êźŒ premature ejaculation with inexperienced!jason todd (18+)
He's hovered over you, his deep green eyes fluttering closed as the head of his cock tentatively brushes along your slick folds. The slow drag is torturous, this drawn-out tension that's got you on edge, but he freezes up, too wrapped in his own doubts. Panic twists in his gut. This already feels too fucking good, way too intense for someone like him who's barely dipped a toe into this.
"Come on... âs okay baby. You can put it in," you gently urge, your voice a raw whisper of desperation, but his thoughts are a whirlwind, second-guessing every move. He jerks his head side to side, refusing.
âCanât yetâŠâ his face buries into the curve of your neck, a soft whimper escaping as he nudges the tip against your opening. It teases right at the edge, slipping in just a fraction and your walls instantly squeeze and gush around it, but he pulls back every time.
A frustrated whimper escapes you. "Jay, why are you holding back so hard?" Your fingers slide up the smooth expanse of his bare back, nails slightly scratching the scarred skin. He quakes at the touch, leaning into it like a lifeline.
"I can't... fuck, ohmygod..." he stammers as your hands soothe him, making his throbbing cock twitch against you. Hot tears start splashing onto your skin, right at the collarbone. "Don't wanna screw this up and hurt you. I'm not... I don't even know if I can do it right."
"What'd really hurt is you stopping yourself from feeling good âcause youâre scared," you soothe, tugging him down until his weight settles against you, arms looping around his neck in a firm hold. "You know I love you, Jay."
Your soft encouragement shatters his fragile control, sending him tumbling over the brink. His cock twitches wildly, barely notched at your opening, as thick, erratic spurts of cum erupt from himâcoating your cunt in sticky warmth, some dribbling inside just a fraction. He gasps, body jerking in clumsy spasms, face burning with shame as the pathetic reality hits: he's spilled everywhere without even getting started, like some fumbling kid who couldn't hold it together. Humiliation floods him, cheeks flaming red, a choked sob bubbling up because he feels so small, so utterly inadequate in this vulnerable strip-down of himself.
"Oh shitâsorry, fuckâ"
You silence him with a gentle press of lips to his, palms framing his flushed face, thumbs sweeping away the tear tracks streaking his cheeks. "No, donât be sorry. âCan always try again, hm?â
The movie hums on, unwatched, a blur of colour and laugh tracks you both ignore. You're curled into Jason's side on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your skin. His breathing is steady, his body almost unnervingly warm.
You shift, pressing yourself closer, your thigh sliding between his. He tenses for half a second, then tries to force himself to relax, but you feel the subtle hitch in his breath.
"Jay," you murmur. It comes out softer than you intended.
He swallows. "Yeah?"
You hum as you tilt your head and press your lips to the corner of his jaw, slow and deliberate. He shudders, his hand tightening on your shoulder, and when you pull back, his eyes are already darkerâglossier, half-lidded with desperate want.
"You sure?" he asks, voice low. "We don't have toâ"
You kiss him quiet.
His mouth parts against yours, a shaky exhale escaping him, and when your tongue meets his, he groans like it hurts. Your nails scratch lightly against his pale skin, breath shuddering as he gives in, letting out a quiet whimper.
"Fuuckâmy godâjesus, fuckâ" He doesn't manage to get the next word out. His head tilts back as he keeps going, hips rolling in an uneven, desperate rhythm with the flushed tip of his cock twitching against the friction of cotton and denim. His skin is red hot and ever so slightly tear-stained, his eyes glossy and lost in the pleasure he's grinding out of this moment. He's so darling like this, letting out quiet, shaky whimpers with every grind.
"Sweetheart, waitâhold onâ gonnaâ" Despite his words, he can't stop himself from continuing to rut his hips into yours. He keeps going, shuddering through his orgasm, his body tensing before slowly going slack under you. His pants grow damp with spurts of hot cum, coating the fabric with his release.Â
You stare at him, your own arousal still hot. "Did you just...?" you ask, and your voice sounds thick even to your own ears. He looks up at you, eyes fucked-out and lashes clumping together with tears.
