j

[laneythebug]

Hey hey hi would love to req a Jason Todd x reader where reader is super clingy to the people they love but tries to not be clingy towards Jason but Jason is sad about it and tries to initiate.. BTW love love loveddd your new Jason fic!!! Super good and amazing spectacular

now playing: “doors” - noah kahan

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, very brief mention of jason’s past, cuddling, just tooth-rotting fluff

note: hi lovely! this is an adorable request. i had so much fun writing this, enjoy!

you knew deep down jason loved you. you loved jason too.

but being almost four months into your relationship, there was something missing. there was love—verbally, but just not physically.

you weren’t upset; you understood jason’s past. the fact he even let you this close in his life was already a milestone in itself. but you love physical touch. you just want to hug him and kiss him all over without feeling him tense up under your touch. you respected his boundaries—keeping a gap between you guys when you slept, simply holding pinkies when in public, and blowing kisses instead of your lips meeting his face. sometimes it hurt your heart, but then you’d see the grateful smile on his face that made it all worth it.

but jason saw the way your shoulders hung in defeat when you couldn’t run into his arms when he got home, and the minuscule frown on your lips when he didn’t kiss you on the forehead before leaving for patrol. he saw all of it.

it wasn’t like he didn’t trust you—he did, truly and unapologetically. you were one of the only people who loved him, all of him, even the broken parts that he tried so desperately to hide. you understood him in a way no one else was able to. for that reason, he was willing to try—for you and you only.

you were laying on the old leather couch in your apartment. the shirt you had on was riding up, exposed parts of your back sticking to the tacky material of the cushions. you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, blissfully unaware of how late it was getting. the sounds of gotham outside your window now dulling down to a soft whisper of cars driving past every now and then. you blinked away the feeling of sleep weighing down your eyelids as you continued swiping away. it felt wrong sleeping in your bed without jason next to you. he always told you not to wait up for him, that he was not worth compromising your sleep schedule; you never listened. the sound of your front door being unlocked dragged you out of your thoughts.

your boyfriend looked exhausted, his shoulders hunched as he locked the door behind him. he looked over his shoulder and noticed your presence. he sighed—but not in annoyance—he doesn’t think he could ever be truly annoyed with you.

“doll, what are you doing awake?..” he asked, tugging his mask off and setting it on the counter. he couldn’t help the concern that etched his face as he he walked over to you.

“you know i can’t sleep without you here, jay.” you reminded, rising to stand up in front of him. your hands tucked at your sides, even though you wanted nothing more than to caress the side of his face.

he shook his head, a small smile gracing his split lip. “it’s nearly two in the morning.”

“so? it’s a friday!” you replied, as if that made it any better. the wide smile on your face made jason’s heart swell. his eyes were heavy with sleep, the kind of tired that only comes with being a vigilante to the violent streets of gotham. “c’mon, let’s go to sleep.” you offered softly, jason trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you walked into your room. he changed into the clothes you always kept out for him; noticing the way you subconsciously checked over him to make sure he wasn’t too badly hurt. you crawled into bed, practically on the edge of the mattress so he had room to feel comfortable—a habit that developed a month into you two dating.

jason padded his way to the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight and the old bed frame groaning in protest. you both whispered goodnight to each other before you turned off the lamp, submerging the room into darkness.

after a few minutes, jason recognized the sound of your breath leveling out as you drifted off into a deep sleep. even though he was so tired, jason couldn’t fall asleep, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular as he stared up into the darkness.

he just wanted to be close to you.

but what if it made you uncomfortable? what if all of this waiting for the right moment was for nothing? you never once pushed him into anything he was uncomfortable doing. what if he accidentally crosses a line that he didn’t even know existed?

he looked over at you, his eyes adjusting to pitch black as he stared at your sleeping form. your back was facing him, body curled into a fetal position. he was tired of you constantly having to make yourself smaller so he could be happy. he just wanted to hold you.

so he moved carefully. scooting closer to you, an arm cautiously being wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his chest. you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening at the feeling of warmth against your back.

“jay?…” you asked in a whisper, like if you’d talk too loud you’d scare him away. jason tensed, arm threatening to untangle from you.

“m’sorry i should’ve asked-“

you caught his wrist, “are you okay with this? with holding me?” you response calm as you looked over your shoulder at him.

“…yes.”

you pulled his arm back around your waist, cuddling against him. “then i’m perfectly okay with it.” unable to help the giddiness that laced every word.

jason finally relaxed, tension leaving his body as he curled around you. it was everything you ever dreamed of, all of your patience paying off.

the comfortable silence broke as jason spoke up.

“sweetheart?”

“mhm?”

“thank you..”

“for what?”

“for..waiting for me.”

you squeezed his forearm reassuringly, a smile on your lips.

“thank you for trusting me, jay.”

a soft kiss was pressed to the crown of you head as you both drifted off, finally in each other’s arms.

this was so fun to write, thank you!

[arachine]

❤︎ . . . accidentally discovering one day that peter's wrists are (weirdly) sensitive after his enhancement, so you take it into consideration the next time you go down on him and his entire world shatters.

smut. dick sucking. organic web shooter sucking (ok guys don't make fun of the girl who put herself out there). cum licking.

you've got him on his back, sprawled across the bed, and you're kneeling between his thighs. his moans are growing louder. sharp and quick. the muscles in his thighs twitch with every inch your mouth takes him deeper, and his hands are tangled in your hair, pulling gently at the roots. he's close.

"i'm gonna—" he pants, throwing a forearm over his face.

you pull off with a pop, shaking your head. "don't. wanna try something."

peter sits up on his elbows, confusion settling over his face. "w-what? why?"

you don't answer him. take him into your hand instead and start rubbing him firmly from base to tip. he settles back against the bed and watches as you work him, waiting expectantly with his lip pulled between his teeth for whatever you're planning. then, you grab his arm and bring it to your face, twist it until the skin of his wrist makes contact with your lips.

peter's brows pull together, still unsure, and then he's throwing his head back in ecstasy, sputtering a string of 'baby's that echo off the walls. your mouth latches onto the flap of skin where his organic webs spurt from, and you watch him intently as he comes undone beneath you, a mischievous smile forming on your lips.

"that nice?" you ask, pulling away briefly, hand still tugging and squeezing.

then, a second later, breathless and strained, "god, this is so weird," he chokes out, gripping the sheet. "but 's g-good... sososo good. don't stop."

you giggle against him, and the vibration shoots up the length of his arm. your tongue dances across his skin, alternates between flicking and sucking the flap, and you can feel his forearm pulsing. throbbing. shifting under your tongue like it's preparing for release.

when you glance up at peter, he's already looking up at you, leaning back on his elbow. his jaw is slack, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and his eyes flicker from white to black intermittently. you quicken your pace, sucking his wrist and stroking him in tandem, all while holding his gaze.

briefly, you pull off to encourage his release. "you're so close, baby. let go for me."

a few more licks and tugs later, peter comes violently. he releases all over your hand. wet and thick and warm. his wrist follows next, shoots out webbing in quick succession, and lands all over the room before covering you in one final spurt.

peter falls against the sheets with a huff, too far gone to be embarrassed by the state of the room. you pump him a few more times before you retract your hand, then settle on top of him, straddling his waist.

"how do you feel?" you ask, licking the spend off your hands.

he blinks an eye open, still panting. "used," is all he says.

you laugh, lean in close to his ear. "well, get ready to be 'used' again because i wanna try something else," you say, voice low and teasing, "and... i can already feel you getting harder. you liked that, admit it, pervert."

peter turns his head, rolls his eyes. "no comment."

he'll never admit it, but you know.

© all rights reserved arachine 2026. do not repost, modify, plagiarize, or recommend my work outside of tumblr.

[xiaoale]

personal favorite — peter parker

synopsis. in an attempt to get closer to your boyfriend, you try to guess his favorite color.

—✧ content. fluff and sap and warmth and all the happiness peter parker deserves and self-indulgence to the peak. reader plays sports casually and gets hurt sometimes doing them! this was originally posted as a gojo fic sue me !! also based off of a tiktok sound

—✧ notes. 1.3k words, i wanted brand new day to kill me and then it killed me . #superheroshill #inthisshit4life

“Hm... yellow?”

A breeze flutters against your eyelashes as you lie next to him, the cool toughness of the concrete against your cheek. His eyes narrow jokingly, a gloved finger jutting out to poke your face.

"Did you just say that because the sun is setting right now?" He teases, "C'mon, where's your creativity?"

It's a quiet day today, as quiet as New York City can get, anyways. You find yourselves on the roof of his apartment, just at that transition period when day shifts to night and the sky loses its sky blue to bright yellows and oranges — when parents usher their kids from memories and dreams made from woodchips in the park below you, as teenagers and the elderly alike ride the metro back to their homes in the real world.

Luckily for you, you don't need to go back to reality when you're next to Peter.

It's just the two of you up here — no supervillains to traumatize him, no stuck-up professors to traumatize you — just two bodies soaking up the weather of the city you grew up in.

Peter’s still in his suit, the practical turtleneck bobbing with his Adam’s apple as he swallows, his eyes curved into crescent moons as he peers at you. His irises are the color of roasted coffee — flecks of warm honey highlighted under the setting sun, something akin to love with a hazy warmth in his gaze.

(It's unfair, you think, for someone to look so beautiful.)

"Whatever." You huff, rolling your eyes as the two of you slump back onto your shoulder blades, a satisfied grin playing on his face.

“Hah.”

"Okay, what is it then?" You flop back around immediately, nudging against his shoulder. "Your favorite color?"

For a moment, he doesn't answer.

Between him and the spare leaf he twiddles with his fingers, he's never had one.

Red and blue are Spider-Man's colors, but he'd be lying if he called them his favorite. Green is nice, pink is cute for sure, orange was the color of his favorite Pokémon; his childhood was about as normal as most were, save for the radioactive spider that led him to becoming a superhero.

…

Okay, so now that he’s thinking about it, it makes sense that he’s maybe never gotten the chance to think about one.

It’s certainly possible that he had one growing up, but after becoming Spider-Man, his mind became too busy with equations and his body occupied with dodging alien attacks outside his window. Peter’s never had time to care about something as silly as a favorite color, but—

You were smiling when you guessed yellow.

Your eyes glazed with an excited shine he'd only seen in his dreams, your lips parting to show a smile he's sure he'll try to get you to recreate for the rest of his life — does yellow fit him that much? What's your reasoning?

Even now, as you take small glances at him, your gaze is filled with that lovestruck nosiness that he’s loved since high school (although if anyone's stricken, it's him). He doesn’t mind yellow being his favorite color if you can stay like this forever.

"You were right." He resigns, a nonchalant grin playing on his face, his eyes closed to soak in the last moments of sunshine, “Yellow's the best."

The next few moments are silent, other than a soft breeze that brushes through his bangs. The beginnings of the night chill nips at the bare bit of skin under his neck; he peeks an eye open, turning slightly to look at you and—

Ah.

Your lips are happily curved upwards, unable to hide your giddiness from him.

Before he can even comprehend what's going on, your arms push your body off the grass, trapping his back to the Earth, your face mere inches away from his.

“You’re not lying, right? You’re telling the truth?”

Peter gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes, that astounding color of yellow shining against your silhouette. There’s a bit in your eyes, he can almost imagine, fire shining against your iris that he wants to stay lost in forever.

(Was the sun always this pretty? Or is it just you?)

“… Yeah, it’s cute.” He smiles simply, “I like it a lot.”

His gloved hand pulls you down towards him, pressing your chest to his as he presses small kisses against your skin.

