Restraint PART 2 - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader
Summary: Maybe that was why he was still pent-up. He knew you were waiting– quite eagerly, he might add– for him to make his next play. That fact made him annoyingly hard at the most inopportune of moments. Life had an annoying habit of getting in the way of most good things, though. Sebastian was really fucking regretting having so many extracurriculars to prioritize.
Alternatively summarized as Sebastian finally catering to your request to take the next step with him, but not before you catch him with your panties in one hand and his cock in the other.
Word Count: 9.5k
Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, sexual tension, panty kink, explicit sexual content, explicit language, possessive behavior, praise kink
Part 2 is now up on Ao3 | Part 1 can be read here on Tumblr
One would think that after sating his three year craving for you, Sebastian would have calmed down a bit. After all, he now had enough material tucked away in his brain to make every masturbation session as vivid and succulent as the last. The sound of your moans, the way your body had trembled against his mouth, the taste of your slick gushing over his tongue. All of it lived at the forefront of his mind and helped to remind him that not only had it actually happened, but you had wanted more.
Maybe that was why he was still pent-up. He knew you were waiting– quite eagerly, he might add– for him to make his next play. That fact made him annoyingly hard at the most inopportune of moments.
Life had an annoying habit of getting in the way of most good things, though. Sebastian was really fucking regretting having so many extracurriculars to prioritize.
Quidditch season was in full swing, which meant that Imelda dragged everyone on the team out to the pitch by their earlobes for practice. He wouldn’t dare miss a single scrimmage– he was certain his captain would somehow manifest at the foot of his bed and kill him in his sleep if he did. Lucan was in the process of orchestrating the first duel for Crossed Wands as well, which meant that Sebastian had been roped into conscripting more unsuspecting first-year students into joining the club. His first Transfiguration exam was in a week, Ominis needed help studying for Potions, and there was a book he still needed to snatch from the bowels of the Restricted Section.
All of it was piling up, and by the end of most days, Sebastian was exhausted. There simply wasn’t enough time in the day to get around to spoiling you the way he had dreamed of doing for years.
But all of that was about to change.
For the sake of ‘exposing them to possible post-graduation careers’, the seventh-year students were going on an overseen field trip to visit the Ministry in London. Most of the Professors were chaperoning the excursion, leaving the resident ghosts of Hogwarts to substitute classes for the unlucky blokes who were unable to attend. He fell into that category, seeing as he had no guardians to sign the permission slip. You weren’t going either, and he didn’t know whether that was by choice or for reasons similar to his own, but Sebastian was having a hard time feeling unlucky about the whole thing.
He was looking forward to it, in all honesty.
Everyone would be gone. Everyone. And the phantoms taking over in the Professors’ stead were as air-headed as they came, so they wouldn’t notice two students missing from class when damn near everyone was already gone. It was the perfect opportunity for Sebastian to put his long awaited plan into action.
His cock was fucking twitching with anticipation. He was grateful that his best friend was blind, otherwise he was certain Ominis would comment on how wound up he looked at present.
“You don’t seem too upset that you’re going to be stuck with Professor Binns droning on at you for the whole day,” Ominis remarked dryly, his fork scraping against his plate of nearly finished breakfast. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to like his monotonous delivery.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Hardly. I just don’t care to tour the Ministry with Professor Weasley breathing down my neck all day. I have better things to do.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”
If only he knew, Sebastian thought. He hadn’t exactly been forthright with his friend in regards to his new, budding relationship with you. It could hardly be called a relationship, anyway. Aside from a few lingering touches and suggestive glances, the two of you had continued on the same as always in the wake of him feasting upon you like a man starved. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that you were pretending like it hadn’t happened.
But the rosy hue to your cheeks every time he caught you staring at him told him otherwise. This was new to you– to him, too– so it was only natural for things to progress slowly.
He couldn’t wait to put an end to that, though. Sebastian wanted nothing more than to brazenly kiss you in the hallways. He wanted to pull you into empty classrooms for stolen trysts against the walls, and pridefully strut about the corridors with his fingers linked through yours. He wanted everyone to know that you were taken.
That you were his.
All in due time, he reminded himself. Today would be a step in the right direction. He would make sure of it.
The Great Hall continued to buzz with excitement, the seventh-year students riled up at the prospect of missing class for an entire day to venture out into the city. He and Ominis finished their breakfast in comfortable silence before the two parted ways, the blond man heading off to join the swarm of bodies making their way out to the Courtyard. Sebastian waited until the majority of the group was gone before he jumped out of his seat and hurried through the corridors in search of you.
Maybe it was alarming how good he was at tracking you down. It was like his brain had formed a sixth sense dedicated solely to you, granting him the ability to find you no matter where you were. He moved with confidence through the halls as he allowed that innate skill to guide him.
Once he found you, then the real fun could begin.
—
In a bizarre turn of events, Sebastian finally stumbled upon you in the last place he had thought to look.
Your bedroom.
First he had gone to the Astronomy Deck, half expecting to find you up there watching the sunrise with a pastry and a textbook. When that assumption had been dashed, he’d descended the tower’s staircase and poked his head in the Room of Requirement. Deek had nearly jumped out of his skin when Sebastian had sighed loudly, the noise laced with frustration. The house-elf had helpfully informed him that the woman he was actively ripping his hair out over hadn’t been in since yesterday. So, Sebastian’s search continued.
He’d gone to the Library, the beast pens, even the kitchens. You were nowhere to be found, and he was silently cursing himself for jinxing his you-sense.
Just as he was on the brink of admitting defeat and ready to accept that you must have changed your mind about going to London, he decided to make one last stop. Your room.
The way his heart leapt into his throat when he spotted you wasn’t worth mentioning. There you were, sleeping soundly in your bed– your hair disheveled and your cheek pressed into your pillow with a serene, angelic expression decorating your face. The tension that normally creased the middle of your brows was notably absent while you slept, and Sebastian shamelessly crept forward to lean against your bedpost, drinking in the sight of you with unwavering focus.
Merlin– his cock was already rousing to life in his trousers. Just watching you was sending him into a tizzy. It needed to be illegal for you to look so delectable while unconscious. It wasn’t fair to him.
But it also wasn’t fair to wake you up for the sake of his baser male urges. You were no doubt still dozing because you hadn’t planned on going to class today either, and the rare opportunity to sleep in was too good to pass up. He should just leave and track you down later. Then he could make good on his promise to take things further with you.
He boastfully imagined you would need your rest for when he finally got his hands on you. As an athlete, his stamina was spectacular.
A stray piece of parchment was wedged under the candelabra on your nightstand, so Sebastian helped himself to it. He wrote down a short message for you to read when you woke up, encouraging you to find him once you awake and moving to spare him the hassle of traversing the entire school in search of you again. The note was promptly folded up, adorned with a messy ‘S’, and perched delicately on the table. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t be waiting for you too long.
Just as he was turning to head for the door, the sight of something incredibly ordinary caught his eye.
It was a wicker basket lined with a cotton sac. A makeshift hamper for you to discard your dirty clothes in. Totally normal– nothing worth stopping for.
But Sebastian was a fucking weirdo. He was a hopelessly enthralled freak with no limits when it came to you.
He needed to turn around. He had no business lingering in your room any longer– he had already left a message for you to see later. Even though he told himself as much, he still knelt down beside the basket, his body moving on its own as he reached in and rifled through its contents. Sweat was fucking pouring from his forehead– the fear of being caught triggering something in him that made his cock twitch and his gut tighten.
Right at the bottom of the hamper was a pair of undergarments much like the ones he had peeled down your hips before; incredibly worn, sheer, tiny, and evidently used. Seriously– how frugal was too frugal when it came to saving money? There was no way you actually wore something like this under your trousers.
The evidence to the contrary made his blood race and his own pants suddenly seem tight. Way too fucking tight.
Glancing back at your sleeping face, Sebastian’s lips pursed as he considered his next move carefully. Surely you wouldn’t miss one pair of undergarments, right? If you held onto all the ones from the years past, there had to be an abundance of them lying around for you to use.
Alright, not the right thing to think. The fabric over his groin was beginning to grow snug.
He was a menace. A disgusting, perverted aberration. But he couldn’t help himself. He was pathetic.
Swallowing thickly, Sebastian tucked the thin fabric into his pocket and averted his gaze to the door, unable to bring himself to look at you again as he stood up, turned, and made off with your unmentionables.
—
Sebastian was pretty sure he had blacked out.
Literally. There was a loss of time between when he’d left your room and where he found himself now, and he could not for the life of him remember how he had ended up here. Alone in his dorm, sat up in his bed with his pants around his ankles. Everything was shrouded in darkness, but he knew his own body well enough to maneuver around without light. His cock was pulsing in his fist as he furiously worked his hand over himself with your underwear pressed firmly against his face.
Fuck.
The mattress dipped beneath the weight of his body and the weight of his conscience as he dug his heels into the comforter, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head as he inhaled deeply once again. A shudder racked his entire form in a frigid rush at the scent that greeted him. Your scent– as intoxicating and addicting as ever.
The groan that tore from his throat was muffled against your knickers, his fist twisting maddeningly over the head of his cock at the same time his hips bucked off the bed. Sebastian silently cursed himself for behaving so abhorrently, yet he was completely and utterly helpless to stop himself. He couldn’t. You were a walking, breathing aphrodisiac, and the smell of you alone was enough to drive him crazy.
His lips parted of their own accord so his tongue could dart out and lick at the frail cotton. Thank Merlin no one was on his dorm’s floor, because the moan he let loose practically shook the walls. His taste buds were bursting as a thick, hot bead of precum seeped from the swollen tip of his cock, cascading over his curled fingers and lubricating his shaft further. The sound of the slide was made noisier– infinitely wetter– prompting him to increase his speed with renewed gusto.
Any shame Sebastian might have felt for indulging himself this way melted away with each frantic twist of his wrist. The guilt warred with his ever-present desire for all of two seconds before he stuffed your undergarments between his teeth, freeing his hand so he could loosen his tie and kick his trousers to the floor. The furnace that normally kept the dorms warm was off, but the heat radiating from his body was more than enough to chase the chill of the room away.
As soon as his legs were free and his collar wasn’t quite as tight as before, Sebastian reclaimed the underwear in his hand and pressed the material to his face, trapping his nose and his mouth behind the saturated cotton. He sucked down another shuddering breath, a sob nearly breaking from his chest that he adamantly bit back. His hand moved vigorously over his cock, his thumb rubbing incessantly over the head as he milked more fluid from himself.
Balls tightening, he felt a telltale heat roaring to life in the pit of his stomach. The tension was mounting quickly– his body begging for the release he had been after since he’d woken up with plans to bed you this morning. Your clothing and his own fist wasn’t at all what he was after– especially not after having gotten to taste you– but he didn’t care. He was desperate. It was utterly insane to lose control of himself like this over a pair of underwear, but it had already been established that Sebastian was the farthest thing from normal.
He was a lost cause when it came to you.
Pervert, he heard you say in his mind. Yeah, he was hopeless. No better than a dog in heat.
“Pervert.”
Wait, what?
Sebastian’s eyes snapped open so suddenly, he was momentarily blinded by the light flooding into the room from the open doorway. The voice he had been hearing in his head wasn’t in his head at all.
Fuck.
Clad in your casual clothing, you stood in the entrance to the dorm with a bemused expression on your face. The skirt you had on swished around your knees as you clasped your hands behind your back, but aside from that minute movement, you stayed where you were. There was a tinge of amusement in your wide eyes, but it was overshadowed by the heady flush that spread from your cheeks all the way down your neck.
Dear gods. How long had you been standing there? How long had you been watching him? Before Sebastian had jumped your bones in his room two weeks ago, you’d had no experience dealing with this sort of… thing. His sexual urges had been his to deal with by himself, and as far as he had been concerned, you were a virtuous saint. A virgin. Unaware of the brutish thoughts that plagued all men his age day after day.
So why weren’t you screaming? How come you were mostly unfazed, save for the blood heating your cheeks? Why– why were you closing the door?
Why the hell were you walking closer?!
The curtains on the windows were still drawn, so the room was plunged into near darkness without the light from the hallway illuminating it. Your face was shrouded by shadows as a result, and Sebastian’s heart was hammering against his sternum so violently that he was positive you could hear it.
“You could have at least asked, you know,” he heard you say softly, your shoes clicking gently against the stone floor as you closed the distance. “That pair isn’t even that nice.”
Sebastian’s brain had officially stopped working. Or he was dead. It had to be something like that, because there was no way in hell you were actually so calm in the wake of discovering him masturbating with your undergarments held against his face.
They were still fucking there, too. He hastily jerked the material away from his nose and covered his leaking cock with his hands, wishing pointlessly that he hadn’t discarded his trousers to the floor. He needed something to cover himself with– or for a hole to conveniently open up beneath him and swallow him whole. Preferably the latter.