He's panting softly, eyes glazed over as he answers, "I'm sorry, Iâ"
You cut him off with a soft kiss. "Don't be," you whisper, fighting the smirk threatening to form on your lips.Â
a/n: first time doing non-academic writing in months I lowk forgot how to do this
hi loves Iâm alive just incredibly busy<3 I may get back to writing after I graduate but I lowkey donât want to deal with #that subset of larper Jason Todd fans so weâll see
‿ BRUCE WAYNE runs a tight ship in his town, so when you waltz in with all your dresses, rosy smiles, and perfume that he can't seem to get out of his head.. trouble suddenly takes a different form than he's used to.
!! fluff. southern belle!reader. sheriff!bruce. this is literally just a fic of tension. he wants you bad. the comeback post is here. i didn't love this i felt like it should've been longer but maybe i'll make a part two. part of SAVE A HORSE. ENJOY.
The first thing people noticed about the town was how quiet it was, not in the peaceful way that came with safety, but in the kind of stillness that made every sound carry just a little too far, like the land itself was listening.
The second thing they noticed was Bruce Wayne, standing just outside the sheriffâs office with his hat tipped low and his shoulders set in a way that told anyone with sense that this was not a man you tested twice.
You noticed something else entirely.
You noticed the way his gaze never stayed in one place for too long, how it swept across the street with a kind of quiet vigilance that had nothing to do with appearances and everything to do with control. It was as though he had made it his responsibility to account for every movement in a town that didnât always deserve that kind of attention.
It was the sort of focus that didnât come from boredom or duty alone, but from something deeper, something heavier, something that had settled into him long before you ever stepped foot into this place.
You arrived in town on a warm afternoon that carried the smell of dust and sun warmed wood, your skirts gathered just slightly in your hands as you stepped down from the carriage with the kind of careful grace that had been taught to you since childhood.
The driver barely had time to set your trunk down before half the street had slowed to watch, because there was nothing subtle about you. You, with the soft pastel of your dress catching the light, and the gentle drawl in your voice when you thanked him, sweet enough to linger even after you turned away.
Bruce noticed you immediately, though he didnât make it obvious in the way other men did, with open staring and poorly hidden curiosity that bordered on rudeness. His attention lingered only a moment longer than necessary, just enough to take in the details that mattered, before it shifted back to the street like nothing had changed at all.
It might have gone that way, quiet and distant, if you had been anyone else.
But, unfortunately for him, you werenât.
You made your way across the street with an ease that suggested you had already decided this place would bend to you, rather than the other way around. Your steps were unhurried even as the town seemed to hold its breath around you.
When you stopped just short of the sheriffâs office, you tilted your head slightly, studying him with open curiosity that felt much more intentional than polite.
âSheriff,â you said, your voice soft but clear, carrying just enough to reach him without effort, your smile gentle in a way that could have been mistaken for innocent if not for the way your eyes held his so steadily. âI was told that youâd be the man to speak to if I intended to stay a while.â
Bruce didnât move right away, though his gaze shifted back to you fully this time, sharper now, more focused, as if he had decided you were worth more than a passing glance.
âDepends,â he grumbled, his voice low and even, carrying the weight of someone who didnât waste words unless they mattered. âOn what youâre staying for.â
You let out a quiet, almost amused breath, your smile widening just slightly as you adjusted your grip on your gloves, the fabric soft against your fingers. âWell now, that sounds like youâre expecting trouble,â you replied, your tone light even as your gaze remained steady on his.
âI expect most things,â he said, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat, though there was something in his posture that had shifted, something more attentive than before. âTrouble tends to be one of âem.â
You considered that for a moment, your head tilting just slightly as if you were weighing his words rather than dismissing them outright.
âThat so,â you murmured, your voice softer now, thoughtful in a way that felt genuine despite the ease of your smile.
There was a pause then, brief but noticeable, as the two of you stood there with the rest of the town fading quietly into the background, the heat pressing down around you in a way that made the moment feel slower than it should have been. You took a small step closer, not enough to overstep, but enough that the distance between you felt intentional rather than incidental.