“Peter—” You whine, pulling your face away as the kisses travel down your neck (he laughs as he pulls your head down again, hugging your body close), “Peter, you’re being annoying.”

“Aww, you like me anyways.”

He can feel your heat against his shoulder, behind your mumble, “Ugh, I guess.”

“Why yellow?” His grin is boyish as his hands palm at your hips, “Why'd you think of yellow for me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you bury your face into his clavicle, nose against nylon and muscle, “It's ‘cause …” The words that leave your lips get lost, the fabric of his shirt trapping them from his ears.

“Sorry?”

“I said—” your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, tilting your head towards his neck, “— It’s because you’re bright. Whenever I see you, you just … shine. Like the sun.”

Every New Yorker could attribute Spider-Man to the sun. It's the warmth he brings, the kindness he shows to the little man — everything Spider-Man does can associate him with the brightness of New York City.

No one knows Peter Parker, though. Certainly not like you know him. No one else knows the words that fuss over you every time you get hurt, fingers that painstakingly bandage your knees every time you fall on the court, the mind that stays up with you to help you study even after exhaustion creeps up his throat.

No one knows that Peter loves harder than anyone you’ve ever known, evident in chapped lips and small lulls of domesticity in the morning, evident in low moans and warm hands at night.

(No one knows his favorite color, except you.

You've never felt more special.)

“Will you kiss me?”

The words come out more vulnerable than you expect; sap dripped from your tongue, the feeling of wanting to stay like this pushed through your tongue.

Peter obliges, though — his hand tilts your chin towards him, the other at your scalp, pulling you close enough to feel his breath steady on your skin. His lips find yours immediately, soft against the wind that brushes against your body, warm fingers ghosting your neck contrasted with the cool stone at your palms.

You’re in love with him. God, you love him, the boy that rivals the sun — the boy whose natural state is to give more than he takes, and still accepts you anyways.

You pull away slowly as the sun falls further, the heat on your cheeks matching the dusty pink on his. The apartment lights across the street are lighting up, deep reds and violets lined against the horizon, and still, time feels far away from you. Peter looks a little lost when he looks at you, his head in some faraway place in his mind.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, your pointer finger tracing his cheek.

He hums, a carefree smile on his face as he stares with that same lovesick look, as if his love could ever make you sick.

“Let’s just lay here for a while.” He closes his eyes, relaxing fully, “Until it gets dark.”

(Yeah, if he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t give a shit about the color yellow.

It may not be his favorite color, but you’re certainly his favorite person.)

every time nyc was typed out or mentioned i felt an inexplicable rage and jealousy to all new yorkers 💔💔 happy for yall 💔💔 mamdani please save my state 💔💔

[rosesaints]

sue me, i wanna be wanted!

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader, set after brand new day summary: it's been a long time coming and you want nothing more than to jump peter parker's bones. or in other words, as charlotte york from sex and the city once said, damn it! I just really wanna be fucked, you know? just really fucked! content warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, no use of y/n, sweet (and spicy) lil. drabble, established relationship, fingering, light dom/sub undertones, leaving marks, peter fingers you from behind, cum eating, pussy slapping, peter being so gosh darn tooth rottingly cute ugh, not beta read

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Just wanted to make a mess on my couch, get my fingers all filthy? For me to take it?"

You're gonna be in serious trouble, you think. Peter's fingers curl upwards, and your whines break off, broken and wanton and so delightfully needed. You can feel stray tears dripping down your cheeks, lashes wet from all the different sensations Peter's taking out of your body. "I–I think I'm gonna come."

"Yeah?" He leans back in, not quite kissing her, eyes dilated in the dark of his apartment. "You think you deserve it?"

Nodding, head shaking up and down frantically. Why yes, absolutely, Peter Parker, you do deserve it.

You had been on a total of three dates with one Peter Parker so far. Far too impatient for your own good, so you'd suggested his place this time, low-key, no pressure, you'll bring the wine, and he'd said yes fast, too fast, in a way you'd have found suspicious from anyone else. But not Peter.

You wanted, so badly, horrifically, to get your hands on him. You had wanted this since date one, technically, possibly since before date one, and you had spent the intervening weeks channeling that want into research and preparation, the same way you channeled everything, because if you were going to lose your mind over a boy you were at least going to do it efficiently.

First, you wore kitten heels for the occasion even though this is definitely not the right occasion, but you couldn't help yourself. They were the ones that made your ass perk up just-so and led to three seconds of Peter eyeing your legs up and down as you passed him into the elevator, and you even wore perfume that a very reputable and frankly life-changing article on The Cut described as the closest thing to a pharmaceutical aphrodisiac you can legally buy at Sephora. He had leaned over in the cramped elevator car and looked at you, wonderstruck and in that low, boyish voice of his, "You smell really good."

And you were, as of nine-forty-two p.m., extremely fucking frustrated, because none of it, not one single thing you've done, had resulted in the guy making a move.

The movie's some spin-off Star Wars movie that Peter had frantically explained before chucking it into his bootleg streaming site, laptop flickering slightly as he plopped next to you on his couch. God yeah, Rogue One was just so severely underrated, he says as one hand brushes against your shoulder, and you'd nodded along like you had any context for what he was talking about, and you'd had to press your knees together like that would help. You've already decided you're going to watch the other seven (eight? nine? you should probably know this) before you see him again, so that next time you can argue back instead of just making the interested noise you've been perfecting for the last twenty minutes.

You end up abandoning the heels. 

That was his idea, technically, a stammered offer somewhere around minute fifteen—you can, um, if your feet hurt, I don't know if they hurt, forget I said anything—that you'd accepted with a swiftness that surprised you both, unbuckling the little metal straps and easing your feet into his lap like you'd been waiting all night for permission.

Now his hand's on your ankle. His thumb does this thing, tracing little spiderwebs around your lateral malleolus, and you're so fine. So okay with this progression, totally.

"You can talk during it," he says ten minutes later when your feet, have decidedly fallen asleep, not looking away from the screen. "I know people say you're not supposed to talk during movies, but I like—I mean, only if you want. You don't have to. I just talk during movies, but not in like, a mean, dickish way like some people do in theaters, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just a little disrespectful, but not in my apartment, so if you were gonna say something you don't have to feel—"

His thumb then drags one slow line up along your instep, absent, unthinking, entirely unaware of what it's doing to the rest of you, and something in your chest pulls taut like a wire about to snap.

"Peter, that's not it. That's not—it's just—I've never done this," you say, quieter now, and it costs you something to say it, you can feel it cost you something. "Any of it. I don't have a… single fucking clue. I don't know how this part goes."

"Neither do I."

"I know you don't, that's the problem, we're both just sitting here being—" You cut yourself off. Start over. "I'm not gonna say it. You have to do it."

"Do what?"

"Peter."

"I don't know what you—"

"Take what you want," you say, and it comes out low, and a little wrecked, and entirely unlike you. "For the love of God. Just—take it. Please. I'm not saying it again."

That's how he ends up fingering you over the arm of his couch, half-suspended and scrambling for purchase. A mean, relentless lover is most definitely not what you pegged Peter Parker to be. The boy who was flustered and uncertain just a mere ten minutes ago shouldn't be wrapping a stray arm around your waist to pull you closer, practically making you fuck yourself against his fingers. The boy who's now making embarrassing huffs of breath escape your lipgloss-stained lips and wrenching the oxygen out of you. 

You know, for a fact, that Peter would never, ever let you drop, but the look on his face when you turn your head over your shoulder makes you think that the ground might be a bit safer for you.

God, you've never even been fingered from behind before but the angle of it, the relentlessness, it makes you feel so thoroughly used, dizzy from the speed and the sheer force of him taking you. Combined with him dipping his head down, sucking harsh love bites into the swell of your ass, and you think you may as well have just lost your mind.

The movie's still playing when his hands force your legs wider apart, his hushed "that's right, hips up for me," lining up at the same time as Vader chokes and dismisses Director Krennic, breath hitching. You're so proud of Peter, he had mentioned how cool this scene was, and he's so focused—your cunt squeezing tight like a vice grip on his fingers. Your whole world is spinning, just an endless cacophony of Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter—and oh, oh god, when his thumb swipes over your clit, you realize that that that's all you've been saying.

"What is it? What do you need, sweet girl?" He bites harder at your neck, filing the way you twitch and heartbeat flutters uselessly. You're gonna be all marked up tomorrow, but you couldn't care less. The pleasure and pain felt like an electric current through your body, sending phantom shocks down your spine.

"M–More, please—Peter, oh, Peter—"

"Pretty girl needed someone to take care of her, huh?" His brows furrow in mock concern, even though his hands make no move to slow down. Your thoughts trail off, wondering if Peter could take care of you just like this forever. You think he might, he could, he should. You wouldn't mind. You'd let him keep fucking you until your voice ran raw, keep his fingers wet and pretty for as long as he wanted, just one orgasm into another. 

"Someone to spoil you," his tongue drags from your cheek, up to your lower back, "someone to give it to you every day," up, and up, and up your spine until his breath bears down on your neck. "I can be that for you, right, baby?"

Your whining hits a fever pitch, blissed out and on the edge of your orgasm. "Yes, of course, mmm—just don't stop."

Peter slaps your clit once, twice—fuck, and your cunt squeezes one final time around his fingers, and you're coming, your hand closing into a fist on the chenille fabric. It feels like the rest of the room is just pure nothingness, just static and buzzing and the feeling of Peter's hand coaxing you through each wave. 

"You got my hand so wet, honey," He tuts, and oh. There was no reason for that to be as hot as it was, and you're sure he can feel it too, the way you clench down on his hand and pull him further into you. You've always been told you respond like a dream.  "Such a good pussy. You're going to feel so good around my cock."

You turn onto your back when Peter gently pulls his fingers out of your cunt, still breathless and heaving from the attack on your senses and nothing ever could've prepared you from the sight before you. He examines his fingers in the light, the way they glisten–god, did you really get that wet—a small smile playing at his lips—and sucks those very fingers into his mouth.

Maybe it's only been seconds, or maybe it's an eternity, but you sit there like that, watching him in that entranced way of yours. He doesn't break eye contact with you once. It's filthy. You think you could be raring up to go again just from the way he looks at you. 

Peter hums contentedly. The sound goes straight to your cunt. This boy's gonna be the death of you.

The laptop stirs back to life at some accidental brush of the trackpad many, many moments later, Rogue One resuming exactly where you left it, some spaceship still doing something important that neither of you had ever actually been watching. 

"Oh man, we missed the ending," Peter says, squinting at the screen and dragging his mouse down to try and wind it back. 

"Really, Peter? You just made me come and you'd rather I care about the ending?"

"You're gonna care. I'm gonna make you care. I have so many more things to explain to you."

"I'm sure you do."

"Is that—was that sarcastic? I can't always tell with you."

"Fine, we can watch the movie," you say, and press your smile into his shoulder so he can't see it, and he does, mostly, in between turning to look at you every ninety seconds like he still can't quite believe you're still there, and you let him check, again and again, all night, because you're checking too. "Go ahead, play it back."

+ from mara

this was short and sweet! i haven't written anything in over a year, but after seeing tom holland's rock hard abs grace my screen, i simply had to dip my toes back in. it's been hard getting back on the horse (that is, the metaphorical writing horse) and i fear you guys will most definitely be able to tell but i hope you guys like it! IM SO SCARED but okay stream audrey hobert and support your local nurses <3

[indulgentdaydream]

Missy’s Masterlist

Jason Todd

Series

Comparisons (only on Tumblr) Jason Todd x jealous!insecure!fem!Reader || Angst w/ Fluff Ending. Requested. || Word Count: Part 1 - Part 2 Summary: You finally meet Jason's ex, Artemis. Your mind begins to remind you how much better she is than you, causing a fight between you and Jason.