You waved your hand dismissively as you approached the bed, and Sebastian wanted nothing more than to make out whatever expression it was you had on your face. What kind of look did you find suitable to wear upon catching someone fusing your underwear to their face? He had sniffed and licked and drooled all over them. That had to warrant a scowl or a grimace. Maybe even pure, undiluted disgust. But the room was too dark, and Sebastian’s mind was too hazy– both from lust and mortification.
And fear. He was feeling a lot of fear at present, too.
You stopped directly beside his bed, and even though Sebastian knew he was taller than you, he had never felt so dwarfed in his entire life. He watched you cautiously as you bent down to gather the hem of your skirt in your hands, and he damn near passed out when you gingerly slid something down your legs. Calmly and confidently, you straightened and held out the pair of underwear you’d been wearing beneath your skirt, and the choked gasp that ripped from his throat was too sudden to silence.
They were a nice pair. Still sheer, but not from years of use. No, the risqué attire dangling from your index finger was designed to look that way. See-through, snug, and lined with tiny, lacey bows all around the waistband. They looked new.
Merlin– when had you bought those? Why had you bought those?
“What? Nothing to say?” Sebastian saw your head tilt to the side, the antagonizing tone you spoke with imbuing him with panic so potent that he started to sweat.
“I–” he started to say, sitting up so he could close his legs shamefully. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking– I didn’t think–”
His nonsensical rambling was cut short when the underwear hanging from your finger was pressed against his lips. Even with his jagged, self-deprecating thoughts bearing down on him and making it hard to think, Sebastian’s cock still twitched under his palm when the scent from your knickers hit him. It was the same smell that had driven him mad with lust between your legs two weeks ago, and the effect it had on him was instantaneous.
Your laugh was strained and a little awkward, but you stubbornly kept your hand where it was as Sebastian went rigid atop the bed. “You know, I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking that I was a fool. We had our little moment in here, and I told you I wanted more. Then I agreed to wait since you suddenly wanted to be chivalrous. But now I find you here like this? Using my underwear to get off? Do you prefer fantasy to the real thing?”
Gods, no. You had no fucking clue how badly he had wanted to claim you that day. The fact that you had indulged him and allowed him to do what he did had seemed like a bonafide miracle. Doing anything more that night had seemed like playing with fire. He wouldn’t have been able to control himself, and if wanting your first time to be pleasant made him chivalrous, then the bar was on the fucking floor.
He wanted you bad. The craving was so strong that it blinded him to almost everything. Maybe waiting this long had been a mistake, but… he’d believed it to be the right thing to do.
To have you standing over him smothering his face with the undergarments you had just taken off, though? He was beginning to think otherwise. Maybe waiting had only made things worse for both of you.
You didn’t bother to wait for him to respond to your line of questioning. As soon as his mouth opened, the thin cotton was pushed past his lips, your combined scent and taste invading all of his senses. Sebastian had to stop himself from moaning with relief– but that left him completely susceptible to the strongest wave of arousal he had ever felt in his life crashing over him.
Fuck.
Sebastian’s fingers flexed, the forgotten pair of underwear in his hand tightening around his digits as he fought the urge to grip his twitching cock. None of this made any sense. He was torn between wanting to touch himself and wanting to touch you, but he didn’t dare to move. This situation was precarious enough, and he wasn’t sure what the correct action to take was.
Evidently doing nothing wasn’t it, because you huffed indignantly before reaching out to slap his hands away from his groin. Your smaller hand enveloped his throbbing length swiftly, and there was no stopping the guttural moan that Sebastian let loose– the sound muffled by the material stuffed in his mouth. His hips jerked up instinctively, and immediately after, his motor function returned to him. The other pair of underwear was dropped against the bed as Sebastian’s hand flew out to grip your wrist, his arm trembling as he warred between letting you stroke him and stopping you altogether.
“Fuck, w-wait a second,” he stammered around his mouthful.
“I’ve been waiting for weeks. If you don’t make good on what you promised, I swear I’ll walk out of this room and never come back.”
His heart sank– but then your thumb swiped over the tip of his cock. Then his heart soared. He pried your hand and undergarments away from his face, keeping both close enough so the spit-soaked material brushed against his lips. “J-Just hold on– one second, give me one second.”
“You’re the most indecisive man I’ve ever met,” you muttered in annoyance. His eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, enough so that he was able to see the eager expression on your face. That, coupled with the way your lips were parted and your brows were furrowed, was quickly eradicating the remnants of his self-control. “Why leave me a note asking me to come find you if you were just going to send me away?”
Ah, to hell with it.
Sebastian’s eyes flashed for the briefest of moments before he pulled you down against the bed, effortlessly moving so you were sprawled beneath him. His lack of trousers didn’t seem to bother you in the slightest– not with how your lips quirked up in obvious excitement. Your enthusiasm was further validated when you reached up to tug on the end of his tie, drawing him closer into your space with a shy smile.
His body was practically vibrating as he leaned down to whisper against the corner of your mouth, “Who said anything about sending you away?”
Pulling back slightly, Sebastian was graced by the sight of you staring up at him with wet, wide eyes, and from that moment on, he was unable to perceive anything else. Not the unsatisfied ache in the pit of his stomach. Not the humiliation he still felt at having been caught with your underwear clenched in his white knuckled grip. Not the way you had brazenly attempted to match his energy even though you had no experience with such things.
Alright, that last one was a lie. He still remembered that with a good amount of clarity. Fucking minx.
Sebastian could hear your stuttered breathing as his right hand wandered down your prone form. The tips of his fingers skimmed over the plane of your stomach, then along your hip, and once he reached the center of your legs, he gathered your skirt into a messy heap. It almost pained him to look away from your face, but he couldn’t not watch as inch after inch of your soft skin was exposed.
It was worth it. Gods, the sight of your bare legs had haunted his dreams for the last two weeks. Sebastian vowed that sometime soon, he would take his time leaving a collection of love-bites over every part of you.
He had to be a masochist to some degree, because beyond attempting to take things slow with you, there was no good reason for him to let your clothing fall from his grip, and yet that was exactly what he did. Your skirt barely covered your exposed cunt, and when Sebastian testingly grazed his fingers along the inside of your thighs, the wetness he felt there nearly had him keeling over.
Fucking hell, how long had you been like this? Was it everything happening presently that was turning you on, or had seeing him laid out with your underwear triggered your arousal?
He wanted to ask you, but there was another more important question that came to mind at that moment. Sebastian fixed his eyes on yours again, all too pleased to find blatant desperation etched across your stunning face. Legilimency wasn’t needed for him to know that you wanted him to touch you where it mattered most. Not yet, he thought. First, he wanted answers.
“I’m curious, darling,” he started, thankful that he had managed to keep his voice low and sultry instead of tight and strained. “In all that time spent waiting, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?”
With how close Sebastian already was to your face, he watched plainly as the flush heating your cheeks darkened impossibly further. Your eyes widened, your lips pursed together harshly– and if there was ever a picture to be found in the dictionary beside the word ‘guilty’, Sebastian would pay good money for it to be the image of you right now.
You didn’t even need to say anything. From the way you swallowed thickly and shifted your hips lower to chase after his hand, Sebastian knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had.
The choked groan that snuck its way out of his throat conveyed his approval well enough. Sebastian’s lashes fluttered at the same time a self-satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and any remaining blood in his body that hadn’t already made its way to his cock shot there in a heartbeat. Merlin, he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his hand slowly creeping closer to the apex of your thighs, the suspense effortlessly pulling a gentle gasp from you that was like music to his ears. He brushed his knuckles over the slick skin waiting for him beneath your skirt, watching delightfully as your chest sharply rose with your strangled intake of breath. “Did it feel good? Come on, tell me.”
Your pupils were blown wide with lust as you blinked up at him. When you reached down to grab for his wrist– probably to move his hand where you wanted it– Sebastian withdrew the appendage entirely and tutted disapprovingly. Wordless as it was, the message was clear; you needed to confess the truth before he gave you anything more.
“I– I don’t know,” came your half-hearted reply. You were obviously embarrassed– Sebastian could tell that much– but that wouldn’t do. Not in the slightest.
He lowered his head so his lips were a hairs-width away from yours, then whispered, “I think you do. It’s not that hard, darling. Did you touch yourself while thinking of me? Yes, or no?”
A timid sound reverberated through your chest, your expression shifting into something resembling forlorn. Just as Sebastian was about to reassure you that it was fine and that it was just him here with you, your small voice reached his ears. “Yes.”
Fuck.
Chuckling breathlessly, he pressed you further. “And?”
You waited a few seconds, drawing in a deep, intentional breath before responding. “It… wasn’t the same.”
Merlin help him. He couldn’t wait anymore.
Sebastian closed the minuscule gap between your lips, kissing you ravenously as mental images of you touching yourself in the dead of night flooded his mind and left him feeling intoxicated. The arm he’d left braced by your head up until now moved so he could slide his hand under your neck, lifting you just enough to deepen the kiss, and he bullied his tongue into your mouth in some desperate attempt to taste you. A small whimper sounded from you, but you were quick to part your lips for him to grant him better access, and it was at that point Sebastian elected to dip a lone finger into your wet, waiting hole.
He swallowed up the startled moan you let loose greedily, relishing in how warm you felt inside and loving how your walls fluttered around his finger. You were so sensitive– so responsive– and Sebastian couldn’t fucking wait to hear you crying out his name. He wanted to catalog every sound you were capable of making away in his brain forever. He wanted to burn a lasting mark on your very soul in the hopes that the memory of him would never leave you.
Sebastian wanted all of you; your body, your soul, your mind. The mere thought of owning every fiber of your being left him feeling high as if he’d smoked a pouch of Mallowsweet, and drunk as though he’d downed a bottle of Firewhiskey. His blood burned hot with arousal, and a fat bead of precum oozed from the tip of his cock and dripped onto your thigh.
Not that you noticed, though. Sebastian was effectively consuming you– his kiss so thorough and so passionate that he didn’t doubt you were dizzy from it. That, along with the added addition of his finger probing deep inside you, meant that you were like putty in his hands.
Trembling.
Malleable.
You were entirely at his mercy as he stoked the flames of desire growing stronger in his gut and– by extension– yours.
Movement near his hip registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t until Sebastian felt your dainty fingers wrap around his cock that he gasped and broke away from your lips. You were the embodiment of sin looking up at him, with rosy cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and kiss-swollen lips that curled into a shy, seductive smile. He didn’t get a chance to say anything before you were swiping your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading around the precum there blindingly, and your efforts were met with the sound of Sebastian’s hoarse, guttural groan.
Euphoria and fear alike overtook him. It felt good– too good. He saw stars, and the moment they cleared, he was fighting tooth and nail against his baser urges.
“Fuck, don’t–” he almost fucking fell over sideways when you repeated the motion, and the curious glimmer in your eyes bordered dangerously close to wicked. He hissed through his teeth, “Shit, s-stop– stop. I’m serious.”
“Why do you get to touch me but I can’t touch you?”
The fact that you had the audacity to pout confirmed one thing very clearly for Sebastian: he truly had created a monster that night in his dorm. “This is going to end a lot faster than I’d like if you keep touching me.”
“Oh…” You trailed off in a low voice as a frown tugged at your lips before almost mournfully releasing his achingly hard shaft. “Does… does it not feel good?”
Bloody hell. Even without your hand on his cock, Sebastian was on the brink of cumming all over the place. Your wet, innocent eyes glistening with inexperienced uncertainty could prove to be a greater threat than your fingers, he wagered. His quick bark of laughter was airy and strained, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut as he shook his head. “The complete opposite, actually. It feels fucking amazing. But you’d be doing me a disservice if you forced me to finish now.”
Your body seemed to relax into the mattress, your relief at his clarification obvious and incredibly endearing. “Would that be bad? I don’t– I mean… I don’t have anything to compare to, so I doubt you could disappoint me.”
Heavens above– if only you knew what his internal monologue had sounded like in recent days. “Maybe, but I would definitely be disappointing myself. Especially considering the only part of me that’s been inside you is my finger.”
He curled the digit for emphasis, smirking to himself when you jolted slightly. “O-Okay, yeah. Point taken.”
Sebastian was satisfied with your acceptance, but he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He was positive he’d never been so hard in his fucking life– which was saying something when he stopped to remember how many times he had woken up in the middle of the night with the lingering, phantom feeling of your lips still around his cock. In those moments, he had sworn things couldn’t get any worse than that. But dreams evidently couldn’t hold a damn candle to the real thing.
Reminding himself that he had the entire day to spend with you helped soothe his frazzled nerves. There was no list of guidelines that stated sex was a one-round thing, and he mentally thanked the gods for that. He had no intention of letting you go so soon.
Without taking his eyes off of yours, Sebastian dexterously slid his finger out to add a second alongside it. His movements were cautious and slow as he pressed the tips of both digits in, watching you for any signs of pain or discomfort. Apart from a nervous sort of anticipation flitting across your face, he saw nothing that indicated he was hurting you, so he gingerly began pumping his fingers deeper.
