just leave him like this.”
You weave through the crowd together and manage to get inside the hallway of the dressing rooms, you knock twice in the door another dancer told you that Joseph was. He opens the door after a second and just starts talking with you two still at the door.
“Guys... I... uh...” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “This isn’t what it looks like! Well, it is, but crap, I needed the cash, okay? Don’t tell anyone, please”
You bite your lip because he looks so damn cute right now. “Can we come in?”
Joseph furrows his eyebrows then nods, opening the door wider and letting you inside, closing it.
Caesar stares at him. “Joseph, you were actually good up there. Until you saw us.”
Joseph groans, burying his face in his hands. “Shut up, Caesar! This is so humiliating. Why are you even here?”
You swallow, heart racing for a whole new reason now. “We, um... just wanted a fun night out. We didn’t expect to find you here of all places.”
Joseph looks so small under that hoodie, shoulders hunched, cheeks flushed dark red. His usual loud confidence is gone, replaced by a sort of vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He keeps glancing at the floor, wishing it would open up and drop him straight to the center of the earth.
“Hey, JoJo,” you say softly, stepping closer. “Now that your secret’s out... we can tell you one of ours. Make it even, right? It’s kinda embarrassing too.”
Caesar raises an eyebrow at you but doesn’t stop you. Joseph lifts his head a little, curious despite everything. “What? You guys rob a bank or something?”
You laugh lightly, trying to keep it playful. “No, nothing like that. Me and Caesar... we’ve been making out. Like, a lot. We didn’t want to tell you because we figured you’d freak out about your two best friends fooling around.”
You expect him to yell, or tease, or make some big dramatic scene. Instead his face falls even more. The color drains from his cheeks and his beautiful bright eyes that usually sparkle with mischief look... sad. Really sad. He tries to smile but it wobbles and dies halfway.
“Oh,” he mumbles, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “That’s... that’s cool. I’m happy for you guys.”
His hands fidget with the hem of his hoodie and he won’t meet either of your eyes anymore. Caesar notices too, his playful expression fading into concern. “Woah, hey. What’s wrong, amico?”
Joseph lets out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck hard. “Nothing, uh… It’s late, I have a few dances left and I’d prefer for you guys to leave. Don’t tell anyone, please.”
You and Caesar exchange a worried glance, Joseph looks so defeated standing there, hoodie pulled low over his eyes, voice cracking just a little on that last please.
“Okay... if that’s what you want,” you say softly, reaching out to touch his arm for a second. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. “We’ll go. But text us when you’re done, yeah? Please?”
Caesar nods. “We’re sorry for crashing your night like this, Joseph. Take care of yourself up there.”
The two of you head out of the club, the cool night air hitting your faces and clearing some of the drunk fog. Neither of you says much at first. You walk close together, shoulders brushing, but the worry sits between you loudly.
“He looked so sad,” you whisper, biting your lip. “I thought telling him would even things out... but I messed up.”
Caesar sighs, slipping his arm around your waist anyway. “We should have waited, I don’t know. Let’s just get home and figure out what to do tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, inside the club, Joseph stands frozen for a long moment after you two leave. He takes off his hoodie and sits down on the tiny couch he has there. He feels like a complete idiot, his chest hurts, he keeps replaying the way you looked at Caesar. How could he not realize? You two were making out every other night while he was out here dancing for tips, dreaming about maybe confessing one day. Now you were together and he was just the embarrassing best friend who shakes his ass on stage.
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes but he wipes them away angrily. He feels stupid for crying for this shit. You probably feel sorry for him now, he can’t put himself together to see you two again.
He knows he has to go back out there in a few minutes, paste his performer smile and move like nothing’s wrong. But he’s alone with his thoughts, thinking how much of a fool he feels like and how lonely the night suddenly seems.
You and Caesar agree that the best thing you can do is give Joseph some space, but what are you meant to do when said space becomes too damn long for you to handle. You miss him. So. Fucking. Much. Being with Caesar is fine, but when it’s the three of you together, sharing food on the floor of your apartment because you only have one chair, fighting about what movie to watch or making fun of Caesar’s questionable food choices. That’s when you feel the best. And Caesar too. Something is missing when it’s just the two of you.
After four long days of radio silence, the quiet in your apartment starts to feel unbearable. Joseph has not answered a single text, you and Caesar keep catching each other staring at your phones, hoping. Finally you both decide enough is enough.
That night you head back to the club together, nerves buzzing under your skin. You check the stage schedule posted near the entrance and wait until Joseph’s set is over before slipping inside. The dressing room door is half open, and there he is.
Joseph stands in front of a cracked mirror in nothing but some tight stage pants, brushing his dark hair back with frustrated strokes. The muscles in his back tense when he catches your reflection.
He spins around fast, eyes wide at first then narrowing in anger. “What the hell are you two doing here?”
You step inside first, heart pounding hard. Caesar stays right behind you, quiet but solid.
“We gave you space, Joseph,” you say, voice already heating up. “We miss you. I miss my best friend. You can’t just shut us out forever because things got weird one night.”
Joseph’s grip tightens on the hairbrush until his knuckles turn white. “You think I’m shutting you out? You show up here, in my dressing room, right before I have to go dance again and act like I’m the one being dramatic? Why can’t you just leave me alone for a little longer?”