Bliss and Misery (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Angst; Hurt/No Comfort Word Count: 1,643 Part 1 Summary: Jason enjoys a blissful morning with his family. Part 2 Summary: The aftermaths of a bad nightmare.

Intimacy as a Crime (Masterlist) (only on Tumblr) Jason Todd x fem!Reader || Lovers to Exes to Strangers to Friends to Lovers Chapter Count: 5/? Summary: You and your boyfriend, Jason Todd, broke up two months ago. You told yourself you had moved on, even if you hadn't quite. After a late night walk home, you meet Red Hood, who first becomes a sort of on-call vigilante help line, before slowly morphing into something like a friend. You're only willing to let him be a friend. You couldn't let yourself fall in love with another man who you could only know one side of. You hope you don't fall in love with only half of a man again.

One Shots

Cooking Lessons (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x fem!Reader || Fluff. Word Count: 629 Summary: Jason catches you cooking in the kitchen. He decides to help you out when he sees you struggle.

Drawing Touches (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x gn!Reader. || Fluff. Word Count: 936 Summary: It's too hot to sleep peacefully. Why not play a quiet game of 'can I draw on your back?'?.

New in Town (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x gn!Vigilante!Reader || Fluff. Requested. || Word Count: 1,185 Summary: There's a new vigilante in town. Jason tries to cope with his newfound emotions for them.

Out of the Bag (on both Ao3 on Tumblr) Jason Todd x fem!Civillian!Reader || Hurt/Comfort. Requested. || Word Count: 1,862 Summary: Jason hasn't introduced you to his family. Hasn't even mentioned you. You get injured and the closest place to take you is the batcave.

Meet Cutes (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x gn!Nurse!Reader || Fluff. Requested. || Word Count: 1,035 Summary: You work in a clinic that deals with a lot of criminals, who in turn deal with the Red Hood. One day, you finally meet the man responsible for your talent at sewing up bullet wounds.

M.I.A. (on both Ao3 and Tumblr) Jason Todd x fem!Reader || Fluff Requested. || Word Count: 758 Summary: Jason wakes up and realizes Reader isn't in bed. He goes searching for them throughout their shared apartment.

Bashful (Only on Tumblr) Requested. || Jason Todd x Shy!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 1,677 Summary: Jason is the one always initiating affection since he's knows you're too shy to. You attempt to change that. Things get out of hand.

Comfort (Only on Tumblr) Requested. || Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader || Fluff // Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 2,014 Summary: Jason comes to your clinic when he needs help with his wounds. It's not his fault his concussion is making him act a little funny. Or realize some things he didn't realize he thought about you.

Rooftop Angel (Only on Tumblr) Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff Word Count: 1,314 Summary: You're walking home late at night, talking with your boyfriend, Jason, on the phone. You tend to forget how protective he can be.

Unexpected Joy (only on Tumblr) Jason Todd x Reader | Fluff Word Count: 917 Summary: A study of Jason's laughter through an outside perspective.

Headcanons

Jealous!Jason x Reader Summary: Jason gets jealous because Roy and Reader know each other better since they're old friends.

Attractive Things Jason Does Summary: Little things our man does that just add to his charm

Jason's Sleeping Positions Summary: Ways that Jason sleeps. Both with and without you.

Protective!Jason x Reader Summary: Protective things Jason does with you <3

Blurbs

Arguments with Jason Summary: What happens when you two fight?

Jason Todd x Freckled!Reader Summary: Jason traces your freckles.

Tim Drake

Series

The Amalgamation That Is The Inner Workings of Tim Drake (only on Ao3) General Fic || Angst Chapters: 4/4 - will no longer be updated || Word Count: 7,932 Summary: Tim Drake comes to understand sibling relationships.

[indulgentdaydream]

Comparisons Pt.2

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,730

Part 1

Warnings: insecurities (reader). Bad self esteem (reader). Criticizing oneself in the mirror (reader). Black eye (jason)

Have at ‘er guys.

The first thing you did once you got back into your apartment was throw your bag on the floor. The next thing you did was slump back against the door and slowly slid your way down until you were sitting on the ground, knees to your chest, head tucked into your folded arms.

Your eyes had been burning the entire walk back. Your throat was tight and especially your lungs from how fast you had power-walked.

Now that you were out of the public eye, you let the tears finally fall after trying so hard to hold them back.

Thank the crime for Gotham’s low rent. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it to your bedroom to hide your oncoming sobs if you had been living with roommates.

You were exhausted. You felt entirely stupid, too. As if you weren’t enough for Jason. Artemis had everything. Everything you didn’t and more.

You were beginning to think he had settled for you.

You knew he could pull attractive women. Could pull damn gorgeous women. He was entirely handsome himself, even though he never saw it.

Nearly every time you two were out he would have people coming up to him. Flirting with him. Asking for his number. Even when you were right there, his arm around your shoulders or your waist. Or if he was alone because you had gone to the bathroom. That was when they came out of the woodworks the most. It’s like even they could tell you were subpar for him.

The thing is: Jason would never even look at them. No matter how long they stood there. Usually, when he had ignored them for long enough and was getting annoyed, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure they had left.

You couldn’t even explain why you felt like this. Jason had done nothing to prove that he didn’t love you.

But if Artemis, someone Jason had very possibly loved before you, was still in his life… what chance did you have at being allowed to stay?

Another sob left your throat. You were never in Jason’s league. Why ever pretend? Especially for this long?

You had overstayed your welcome.

Your phone buzzed in your bag. A call coming through. You sniffled, as you pulled it out of your tote.

Jason’s profile was displayed across the screen. A picture you had taken of him when you had dragged him out to the park a few months ago. You were both smiling at the camera as you took a picture. You had thought he looked so handsome in it. A soft smile, kind eyes looking a little off from the camera, the sun basking him in a sweet early spring glow. You had never liked the way you looked in that photo. When you made it his contact, you had cropped yourself out.

You frowned as your phone kept ringing. You didn’t want to deal with him right now. You set the phone on the ground in front of you, face up, letting it go to voicemail.

Your phone went black again. You started feeling a little guilty. Then, seconds later, it rang again.

You didn’t pick up. Even despite the guilt that began to chew at your stomach lining.

That call only rang four times before ending again.

A minute. Then a text message.

Jason: Just tell me whether or not you made it home, baby. Please?

You stared at it for a moment.

Another text.

Jason: I’m coming by soon either way. We’re talking about this.

You frown. He sounded mad.

Your head pounded lightly. A headache from how hard you’d been crying.

Maybe he was coming here to break up with you.

You’d obviously been delusional the past few weeks. Jason was using a case as an excuse to distant himself from you. To get familiar with Artemis again.

That had to be it.

Another text.

Jason: I know you’re seeing these, love.

Screw him. Screw him and his perfect grammar. And his stupid pet names.

You picked up your phone, opening the messages. You send back a simple “Home.” Before closing your phone again, placing it on the ground.

Jason: Thank you. See you soon.

Tears burned at your eyes again, but you swallowed them back.

You pushed yourself off the floor. No point in letting him see you, huddled in a heap of despair, still in your food splattered work clothes. Making your way to your bedroom, you began to change out of your work clothes. You automatically reached for the grey t shirt hanging off the post at the end of the bed, but hesitated. You stared at it. The far too big for you, men’s t shirt that was worn around the collar and smelled so much like Jason.

Your hand hovered over it before you stepped away.

He’d probably be wanting it back after this.

You stepped towards your dresser, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You hate it.

You can’t even see yourself as yourself anymore.

You stand there, picking yourself apart bit by bit. Rifling. Dissecting. Looking to find something good, something likeable, until you’ve tossed every part into the “discard” bin of your mind.

You can’t even do anything about it. All your tears are gone. You simply hang your head as you step into your sweatpants and slip on your t shirt.

You crawl onto your bed, not bothering to climb under the covers. Not bothering to shower.

The sun was still shining in, reminding you of how you were wasting such a beautiful day.

Your mind was working against you. Coming up with reasons for why Jason would be with you. Why he would have done everything that he had ever done with you if he didn’t love you.

The most prominent reason was that he was just taking pity on you. He had the time on his hands to do a favour for the lonely, ugly girl because he had broken up with his gorgeous amazonian warrior girlfriend. He couldn’t be giving out favours anymore now that he had her back.

You laid there on your side, arms hugging yourself. You realized you weren’t out of tears. They continued slip out of your eyes and pool to the pillow below you. The occasional sob leaving you when your mind concocted something else outrageous.

You don’t know how long you laid there for.

In the silence of your apartment, you could hear the lock of your front door click before the door swung open.

You tensed, arms hugging yourself as you laid on your side, back to the door.

You heard Jason slip off his boots, the steel toes he always wore clattering against the floor, signalling his arrival.

Padded footsteps followed, moving down the short hallway. Then the creak of your bedroom door behind you that had already been ajar.

Jason’s voice was soft as he called your name, “You’re not asleep, are ya?”

You simply glanced back at him over your shoulder, twisting. He took up the whole frame. He was dressed the same as earlier. Dark blue jeans, dark grey shirt with a faded brewery logo on it, and his leather jacket that he hadn’t bothered to take off at the door. His sunglasses were gone, showing off the fresh black eye that you hadn’t seen. He held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

Who brings flowers to someone when they’re about to leave them?

You laid your head back down without another word.

More footsteps. The bed dipped behind you, Jason’s weight settling on the mattress, sitting in the crook where your knees bent.

A beat passed before he sighed, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

His hand reaches down to brush away the hair that was covering your face. The second his fingers brush over your cheek, you flinched back.

Jason draws his hand back, “Talk to me. I know how your mind gets, baby. What happened today?”

You stared straight ahead of you, towards the window Jason would often use to enter your apartment in the middle of night, the sunlight shining through. “Are you going to break up with me?”

Jason’s answer was quick. Honest. “No. Never.”

You should’ve felt more relaxed, but you didn’t. You just felt more stupid, “Did you love her?”

Jason paused, “Artemis?”

You nod.

Jason shifted on the bed, bringing more of his weight onto it before answering, “I thought I did. When I was with her. But… no.” Another pause. “You taught me what love was.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You knew Jason loved you.

You felt horrible. began to cry again, your voice cracking.

You just… you just needed to make sure, “Are you only with me because— because you pity me?”

“What?” Jason’s hands were suddenly on your shoulders, turning you onto your back. His fingers brushed your hair back and cupped your face. “Of course not!” You met his gaze for a moment through a haze of unshed tears. You’d never seen him more worried. More concerned. More… heartbroken at your words.

His eyes drift to the wet patches on your pillow, then back to your face. He takes in your red eyes and red nose. “Baby… have you been crying over this? Thinking I was going to leave you?”

You look away from him without answering. A silent “yes”.

Jason sighs lightly, “Because of Artemis?” His thumbs begin to stroke your cheeks, “She was just giving me some papers for a shipment. She owed me a favour from a long time ago.”

“How long were you with her?”

“Eight months,” he said, though there was a flit of a questioning tone at the end of it. He corrected himself, “Nine.”

“Why have you never talked about her?” You see him frown, his eyes shutting for a moment. You feel your face burn from embarrassment at all your questions.

Jason takes a breath, “That relationship… wasn’t a good one. It was my second real one, ever.” He shrugs, “It was built off of shared trauma, I guess. Once the Outlaws disbanded we didn’t really have much of a reason to stick around one another.” He pauses. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’d even consider it a real relationship. More of a fling.”