It didn’t take long for his knuckles to end up flush to your cunt. The copious amounts of slick seeping from you made the slide infinitely easier, and as Sebastian took to curling and pressing the pads of his fingers against your innermost walls, your reactions were nothing short of mesmerizing.
“How does it feel?” Sebastian asked roughly. His mind and his body were at war with one another– both parts of himself struggling to decide whether or not to give in to the mounting pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach. He bit the inside of his cheek with so much force that he tasted blood. He’d already let himself come once just from feasting upon you two weeks ago– he could not pull such an amateur move a second time.
Your shaky, panted breaths were all he heard. Then you were murmuring, “It feels– hng– it’s good, it’s good.”
Humming his approval, Sebastian looked away from your face to seek out that one part of womanly anatomy he had read about once before. Not that he had intentionally sought out such information– not by a long shot. But by some stroke of luck, he had come across the bead of knowledge randomly once before, and seeing how focusing on it had pushed you over the edge the last time he’d been between your legs, he was eager to do so again.
It didn’t take him long to become reacquainted with the tiny bud. Every inch of your body Sebastian had already explored was dutifully committed to memory, and he doubted he could forget any of it if he tried. Twitching his fingers up, he planted his thumb against the crest of your folds and was instantly rewarded with the sound of your strangled gasp. Your spine arched towards him at the same time your heels dug into the mattress, and the long, drawn out moan that seemed to spill from your lips involuntarily was smothered when you slapped a hand over your mouth.
Sebastian’s nails dug into the back of your neck, and he leaned down to nudge your wrist with his nose. “No one can hear you out there– it’s just us. Only you and me.”
You squinted up at him blearily, crinkling your nose as you cast a fleeting glance towards the door. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
His face went stony, if only for a flicker of a moment. “I’d never let anyone else hear you like this.”
Your arm twitched minutely before you let the limb fall beside your head. Then he was kissing you again– the action laced with promise and adoration. The attention he bestowed on your bundle of nerves never ceased, and the symphony of moans that fell rapidly from you were swallowed up by Sebastian as he licked, sucked, and bit at your lips hungrily. Your taste, your noises, the feeling of your body quivering and tensing against his– all of it left him dizzy with want.
Lost in the throes of pleasure, Sebastian boldly plunged his fingers deeper, his thumb sliding harder over your clit, and you abruptly broke away from the kiss to toss your head back and groan, “Gods, Sebastian…”
He shuddered like the wind had been knocked out of him, hot and harsh against your lips. Fuck. “Say it again. Say my name again.”
If there was anything Sebastian could safely claim to know about himself, the first was that he was a quick study. The second? There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Your smile, your praise, your satisfaction. All of it twined together in his mind the second he heard his name fall from your lips, and he continued his movements with newfound vigor so that every touch, every toe-curling pump of his fingers, had you shivering and writhing underneath him.
A bright, heady flush crept its way down your cheeks and beneath the neckline of your blouse, but despite your obvious embarrassment, you obliged him. You let Sebastian hear you as you whimpered his name– the word tangled up with stuttered sighs and half-stifled moans. You let him hear you when you warned him that you were close, that you were going to come, that you wanted to come.
The stars that had clouded his vision before came back with a vengeance when you cried out his name again and grabbed his wrist, holding his hand in place as the wind was effectively knocked out of you. Sebastian watched you come apart with greedy eyes, drinking in the sight of your entire body tensing and squirming until the painful throbbing between his legs became too much to bear.
Fuck, he couldn’t wait any longer.
“You’re so perfect,” Sebastian said in a quick rush as he withdrew his fingers, his cock twitching against his thigh when he shamelessly licked the evidence of your pleasure from his digits. “Gods, you taste so fucking good, too.”
There was a quiet tension hanging between both of you as he sat back on his haunches to begin unbuttoning your top. His movements were gentle– reverent– as he slipped the clothing over your shoulders, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized that you weren’t wearing anything beneath the shirt. Your laugh when you took note of his expression sounded like wind chimes, but Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to feel negatively about it. Strangely enough, a warm sentimentality overtook him as he helped you shed all of your clothing.
When you sat up to allow him to slide your blouse down your arms, he felt relieved that it was you he was doing this with for the first time. When he switched gears to begin removing his own clothing, he felt giddy knowing that only the walls were bearing witness to how blissed out he looked as he gazed upon your naked body. And when he settled back over you in a daze– his hands skimming lightly up your sides to savor the softness of your skin– he felt a dark possessiveness take root.
A primal sort of male-pride filled him as he delighted in the fact that you trusted him. You wanted this with him. No one else.
Done with his impromptu introspection, Sebastian slid his hands down your waist, over your pelvis, and finally wrapped them under your thighs. He hitched your legs up so they were bent on either side of his hips and cast a questioning look your way. His enthusiasm couldn’t outweigh his caution– not where you were concerned. “Are you ready?”
You gave him a shallow dip of your chin, your throat bobbing nervously. “Can I ask a stupid question?”
“Yes, I take the contraceptive potion.”
“Not that!” You slapped your hands over your face, trying and failing to hide your reddening cheeks. If anymore blood rushed to your head, Sebastian wagered you might pass out. Peeking at him through your fingers, he heard you mutter, “That is good to know though…”
He laughed softly as he began tenderly caressing your thighs. “What’s your question?”
“What if, um…” your voice dropped to a whisper. “What if it doesn’t… fit?”
Your eyes fell to Sebastian’s cock resting heavily above your folds, and it was his turn to flush, but not from embarrassment. His brows climbed up his forehead as he pulled you closer by your legs, and he couldn’t fight the smug grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, it’ll fit. Don’t you worry your pretty head about that, darling.”
Whether or not you believed him remained to be seen, but you did let your hands fall away from your face. You raised them above your head in an act of complete submission, and fuck– there was no way you could ever possibly know what that simple gesture did to him.
Wordlessly, Sebastian shifted his hips back and lined the head of his cock up with your entrance. The first push had you hiccuping and holding your breath, and as much as he wanted to urge you not to do that, he wasn’t faring any better. It was hot. Tight and wet and way more overwhelming than he could have imagined. His heart was beating against his sternum so aggressively that he was certain you could hear it, and he had to blink rapidly to keep his wits about him. He still had a ways to go before he was fully sheathed, but for your sake and for his, he paused his movements.
When he spotted your eyes clamped shut, he willed himself to groan, “You alright?”
“Mhm,” you squeaked in quite possibly the most unconvincing way possible. “Just– just give me a second. It’s… a lot.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A few terse seconds ticked by, and with a few murmured reassurances from him, you eventually opened your eyes and nodded up at him. “Okay. Maybe just… go slow for a bit.”
Hell, if he had waited this long, he could wait a little longer. He smiled and grunted in confirmation, then looked down to watch as another sliver of his cock disappeared inside of your wet, fluttering walls. You must have instinctively realized that holding your breath wasn’t the right thing to do, because the sound of your measured, shaky inhales graced Sebastian’s ears, and he made a point to mirror your breathing. Muted whispers of “Relax” and “There you go, just breathe” were the only words he spoke, and when his hips were finally flush to your rear, he sighed his praise into the empty air above him. “Good girl… fuck.”
The way you suddenly clenched around his shaft almost sent him careening over the side of the bed, but your muffled moan acted as his anchor. Sebastian looked down at you in shock– trying and failing to process what the hell had just happened– but it wasn’t easy to utilize his brain with your cunt threatening to snap his cock clean off.
“What– really?” The teasing lilt to his voice was almost completely hidden beneath its strain, but you still picked up on it.
“I– I don’t know,” you groaned bitterly. “If you’re just going to keep teasing me, we can call it quits here–”
“I’m done, I’m done,” he promised in a rush. Even still, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I just wasn’t expecting you to like hearing that so much.”
You huffed out a dry laugh, then lifted one of your legs to hook around his hip. Digging your heel into the small of his back forced him to abandon his hold on your other thigh so he could brace himself over you using his forearm, but the twinkle in your eyes told Sebastian that you liked the closer proximity better. It also told him that you were ready for more.
He was a quick study, after all.
His first few thrusts were shallow and slow. Partly because he needed to figure out what you could handle, but also partly because he couldn’t get enough of how your lashes fluttered every time he bottomed out. Barely there moans slipped past your parted lips, and when Sebastian testingly ground into you after a particularly grating pump of his hips, you groaned unabashedly.
Gods, he was losing his fucking mind. Burying his head against your throat was the only thing he could do to keep himself from losing control, but the fact that the deep breath he sucked down was laced with your tantalizing scent didn’t help him at all. Every facet of your being was smothering his senses. It was the ultimate test of his restraint.
Eventually, he felt your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You sounded winded when you asked, “Are you okay? We can slow down if you need to.”
Slow down? Hah…
Sebastian picked up his head to fix his eyes on yours, and even if you hadn’t blanched, he would have known there was a fire burning in them. “You have no idea how much I’m holding back right now.”
Your gulp was audible. Then, much like before when you’d caught him red-handed with your undergarments, you seemingly steeled your nerves and tried to meet him half-way. “Then don’t. I can handle it, I promise.”
Bloody hell.
Sebastian searched your eyes for permission. As soon as he found it– and thank Merlin he did– he was kissing you again, distracting you with his teeth and his tongue as he withdrew his cock languidly. When he sank back in, his pace was only slightly faster than before, but the difference was insane. His head felt lighter, his nerves blazed to life, and the tight coil that had been looming in the pit of his stomach since before you’d walked in on him earlier made its presence known.
You scrambled to hook your other leg around his waist– barely given the room to do so before his thrusts became more powerful, more forceful. He felt fucking feral, but you’d always done that to him. You always brought out the parts of himself that he tried to keep hidden. Without any effort on your part, you had him acting a fool time and time again, unaware of the full extent of your influence over him.
In the past, Sebastian would say it drove him mad. Now, though? He embraced it. He reveled in it. Only you could make his brain switch off so flawlessly. Only you could reduce him to a desperate, lust-drunk idiot, and he was well past the point of caring.
Each slam of his hips into yours brought wet, sloppy squelching with it. His bed creaked furiously as his tempo increased, but if breaking the frame was the price to pay for getting to experience this moment, he would gladly sleep on the floor for the rest of his fucking life. The force of his thrusts punched airy moans from your lungs, and the sting of your nails biting into his neck intermingled with the pleasure coursing through him beautifully. Entrusting you to keep your ankles hooked around him, Sebastian released your thigh to bring his hand to your face, thumbing over your cheekbone and grinning when his touch prompted you to abandon your attempts at keeping your voice down. The tightness in his gut amplified tenfold when his name tumbled from your lips, and Sebastian let loose a groan of his own.
“Say it again,” he whispered, pausing with his cock fully buried in your unbelievably wet cunt. He was giving it his all– trying to stop himself from ending everything so soon. “Again– say my name again.”
You blinked up at him with a hazy, fucked-out expression that would singlehandedly fuel his masturbation sessions until the day he died. “S-Sebastian,” you groaned. “More, give me more. Please, Sebastian.”
He damn near folded you in half the moment the plea left your lips. He buried his face in your shoulder, wrenched one of your arms away from his neck to lace his fingers tight with yours, then started hammering home like a trueborn deviant. He’d be feeling this later– you would, too– but he hoped that would be the case. He wanted to come back to this moment later on. If he could relive the feeling of your legs around his waist, of your nails biting into his flesh, of your wet cunt swallowing his cock up hungrily… fuck, what else did he need?
More to the point, Sebastian silently prayed that you would remember everything, too. If the aches and bruises that would no doubt litter your body after the fact made you think of him, he could die a happy man.
The mounting pressure in the pit of his stomach threatened to burst. Sebastian groaned, mouthing brainlessly against the skin of your throat as he rammed his cock into you harder and faster. While he still had some tiny, barely there semblance of control over not finishing, he had long since lost the ability to keep his voice down. Between labored grunts and guttural moans, he said, “Good– so good– you’re so good for me. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”
The gasp that escaped you brought a wicked smile to Sebastian’s lips, and even though you tried to stifle the whimper that followed, it was pointless. He heard it all the same, and he felt the way your walls tightened in response to his praise. Gods, he never could have imagined something so simple having such a complex effect on you. His mere words could bring you higher to the edge?
His ego had officially quadrupled in size.
He felt your fingers curl until your nails dug into the back of his hand, every inch of your body tensing as your own pleasure grew. “I’m– gods, please Sebastian. I think– hng.”
Keeping his head low, Sebastian turned so his lips were directly against the shell of your ear. Almost condescendingly, he cooed, “I know. Go on, give me another one. Please? Be a good girl and give me one more– just one more.”
Your walls tightened around his cock impossibly further, senseless babble sounding from you as he weaponized your affinity for praise. When Sebastian slipped his hand free from yours to wedge it between your bodies and thumb at your clit again, it was a bonafide miracle you didn’t break his shaft off entirely. The way he could feel your climax reaching its peak was utterly maddening. It was too much, but he held out that little bit longer until he was sure you were coming apart beneath him.