âIâm not trouble, Sheriff,â you assured, your voice gentle, though there was a quiet certainty beneath it that made the words feel less like reassurance and more like a statement of fact. âBut I suppose that depends on who you ask.â
Bruceâs gaze didnât waver, though something in it shifted again, something more measured, like he was adjusting his understanding of you in real time.
âThat it does,â he replied, his tone unchanged, though there was a faint edge of something else beneath it now, something that hadnât been there before.
You smiled at that, slow and knowing, before glancing briefly past him toward the office, as though you had already decided your next step.
âIâll be needing a place to stay,â your voice almost too sweet, returning your attention to him as your fingers smoothed lightly over the front of your dress, a small, habitual motion.
âAnd Iâd much prefer to know which parts of this town I oughta avoid before I go wandering into the wrong company.â
Bruce shifted slightly, straightening just enough that the movement felt deliberate, even if it was subtle. âYou donât strike me as someone who wanders by accident,â his gaze piercing yours in a way that would've made most crumple.
âNo,â you agreed easily, your gaze meeting his again, steady and unflinching. âBut I do like to know my surroundings, and something tells me you are the man who knows them best.â You pressed your finger into his shoulder with a beaming smile.
Another pause settled between you, though this one felt different, heavier in a way that suggested something unspoken had passed between you without either of you naming it. Bruce studied you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering just slightly as if he were searching for something beneath the surface, something that might explain why you didnât quite fit into the picture you presented.
âThereâs an inn at the end of the road,â he said finally, his voice as steady as before, though the decision to answer felt more intentional than casual. âMiss Adler runs it. Decent place, quiet enough.â
You tilted your head toward him slightly, a soft expression of gratitude that felt practiced and natural all at once. âI appreciate that, Sheriff,â your voice warm, though your eyes lingered on him just a second longer than necessary.
He nodded once, as if that should have been the end of it, his attention already beginning to shift back to the street.
But you didnât move.
Instead, you took another small step forward, closing the distance just enough that the moment stretched again, quiet and deliberate beneath the weight of the afternoon sun.
âAnd what about you?â you hummed, your tone softer now, more curious than before.
His gaze snapped back to yours, clearly surprised you were not only still in front of him, but that you were close enough now that whatever perfume you had spritzed that morning was now overwhelming his senses.
âWhat about me,â he said, not quite a question.
You held his gaze, your expression open, though there was something thoughtful behind it now, something that suggested you were asking more than the words alone.
âOh, I don't know. I was just wonderin' if you always look at people like youâre trying to decide whether theyâre worth the trouble.â your voice was just oh-so gentle, and your rosy lips pulling into a smile.
For the first time since you had approached him, something in his expression shifted in a way that was almost visible, subtle but unmistakable.
âYou asking if you are?â he questioned, his arms crossing over his chest.
You smiled, slow and unbothered, though your pulse had picked up just slightly beneath the surface. âI suppose I am.â
He watched you for a moment longer, the silence stretching just enough to make the answer feel like it mattered.
âYeah,â he said finally, his voice low, certain. âYou are.â
Something in your chest tightened at that, though your smile didnât falter, not even slightly.
âWell now,â you murmured, your tone soft with something that almost sounded like delight. âThatâs a dangerous thing to admit, Sheriff.â
He didnât look away.
âOnly if Iâm wrong,â he replied.
The air between you shifted again, something settling into place in a way that neither of you seemed willing to acknowledge outright, though it lingered all the same. You held his gaze for a second longer before stepping back, the moment breaking just enough for the world around you to settle back into motion.
âIâll keep that in mind,â you hummed lightly, your voice returning to something softer, easier, as you gathered your skirts once more.
You turned then, making your way down the street without looking back, though you could feel his gaze on you even as the distance grew, steady and unyielding in a way that made your pulse linger just a little higher than before.
And behind you, Bruce Wayne didnât move from where he stood, his attention following you far longer than it should have, as if he already knew that whatever you brought with you into this town, it wasnât going to leave quietly.