There’s a beat. You still don’t look at him.

“You know I love you,” he says. You bite deep into the inside of your cheek. “You know I love you… right?” His words sound so distraught at the idea of him making you feel unloved.

A small breath left your lungs. “I know.” Tears spill over as you talk, your arms still wrapped around yourself, hands squeezing the flesh of your biceps, “But that could’ve been an easy hand over. Five minutes.” You tried taking a deep breath, “Why… why make time to go and have coffee with your ex when you can’t even make time for me?”

Jason cursed quietly under his breath. Your face crumpled, but you tried for keep it together. “She wanted to.” Jason said. “Trust me. I didn’t. But I need that information.” He shuffled more onto the bed, hovering over you. “You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you walking past. You were like some angel coming from heaven. I’m serious.”

The moment replayed in your mind. Your bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably as you remembered his consistent frown every time he had looked at you.

“Then why—“ your voice hitched with a small sob. “You only smiled at her. You just started nitpicking me the second she left. Started when— when she was still there.”

Jason sighed again, his eyes shutting, “I know. I was acting like an asshole. I know. I’m sorry.” He leaned his face closer to yours, thumbs swipes away your tears. “I just get so worried about you sometimes.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

You sniffle again, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jason mumbled against your forehead before leaning back. “I’m sorry, baby. I was already ticked off that I was wasting time with her.”

You squirmed lightly, still hugging yourself, “I’m still sorry. I know you love me. I do trust you. I just—“

Jason shook his head, “No. Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have had coffee with her. I should’ve been picking you up from work.” He moved his hands to gentle grasp onto your hands, “Come on. Sit up for me, yeah?”

You followed his instructions, sitting up, crossing your legs in front of you. Jason grabbed a tissue from your bedside table, handing it to you to blow your nose. You felt like asking whether the case he was working was real or not. You decided against it, realizing his black eye should be proof enough.

Jason brushed your hair back as you blew your nose, clearing your face. “Why did you think I’m with you because I pity you, love?”

You look away, shameful, “Because… because you’re the first guy to ever ask me out.” You shrug lightly, “And… and no one else was wanting to. And I just…” You sniffle again. Jason takes your old tissue and hands you a new one, his other hand on your knee, his thumb stroking the side of it gently. “I saw how pretty she is and—”

“Not as pretty as you,” he gave you a soft smile, lifting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You gave no reaction.

Jason paused, “…do you not think you’re pretty?”

You try and turn your face away again, shrugging, “I’m just so far out of your league. She’s not.”

“Damn right you’re out of my league,” Jason laughed softly, grasping onto your shoulders as they fell in defeat.

Finally. You thought. He realizes. This is it. This is—

He took one hand and tilted your chin until you were looking at him again. “Love, you’re leagues above me. You hear me? I’m serious. I’m so lucky to have someone as sweet and caring as you.”

You begin to shake your head. Jason firmly yet painlessly pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, stopping you. He begins to nod your head. Up and down. Forcing you to agree with him.

He presses his thumb into your bottom lip. He pulls it down and back up over and over again, mimicking speech as if you were some puppet. He pitched up his voice and octave, “Yes, Jason! I’m the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen!”

You can’t help it. A smile tugs at your lips. You pull his hand away and hold it with both of your own as you place a kiss to it.

Jason grins, tilting his face down to yours, “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m sorry for thinking you were going to leave me for her…”

Jason smiles softly, “No more apologies. I know how your mind is.” He tilts his chin up and pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Evil mind.” He mutters against it, making you giggle.

You hum lightly, leaning into his touch. “What happened to your eye?”

Jason scoffed lightly, “Some thug last night. My helmet was already broken. He got a good right hook in.”

You smile up at him. You sit up straighter, pressing a feather light kiss to the edge of the bruising.

Jason hums in satisfaction, “Thank you, baby.” He smiles again, looking back at you. “What do you want to do now? You’ve got me until nine.”

You perks up, “Nine? But it's already four! Don't you have to read those papers? Don’t you have to—“

Jason smiled and shook his head, cutting you off, "Already did. I just have to intercept that shipment tonight and then you'll have me all day tomorrow, too. I’ve got nothing else but time to spend with my girl.”

Your smile grows a little wider, "Really?"

Jason nods, "I promise."

You play with his fingers as you think it over. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, picking up each digit and curling them and straightening them again, "Can we go for a ride?"

Jason grins, "Course, love. Where's your helmet?"

AHHH!! Hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

[linaaawrites]

could you write something about Mack asking gf!reader some questions trying to ragebait her but he ends up being the one that's getting ragebaited? Hope you're feeling better soon!

Would you still love me if

pairing: Macklin Celebrini x female reader

description: You turn the tables on Macklin when he tries to ragebait you with absurd relationship questions.

TW: Fluff, teasing, established relationship.

masterlist

The couch cushions dip beside you as Macklin settles in, a mischievous glint in his eyes that immediately puts you on alert. You've been together long enough to recognize that look, it's the same one he gets before he tries to prank you or before he attempts those TikTok challenges he's been scrolling through for hours.

"Hey," he says casually, stretching an arm across the back of the sofa behind you. "Can I ask you something?"

You pause the show you're watching, turning to face him fully. "Depends. Are you about to ask me if I'd still love you if you were a worm?"

He deflates slightly. "How did you know that was on my list?"

"You're predictable, Celebrini," you tease, nudging his knee with your foot. "What's the actual question?"

"Okay, fine," he says, straightening up with renewed determination. "Would you say you love me because I'm successful, or am I only successful because you love me?"

Ah. So this is what he's been watching, those ragebait relationship questions designed to trap partners in impossible philosophical dilemmas.

"Hmm," you tap your chin thoughtfully. "I think your success is definitely a byproduct of my love. Without me, you'd probably still be struggling to tie your skates properly."

Macklin's brow furrows. "That's not... I can tie my skates just fine! And I was drafted first overall before we even met!"

"Details, details," you wave dismissively. "Next question."

He looks slightly flustered but presses on. "If we were on a sinking ship and there was only one life jacket left, would you give it to me?"

"Absolutely not," you answer without hesitation.

His jaw drops. "What? Why not?"

"I'm a much better swimmer than you," you explain matter-of-factly. "I'd have a better chance of survival with the life jacket. Plus you're bigger, you'd take up more space in the life jacket, leaving less flotation for the important parts."

"The important parts?" he sputters. "What parts are more important than keeping me alive?"

"Well, my phone, obviously," you say. "And maybe that expensive skincare I just bought. You understand."

Macklin is now visibly frustrated, his plans for ragebaiting you backfiring spectacularly. "Okay, last one. If I had to choose between saving you from a burning building or saving my hockey equipment, what would you want me to choose?"

"That's easy," you say. "Your equipment."

He freezes. "Really?"

"Of course," you continue, enjoying how he's becoming increasingly agitated. "Your career is important and I'd never want you to sacrifice that for me. Your gear is probably custom-fitted and hard as fuck to replace."

Macklin's face is a mixture of confusion and betrayal. "You'd want me to save my hockey gear over you?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" you trail off, pretending to reconsider. "Actually, I'd want you to save the most valuable thing in the building."

His expression softens slightly. "So… me?"

"No," you shake your head. "The Stanley Cup. If it happened to be in the building for some reason."

He flops back against the couch cushions with a dramatic groan. "That's not even a realistic scenario!"

"You started with the impossible questions," you remind him. "I'm just playing along."

"You're supposed to say you'd save me! Or that you'd want me to save you! That's how these questions work!" he whines, turning to face you with puppy dog eyes.

"I don't think you understand the concept of ragebait, Mack," you say, patting his knee condescendingly. "The point is to make the other person annoyed or upset. Which, based on your current state, I seem to have accomplished quite successfully."

He pouts, his lower lip jutting out in a way that usually makes you cave immediately. "But you were supposed to get ragebaited, not me! This was my plan!"

"Plans don't always work out the way we want them to," you say philosophically.

He catches your hand as you reach to ruffle his hair, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap. "You're mean," he says, though there's no real anger in his voice, just a pathetic whine that makes you want to kiss him.

"You love it," you counter, running your free hand through his hair.

"Maybe," he concedes, nuzzling against your neck. "But now I need you to say something nice to make up for all the mean things you said."

"What kind of nice things?" you ask, though you already know where this is going.

"Tell me you'd save me from a burning building," he mumbles against your skin.

"I would definitely save you from a burning building," you promise, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Unless Drew Starkey was there. Then we'd have to have a serious discussion about priorities."

He lifts his head to glare at you, but the effect is ruined by the smile tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"You love it," you repeat, leaning in to kiss him properly.

When you finally pull apart, he's smiling properly now, the earlier frustration forgotten. "Okay, fine. You win this round."

"I always win," you remind him, settling back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "Just don't tell the guys I got ragebaited by my own girlfriend."

"Your secret's safe with me," you promise, already planning your next move in this ongoing game of relationship chess. "For now."

[mayhemi]

⌗ HARDER !

── (18+) in which big strong redhood makes you choke him during sex! ꨄ︎ ; unprotected p in v, breathplay, cowgirl position, praise, pet names (baby)

JASON TODD who insists you choke him during sex.

it happened accidentally— your hand resting against his throat while riding him, pressing down a little too hard against the hot, flushed skin, and not noticing until he suddenly spoke up.

"you fuckin' choking me?" he makes a noise between a scoff and a groan, voice low and gravely, breaking you out of your pleasure induced trance. your hand flies away like you've been burned, your hips faltering in their desperate bouncing movement on his cock. "ohgod–" your eyes widen, "jay- m'so sorry baby" you rake your eyes over his body for any sign of discomfort, did you hurt him? is he okay? did he--

"i didn't say stop."

it catches you off-guard, that gruff voice telling you to do something to him rather than the other way around. his large, calloused palms meet the fat of your hips, directing your movements so that his cock starts plunging in and out of your sopping cunt once again. he's amused, watching your brows furrow softly in confusion and pleasure, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"cmon, baby" he gives your ass a slap, enough to have your velvet heat fluttering around him. "you're not dumb, are you?" he speaks so casually, taking entertainment in the way you can't decide what to do. you shake your head hesistantly, earning a low, soft chuckle from him. "yeah, you're a smart girl..." he trails off, taking your hands in his and bringing them to rest against his neck. "just press down, s'all you gotta do" he reassures you, practically cooing at you to strangle him.

and what can you do when he's looking at you like that-- eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen and bitten, his face tinted a pretty pink, expression one of pure hunger, except for wrap your fingers around his throat and squeeze.

the smirk on his face falters, his face twisting in pleasure when you start bouncing on his dick again, lewd plap plap plap! sounds filling the room, your hands around his neck an added stimulation. you tighten your fingers where they rest around his throat, feeling the muscle and tendons underneath his skin. the hitch of his breath as that pressure increases.

"there ya' go" he wheezes out a string of praises, what's left of his breath fanning over your hot skin. his cock is practically impaling you, your orgasm building unusually quick low in in your tummy at the sight of him. the veins are popping on his forehead, skin a deep, beet red from the blood flooding his head.

his eyes are half-lidded, like he's about to pass out. his hips bucking up into your heat speak for him though, he's right where he wants to be.

you could laugh at this if he wasn't so deep that you could feel him in your throat, your big, burly boyfriend being choked by someone nearly half his size. you're barely scratching the surface of "hurting him".

his mind is clouded with arousal, he's so dizzy that all he can focus on is you-- how beautiful you look cutting off his air, and how good you feel wrapped around his shaft, a creamy white base of slick forming at the base of his cock from just how long the two of you have been fucking. how did he get so lucky with a girl like you?

he chokes out a raspy groan when your thumb presses down harder on his airway, the exact thing that sends him over the edge. you cum together, because god, it's hot knowing jason todd is a masochist, that you abusing him is enough for him to cum quicker than he ever has.