Your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders, and your knees dug into his sides as you clenched your legs around his waist with suffocating strength. Sebastian kept slamming into you all the while– kept rubbing those tormenting little circles against your clit– but he had the good grace to move his face over yours so he could kiss you. The hoarse, hiccuping moans he milked from you were swallowed up by him animalistically.
He had meant it earlier when he’d said no one was allowed to hear you like this. No one but him.
The feeling of you convulsing around him was more than enough for that coil in his stomach to finally snap. Unable and unwilling to hold himself back any longer, Sebastian groaned loud against your lips, his thrusts turning stuttered and frantic as you slowly came back to yourself. His brows pinched together as he desperately reached the point of no return, and then he felt you pull his head down so you could press your lips against his ear like he had done.
“Inside. Inside– please?”
He fucking screamed.
Sebastian drove his hips into yours with so much force that it knocked you a few inches up the bed. Not that it made much of a difference, though. You were still clinging to him with every remaining ounce of strength you possessed. The hand he’d previously slipped between your bodies flew out to grip your thigh with bruising strength, and he let the majority of his weight settle over you as he rocked his hips into you before finally stilling.
Fuck.
It took a while for his body to quit trembling. There was no way to gauge the validity of his assumption, but he was positive he’d never cum so hard or so much. He genuinely wondered if the mess was seeping out at this point, but when that fleeting thought caused his cock to twitch inside of you again, he banished it to the far reaches of his mind.
He needed a minute to collect his bearings before his own body tried killing him.
Still out of breath, Sebastian decided to stop smothering you. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and carefully pulled out, then fell beside you against the bed. He didn’t hesitate before gathering you up in his arms, deriving a gross amount of satisfaction in the way you snuggled against his chest as though it was your gods-granted right to do so, and you sighed contentedly when he took to grazing his nails lightly over your back.
The moment was interrupted, however, when you leaned into him more with a frown tugging at your lips. You reached behind yourself to fish out something that had been pressing into you uncomfortably, and when you brought your arm back around, the undergarments Sebastian had swiped from your bedroom were dangling from your fingers.
“Oh…” he muttered, averting his gaze to the ceiling to better hide the guilt glimmering in his eyes. “Sorry again for that… don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
“Do you want them?”
Nevermind the ceiling– he went right back to staring at you, his mouth hanging open in blatant shock. “Uh, what?”
The underwear was pushed closer towards his face, and if he didn’t have a pillow blocking his way, he would have leaned back more. Undeterred, you repeated, “Do you want them? I don’t mind. I probably would have thrown them away soon, anyway. They’re kind of…”
His wide eyes jumped from you to the underwear, then back to you. “Old?” he helpfully supplied.
“Yeah… well if you want them, they’re yours. Or the other pair.” You tossed the clothing to the foot of the bed, then turned back to face him with a coy smile playing on your pretty face. “Or you can forget about the underwear and just have me instead.”
The sight of you leaning towards him with your bare breasts seductively crushed between your arms had his blood supply splitting between the upper and lower halves of his body. While some of it rushed to heat his cheeks, most of it took a nosedive straight for his cock. Merlin…
“Oh, no,” he drawled as he reached for you, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You laughed playfully when he hauled you back against his chest, and the weight of your body pressing down on his evicted the blood in his face and sent it lower with the rest. “I get to have you all to myself in exchange for giving up your underwear? What a dilemma…”
“You’d better choose carefully,” you managed to say between giggles. “There’s a right answer, and I’ll be pretty disappointed if you pick the wrong one.”
Sebastian wasn’t arrogant to think of himself as smart. He got good grades, studied when he needed to, and never turned in assignments late. That didn’t mean he didn’t make poor choices every now and then, though. His track record for stupid decisions was impressive, and there was a long list of people who would wholeheartedly agree with him if he had the guts to ask.
But this choice? It was a no-brainer for him.
If the searing kiss he gave you and the full length of his cock twitching back to life against you wasn’t enough of an answer, he would gladly proclaim a thousand times that he chose you. Sebastian had chosen you a long time ago, and he would always choose you when it came down to it.
“What? You’re still seeing other people, aren’t you?” you ask quietly. Ice crawls up his neck. Why? Does he need to be?
or the one where dick doesn't want you looking at his tinder.
content: nsfw, piv, oral (f!receiving), miscommunication, but then lots of communication, it won't let me upload this normally so trying something else ?
masterlist
“C’mon, just let me swipe for you,” you laugh, trying to snatch Dick’s phone from his hand. He’s currently holding you back with one arm and holding his phone as far out on the other end of the couch as he can.
“No, stop,” Dick grunts, less playful than he had been earlier in the night but still laughing. “Why do you want to see it so bad?”
For some reason, in the last few minutes, you’d become desperate to see Dick’s Tinder. You’d said it as a joke, at first. On a whim. And, really, you weren’t even planning on swiping on his account, but then he’d said no.
“I just want to see what the women of Bludhaven have to offer for my best friend,” you say. To the outside eye, it might look like you’re trying to climb Dick with how deadset you still are on grabbing his phone.
Dick’s jaw clenches tight.
This wasn’t what the two of you did. Ever since… that night… and the night after that, and the night after that… it’d been different. You didn’t wingman each other, in person or on dating apps. You didn’t try to set each other up. Sure, before you’d started sleeping together it wasn’t unheard of for you to talk about your relationships, or random dates you went on, but neither of you asked further than the polite, cursory questions. Even for the first few weeks of this new relationship, each of you made the odd comment about a guy you were texting or a girl that Dick had met at a gala, but those had slowly fizzled out, too. The only thing you had to share with each other was if you hooked up with someone else–to be safe, at the beginning–but the situation had, blissfully, not presented itself.
Recently, Dick had barely even opened his Tinder. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d been thinking about deleting the thing entirely, honestly.
He’s not even sure why he’s so adamantly against you seeing his dating apps right now. It’s not like he’s got anything to hide. He hadn’t had a match in months. Maybe that’s what he didn’t want you to see. The lack of notifications, the empty messaging tab, the few chats he left unanswered past a hey. The fact that the only girl he was currently interested in was you.
“Baby, stop,” he sighs as he relaxes back into the couch. His sudden change in demeanor has you stalling, too. Your hands drop down, your body collapsing into his side.
His breath catches in his throat, looking at the way you’ve almost curled up under his arm now that you’re done fighting him. His gaze snags on your lips, but he manages to snap it back up to your eyes before he thinks you catch him.
“What? You’re still seeing other people, aren’t you?” you ask quietly. Ice crawls up his neck. Why? Does he need to be?
“I mean…” Dick says, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
You seem to take that answer the wrong way, pulling away from Dick slowly and planting yourself back into your original spot on the couch. You keep your eyes on him, but your face is a lot less smiley than it had been a minute ago, much to his dismay.
“Is it serious?” you ask as you tuck your knees up to your chest. His heart stutters a bit, resisting his initial urge to just pull you right back into him.
“What?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“The girl you’re seeing. It’s serious, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t want me to see,” you say.
“I’m not- What?” he parrots.
“It’s fine,” you say, even though it says like you’re barely managing the words out. “I mean, I wish you would’ve told me, so that we could stop doing… y’know, but-”
Panic floods through him. He can’t handle it anymore. In the span of a second, he’s bridged the gap between you and locked his lips over yours. You’re seconds away from melting into him the way he knows you will, when you start to push at his chest with the heels of your hands.
“Dick, wait-”
“I’m not seeing anyone else,” he pants out, pained. He needs you to stop talking. To stop thinking and spiraling and throwing this away before he has a chance to explain himself. He needs you to stop your mind from wandering to the idea that he could want anyone but you.
“You’re not?” you ask, trying to pull back further when Dick drops his forehead against yours. You need to see his eyes right now.
“I’m not,” he exhales. You can see the words forming, but it takes him a while longer to ask, “Are you?”
When you shake your head, Dick shifts. He gently begins to pull your legs down and out to give him space to slot himself better between your thighs. His head ducks down, nose bumping against yours.
“Why wouldn’t you let me see your Tinder?” you ask quietly, bringing a hand up and running your fingers though his hair as he kisses along your cheeks.
“I dunno,” he mumbles into your skin. “We haven’t really talked about this in a while. I didn’t want you to see that I wasn’t, you know… putting myself out there if you were.”
“That’s stupid,” you scoff lightly.
“I know,” he says, raising up to slant his mouth over yours again. “I don’t exactly think straight when you’re around.”
You let him kiss you for a while. You let him lick along your bottom lip, and eventually part them to slide his tongue into your mouth. Even though his response should’ve eased the pit in your stomach, it hadn’t. It lingered, gnawing at you like it had been for the last couple of weeks.
You think you wanted to see his Tinder for another reason entirely. No matter what you’d tried telling yourself in the moment, no matter how playful and giggly you’d been, you knew you’d been fighting for his phone to try and quell the thoughts that had been nagging at you. You wanted to see the competition, more or less. You wanted to see who else Dick’s attention was lingering on, see if you were able to compete with them.
That voice is nagging at you, now, despite the fact that Dick’s attempting to shove his tongue down your throat in a way that would typically have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Why aren’t you seeing other people?” you ask, in spite of yourself. You bite down on your tongue to try and stop any more damning words from spilling out of you.
He seems to glitch for a moment before exhaling. Reluctantly, he pulls away. Not for long, though, as he’s subsequently pulling you up and bracketing your knees around his hips. Once he’s seated and you’re settled on his lap, he speaks.
“Okay,” he sighs. “I don’t think we can keep dancing around this.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek as he begins to slide his hands down your sides. Slowly up around your hips, around your waist, down your thighs, and back up again. It does little to calm your nerves.
“You don’t want me dating anyone else, hm?” he asks, brows raised in a way that might’ve looked condescending if you didn’t know him as well as you do. You think the question over for a beat before slowly starting to shake your head.
“No,” you admit solemnly. “I know when we started… fooling around we said we weren’t going to do the whole labels thing.”
“I know what we said,” he hums.
“And we said that we were free to still… you know, go out and stuff,” you manage out.
“And stuff,” he mimics. “I’m not asking about before. I’m asking about now.”
“But, what we agreed on before matters,” you say.
He shrugs, “Sure, it mattered before.”
He looks down at where your hands are resting on his stomach before grabbing them both in one of his. He brings them up to his chest, maneuvering them so that your palms are flat against him.
“I agreed to all of this because I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says before his eyes flick back up to meet yours.
“Isn’t that what you wanted, too?” you ask
“I wanted whatever you were willing to give me. I didn’t push for more because I thought you… you know… didn’t want that,” he says. The world stops spinning for a solid minute. Suddenly, every appliance in the apartment has gone inexplicably silent and all you can hear is your own breathing–or, lack thereof–and the blood rushing through your eardrums. He’s calmer than he was a minute ago. Less frantic, now, that he seems to have clicked a few pieces into place.
“What?” you croak out.
“Is it that hard to believe, sweetheart?” he asks. “You think I treat every girl the way I treat you? Talk to any girl that way I talk to you?”
He brings your hands up until they’re just under his jaw.
“Fuck any girl the way I fuck you?”
“You want more?” you ask. You have to blink about twenty times in a row to focus down on him again.
“Yes, I want more,” he says. “But I think the real question is if you want more.”
Your mouth opens and closes with a thousand different ways of saying yes, yes, of course I do dying on your tongue. When you finally decide that words are just apparently not going to work right now, you lean in and slant your lips over his. He meets your mouth eagerly, still holding your hands against him, but lifting his head to match your vigor.
“You’re so stupid,” you huff once you’ve parted.
“That– okay,” he chuckles, brows furrowed, “Why am I stupid?”
“Because I’m in love with you,” you say.
“Yeah?” he asks. The smile on his face could rival the sun. He uses the lack of space between you to his advantage and smacks a couple of kisses against your lips. “Why does that make me stupid?”
“Because!” you say, like that’s reason enough.
“Because I’m in love with you, too?” he asks. A comment you’re, unfortunately, quick to breeze past.
“Because we wasted so much time!” you whine with a weak smack to his chest. The air around you is thick with his confession.
“We’ll have so much time,” he says as he brings both palms up to the sides of your face. Slowly, he pulls you down until you’re chest to chest with him, but he doesn’t make a move to kiss you again. He seems content to just look at you, now. To let his gaze move over the dips and lines of your face, the slope of your nose.
“We could’ve had more,” you murmur.
Dick shrugs, thumbs swiping over your cheeks. “I’ve always been yours.”
“Yeah, but…” you start.
“We’ve basically been dating for months already,” he says. “This doesn’t change anything other than what we call each other.”
Huh. You hadn’t thought of it that way.
“There we go,” he hums. His index finger taps against the center of your forehead. “I can see those gears shutting down.”