His words sting and you feel your face get hot. “Because we love having you around, you idiot! I gave you time to clear your head but now I want my Joseph back. Not this version who hides from us.”
Caesar tries to cut in gently but Joseph is already shaking, chest rising fast. The brush clatters onto the counter as he steps closer, voice getting louder and louder.
“You’re the idiot! How can you not realize that I’m in love with both of you?” he practically shouts, eyes shiny and desperate. “I have been for ages! Every time we hang out I feel like my heart is gonna explode and I-I push it down because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. Then I see you two together and it kills me. So yeah, I’m angry. I’m embarrassed. And I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”
The dressing room goes dead quiet except for Joseph’s heavy breathing. He looks raw, like he’s about to cry. No one moves or talks for a long second, before Caesar takes a step between both of you.
“Did you guys finish screaming at each other?” he asks, calm but tired. His golden hair catches the cheap dressing room light, making him look too pretty for a moment like this.
You and Joseph both freeze, breathing hard.
Caesar sighs softly and runs a hand through his own hair. “Look, this is messy. We all messed up a bit. But Joseph, you can’t drop something like that and then expect us to just walk away again.”
Joseph looks down at the floor, shoulders slumping. All that fire from a second ago drains out of him, leaving him looking small and scared in the middle of the tiny room.
“I didn’t mean to yell,” he mumbles. “It’s been eating me up inside. Seeing you act all secret and cute while I was over here wishing I could be part of it. I felt like an idiot. Still do.”
Your chest tightens, you step around Caesar and reach for Joseph’s hand without thinking. His fingers are warm and a little shaky when they curl around yours.
“You’re not an idiot, JoJo. We had no idea.”
Caesar moves closer too, placing a careful hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “You were good on that stage, you know. Even when you almost fell on your face seeing us.” A tiny smile tugs at his lips, trying to lighten the mood. “And we miss our trio. The apartment feels empty without you stealing all the blankets.”
Joseph lets out a watery laugh, but his eyes still look shiny. He squeezes your hand back, thumb brushing over your knuckles in that familiar nervous way. “So what now? I just confessed I’m in love with my two best friends. What the fuck does one in this situation?”
You and Caesar share a quick look, enough to know exactly what you were thinking. You talked first. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Joseph blinks at you like he is not sure he heard right, but he lets you pull him over to the small worn out couch in the corner of the dressing room. The three of you squeeze onto it together, your thigh pressed against his and Caesar on his other side. The space is tiny so you are all basically tangled already.
“You’re not an idiot, Joseph,” you say softly, reaching up to brush some hair out of his face. “You are actually really amazing. I love how loud you get when you are excited. So passionate and funny. I never wanted to hurt you by keeping things from you.”
Caesar nods, his hand resting on Joseph’s knee now, thumb rubbing slow circles there. “She’s right. You’re strong and stupidly handsome. You have no idea how much we both like having you around. How much we need you.”
Joseph’s cheeks turn bright red again, but this time it’s not just from embarrassment. He shifts a little between you two, looking confused as hell when your fingers trail down his arm and Caesar leans in closer, nuzzling against his shoulder.
“W-wait, what is this?” he stutters, eyes wide as he glances between you and Caesar. “Are you messing with me right now?”
You smile softly and cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his warm skin. “We are not messing with you. I think we have feelings for you too. It has always been the three of us, right? Maybe we didn’t see it before because we were scared, but now that it’s out, it feels right.”
Caesar presses a light kiss to Joseph’s temple, making the poor guy freeze up completely. “We want you here with us. If you’ll have us.”
Joseph is speechless, but he’s not rejecting any of your touches.
You lean forward first, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re so cute when you get flustered.”
“I’m-I’m not flustered,” he tries, pouting a little
Caesar chuckles low, his hand sliding up Joseph’s back, fingers tracing the muscles there. He kisses the other side of Joseph’s neck, making Joseph shiver hard between you.
“So strong,” Caesar murmurs. “All that dancing has done you good, bet you’re really flexible too.”
Joseph lets out a shaky breath, one hand coming up to grip your waist because he needs something to hold onto.
“You two.. mmm,” he mumbles. He turns his head toward you and you meet him halfway.
The kiss starts gentle, just lips brushing, but Joseph makes this little surprised sound that melts into neediness. His mouth is eager, a little clumsy from nerves, you smile into it while your fingers run through his hair. Caesar watches for a second before he leans in too, kissing along Joseph’s jaw and then catching his lips when you pull back for air.
You keep touching him, hands roaming over his bare chest, feeling the way his heart hammers under your palm. Caesar’s fingers knead at his shoulder, then slide down to his side, pulling him closer until Joseph is basically sandwiched between your bodies. Soft kisses turn a little longer, a little hungrier. Joseph’s hand squeezes your hip, thumb rubbing circles there, while his other hand finds Caesar’s thigh.
You’re in such a high you don’t even hear someone knocking and shouting that Joseph has to perform in about five minutes.
a/n: this is a mess but that fanart has been stucked in my brain for months. don't ask for part 2 cause i won't be writing it