"oh fuck--! baby--" his name comes out in a cry, tearing from your throat as your pussy clenches around him, leading you to forget that you're still controlling your boyfriends air intake.

as for jason, he simply cannot make any noise, because of the two hands not allowing him to, except for a low, wheezing groan, while his load inside of you-- hot and sticky pulsing into your womb. he never signals for you to let up though, he wouldn't dare to tap out.

when you finally pull away, you watch him sputter at the sudden abundance of air, clearing his throat and letting that cocky smile take its place back on his face.

there's remnants of your hands— dark purple fingerprints blooming beautifully on the sides of his neck. you wish he could see, because you know he would get hard all over again from the prospect of his girl marking him up.

the bruises almost look like hickeys, something far more vanilla than what he just had you do to him.

he doesn't pull out, simply coaxes you down to rest against his broad chest, pressing soft kisses to your hairline like he's the one who should apologize.

"fuck-- we gotta start doin' that more" he's still catching his breath, chest heaving up and down. you can't exactly tell what he means by "more", if he'll make you choke him, or if he'll choke you.

either way, you're not complaining.

© mayhemi 2026. do not claim my work as your own, and do not feed my content into ai systems.

[kumasakka]

bruce wayne with a girlfriend who wants to film a grwm for social media but he walks past the camera shirtless (and hot) and it turns into a playboy, billionaire bruce wayne thirst trap used in 1838373 edits because his fans are unhinged

dick grayson with a girlfriend who tosses off her high heels mid walk because it hurts to walk in them, making him speed up his pace to fetch her heels before it gets into her way

barbara gordon with a girlfriend who melts in barbara’s arms while getting back scratches and then she proceeds to brag to her followers that no one will have such an intelligent and amazing and hot and kind and sexy and loving and ethereal girlfriend like she does

jason todd with a girlfriend who snaps a quick ootd and says “twirl” and he actually listens to show his outfit

cassandra cain with a girlfriend who always shows her newest haul, in real life or per video chat doesn’t really matter, and wants cass to clap or compliment her

stephanie brown with a girlfriend who demands to get carried yet steph proceeds to throw her over her shoulder instead

tim drake with a girlfriend who calls him good boy whenever he does a quick favour for her and they both cringe but tim secretly doesn’t mind

duke thomas with a girlfriend who bakes with him and she intentionally smears whipped cream or flour or any sort of shit she can get into her hands onto his face (it doesn’t end well)

damian wayne with a girlfriend who forces him to participate in tiktok trends. he appears maybe once or twice per month (if you’re lucky)

[cinder-rxse]

⋆˚꩜｡ RED HOOD: REBUILT . by cindy

mechanic!jasontodd

⤷ he's finding himself again. learning who jason todd is when the layers of trauma and emotional damage are pulled back. he's finally found a healthy coping mechanism; working on cars. he has his own shop, his own place. his world is finally getting back on its axis – then you come in. a chaotic, coffee addicted journalist with a request about your brothers bike. and jason finally realises just how much of his life he has to rebuild from scratch.

꒰ cw: reporter!reader | angst + fluff + eventual smut | toxic ex rel. / abuse ꒱

chapter one. the beginning 1.7k

chapter two. the intrigue 1.2k

chapter three. the swear wall 1.6k

chapter four. the inside scoop 2.2k

chapter five. the interview 1.7k

chapter six. the friendship 2.0k

chapter seven. the moment 1.7k

chapter eight. the panic attack 1.7k ꒰ cw: panic attack/torture flashbacks ꒱

chapter nine. the good friend 1.2k

chapter ten. the advice 2.8k

ᜊ masterlist.

[see-you-in-hell-bitches]

i've only read the first chapter and a half so far but i absolutely love this!! i'm so excited to finish it

[bernthralized]

jason todd cannot let you know how badly he's been crushing on you.

anyone could've guessed it by how he treats you. jason was naturally observant, but when it came to you, there was a difference. he'd steady you at the waist whenever you stumbled over your feet, brushed the hair out of your face when the wind was much too strong, wouldn't complain about your whining when something didn't go your way.

dick had noticed way too early: when commotions rose, he'd be at your side, massaging your shoulders and leading you with a hand at the back of your neck -- like right now, where he stood before you to help tie your sneakers.

"i can tie my shoes myself," you scold, yet the glare jason shoots at you, with the dirty bottom of your shoe rubbing against the knee of his pants, is enough to quiet you down. he's fumbling the strings, big fingers making it difficult to deal with the smaller material.

he finishes quick enough, pausing to look up at your face, and suddenly he feels like a love-struck fool. "you just did your nails," he points out, "no way was i about to let you ruin them when they're pretty." you swallow a lump in your throat, the simplest recognition from his part making your stomach feel in twists.

dick clears his throat, a brow raised.

"tell me, again, about how you guys are not a couple?"

"he's just being friendly," you roll your eyes, attempting to hide the flush that forms on your face once jason squeezes your ankle and pushes your shoe away to stand up.

"friendly? the man looks out for you like no one else." you scoff at the absurdity of his accusation. in reality, it was stupid how neither of you had realised it yet. at your side, with his 6'1 build, jason carried your bag over his shoulder, makeup swatches along his hand, and an embarrassing lip stain that never came off when you tested it on him. anyone would think he was doing the service of a tortured boyfriend brought to the makeup counter by his girl.

you glance at each other and then at dick, trying to hold back that common awkward laughter that bubbled its way up whenever someone asked what you both were because, truly, what were you if not a confused pair of regular friends with regular habits that totally never regularly looked at one another like you'd yearn to dig a home deeply between each other's ribs?

jason sniffles, placing his hand over your shoulder. his nose was red from allergies, something about dust in the air being his worst enemy. "yeah, richard, way to make it weird." his tone holds a silent edge, hinting to back off. dick knows it all too well. jason's been pining for so long that he doesn't notice how badly you'd wish for him too.

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ keep it in your pants — 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓

( 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,571,302 others

yn i scream you scream we all scream 4 ice cream

lando you’re so pretty

⤷ yn omg stop or else i’ll have to kiss you 🙂‍↕️

⤷ lando WOW YOURE SO PRETTY OH MY GOSH YOU TOOK MY BREATH AWAY YOURE SO PRETTY BARK BARK BARK PLEASE TOUCH ME

⤷ yn uh…i have to ask my mom first 😥

⤷ yn she said i’m not allowed to kiss until i get married so…

⤷ nicolepiastri No I didn’t?

⤷ yn mommmmmuuuhhhhhhh

⤷ lando oh i’ll marry you 😈👅👅👅👅 come to my room and touch me pleath 🙏🏽

⤷ oscarpiastri Lando, please stop being gross to my little sister online please.

⤷ lando soz i just can’t help myself

kikagomes so hot 😘😍😍

alex_albon Still kinda surprised that you and Oscar are siblings

⤷ oscarpiastri Why?

⤷ alex_albon cause she’s so cool and pretty and funny and outgoing and your so…Oscar

⤷ oscarpiastri Wow am I blushing? 😐

charles_leclerc i think lando almost came in his pants watching you eat that ice cream

⤷ lando was it that obvious?

⤷ charles_leclerc mate there was a wet spot

⤷ yn guys…

lando you make me feel erotic

⤷ charles_leclerc you mean erratic dumbass?

⤷ lando no i mean erotic dip shit

⤷ charles_leclerc oh…

sharls_lerklerk ik mclarens pr team hates to see lando in her comment section 😭

⤷ mclaren You aren’t wrong…

🝮

yn

liked by maddieziegler and 1,790,125 others

yn life is so good i ate some cum guzzling pasta, lando gave me the prettiest flowers, and now i’m gonna go home and get my shit rocked 🤪🤪👌

lando Fuck yeah

georgerussell63 Honestly real

⤷ yn ???

alexandrasaintmleux Ate some what?? 😟

⤷ yn whoever made that pasta deserves the most jaw dropping toe clenching sloppiest head ever

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 😨

⤷ lando i actually made the pasta sooo…

⤷ yn it wasn’t even that good fr

lando you look so yummy i can’t wait to slurp you up 🥰🥰😍😍😍😍😍🥰

lando ik our neighbors hate us but i can’t help it

⤷ charles_leclerc your whole apartment building probably hates you guys

landossluttywaist i like how she kinda just embraces landos freakiness, it’s very inspiring

⤷ yn yeah he still shocks me sometimes with the things he says but i’m pretty used to it now 🤙

lando you’re gonna be guzzling my cum tonight 😈👅👅👅

⤷ carlossainz55 It gets to a point…

🝮

lando

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 1,783,202 others

lando new york, new york

yn hellooooo new york 🐮

oscarpiastri You better be keeping an eye on my sister

⤷ lando i am trust

⤷ charles_leclerc So we’re not gonna tell him that we lost her in time square?

⤷ lando you cunt it was your fault

⤷ charles_leclerc NO IT WASNT YOU LITERALLY WALKED AWAY WITHOUT US

⤷ lando I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING TO GET ALL OF US BOBA FAWK

⤷ oscarpiastri You lost my sister in New York?

⤷ lando well we also lost alex so she wasn’t completely alone yk?

⤷ oscarpiastri Lando…

⤷ lando we found them like 10 minutes later though so let’s look on the bright side 😊😊

⤷ oscarpiastri I’m to tired to deal with this right now

alex_albon The big apple 🍎

⤷ lando the city that never sleeps @yn 👅👅😈

⤷ yn blocked

⤷ lando WOWWW OKAY just gonna act like you didn’t eat krispy kreme donuts off it last night?????

⤷ lando SHE ACTUALLY BLOCKED ME WTF

⤷ charles_leclerc HAHAHAHAHA

⤷ lando from cream pie to no reply 😔

⤷ lando from swallowing to unfollowing 💔

⤷ lando from giving me head to leaving me on read 🥀

⤷ lando how does she so easily go from licking my balls to ignoring my calls 💔

⤷ oscarpiastri Mate 😔

⤷ lando she’s locked me out of the room now…

⤷ charles_leclerc HAHAHAHA

⤷ lando i’m coming to your room

⤷ charles_leclerc do not come to my room

🝮

yn

liked by kikagomes and 1,369,443 others

yn i unblocked him 🙄

lando acting like i made you unblock me jeez

⤷ yn you literally grabbed my phone from my hands and ran into the elevator

⤷ lando a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do 🤷‍♂️

lando bod goals perioddddd now come grind on me baby

⤷ yn how about you grind on me

⤷ lando fuck yeah i’ll turn into a stripper for you

⤷ yn i was joking

⤷ lando i wasn’t come here let me give you a lap dance

⤷ yn no i’m not gonna let you rub your manhood in my face

⤷ lando you let me last night💀

⤷ yn he’s joking guys

⤷ lando i got video proof guys

⤷ charles_leclerc eewwww lando cmon man

⤷ oscarpiastri We know you guys do it but we don’t wanna wake up one day and see my little sister and best friends sex tape all over the internet

⤷ lando awww you consider me your best friend? 🥹🥹🥹

⤷ oscarpiastri Not the point Lando, keep your guys’ sex tape off of the internet. No one wants to see that.

⤷ francolapinto yeah guys…we definitely don’t want that…but if it were to be leaked i wouldn’t mind yk…

⤷ pierregasly Awhh happy pride month Franco!!! ALLY 4LYFE!!!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

⤷ francolapinto Excuse me?