You sit there for a while, just letting the weight of it all sink into you. You love Dick, you knew that already, and he loves you. He loves you. You didn’t have to settle for–admittedly, amazing–sex, you could have him. You could have everything.
“Will you let me fuck you now, baby?” he asks, hands moving back down to hold your hips.
Your lips pull into a thin line. “That feels a little crude after what we just admitted to each other.”
“Oh my-” he laughs, those dimples of his peeking out. “Can I make love to you? Is that better?”
“I could so say no right now- oh,” your giggle sharply turns into a gasp when Dick rolls his hips up into yours. Just once. Just enough to feel his hardening cock pressing against your pussy and punching the breath out of you. His lips find the edge of your jaw.
“Baby?” he prompts.
“Yeah, yes,” you exhale, already melting into his touch. “Please.”
And it’s like a band snaps. The thinly veiled restraint he’d been exerting before is gone when his lips find yours again. He’s inching the hem of your shirt up, the warmth of his hands heating your skin.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, parting from you long enough to slide the shirt up and over your head. “My girl.”
“Dick,” you whine. You roll your hips down against his, trying to ease the building pressure building up between your legs.
“Hold on, pretty,” he laughs in spite of the way his hips jut up to meet yours instantly. “I wanna do this right.”
“We’ve fucked before,” you huff, pushing down harder against his cock until you feel the head of him catch against your clit. Ah, fuck.
“So we’re calling it that again?” he teases. He licks along the edge of your bra, down the center of your chest, and for a second you think he’s going to make out with the foam padding but then he unclips the back of it with the dexterous accuracy you’re used to. He latches onto one of your nipples, sucking and swirling his tongue in a way that sends a tingle down your spine.
“Come on,” you hiss, back arching and pushing your chest further into his mouth. He pops off with a grin. His thumbs swipes over your nipple, breaking the string of spit still connecting him to you.
“So impatient,” he says. “I get you worked up that fast, huh?”
“Shut up. You know you do,” you bite, still trying to grind down on his cock but not getting the relief you need through the layers between you.
“‘Cause you love me?” he asks. One of his fingers hooks into the waistband of your shorts. The elastic snaps against your skin.
“Stop teasing.”
“‘M not teasing, baby. Promise,” he says before his hand slips into your shorts. His fingers swipe through the slick building there. One taps your clit with just enough pressure to pull a gasp out of you. He tilts his head as he watches you grind against his hand. He seems entirely too pleased with himself.
You fist your hands into his shirt in a clumsy attempt to get him to take it off. That request, at least, he concedes to. He grabs it by the back of the neckline, tugging it up and tossing it elsewhere on the floor of his living room. When you think he’s going to go back to his heavy petting, though, he doesn’t. He grabs you back the backs of your thighs before standing, leaving you to flail for a second and grab onto his shoulders with a squeak.
“Dick!” you huff, face scrunched up in mock annoyance. “What the hell?”
He makes sure you’re situated in his arms and not going to fall before starting to walk towards his room. The fact that he can pick you up and carry you around without care like this still heats you up inside, despite the fact that he’d done it countless times before. You think he knows. You think that’s why he keeps doing it.
“It’ll be better in bed,” he murmurs, pecking your lips. “Want you to be comfortable.”
Every part of you feels like it's buzzing. Warm static from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. If Dick set you down, you don’t think you would be standing.
If sex with Dick before was good, this was nirvana. And he had barely started touching you.
He kicks the door closed with his heel then gently lays you out at the end of the bed. You’d told him before how grateful you were for his money, only if for the fact that it meant that his bed felt like heaven. A fluffy comforter and egyptian cotton sheets for you to ease down into as Dick starts shimmying your shorts down your thighs. He groans at the sight of your, admittedly, unsexy panties.
He kneels down and spreads your legs wide, pinning them open with his shoulders. His arms wrap around your thighs and he tugs you the last couple inches so that your ass is at the edge.
“So beautiful,” he grins, biting the inside of your thigh. His thumb flicks over the tiny bow on the front of your old cotton panties. Your legs attempt to close, but the conspicuously Dick Grayson shaped object in front of you prevents that from happening.
“Please,” you whisper as you lean up your forearms to get a better look at him. His eyes flick up to yours as his head dips to press delicate kisses to your still clothed cunt. It’s not nearly enough to alleviate the ache building in you, but it raises the hair at the back of your neck all the same. You dig your heels into his shoulders in an attempt to drive him in closer. “I need you.”
“I know. Poor baby,” he hums, tongue coming out to flick your clit through the cotton. He uses his thumb to push the fabric aside before licking a flat stripe up your heat.
You wobble a bit, falling back into the sheets as your fingers find purchase in his curls. “Ah, Jesus, Dick.”
He laughs against you, the vibration causing you to clench around nothing.
“So fucking good,” he groans. The lewd sound of him slurping and sucking mixed with the feel of his tongue prodding at your entrance has to embarrassingly close already.
“I’m gonna cum,” you moan.
“My girl’s gonna cum for me already?” he hums. “C’mon, baby.”
When he sucks on your clit, the band snaps. Dick hisses when you yank on his hair, nearly pulling him off of you, but he manages to stay put. He eases you through your orgasm with gentle kisses against your pussy, nose bumping your clit every so often. Once he’s satisfied with how twitchy you’ve become, he detaches himself.
Gently, lips following his fingers, he pulls your underwear off to drop them at the end of the bed. He stands up to his full height soon after, pushing his own shorts and boxers down his legs before he leans over your body. You reach out to grab his waist and tug him back between your legs. His head drops to slant his mouth over yours. He’s quick to part your lips with his tongue, the taste of you still lingering as he licks into your mouth.
“Pretty girl,” he grins once he pulls back. “Feel good?”
Nodding, you reach between you to wrap a hand around his cock. Your thumb swipes over the head, smearing the precum down his shaft. He groans, thrusting a bit into your grip.
“Shit,” he whines when you squeeze the base of him. You lock your ankles around his back and pull him in closer. “Wait, sweetheart. I gotta get a condom.”
“No,” you whine. “I want to feel you.”
“Baby,” he laughs when you squeeze him in tighter. The heat of his bare cock nudging against your pussy has your mouth watering. “Are you sure?”
He may be smiling, but his eyes are serious as they search yours.
“I’m on birth control,” you say, your cheeks heating at your next admission. “And I haven’t slept with anyone other than you since we started hooking up.”
“Yeah?” he asks, suddenly alight with something new. “You only let me make you feel good?”
He smooths his palms down your sides before wrapping a hand around where yours is gripping his cock. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth.
“I haven’t slept with anyone else, either,” he says as he lines up with your entrance. “If that wasn’t obvious.”
He slides into you slowly, jaw clenched and eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t breathe until his pelvic bone brushes yours, and the exhale he lets out is pitchy and broken.
“Hah- Holy- f-fuck,” he whines as he drops down over you. His weight is braced on one hand resting beside your head. The first roll of his hips is experimental, but you can see the way he short circuits. His balance wobbles and for a split second you worry that he might headbutt you. Or, you would’ve if the feel of him bare inside you didn’t already have you seeing stars. The second he starts to really move, he can’t help the broken pleas of your name that begin to spill from his lips.
“I love you,” you moan as you link your arms around his shoulders to hold him closer. You manage to get him to focus enough to drop a messy kiss to your lips, but it doesn’t last for long. It quickly devolves into a mix of teeth and spit as you both lose yourselves in the new sensation.
“I love you so much, baby,” he whispers. “God, this is a dream. You’re a dream.”
His thrusts start to get sloppy, a mix of jerky pumps and deep grinding. The way you’re clenching around him has his balls tightening at maddening speed.
“Cum in me,” you hum before he can ask when you feel his dick twitching.
“Ah, fuck,” he hisses. He uses the hand not bracing the brunt of his weight to reach between you to start rolling over your clit in tight circles. “Cum with me, sweetheart.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as the pressure builds tighter in your gut. Your brain goes a little fuzzy once your orgasm hits, a tingle traveling all the way down to your fingertips. Dick follows soon after. He manages to thrust a couple more times before his pace stalls at the hilt.
“There we go,” he pants. “Jesus, you’re gonna kill me.”
His forehead comes down to rest against yours. The both of you are breathing heavily with sweat beading along your temples, but you don’t think you’ve ever felt better. You’re beneath the man you love–full of him, actually–after having probably the best sex you’d had with him, and he loves you back. He loves you back.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs, gently petting the side of your head. You lean into the touch, face tilting to kiss his thumb.
“I’m perfect,” you reply. He stays put, only moving to glide his lips along your hairlines, until your breathing goes back to normal.
Pulling out with a wince, he murmurs, “I know, I know. ‘M sorry.”
You almost want to trap him there, dig your heels into his ass and keep him inside you for the foreseeable future, but you let him pull out with minimal whining.
Dick leaves you for a minute, but returns with a washcloth in one hand and his phone in the other.
“What’re you doing?” you ask as you scoot up a bit on the bed.
“Cleaning you up,” he says easily
“No, why’d you go get your phone?” you chuckle.
“I’m deleting Tinder.”
“You had to do that right now?”
“I don’t need it anymore,” he shrugs before setting his phone down on the side table, apparently already finished with his task, and spreading your legs again to wipe you down with the warm cloth. Once he feels he’s cleaned you up to the best of his ability, he tosses the rag into his hamper and grabs a clean pair of boxers from the drawer. You half-expect him to leave you naked once he’s got the boxers pulled up, but are pleasantly surprised when he grabs another pair and a t-shirt for you to wear.
He crosses back over to you, sitting you up and lifting your arms up to slide the clean shirt over your head. The underwear is a bit more of a challenge to get on without forcing you to stand, but he does it with surprising grace.
“Hi,” you grin after you’ve both slid under the covers. You’re facing him, now, allowing your eyes to wander over his features.
“Hi, baby,” he says. He grabs one of your hands to press a kiss to the pad of your index finger. It’s all so easy, so familiar. You find it hard to believe that you hadn’t always been like this with him, but then again, maybe you had. Maybe that’s why it felt so right to slip into these roles with each other. To cross that bridge and finally stop pretending you were ever anything close to friends.
Or: Your fwb tries to ask you out on a date, keyword: “tries”
Includes: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Wally West, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent and John Constantine
Warnings: None really // Requested by a lovely anon here <3
Morph’s thoughts: Who’s dumber, reader not getting what the guys are trying to do, or the guys for using those lame ass excuses? It's up to you lmao // I’m trying making the screenshots long out to have less images per post, let me know if it’s good like this or more images give a better reading experience, as always feedback is welcome <3 // GUYS PLS IGNORE ALL THE TYPOS I DID THIS WHILE BORED AT WORK AND I’M SEEING ALL OF THEM NOW LMAO
Summary: Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you.
It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.
Word Count: 7.7k
Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, masturbation, intense pining, possessive behavior, cunnilingus, oral fixation/oral smut, explicit sexual content
This random Monday oneshot is also on Ao3 | Part 2 now included
Sebastian had never been one for subtlety. In Ominis’ own words, he wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions fuel his tone, but there was little he could do to remedy that fact. Tiptoeing around a subject or beating around the bush never failed to frustrate him. He preferred it when people said what they meant and meant what they said. Being straight up and getting to the point spared him a headache and prevented him from losing his temper, which was the best case scenario for everyone.
Sebastian said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and never wasted his breath apologizing for his actions when he knew deep down that he wouldn’t mean it anyways. Placations were pointless.
Unless, however, you were involved.
Everything about you had driven Sebastian mad for the last three years. From the moment you had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been completely and utterly entranced by you. Then you’d gone and broken his dueling win streak in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the infatuation had turned into obsession. You were the one person he wouldn’t– no, couldn’t be authentic with. How could he be? You made him stupid. He could barely think straight around you, his mind imbuing him with the sorts of thoughts that would land him in an asylum if he voiced them. If he didn’t filter himself around you, it wouldn’t end well. Not for him, and certainly not for you.
He didn’t know if your obliviousness to his behavior was all for show or if it was completely genuine, but he didn’t want to risk finding out.
“Sebastian?” Your voice made him go rigid, the tired rasp to your voice sending his body’s entire blood supply straight between his legs.
“What?”
“Do you want to work on that History of Magic report with me later? I fell asleep and missed half of the lecture.”
He watched you over the rim of his cup, the steam from the hot chocolate wafting into the air and obscuring his view of you slightly. Of course he knew you’d fallen asleep– he had been watching your head bob up and down for twenty minutes in class before the fatigue had won out and you’d slumped over your desk. Professor Binns was always too preoccupied with floating listlessly around the chalkboard to take notice, which was why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to wake you up. If you were tired, you needed to rest.
More to the point, Sebastian enjoyed watching you when you weren’t looking. What better opportunity was there to do so than while you slept?
Your chin was daintily perched in your palm as you pushed around the food on your plate, waiting patiently for his answer. With your tired smile and half-lidded eyes, he was convinced you were on the verge of passing out again. How late had you stayed up last night? What had you been doing instead of sleeping? Had you gone out with your friends– or Merlin forbid– someone else?
He banished the train of thought from his mind, lest he piss himself off with the possible answers. “Sure. Library?”
“Hm… can we go to your room? If I fall asleep again, at least it’ll be in an actual bed.”
The mental image of you sprawled out on his bed did nothing to alleviate the growing bulge straining against his trousers. His jaw hardened as he breathed in deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his pursed lips. “Yeah, fine. I won’t do the work for you if you fall asleep, though.”
Your tired expression lit up as you beamed at him, and his stomach churned violently. It was pathetic how smitten he was. He knew he would agree to come to class in a ballgown if it meant getting to glimpse that dazzling grin of yours.
The smile he gave you was mildly strained, but you didn’t notice. Thankfully.
Sebastian spent the rest of lunch holding his breath and thinking of anything that fit the criteria of gross and off-putting. He had to. It wasn’t like he could rub one out in the middle of the Great Hall to get rid of the half-mast hidden behind his zipper. He couldn’t even excuse himself to go back to his dorm to take care of it in private– he’d be showcasing the full extent of the problem between his legs to the entire student body if he did. You were none the wiser to his internal turmoil as you rambled on innocently about one thing or another, but he could barely hear you over the rush of blood in his ears.
He checked the giant grandfather clock against the wall. Twenty more minutes for lunch. With any luck, it would prove to be enough time for his cock to calm the fuck down.
—
You were always late.
Sebastian had grown accustomed to your unyielding habit of showing up places behind schedule. In the beginning it had bothered him, if only because he was the exact opposite. He had to be early to everything on his agenda, otherwise he was panicky and on edge. But your reliable tendency to arrive after an agreed upon time was exactly what he needed right now, because if he didn’t kill the boner he’d been sporting since lunch, he was going to lose his fucking mind.
The dorm was empty since all of his roommates were either in the Library or in Hogsmeade, but Sebastian still tried to stifle his noises. Choked moans of your name were bitten back and swallowed as his fist furiously worked the aching length of his cock. There was nothing sensual or graceful about how he moved his hand– it was all frantic. Berserk, even. His fingers were pressed roughly against his shaft, his wrist twisting rapidly over the head as he tried to practically yank his orgasm out. Any other day he would be ashamed of how pitiful he had to look, but not now.
Right now, he was desperate. He had to stave off his cravings for you as a precaution before you showed up, otherwise he knew he’d be done for.
A quick succession of three knocks sounded from the door, halting his movements. Then Sebastian’s blood ran cold when he heard your voice from the other side. “Sebastian? Are you here?”
The stinging slap from his hand clamping over his mouth worked to snap his mind out of its lust-induced haze. Squeezing the base of his cock with bruising strength, Sebastian let his head fall back against the headboard of his bed as tears of frustration and pent-up pleasure filled his eyes. He blinked them back stubbornly, digging his teeth into his thumb as his entire body seized with agitation.
Figures that this was the one time you were actually early.
You started knocking again, your knuckles rapping against the wood of the door faster, your impatience permeating the air on your side of the wall until it was too much to bear.
Sebastian snarled as he hastily stuffed himself back in his pants, at a complete loss for how to proceed. He was hardly in a state to be around you right now. All of this had been so he wouldn’t be a fraught mess around you, but now things were ten times worse. His legs were tense as he swung them over the side of the bed and made his way to the door, taking an extra moment to readjust his painfully hard cock in his pants before undoing the lock and wrenching the door open.
“Finally,” you huffed angrily, your narrowed eyes widening when they took note of his flushed, sweaty face. “Merlin, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”
“You’re early,” Sebastian replied flatly, ignoring your question completely.
“Yeah, Garreth offered to help Poppy out at the stalls for me so I came over sooner. What’s the matter with you?”
“I–” Shit, what did he say? His brain scrambled for an excuse, his red cheeks and disheveled clothing leaving little room for interpretation. Unless… “I was working out. Getting ready for Quidditch next week. I thought I’d have more time to finish up and shower, but now you’re here.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot about Quidditch. Figures Imelda is making you prepare early,” you waved your hand over your shoulder in the general direction of the bathroom. “Go ahead, don’t stop on my account. I can start reviewing what notes I did manage to take today.”
Sebastian wasn’t sure whether or not he was grateful for your lack of attention. The clueless facade you maintained where he was concerned made him equal parts angry and confused. Didn’t you know he was a man? An eighteen year old man who catered to your every whim? A legal adult whose room you spent an unorthodox amount of time in? Anyone with eyes could see that Sebastian was into you, and yet you never gave him any sign that you were aware of his feelings for you.
It was mind-boggling. It was frustrating. He was at the end of his rope.
And he still needed to shower.
“Give me ten minutes,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You nodded and stepped inside his room, watching as he stiffly grabbed a change of clothes and a towel before striding past you without a second glance.
If the universe held any affection for him at all, a cold shower would be enough to loosen the tight knot in the pit of his stomach.
—
Unsurprisingly, Sebastian’s excursion to the bathroom was unsatisfying. The shower head ought to count itself lucky that it was still mounted to the wall and not lying in a broken, dented heap on the floor. The icy spray of water had eased the problem between his thighs, but it had also snapped him out of his stupor, sharpened his senses, and left him with the grating realization that nothing would help him quench his thirst for you.
After donning a pair of pajama pants and an old Quidditch jersey that had definitely seen better days, Sebastian slowly– painfully– made his way back to you. He dimly towel dried his hair as he shuffled towards the door, giving himself as much time as possible to steel his nerves and barricade his lustful thoughts behind a mental, brick shield. A chill snaked its way up his spine as the cold air of the Slytherin dorms kissed his damp skin, but he barely paid it any mind.
He would rather be cold than embarrassingly hard.
When Sebastian pushed the door open, he found you laid out on his bed on your stomach, a textbook and a pile of notes situated before you. You’d shed your robes and were clad in your school uniform, the trousers you’d stubbornly kept since last year acting like a second skin. The passage of time was ultimately Sebastian’s greatest enemy, because with every month that went by, you changed. Physically changed. You were taller, curvier, and more womanly than ever. Instead of replacing your uniform with one that fit, you held on to ones from years past that had no business living in your drawers.
That perky ass of yours was going to be his undoing. Why did that outdated pair of trousers have to hug your hips so nicely?
He averted his gaze to the wall, curling his hands into tight fists that left violent red crescents on his palms. Get a grip, he thought to himself.
“You certainly made yourself comfortable,” he finally managed to bite out, his voice strained and pitched higher than normal. Idiot.
You glanced over at him with what he could only describe as a doe-eyed look. Those plush lips of yours were parted in mild surprise before they curled up into an easy smile, and your feet proceeded to kick up in the air playfully. “Your bed is much more comfortable than the one in my dorm.”
Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths, Sebastian.
“Is that why you’ve practically moved in here? Not sleeping well in your own room?”
“Among other things,” you admitted around a sigh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t live for my company though. What else would you do if I wasn’t around to pester you?”
“Relax, most likely.” He allowed himself a shit-eating smirk, and he was rewarded by the sound of your indignant gasp. Closing the distance between you both, Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed, confidently moving so that he was situated against the headboard for the second time today. You shifted around to give him more space, then brazenly draped your legs over his before shoving your notes into his lap.
His smirk vanished, and it took everything in him not to let out the choked groan that bubbled in his throat in response to the close proximity. “Whatever. You love me, and we both know it,” you huffed tauntingly, your downcast eyes keeping you from seeing the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. “Now read over this and tell me if I got most of the important material. Then I can start drafting the paper.”
History of Magic was the one class that never failed to make everyone sleepy, but presently? Working on an assignment like this with you in the wake of his shitty day? Sebastian had never been more awake, and it had everything to do with how pent-up he was. With excruciating restraint, he blocked out the feeling of your legs weighing down on his thighs and picked up the notes.
It was going to be a long, long evening.
—
It hadn’t been easy for Sebastian to maintain his composure for an hour straight, and there was even more truth to that fact now. You were still propped up against the bedpost with your notes scattered around you, your legs still tossed lazily over his, only you wouldn’t stop fidgeting.
Seriously. Sitting still was a foreign concept to you and had been for the last twenty minutes, because your feet wouldn’t quit fucking rubbing together. That wasn’t the direct cause of Sebastian’s frayed composure. It was the fact that your incessant twitching was pulling on the fabric of his pants, drawing the material taught over his groin over and over and over. It wasn’t an unusual thing for you to get so restless after studying for so long without a break, but considering that his impromptu masturbation session had been cut short earlier, he was loads more anxious than usual.
He didn’t mean to be so aggressive when he slapped his hands over your knees, stilling your absentminded writhing with a scowl. Later on he would apologize– and mean it– for being so harsh. But if he didn’t put a stop to your shifting, he was going to have bigger problems that superseded you being upset with him.
“Hey!” Your head snapped up from your notes, your grip on your quill turning white knuckled as you openly glared at him. “That hurts. Let go–”
“Stop moving so much, you’re driving me insane!” He fired back defensively, hating how gruff his voice sounded. “Is it too much for you to sit still?”
Your brows rose up your forehead in complete bewilderment, your expression warring between offended and shocked. “You could just ask next time instead of trying to dislocate my kneecaps. Merlin…” Sebastian didn’t know whether to be relieved or disgruntled when you attempted to withdraw your legs from his lap. Either way, he refused to let you move the limbs, and your loud sigh was laced with blatant vexation. “Let go, I’ll just move–”
“No. I don’t want you to move, I just want you to relax.”
Your wary gaze pierced right through him, and if he wasn’t already coiled tighter than a fucking spring, he would stiffen at the way your lower lip jutted out into a pout. You obeyed, though, your legs staying mercifully still as you went back to reading over the notes he had added to, and Sebastian took the opportunity to watch you through his lashes while he pretended to look down at the papers in his own lap.
Mussed strands of hair fell into your face, a byproduct of how frequently you’d run your fingers through them. Following summer break, you had returned to school with a light smattering of freckles dusting your nose. They couldn’t hold a candle to the ones that covered damn near every inch of him, but they were still pretty. Cute, even. The dark rings under your eyes would have looked sickly on anyone else, but in your case, they made the whites of your eyes all the more vibrant. You looked like a doll.
A scrumptious, effortlessly beautiful doll.
He watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, scratching out something you had written before hastily replacing the sentence with another. When the bit of skin was released, it was left red, swollen, and far more tempting than it had any right to be.
He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to bite at your lips, your neck, your breasts, and leave imprints of his teeth all over you. He wanted to mark every inch of your body and lay his claim in some primal, unseemly way that went against every lick of gentlemanliness he had been taught. He wanted to toss his inhibitions to the wind and indulge in the taste of you– something he had wondered about for a long, long time. Were you as sweet as he imagined? Would your thighs work to crush his head if he found himself situated between them, lapping up your essence like a man starved?
When your head popped up to glance at him again, Sebastian was unprepared for it. He was still staring– no, ogling you– with his eyes narrowed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fantasies had gotten the better of him and had left him a panting, lust-drunk mess. Another cold shower couldn’t even begin to lessen the painful throbbing of his cock. All of his hard work at keeping calm and in control had just flown out the fucking window, and he could only thank the stars in the sky that he had a pile of notes in his lap, concealing the evidence of his innermost thoughts.
“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” You asked him, abandoning your quill against the mattress so you could sit forward and scan his very flushed, very tense face.
“I’m fine,” he looked away, trying and failing to wave you off.
Stubborn as ever, you didn’t back down. “You’re all red. Do you have a fever?”
“Seriously– I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, just finish your report already.”
The force of his heart hammering against his sternum left him worried that it was about to jump out of his ribcage. Your hand was suddenly closing in on him, concern etched across your features as you shifted your legs to move closer into his space. The tantalizing smell of your perfume oil invaded his senses, filling his nose and setting his blood alight in his veins. There was something to be said about how primal humans could be when it came to scents. Yours had always been incredibly intoxicating, and Sebastian was all too willing to breathe it in deeply as the back of your hand made contact with his forehead.
He was so fucked.
“You’re burning up. Maybe we should call it a night… you probably need to sleep it off.”
“I don’t need sleep,” he insisted with a frown, reaching up to pry your hand away from his face. “I already told you; I feel fine. Just drop it.”
That spark of rebellion you reserved for your most loathed enemies came to life behind your irises, burning brighter than the sun as you narrowed your eyes at him and tried to plant your hand against his forehead again. Sebastian held you back with little effort, your arm shaking with the force you exerted in your attempts. “You’ve been weird all day– if you’re sick, you need to be checked out. So either you tell me what’s wrong with you, or I’ll drag you to the Hospital Wing myself.”
That dark, animalistic part of him that conjured up the most obscene of daydreams silently laughed at your threat. Drag him? You couldn’t move him if you tried. He was infinitely stronger than you– broader, faster, tougher. You were the prey his inner predator yearned to claim. It was your fault that he was so out of it today, and yet you had the gall to order him around?