⤷ lando we all know you want a piece of this ass but it’s all for my baby love sorry

⤷ yn franco can have that ass dafuq just make sure to use protection okay?

⤷ francolapinto YIPEEE

⤷ lando did you just pimp me out?

⤷ yn yes i cannot go another round lando i’m gonna need an iv soon

⤷ lando noooo i’d rather you peg me than franco ☹️

⤷ yn okay come to bed 😛

⤷ lando IM COMING RN OMGOMGOMGOGMG

⤷ oscarpiastri GUYS PLEASE I CANNOT TAKE THIS ALL THIS FREAKINESS ANYMORE

⤷ yn i was just yanking your chain jeeezzzz i’m not actually gonna do that to lando

⤷ lando damn…guess i better cancel my fucking doordash order from spencers 😒 thanks a lot oscar

🝮

yn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 1,627,401 others

yn i love my freaky boy

francolapinto i love him too

⤷ yn not now franco 🙄

estiebestie we know she’s just as freaked out as he is she’s just better at hiding it 😭😭

⤷ hoeforsainzzz yeah let’s not forget about that screenshot of their messages lando accidentally posted on his story last year 😭💀

⤷ yn let’s not talk about that guys 😔 my mysterious look was broken that day

⤷ alex_albon Trust we know she’s just as freaky as he is her name in lando’s phone is “deep throat goat ❤️”

⤷ yn ALRIGHT CAN WE GO BACK TO TALKING ABOUT HOW FREAKY LANDO IS FAWK

lando oh you love me soo baddd wow lets go back to the room and show each other how much we love eachother ❤️

lando let’s explore each others bodies ❤️

⤷ yn i’ve explored your body plenty of times i’m good for right now

⤷ lando oh so i don’t pleasure you enough and you hate me and think i’m ugly and want me to jump off a bridge?

⤷ yn i mean if you’re offering

⤷ lando i was just joking baby love come back to the room and let me apologize 👅👅💐

⤷ kikagomes is he bothering you queen?

⤷ yn yes come rescue me 💋💋💋

⤷ lando i’m not above baby trapping you, i will if needed

⤷ osarpiastri When is that ever needed?

⤷ lando when someone else has my girls attention dafuq

⤷ olliebearmen oh lando don’t play about herrr

francolapinto why can’t we all just kiss? just for fun you know? so in a few years we can be like omg remember that time we all kissed hahaha

⤷ yn so there’s this river…

[landosangel]

I'm fucking cracking up lmao 😭

[ladylelee]

She watches training with her dad. Lamine misses an easy shot. Without realising he can hear her, she mutters, “Even i would’ve scored that.” He turns around and says “…Would u?”

alter it however u want

A challenge

Synopsis: Your mockery of Lamine’s bad kick does not end well

Pairings: Lmaine yamal x fem!reader

Tw: fluff, reader doesn't know lamine well

It was an open training day, and anyone could come watch Barcelona players' morning exercises at the open neighborhood stadium. Luckily for you, your father had connections that got him seats for the two of you in the very front row, right in front of the players, close enough to see everything clearly. Since the stadium was open there were no barriers between the pitch and the stands, and they were very close to each other. The place wasn't really crowded either — just people from the neighborhood and acquaintances of the players.

You sat there swinging your leg with boredom on your seat. Your father had disappeared with an acquaintance he'd run into by chance, and you hadn't really been interested in coming — but your father had insisted. You watched the players taking turns lining up toward the goal, each one taking his shot.

Finally it came to the last person's turn, after which the training would finally end. He had tan skin and curly hair with blonde highlights, and a clean fade that looked like it had been cut yesterday. You remembered seeing him before — Lamine Yamal or something like that.

The boy approached the ball, and despite the high confidence radiating from his body suggesting he never missed, he completely botched what was a totally easy shot.

"Even I would've scored that." you said sarcastically — before stopping when you noticed him turning toward you.

Did he hear you...?

You were very close to the pitch but Seriously

He went and took the ball from the goalkeeper, and instead of heading to the substitutes' bench, he was walking toward you. Something about what was happening felt off-script — why on earth was he coming toward you?

"Would you?" he said when he got close in front of you, his height blocking the sunlight from you. You could see the thickness of his eyebrows from this proximity.

"What..."

He surprised you by throwing the ball against your chest and gesturing for you to come with him, heading toward the front of the goal.

"He's not serious..." When you noticed that everyone had already been looking at you the whole time, you got up from your seat and went to him.

He took the ball from your arms and placed it on the ground. You looked at the goalkeeper during that, who also seemed confused, not knowing whether to take his position or not.

When you looked back at him he was already looking at you, pointing at the ball. "Kick."

"Like — a goal?"

"Yes, a goal."

His expression was completely neutral. The whole thing was strange — bizarre — but if kicking the ball would get you out of all this, you'd do it.

Or so you thought.

Your shot was a failure. The goalkeeper caught it with zero effort. Some of the crowd clapped for you — maybe to honor your attempt despite it being a complete failure, or for the sake of this strange little performance.

He stood there watching your sorry ball roll away, hands on his hips, before you heard him mutter sarcastically: "Even I would've scored that.."

Questions started piling up in your head. Seriously? He did all that because of what you said?

"Isn't it better for players to have some sportsmanship?"

He finally turned toward you and looked more natural now — he was being completely sarcastic, and it suited his face in a strange way that felt more natural than neutrality. Had your failed shot made him happy? "Sportsmanship? I don't really care about labels like that."

"Do you take revenge on every fan who annoys you? You seem sensitive," you mocked.

Your words seemed to hit a nerve but he pretended otherwise, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's your name?"

You'd wanted to tease him a little more, but you told him your name. He moved his lips slightly pronouncing it, then said: "Since you have a long tongue, I suggest we give you another chance — how about a challenge between us? Three goals. If you win, I'll give you three signed jerseys. If you lose, you'll come to all this week's training sessions and collect the balls for me."

You couldn't stop your laugh from escaping "And what do I want with signed jerseys? I'd rather not participate."

He smiled at that. "You don't want to know how much those signed jerseys could make you if you sold them."

That hit home. Damn — you really did want to make some money to buy the things you liked… and he was genuinely very famous as you remembered. What was the harm in participating? His shot was as bad as yours… there might actually be a chance you could win.

When he noticed you getting lost in your thoughts, he interrupted. "So — yes or no?"

"Fine."

---

The coach agreed to the challenge and was even pleased by it. Everyone thought this challenge would give them a nice break for a light activity. Word had even reached the crowd — including your father, who was completely shocked to find you inside the pitch.

"Alright, three goal each."

True, your playing was terrible, but you had at least some basics from years of watching — like the fact that you needed to decide the direction of your shot before kicking, and not stare at the goal too long so the goalkeeper wouldn't anticipate where it was going.

You took a breath, hands on your hips. Even though you weren't wearing anything athletic today, you suddenly felt confident.

You ran, intending to shoot right, and —

Boom.

Goal!

You ran happily and jumped celebrating in front of the crowd and your father, who applauded you with genuine admiration — and right in front of Lamine specifically. You'd wanted to annoy him, but even while doing so, you couldn't believe you'd actually scored!

---

Lamine stood there hands on his hips with irritation, watching you celebrate in front of him. What an annoying girl. His turn came after your little festival was over and he placed the ball in front of the goal. He shoots and —

The goalkeeper saves it!

What a shock. The small crowd was already buzzing from what was happening. You were jumping with joy at the unbelievable turn of events, while Lamine spat on the ground in frustration.

"Don't celebrate too early."

He came beside you and gave you a condescending look. "You don't know who I am."

"Oh, I think there's no need for me to know."

A vein in his head snapped. Damn, this girl was completely insufferable!

"We'll see."

Now it was your turn to shoot. You noticed the crowd's noise — they seemed completely excited for you now. Unlike the first time, they hadn't expected anything from you. You felt anxiety prickling your heart and a drop of sweat fall from your forehead. Why had this suddenly become serious?

Focus. Just do what you did before — pick your target and kick.

And —

The goalkeeper saves it!

Disappointment slid from the top of your head down to the soles of your feet. You covered your face and sighed. "Damn." You didn't want to look at his face, but you did without control and saw him smiling a provocative smile at you.

He took the ball the goalkeeper threw toward him and came beside you. He was sweating now, just like you, and you envied him his athletic clothes.

"So, ambitions have already dropped, have they?"

You huffed. "What are you talking about — mind your own business, or you'll miss this kick too."

"We'll see."

Lamine set up the ball, stood in position, and kicked.

Goal!

Lamine ran to the crowd with a wide smile showing his braces, doing his signature 304 celebration.

"It's just a challenge, why is he so proud," you muttered, biting your lip. You were tied now. The last attempt would decide the winner.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what."

"What you said in the stands."

It was starting to seem like he genuinely wanted you to apologize for what you'd said, but now that things had gone this far, you were never going to give him the satisfaction.

"No."

He studied you for a moment then said: "You're stubborn, aren't you?"

"And you're arrogant."

"I'm not — on the contrary, I proved your words wrong from the very first time, but you still haven't changed your opinion."

"Whatever."

He smiled at that — it seemed he'd gotten under your skin, and that pleased him.

---

The third and final attempt. You stood at the goal, more nervous than ever before — and this was truly the worst scenario to happen. When you went to shoot, in reckless fear, you kicked the ball wide, far outside the goal.

You exhaled a heavy sigh, covering your face with your hands in frustration. Damn, damn — the excitement had gotten to you when you accepted this challenge. You were waiting for a laugh or sarcastic remark to come your way when you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey."

You said with irritation: "What — did you come to mock me?"

"You still haven't lost, you know," he said calmly.

"I'm going to lose. You'll definitely score this goal. Look — I was wrong, okay? You're a skilled player. It was a mistake for me to get into a challenge with you."

"I didn't expect you to admit it this early."

"Happy now?"

"No — you still haven't taken back what you said in the stands."

You bit your lip. "But I wasn't actually lying! It was an easy shot… at least from a spectator's point of view."

"Is that how you want to play this?"

"It's not like you'll cancel the challenge if I take it back anyway."

Your words seemed to make your final position clear to him, so he smiled, then went and got the ball and set it in place, and the goalkeeper took his position too.

"Watch."

And Lamine ran and scored in front of you the easiest goal you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn.

He'd completely destroyed you.

Lamine jumped in front of the crowd as he celebrated and said loudly: "Everyone here is a witness to the result of this challenge, aren't they?"

The crowd responded enthusiastically with yes. Damn — you'd genuinely been the entertainment for these people today.

While Lamine was celebrating with his teammates, you headed to the edge of the pitch intending to go back up to your previous seat in the stands, before a hand on your arm stopped you.

"Hold on — drink some water."

You looked at that annoying curly hair, those thick eyebrows, and those gleaming eyes. That had completely ruined your day. Completely. You took the water from his hand in anger and started drinking it.

"Easy."

You swallowed the water hard and breathed. "I am never taking back what I said — it doesn't matter that I lost, or that I'll be running after you collecting balls. Dream on if you think I'll take it back, Lamine Yamal."

Lamine laughed and grabbed your shoulders in a sudden move. "Even though you're annoying — I'm starting to like you."

Red flooded your cheeks but you quickly pushed his hands away and said: "And you're annoying! So incredibly annoying, damn." You ran back to your spot and heard Lamine say behind you with laughter:

"Don't forget to come on Sunday!"

Taglist: @agirlallalonee @random34674 @atomicneophytecitadel @skiicoreee @sandycane

[dixheuresdix]

BET;

⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗

lamine yamal x f!reader.

dating.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: lamine made a bet: if he won the world cup, he would grow his beard. update: it's time.