With the utmost difficulty, Sebastian checked himself in record time, reining in the bestial side of him as his grip on your wrist tightened. “For the last time, nothing is wrong. If you can’t accept that, then leave. There’s the door. You have your notes– go finish your report in your own room.”
You scoffed and strained in his hold, realizing that your attempts at moving your hand forward were fruitless. Then, faster than Sebastian could process, you threw your other arm out– deciding that if he was going to hold back your left hand, your right could pick up where the other had left off. He instinctively jerked you sideways to throw you off balance, which sent you careening forward against his chest. A guttural, almost pained groan ripped from his throat when your palm pressed directly against the throbbing bulge in his pants, your efforts to catch yourself effectively giving him away.
The jig was up. Your hand was right on his cock, the notes in his lap crinkling loudly as your fingers flexed in alarm. His eyes, which had squeezed shut in response to the abrupt contact, cracked open to find you blinking up at him blearily. “S-Sebastian?”
“Stop. Just don’t,” he grit through his teeth, his molars clenching together so roughly that he was certain his jaw would lock.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t– I shouldn’t have–” you tried to backpedal away from him to remove yourself from his personal space, but you only succeeded in applying more pressure to his groin. A choked whimper escaped his lips, the sound forming too quickly for him to stifle it and too loudly for you to have missed it.
Fuck.
Sebastian blindly yanked you forward so the brunt of your weight was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to prevent you from escalating the situation further, and the sigh of relief that slipped through his teeth when you moved your hand away from his cock was pathetic. He was pathetic.
He was glad that you couldn’t see his face when he desperately whispered, “Don’t– don’t fucking move. Please, just… give me a minute.”
That was all he needed. A moment of reprieve. He needed sixty, uninterrupted seconds to focus on his breathing– to imagine a Dugbog in a swimsuit, or Madame Scribbner in lingerie. He needed to cycle through the things that never failed to kill his libido, and he could only do that if you let him.
You didn’t. Fuck– you didn’t even give him five seconds to open his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, your hand was back on his cock, your fingers digging into the parchment that covered his lap as you fucking squeezed his pulsing length with intention.
The effect was instantaneous, and the sounds that fell from Sebastian’s lips were ones that would be seared into your brain until the end of time. His brain, too. He had never made such a wretched noise in all his eighteen years of living.
“Don’t make me throw you off this bed,” he growled slowly, but the high-pitched edge to his voice made it seem like despite his words, he was secretly pleading for it.
The image of himself climbing over you on the hardwood floor, pinning those damnable hands of yours above your head with one hand while the other was knuckle deep in your tight, fluttering cunt flooded his mind, and the brick wall of restraint he had constructed earlier crumbled into dust. He sucked down a shaky breath, his entire body vibrating with need as you gave him yet another testing squeeze, and that was what finally prompted him to seek out your eyes.
They were glimmering with unrestrained curiosity, something strangely like wonder dancing behind your pupils. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted breathlessly, the prettiest flush Sebastian had ever seen spreading across your cheeks as you glanced down to where you gripped him. “I just… is this why you’ve been so out of it today?”
“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he rumbled, his mind urging him to shove you away while his body begged him to arch into your touch. “You better stop while you still have the chance.”
“But…” you trailed off, squeezing him for the third time and jumping when he hissed loudly through his teeth. “This seems pretty bad. Painful, even.”
If he wasn’t so wound up, he would have laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it.”
Sebastian was convinced that he was the hardest he had ever been. The dual sensations of your hand on his cock and your shallow breaths fanning across his cheek had him dripping precum, the fluid swiftly soaking through the fabric of his pants and creating a stark wet patch that you noticed immediately. Almost testingly, you swiped your thumb over the spot, sending a bolt of arousal straight through him that left him gasping with need.
His willpower was shot. It was going to take a fucking miracle to come back from this. You had effectively taken every last bit of Sebastian’s resolve and crushed it all beneath your heel, leaving him trembling and keening as every part of your being invaded his senses and held him hostage.
“Fuck– please,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He couldn’t look at you right now– it would be the end of everything if he did. The end of this insanely euphoric moment, the end of his restraint, and maybe even the end of his friendship with you. This was… uncharted territory. He was scared to explore it, but gods, did he want to. “Please, I can’t– I can’t take it…”
He heard you swallow, your hesitation evident in the way you paused before lifting your hand away from his groin. The wrist he had held apart from you slipped free, his fingers closing over nothing but air, and a wave of disappointment crashed over him. Every inch of skin you pried away left him emptier and emptier, his heart and his dignity deflating with each passing second. His chest felt tight, and he was fully prepared to sit there in agonizing silence while you gathered your things to leave as fast as your legs could take you.
But then your hands were back– on either side of his face to tilt his head up to yours– and his sharp intake of breath was smothered by your soft, delectable lips pressing against his.
Bloody hell.
You weren’t leaving.
A switch flipped.
A carnal growl ripped from the back of his throat, and then he had you splayed out on your back with his knee wedged insistently between your thighs. He faintly heard the sound of your notes being scattered across the floor, but your startled gasp transforming into a hapless moan was more important. His lips crashed back into yours with zeal, the mask he had maintained this entire time dissipating like smoke in the wind, and his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, probing and tasting as though he didn’t have enough time to memorize every facet of information he unearthed.
You tried to match his pace the best you could, nipping at his lips and breathing heavily into his mouth, but your attempts only annoyed Sebastian. He asserted dominance by grabbing your chin between his index finger and thumb, then pried your lips apart with his tongue and conquered your mouth wholly and without subtlety.
“I need you,” he panted against your face, his fingers digging sharply into your hips. “I need you so bad, darling.”
You could only moan shakily when Sebastian dove back in to latch his lips over your pulse, peppering your neck with wet, sloppy kisses and decorating it with an assortment of love-bites. His teeth left a trail of imprints that his tongue worked to soothe, comforting you like he always had while hopelessly committing the taste of your salty skin to memory.
Sebastian felt you shudder as he worked his way up the column of your neck to the sensitive area below your ear. He nipped at the warm flesh waiting for him there, and when you whined and shamelessly bared more of yourself to him, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his clothed cock against your hip. “Please, fuck– let me taste you. I’ll do anything you ask, just spread your legs and let me make you feel good.”
Your breathing hitched, and you tried to turn your head towards him, but he was too busy panting against your neck to meet your flustered stare. “S-Sebastian–”
“Please, darling. I’m fucking begging here. Let me in. Let me do this.”
Sebastian sounded drunk, his mind positively swimming with lust. The prospect of getting to see you like this, of getting to touch you, was driving him absolutely insane. His voice was airy and reedy– almost choked as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
“I– I’ve never done this before,” you stammered softly, your cheeks flushing with humiliation at the revelation.
Sebastian’s head snapped up, a fire burning behind his eyes as he stared down at you with newfound hunger, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to look deranged. “You– no one has ever touched you like this? Never?”
“I mean, I’ve been kissed before, but not…” you trailed off, suddenly bashful in the face of your inexperience. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Something buried deep inside of him broke free at that moment– a wild, untamable piece of himself that salivated at the fact that you were a virgin. No one had ever laid with you before. No one had ever glimpsed the intimate, private parts of yourself that were always hidden beneath that damn uniform. He would be the first– he would be your first. It should have been impossible, but the thought alone made him harder, his cock straining and leaking so much precum that he wouldn’t be surprised if it was dripping through the fabric of his pants.
Rational thinking returned to him then, and he was able to blink back the fog that shrouded his morals. “We can stop,” he croaked, not meaning a fucking word of it. “Fuck– tell me to stop and I’ll leave you alone. We can’t come back from this. Tell me to back off and I will.”
“I…” uncertainty washed over your pretty features, and much like before, Sebastian’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He was so selfish. He was such a self-serving bastard– he didn’t want you to call him off. He wasn’t the religious type in the slightest, but for the first time in his entire life, Sebastian started honest to God praying that you wanted this. That you wanted him.
He was going to have to make a point to pray more, because after a few tense beats of silence, he heard you shyly murmur, “I don’t want you to stop.”
Fuck. Thank Merlin.
There would be time later to be embarrassed about how his body sagged with relief. He was too busy kissing you again to bother with such a trivial emotion right now. Savoring your taste with a deep groan, Sebastian allowed himself a minute to grind against your hip, then moved back so he could begin the laborious process of stripping your too-tight trousers from your legs. It took longer than he would have liked, but once the attire reached the base of your ankles, he was able to rip them off and discard them haphazardly over his shoulder.
“Need to burn those,” he growled. “They drive me crazy.”
A brief huff of amusement came from you, and you squeezed your knees together in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from him. “They’re just pants.”
He didn’t have the mental capacity to get into why he had such a potent love-hate relationship with the clothing. Instead of explaining himself, he reached out to pry your legs apart, taking immense satisfaction in the way you squeaked and your entire face turned red. “Let me taste you. I’ve been wanting to for so fucking long– I swear I’ll make you feel good, love.”
Sebastian was sure that if he opened a dictionary to look up the word ‘disoriented’, there would be a photo of your face printed right next to it. You had never looked at him like that before; flushed, wide-eyed, and with traces of both confusion and arousal shadowing your tight features. Your expression had no right to rile him up the way it did, but he wasn’t interested in hiding his thirst for you. Not anymore.
“Are you sure?” You asked him, voice quivering. “That– I mean, if it’s gross or anything, don’t feel like you have to.”
Sebastian scoffed. You had no clue how extensive his fantasies were. As if he could ever be grossed out by you.
The level of innocence you displayed only spurred him on faster, and he eagerly sat forward to cover your mouth with his again, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your blouse so he could wrench it over your shoulders. Even though he was vibrating with barely contained need, he had to allow himself a moment to take in the sight of you completely bare, the staps of your brassiere hanging seductively over the sides of your arms and tightening the knot in the pit of his stomach. Your undergarments had to be as outdated as your trousers, because they were snug, short, and way too sheer to qualify as new.
He needed to burn those, too.
Sebastian watched you with predatory intent as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your unmentionables, letting his nails scratch against your thighs when he began to drag the clothing down your legs. Without your blouse in the way, he was able to see the full extent of your reddening skin, the color more vibrant than the Gryffindor banners that hung in the Great Hall. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, then stilled when the underwear was fully removed. Save for your brassiere, you were completely bare before him, and Sebastian audibly moaned when he looked down to find your folds glistening with moisture already.
“I’m going to drink up everything you have to give me until there’s nothing left,” he braced his hands on either side of your hips to lower himself onto his stomach, taking care to plant soft, revering kisses against your hip bones. “I know you taste so fucking good. I just know it…”
Your entire body tensed when you felt Sebastian exhale against your damp center, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled your intoxicating scent. Then before you could collect your bearings, he was licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, collecting as much of your wetness as he possibly could, and the sensation made you jolt. “S-Sebastian–” you gasped, digging your fingers into the rumpled sheets of the bed in a bid to ground yourself.
“Yeah, say my name,” he urged roughly, his chest swelling with male pride. The sound of his name on your lips had the same effect as a bolt of lightning; it sliced through him to his very core, electric and unbelievably erotic, and he brazenly covered the entirety of your cunt with his mouth, licking and sucking at whatever parts of you he could reach.
The wetness that covered you was so extensive, it was hard to tell whether it was your own arousal or Sebastian’s saliva to blame. A cacophony of moans and whines tumbled from your throat without restraint, prompting him to dig his nails into your sides as he hauled you closer. He fucked his tongue into you with inhuman vigor, his jaw aching in protest, but he ignored the discomfort and continued to devour every drop of your essence like he would die if he didn’t.
It was so messy, too. Sebastian could feel the moisture dripping down his chin, but that only inspired him to work harder– his grip on your waist turning so severe that he knew he would find finger shaped bruises there later. Another mark left by him. Another brand proving that you were his.
“I knew it,” he panted hoarsely, his voice strained and deep as though he’d been screaming before now. “You taste so good, darling– so fucking sweet.”
“I– Sebastian, I–” you covered your face with your hands, the appendages shaking in earnest as your muscles began to tense. “Fuck, I think I–”
He sucked your clit between his lips then, laving his tongue over the swollen bud with so much pressure that your hips bucked against his face. The chuckle he let loose was guttural and dark, and he broke his unwavering concentration to glance up at you. “Are you close? You want to come for me, huh?”
Sebastian knew you had to be embarrassed, because you were still hiding behind your hands, the heels of your palms digging into your sockets. He could faintly see the row of teeth-shaped marks that lined your neck, but the majority of his hard work from earlier was concealed by your forearms. That wouldn’t do. He reached up and wrenched one of your arms away to reveal your watery stare, the glassy sheen covering your eyes telling him everything he needed to know about how close to the edge you were.
“Don’t hide from me. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my tongue.”
“It’s embarrassing,” your voice shook, as did the hand Sebastian held in his own. “I can’t– it feels hot. Like I’m on fire. I can’t even think–”
“Then don’t,” he interjected immediately, tenderly kissing the insides of your thighs in a way that made your stomach churn. “Don’t think. Just feel. Let me do all the work, and you just sit there and enjoy every second of it.”