“listen, if we win the world cup,” he had said confidently, “i won’t shave for three weeks.”

okay so, spain actually won. which meant he was now legally bound, according to approximately half the internet, to keep his promise.

the first few days were uneventful, there wasn’t much to see.

every morning he would stand in front of the bathroom mirror, squinting dramatically.

“is it growing?”

you looked over his shoulder.

“...a little,” you lied.

he smiled proudly. “really?”

“yeah, if i use my imagination.”

“you’re supposed to support me!”

“don't worry,” you tapped his back. “i’m supporting the three little hairs fighting for their lives.”

“leave.”

you laughed all the way back to the bedroom.

by the end of the first week it actually started becoming noticeable with a darker jawline and the beginning of a mustache.

you stopped in the middle of his kitchen while he searched something in the fridge.

“you’re looking at me weird.”

you walked closer and tilted his chin toward the light, gently brushing your thumb across his jaw. the tiny hairs scratched your skin.

“it’s working.”

his grin appeared immediately. “i told you.”

“it’s sexy.”

lamine froze completely and raised his eyebrows. “what?”

you nodded absentmindedly still looking at him.

“yeah.”

“thought you’d hate it,” he smiled embarrassed.

“why would i hate it?”

“i don't know.”

you laughed. “you look really handsome though.”

lamine stared then reached for his phone and open the front camera. turn his head left, right, left, right, checking himself.

you laughed. “did your ego really need that?”

“yes,” he smiled proudly. “say it again.”

“no.”

“please.”

“absolutely not.”

he followed you around his apartment for the next ten minutes.

“just once.”

“no.”

“you said handsome!”

“i regret saying it.”

“too late,” he looked at you for several seconds then leaned a little closer towards you. “kiss me then.”

you laughed. “why?”

“i need a confirmation.”

“of what?”

“whether the beard makes me more attractive.”

you shook your head but leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, then on his cheek.

the stubble brushed gently against your skin, slightly scratchy.

“i support the beard.”

he raised his arms with a huge grin. “yes!”

eventually, three weeks passed much faster than you expected, which meant the bet was officially over. you walked into the bathroom one morning to find lamine standing in front of the mirror with a razor in his hand.

“well,” he sighed. “the bet’s over.”

“bye bye, sexy beard.”

dixheuresdix, like and comment <3

[oscnoopy]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫 - 𝐥𝐧𝟏

lando norris x reader₊⊹ smau + written

someone in monaco is driving around your dream car — a porsche 911 gt3 rs. you are determined to find out who the driver is.

note: inspired by max fewtrell being obsessed with lando's porsche. set vaguely during the 2026 season. this is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me 🙏 inde as the fc bc i havent been able to stop thinking abt her after watching obsession LOL. please check the warnings on this one and i hope you guys enjoy :3 word count: 3.4k warnings : smut (18+ mdni), oral (m receiving), semi public sex (parking garage and a public road), car sex, messy reader, cheating (kind of—lines are a little blurry. reader isn't afraid to be a homewrecker, you've been warned.) magui (if you're a fan of her maybe skip this one), swearing fc: inde navarrette

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

view story replies:

user: GIRL LMAOOOO user: oh you’re gonna be insufferable about this fucking car aren’t you ↳yourusername: YESSIR

user: please you’re so embarrassing 😭😭 ↳yourusername: leave me alone unless ur gonna tell me who drives that damn car ↳user: MOVE ON ↳yourusername: DIE ↳user: omg my fav actress told me to die ↳user: #cancelled ↳yourusername: STOP IT

view story replies: 

user: what are you even doing in monaco?? filming something? ↳yourusername: staying with my cousin and her bf for the summer 🫶

user: there ain’t shit to do in monaco go somewhere else ↳yourusername: lowkey ur right bro this place sucks

kikagomes: Pierre wants to go to this car meetup thing tonight if you want to come with us. ↳yourusername: SAY LESSS

user: you’re so pretty please don’t move to monaco for tax evasion ↳yourusername: lmaooo i’m crying ↳yourusername: just visiting <3

yourusername just posted

liked by kikagomes, and others

yourusername: some guy said my nissan skyline gtr was ugly? my baby? he’s lucky i don’t have a gun.

view all comments:

user: this caption is taking me out lmfao do you not have a pr team? ⤷yourusername: they can’t control me user: omg yn you’re so pretty- KIKA GOMES??? user: hold on you know kika?? ⤷yourusername: we are related user: im crying how do you know kika but you dont know who drives the porsche youre obsessed with ⤷yourusername: wdym?? are u saying kika knows who drives it?? ⤷user: why don’t you ask her or pierre LOLLL kikagomes: ❤️🏎️

—

lando answers your call only seconds after it starts to ring. you’re met with the man who you’ve only seen through the windshield of his porsche. he’s smiling, though he looks a little bit confused.

“so uh-” lando speaks first, leaning closer to the camera to get a better look at you. “you are real.”

“very real,” you smile. “disappointed?”

“Nah, pleasantly surprised maybe.”

you blush at his words, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind your ear. the two of you stare at each other for a few moments, taking the other in. your initial interest in lando was due to his car, but you’re happy the man is so attractive. it’s definitely a bonus. you stay on facetime with lando for a bit, getting to know one another. he’s not subtle with his flirting, but you like it. 

“soooo, i passed your test?” you question him.

“maybe” he smirks at you, “think i’ll have to take you out to make sure.”

“give me a place and time and i’ll be there.”

“deal.”

—

view story replies:

lando: Damn🔥 ↳lando: Pretty girl ↳lando: Cant wait 2 see you tonight ↳yourusername: you want me so bad lol ↳lando: True.

yourusername just posted

liked by lando, pierregasly, and others

yourusername: i won btw

view all comments:

user: liked by LANDO??? user: what’s going on… user: don’t be shy, tell us who the man is 🎤 user: Something isn’t adding up 🤔

—

lando gets out of the car as you approach, walking around to the passenger side and opening the door. he greets you with a kiss on the cheek, placing a hand on the small of your back as you slip into the sleek lamborgini urus. he closes the door behind you and makes his way back around to the driver’s side door. lando starts the car and begins driving, placing his hand on your thigh while he focuses on the road. you can’t help but stare at him, his side profile draws you in. the slope of his nose and sharp jaw distracting you from the music playing quietly on the radio. 

he catches on to your staring, his lips twitching into a smirk. lando squeezes your thigh, turning to look at you as the car pulls to a stop at a red light.

“you should take a picture, baby. it’ll last longer.” 

“it’s a nice view, sue me.” you laugh, finally looking away from him. “keep your eyes on the road, mister.”

“yes ma’am.” he slides his hand higher up your leg, giving it another squeeze and turns his eyes back to the street, revving the engine and speeding off.

the drive is over quickly, monaco isn’t very big after all. lando pulls into the underground parking lot. you marvel at all the cars you see, keeping your eyes peeled for the dark green paint job you couldn’t stop thinking about. 

he stops the car and drives into a spot between a stunning deep blue lamborghini miura and the mclaren spider he’d driven the other night. you should have known a f1 driver would have a beautiful car collection, you look around in awe. 

lando hops out of the urus, coming to open the door for you again.

“c’mon pretty girl, i’ll show you around.” he grabs your hand, gently pulling you out of the car.

lando guides you through the garage, showcasing his expansive collection of cars. you’re unsurprised to see a number of mclarens, but the rosso corsa ferrari f40 has your jaw dropping. you never thought you’d see this car in person, though it does appear on many of your pinterest boards. 

your attention is drawn away from the ferrari as the two of you approach the end of the garage and you see the car that put you in this situation. the dark green carbon fibre almost sparkles in the bright fluorescent lights of the parking garage. you slide your hand across the side of the porsche, the white and black interior calling to you. you’ve never wanted to drive a car so badly, you’re basically frothing at the mouth over it.

lando laughs, coming up behind you and gripping your waist with both hands. “seems like you’re more interested in this car than you are me.” he rests his chin on your shoulder, pouting as he joins you in admiring the car. “is this your favorite?”

“yep.” you smile, leaning back into his hold. “what’s a girl gotta do to take her for a joy ride?” 

you turn your head toward him, bringing your face closer to his, and giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“sorry love, we’re not there yet.” he apologizes, letting go of your waist and turning you around so you’re face to face. “i showed you my cars, now how about my reward?”

he pushes you up against the porsche, holding your jaw with one hand and your waist with the other. gripping your jaw, he pulls your face closer, staring at your mouth. you smile and lean in, pressing your hands against his chest. lando kisses you hard and full of want, tilting your head up for a better angle. 

you grip his shirt in your hands, biting his lip as you pull away from the kiss. you push him away from you, switching your positions so that he’s the one leaning against the dark green exterior.

you kiss him again and he slides a hand into your hair and breaks away from your mouth, gently guiding you onto your knees. you kneel in front of lando, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you rest your hands at the waistband of his jeans.

“let me fulfill my end of our deal.” you say, popping the button on his pants and slowly unzipping them. “what was it you said before? it’s all about give and take?”

lando lets out a breathless laugh, using his hands to keep your hair pulled away from your face. “i’ll take whatever you want to give me, baby.” 

you slide his jeans down onto the ground, sliding your hands up his thighs. you mouth at his cock through his calvin klein boxers. he’s hard, throbbing beneath the fabric, a wet spot already forming. 

“fuck.” lando sighs, his hands in your hair gripping tighter. “don’t tease.”

“so demanding.” you smirk, looking up at him. you slip your fingers into the elastic of his boxers, tugging them down his legs. “let me take my time.”

his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. he’s bigger than you expected and you lick your lips, eager to taste him. you stroke him a few times before taking him into your mouth, teasing his tip with your tongue. lando groans from above you, swearing and his hips jerking.

“shit.”

you pull back, taking a breath, and licking a stripe up his cock. you gather your saliva in your mouth, spitting on the head to make your strokes smoother. you bob your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. your nose brushes the soft hairs at the base of his cock and you take a deep breath, taking in his scent, his taste. you pull off of him again, using your hand to stroke his shaft. you look up at lando and see that his eyes are closed, his mouth open.

“you like that?” you ask, leaning forward to circle his sensitive head with your tongue. you smirk when he lets out a whine at your teasing. 

“yes, fuck. it’s so good.” lando moans, finally looking at you again. “don’t stop.”

he removes one of his hands from your hair, reaching down to guide his cock into your mouth again. with his other hand, he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him deeper. you moan around his cock, your eyes tearing up.

“is this okay?” 

you hum around him in agreement, covering his hand with your own, directing him to keep going. 

“you’re so good.” the sounds lando lets out are music to your ears, moaning and whining. he’s more vocal than anyone you’ve been with before. you’re glad the two of you are in a private parking garage, because the man refuses to keep quiet. not that you’re complaining. 

you let lando set the pace, guiding your head up and down his cock. you can tell he’s getting close when he holds you against his pelvis, feeling him tense up.

“you gonna be a good girl and swallow for me?”

you nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth and his hands holding your head in place. he groans and his hips jerk when he releases into your mouth. you take everything he gives you, swallowing around him. you pull off of him, breathless and he finally releases your hair. you look up at the man, his cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. 

“holy shit.” lando breathes out, looking down at you. “i think i just lost some braincells.”

you giggle, wiping your lips as you stand up. your knees ache from the harsh pavement but you relish in the pain.

“did you have any in the first place?” 

“funny.” he rolls his eyes, bending down to pull his boxes and pants back on. “c’mon, let’s go inside. i’m not done with you yet.” 