It was a simple enough concept, but you still yelped when he dove back in, the singular hand he kept on your waist pulling you down so he was smothered by your wet, pulsing cunt. Sebastian didn’t waste any time picking up where he’d left off, his eyes burning as your potent scent drove him into a frenzy. He inhaled sharply as his tongue poked and prodded incessantly, its only goal to collect as much of your slick as possible, the ferocity of his movements making you tremble. Your nerves were totally scorched as the heat within your body reached new levels, the pleasure building in your gut nearing a peak that you were almost afraid to fall over.
“S-Sebastian, I can’t– ah!” Your words transformed into a keening moan when Sebastian sucked your puffy nub into his mouth again. The bedframe shook in time with your own vibrating, your eyes crossing as the symphony of ecstasy he gave to you climbed to its crescendo. Sebastian’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen he sucked down, but he didn’t care. If he suffocated to death while fused to your sopping wet cunt, he would die a happy man.
Breaking away from your clit for a brief moment, he hastily murmured, “Come on, love, let go. Use me and let go.”
He released your arm and tucked his hand somewhere under his chest, your confusion lasting for all of two seconds before you felt his fingers snaking their way inside of you. There was no resistance thanks to the slick gushing from your hole, the wetness saturating his hand and making him groan with desire. Sebastian’s tongue continued to flick and press against your bundle of nerves with reckless abandon, his fingers pumping and curling in and out of you as you deliriously cried out his name. Your walls tightened around his digits, sucking them deeper at the same time your brows furrowed in alarm, and Sebastian knew he had you right where he wanted you.
“Sebastian– wait, I can’t– I’m going to–”
His eyes strained as he fixed them on your face, his lips barely parting from your clit as he encouraged you. “Come on, darling, come on my face. Be a good girl and let go– just let go.”
The praise drove you clean over the edge, the coil in the pit of your stomach finally snapping as his voice and his fingers and his tongue reduced you to a quaking, moaning mess. Sebastian’s desperation for you consumed you, pure rapture washing over your limbs before they fell boneless against the mattress. Stars danced in the corners of your vision, and you heard and felt Sebastian groan against you before his unrelenting grip on your waist went slack.
You hardly registered him slipping his fingers free from your cunt and climbing over you until his face was right in front of yours. Sebastian took a flurry of mental snapshots of you, tucking each one into the far reaches of his mind and vowing to himself that he would never forget the fucked-out expression you bore. He made a point to suck the remnants of your pleasure from his digits while maintaining eye contact, and you whimpered breathlessly at the sight.
“You were so good for me,” Sebastian cooed as he gathered you up in his arms. He moved so his back was nestled against the pillows before repositioning you so your head was tucked against his shoulder. Soothingly, he carded his fingers through your hair as he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed between deep, shuddering breaths. “What about you?”
“More than okay. Don’t you worry about me.”
“But…” your eyes flicked down at the same time he tried to cover the blossoming wet patch on his pajama pants. “I thought you didn’t–”
Almost sheepishly, he admitted, “I did. Trust me, that did more for me than you could possibly imagine. I’m sorry for being so aggressive. And for being such a prick today. I just… it’s been hard to rein it in around you recently.”
He felt your chin dig into the side of his pec as you glanced up at him, the virtuous, doe-eyed look you fixed him with threatening to undo him all over again. “Rein what in?”
“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t realize the effect you have on me, right?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut as he dredged up the very thoughts that had been hounding him for years. “I’m hopeless where you’re concerned. I get stupid. I act like a daft, brainless idiot, and you just strut about without a clue. I thought I’d finally gotten the hang of keeping that under control, but…”
“Apparently not,” you helpfully supplied, and Sebastian grunted confirmingly. Those blasted trousers of yours had nullified the remnants of his restraint. So had your eyes. And your hands and your voice. All of you was to blame, really. Like he’d said from the very beginning; he was hopeless where you were concerned.
“Anyway, thank you for… well, that.”
“Please don’t thank me,” your face pinched, your body going rigid. “Then it will feel transactional, and I don’t want that.”
Fair point. “What do you want, then?”
That rosy flush reappeared against your cheeks, and Sebastian had to beat back the smile that threatened to split his face in the wake of your obvious shyness. “I– well… is there anything I can do for you?”
Yes. No. Maybe? Sebastian’s laugh was humorless, mostly because there wasn’t anything funny about how his cock twitched in interest at the offer. “I don’t think we need to venture down that path right now. Especially since you’ve already given up so much tonight. I honestly feel kind of bad that your first experience was me jumping your bones…”
“But what if that’s what I want?” His heart leapt up into his throat so fast that he nearly choked. The kind of uncertainty that went hand in hand with inexperience was written all over your face, but the stubborn set to your jaw told Sebastian that you were serious. Was he dreaming? Maybe he had passed out in the bathroom and this was all a very lovely, very cruel figment of his imagination. You pressed on, “Maybe I want to walk down that path with you. There’s no one else I trust as much as you, so… what would be the harm?”
This time, Sebastian’s chuckle was genuine. He blinked rapidly, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes that it would settle his nerves and calm his racing blood. It didn’t work. “In that case, there’s plenty you could do for me, darling. I still think we should save it for next time, though.”
You appeared to chew the inside of your cheek, your brows furrowing as you contemplated something that interested Sebastian to no end. Then, before he could process what you were doing, the hand that had been splayed against his chest inched down tauntingly, your nails dragging lightly across his skin. His breathing hitched, and then it stopped entirely when you gripped him through his pants. Much like he’d expected, the conversation had roused his cock back to life, and he was achingly hard in your hand.
“I want ‘next time’ to be right now,” you declared stubbornly, pulling a hiss from him when your fingers rubbed over the sensitive head of his length. “I’m a little curious about this. You recovered pretty fast, but if you’re too tired…”
The wicked gleam in your eyes conveyed quite clearly that you knew exactly what you were doing. Where had the bashful innocence gone? Sebastian had blinked and suddenly it was like he was staring at a different woman, the challenge in your voice leaving him with one daunting realization.
Either he had created a monster, or there had always been one lurking beneath the surface.
His cock twitched again, and Sebastian knew that he was so, so fucked.
Ex bf Arkham knight comparing himself to your new bf in a pathetic way and when you finally break up with him he celebrates by fucking you and comparing himself to that guy even in stamina, length and pleasure mid fuck
does the bf know he has 30 minutes???
it was so embarrassing for jason, humiliating even. he watched your socials, watched the cameras on the street you lived on, watched your friends, and watched your new douchebag boyfriend. he could accept you not wanting to be with him (lie), but to leave him for this guy? what did he do that jason didn't? maybe he didn't carry guns or track blood into your apartment, but he's seen the guy run in the mornings, no way he's taking care of you, not how jason did.
it takes two months for you to break up with him, the longest two months of jasons life. lucky for him, it only took three hours after that to have you pressed underneath him again. his hand is tight on your jaw, one of the only times you get to see him out of the mask "he wasn't this big, was he, doll?" he means for it to sound more cocky than it does insecure "bet he couldn't last this long for you...it's all for you, you know that?" and you have to nod, agree with everything he says because how could you disagree, he was right after all "no baby...it's always you." and he laughs, relief slipping through "i bet, now show me how much you missed it."
Jason prides himself in knowing he managed to snag the heart of the sweetest girl in Gotham. You’re always so soft with him, so kind. When he sneaks into your place early in the morning and wakes you from your sleep, you don’t scold him for it. Instead, you blink away the sandstorm behind your eyes and tend to the new bruise forming alongside his jaw. You ask no questions, you never push him for answers- and you’ll never know how much he appreciates it. Appreciates you.
Before he found you, Jason rarely slept a full night if he could help it. Too anxious, too angry, he rarely woke feeling well rested anyway- so what was the point. But your hands, soft and understanding, handle him in a way that has his eyes fluttering against his will, and sleep finds him easily. You’ve been nothing but patient with him the entirety of your relationship. His sweet girl. So, in his own ways of many, he does what he can to return the favour.
You’ve learned early on that Jason has a scarily accurate way of knowing when you’re upset. Call it sixth sense, call it boyfriend intuition, maybe it’s his really good people-reading skills. You just don’t know how he does it. Some nights when you’re frustrated because you can’t sleep, you lay on your back and weep softly- careful to not disturb him. But it’s no use. When he wakes, he’ll take you in his arms, tuck your head under his chin and rock you gently. Back and forth, quieting your cries until you’re finally lulled to sleep. He just knows his baby. He knows what you need even before you do, he loves quietly like this.
But there are nights when you need to not think. Nights when your thoughts are little mean, telling you things that aren’t true. And maybe you start to believe them a little bit. So when you push through the front door of your apartment, he’s already there- standing big and strong in your kitchen. Waiting like he knew, because he did. In these moments, he doesn’t have to ask. To anyone else, you look like you just had a long day- but he knows you. He knows his sweet girl. So he takes one look at you and knows exactly what to do.
Which is how you find yourself like this, splayed out beneath this 6 foot brute of a man. Completely surrounded by him. Large hands moving up your hips to gently push you further into the mattress as he lays his full weight on top of you- he’s everywhere. Usually, you’d feel overwhelmed but this is exactly what you needed. And he begins to move, the slow drag of his cock already has you burying your face into the pillow, tears prickling your eyes. It’s so good, so so good. You’re so full and he’s panting in your ear, “yeah baby, I know.. I know- it’s good, huh?”
At some point, it becomes a bit too much. He can’t help it, just wants you feeling good again. He’s fucked you through your third orgasm before you’re reaching a hand back to push at his abdomen, wordlessly pleading “too deep, please”. You need to catch your breath, but as much as he is soft and compliant for you, Jason knows you need this. And a selfish part of him needs you too. So he gets a bit mean when he’s whispering, “I know it’s deep, hun. Let me fuck you, just like that.” And “No, baby. You can take it.” You know it’s no use putting up a fight, once he sets his mind on something- he won’t stop until he’s satisfied. He gets this tunnel like vision in moments like these. All he can see is you, you, you. So instead, you reach back around to play with the soft wisps of hair at the back of his neck.
Fingers lightly scratching at his scalp, he buries his face in your neck and purrs. Cold nose pressed to the underside of your jaw- such a contrast to how he’s fucking you. But it’s all worth it when you turn your head and press a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. His sweet girl.
⁺₊⋆ 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.”
Had this thought of Bruce hating the taste of alcohol so that's why he tries to host as many of his wild bashes at the Manor or on WE property so Alfred can serve him non-alcoholic shots and mocktails without it being caught. He had to once throw away a really nice n/a mojito because Ollie pointed out it had no booze and he had to drink a real one, it ruined his night completely. And it's not just civilian parties or get togethers, even at JL events, Bruce has to pretend to drink because he thinks they will make fun of him. Clark finds out and immediately comes up with the plan that if they're at the same parties, he will down the shot for Bruce when nobody is looking and put the glass back in his hand before anybody notices. However, somebody notices, Barry, and he of course blabs and the JL is putting the pieces together at the next event, Bruce going tee-total, Clark stood nearby and... watching Bruce intently? Obviously, there can only be one explanation.
8yo Dick Grayson, skipping along next to Bruce: I'm so happy, B
Bruce, thinking it's because he let Dick stay up late to go to the JL party: That's great, chum.
No thoughts but the kids being physical with Bruce. The man is built like a wall, a brick shit house, those kids are constantly pulling at him.
Jason propping himself up on his forearms against on Bruce's back to study something Bruce is showing him on the BatComputer.
Dick was used to climbing all over Bruce, standing on his shoulders, swinging off his arms etc and even though he's grown, he's still bouncing off of Bruce constantly. He will throw himself at Bruce to be caught anytime he can.
Duke will set up camp with his back against Bruce whether he's sat, laying down or standing, Duke just leans against him like he's a wall.
Steph loves to mess up Bruce's hair when he's sat. She will ranting about something or talking to him while he's working, combing his hair to stand up while he's frowning at paperwork or his iPad.
Cass likes to hold Bruce's hand. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where they are, Cass just holds onto Bruce's hand, even if he's having a conversation. Anytime somebody asks whether she's alright, Bruce just nods and says she just likes to hold his hand and she's fine.
Tim constantly collapses next to Bruce, head on his lap, legs over his legs, shoulder to his, tucked up into a tight ball just under Bruce's ribs.
Damian likes being carried by his dad at the start. Nobody but Talia really ever carried him unless they had to be Damian likes just climbing into Bruce's arms, sitting on his hip with his arms locked around Bruce's neck. When he's older, he just loves hugging his dad.
when someone is completely fucking wrong about your blorbo but you don't want to argue about what basically boils down to opinions about shit that doesn't matter so you just sit there like
stormborns
origamiaround
romaincrisis
gracieabrams
vaporwave
theartofmadeline