—

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yourusername: this is how you deal with a shit race

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lando: I won this time ⤷yourusername: if u call pocketing half the balls while i wasn’t looking “winning” then yeah you did user: damn lando takes a year to even acknowledge magui and here he is only a few months into being with yn interacting with her publicly lmao user: they’re so cute together i’ll kms if they ever break up user: lando let her drive ur damn porsche ⤷yourusername: what they said user: he’s had the shittiest time bro throw the whole season away atp 😭😭

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user: i just know ur mad af sitting in that passenger seat ↳yourusername: you got me

user: do you think he picks you up in the porsche specifically to irritate you? ↳yourusername: yes

—

lando drives you through the winding roads above monaco, the windows are down and music plays low on the radio. the view of the coast is breathtaking from up here, the yachts in the riviera are only white specks dotting the vast blue of the sea. lando hums along to the music, his hand in its favorite place on your thigh. your eyes are drawn away from the view as you notice lando bringing the car to a stop, pulling to the side of the road. you turn to look at him, confused.

“is something wrong?”

he ignores you, getting out of the car and coming around to open your door. 

“c’mon baby, it’s your turn.” he helps you out of the car, placing his hands on your waist once you’re standing in front of him. 

“really?” you squint at him in suspicion. “this isn’t a prank?”

he laughs at you, squeezing your hips. “no baby, it’s for real. you’ve earned it.”

you beam at him, reaching up and grabbing his face. “i love you.” it might be a little soon to say those words but you know they’re true.

“more than the car?” he asks, pouting at you.

“i wouldn’t go that far.” you can tell he’s about to argue with your words, so you kiss him instead. he smiles against your lips, pulling you closer. his hands on your waist slip under your top, sliding up your back and sides. you pull away from the kiss quickly, too eager to get behind the wheel of the porsche. he lets you go, taking your seat on the passenger side.

“you have no clue how long i’ve been wanting to do this.” you say, giddy with excitement.

“no way, really?” his voice is full of sarcasm. “i had no idea.”

“shut up.” you reply, revving the engine and speeding down the road. lando wasn’t ready for you to go from 0 to 100 and the man slams back against the seat.

“jesus, woman. slow down.” he grips the seatbelt, bracing himself. “i’m regretting this.”

you just laugh maniacally in response and whip the car around a hairpin. you cheer, feeling exhilarated as the wind blows your hair all over the place. “i love this fucking car!” 

lando lets you drive his car for a while and you’re grateful for it. you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this feeling. this porsche has ruined you for all other cars, nothing else will compare. you hope lando knows now that he’s let you drive it once, you have no plans to stop.

he directs you to pull over to a quiet, private spot of road. you listen to him, stopping the car and cutting the engine. you rest your head against the seat behind you, a bright grin on your face. your cheeks hurt from it and you giggle to yourself. you turn your head to see lando smiling at you, taking in your happiness. 

“thank you, lando.” you reach out, grabbing his hand. “seriously.”

“you’re welcome, baby.” he squeezes your hand and pulls it up to his mouth, placing a kiss there. “did you have fun?”

“sooo much fun,” you reply, letting go of his hand and moving to take the seat belt off. lando does the same, but you stop him before he can open the car door to switch seats. you maneuver yourself over the middle console and take a seat in his lap. you straddle him and he rests his hands on your ass giving one cheek a little slap. 

“what are you doing, hmm?” he leans back, looking up at you. 

you reach a hand up into his hair, brushing it through his curls and he leans into your touch. “i think i better show you how much i appreciate this.”

“yeah?” he whispers, his cheeks beginning to flush.

“yeah.” you respond, pressing yourself closer and grinding against him. he’s already hard in his sweats, groaning as you rub on him. 

lando moves one of his hands between you, slipping up your skirt and inside your panties. the fabric is damp from your wetness and he groans when he feels how slick you are. 

“is this all from me, baby?” he rubs his fingers between your folds, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“y-yeah” you moan when one of his fingers slips inside you. “you and the car.” you giggle, leaning down to kiss him.

he pulls back from you, a bewildered look on his face. “driving my car has you this wet?” 

“i told you i fucking love this car.”

“you’re insane, woman.”

“you like it.” you remove his hand from your panties, sitting back and managing to take them fully off without too much difficulty. lando watches you shove your hands in his waistband and lifts his hips to make pulling down his sweatpants easier. he’s not wearing underwear, how unsurprising. 

freed from his pants, his hard cock stands at attention, red and leaking. you spit into your hand and give it a few good strokes. he moans and pushes your hand aside, gripping himself and rubbing his cock between your folds, paying special attention to your clit. you whine at his teasing, annoyed.

“get on with it, lan,” you moan. “need you inside me.”

“yeah, you need my cock?” he continues the teasing, “should i give you what you want?”

“p-please” you pout at him. “want you to fill me up.”

“okay, baby. since you’ve been so good for me.” he lifts you up finally slipping his cock inside you. you moan at the stretch of him, no longer feeling empty. he gives you time to adjust to his size, pressing his face into your neck and breathing deeply. “ready?”

you nod your head and lift up onto your knees before going back down. he grips your hips and guides your movement. his fingers dig into your sides, sure to leave bruises. lando leans back, looking down at where the two of you meet, watching you take his cock. 

he groans as you grind down onto him, lifting his hips to match your rhythm. you whimper when he moves a hand back to your clit, rubbing with his thumb. you clench around him and he swears. the car is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and his grunts. the stimulation to your clit has you seeing stars and you can feel him twitch inside you.

“lan-lando, will you come inside me?” you manage to ask between moans, “p-please, baby”

“fuck” lando groans at your question holding your hips and grinding up against you. “you want me to fill up this pretty pussy?”

“please, please, please.” you moan, clenching tighter around his cock. you’re so close and he’s right there with you. 

the windows of the car are fogging over and you pant against lando’s mouth as you bounce on his cock. he grunts when you squeeze around him, continuing to rub your clit. “c’mon baby, come for me and then i’ll give you what you want.”

his words have you coming around his cock and he holds you down while you shake from your release. he lifts you up and down a few more times before he’s grunting and coming inside you. you moan as you feel his cum fill you up. you fall forward, leaning against him and catch your breath. you can feel him dripping out of you, his cock not enough to keep his cum inside. 

lando runs his hands through your hair, petting your head. you lean back and flinch when you move, still sensitive with him inside you. you lift off of him and his seed drips out of you, his cock glistening from both of your releases. you lean into him, pressing your mouth against his and he kisses you back, rubbing his hands up and down your back. 

“can i drive us home?” you ask when you end the kiss, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“sure baby, whatever you want.”

—

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yourusername: i hope he doesn’t think i’m giving the keys back to this car

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user: he finally let you drive it? omg user: now lando is the passenger princess 👸🏻 ⤷yourusername: he looks so pretty in the passenger seat 🤭 right where he belongs! maxfewtrell: Can we share custody of it? ⤷yourusername: as if user: dreams really do come true lando: Baby i know you love it but thats my car ⤷yourusername: did yall hear something? ⤷user: lando just buy her one and then all ur problems will be solved! ⤷yourusername: you got the right idea over here ⤷lando: I think that might be my only option atp

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[hunnibunny303]

JOBE BELLINGHAM- DIGI CAM ⋆˙⟡

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Synopsis .☘︎ ݁˖-you just wanted one picture with Jobe Bellingham during your family vacation. No big deal. Just a cute memory to look back on. One viral post later, and your life is turned upside down you definitely didn't expect the entire internet to think you're a couple. Now the picture is everywhere,and a certain Birmingham boy found it and from that moment led to another unforgettable memory.

Genre .☘︎ ݁˖- Fluff/ family fluff, and a bit of rom com vibes, Fem!reader

Warnings .☘︎ ݁˖- none

Wc.☘︎ ݁˖- 4.8k

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You gave your reflection one final, critical  in the full-length mirror. The soft, flowy skirt you’d thrown over your bikini swished around your thighs, and the top caught the light in just the right way. It was perfect. You grabbed your trusty digital camera, the one that had documented every family holiday for the past five years and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“Y/N! We’re leaving without you!” your cousin’s muffled voice echoed from the hallway outside your hotel room.

“Coming!” you yelled back, but by the time you’d slipped on your sandals and opened the door, you heard the distant ding of the elevator doors closing. Classic. You were always the last one ready.

You sighed, a small smile on your lips. It was fine. You’d been to this resort twice before with your family; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. The walk to the fire-pit near the beach was only two minutes, a path lit by tiki torches and the fading glow of the setting sun.

As you stepped out of the elevator and into the open-air lobby, you felt eyes on you immediately. A few resort staff members and guests glanced your way, and one of the female staff, holding a tray of welcome cocktails, gave you a warm smile. “You look very lovely this evening, miss!” she said as you passed.

“Thank you,” you replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

The moment you stepped onto the sandy path leading to the beach, you noticed it: a commotion. A large crowd of people had gathered near the resort’s beachfront bar, phones held high, a chorus of excited shouts and camera clicks filling the calm evening air. You couldn’t quite make out the who or what was causing the storm 

And then, a figure detached himself from the chaos.

He was tall, with a familiar build and a head of dark curls that you’d recognise anywhere. He backed away from the crowd,  his mother,Denise, laughing softly at his side as he watched the scene unfold. It was a scene you’d only ever seen on social media: Jude Bellingham, engulfed by fans, and his girlfriend caught in the whirlwind. But your eyes weren’t on Jude.

They were fixed on his younger brother.

Jobe.

Your stomach dropped, a strange mix of nerves and excitement flooding your system. Your feet felt like they were glued to the sand. “Should I ask for a picture? “a frantic voice screamed in your head. “Or should I just walk past him like I haven’t just memorised every goal he’s scored this season?”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. This wasn't a scenario you'd ever rehearsed. You were on a family holiday, in a flowy skirt and a bikini top, clutching a digital camera like a tourist. And he was Jobe Bellingham, looking effortlessly cool in a simple t-shirt and shorts, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched his brother’s fame unfold from a safe distance.

It was now or never.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked towards him, your steps feeling both too loud and too quiet on the soft sand. He turned his head, his gaze shifting from the crowd to you. He looked at you, his expression momentarily stunned, as if he wasn’t used to people approaching him first.

Say something, you idiot!

“Um, hey, Jobe?” you managed, your voice a little higher than you’d intended. You forced a pleasant smile, hoping it looked more confident than you felt. “Is it okay if I ask for a picture?”

For a split second, he didn't say a word. He just blinked, his dark eyes scanning your face with an unreadable intensity. Then, a small, surprised smile tugged at his lips. He glanced at his mom, Denise, who was watching the interaction with a curious, knowing glint in her eyes. He looked back at you, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

“Uh… yeah, sure, sure, of course,” he said, his voice laced with that soft, melodic Brummie accent that made your insides flutter. It was deeper in person, more real.

You were half-expecting a polite ‘no’ or a ‘sorry, I’m busy’. The fact that he’d agreed so readily, so genuinely, made a wave of pure joy crash over you. “Oh!? Oh my god, yes!” you squeaked, your tense expression dissolving into a wide, beaming smile.

You fumbled with your phone, unlocking it and opening the camera app. You angled it up, trying to find a good shot, but you could see in the viewfinder that the lighting was off, and the angle was awkward. You were just about to settle for it when Jobe noticed your struggle.

“Here, lemme take it for you,” he offered, holding out his large, tanned hand. You placed your phone in his palm, your fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second. A jolt of electricity shot up your arm, and you were certain he felt it too.

He stretched his arm up high, and you shuffled to stand beside him, very aware of the significant height difference. You looked up at the camera, feeling like a total dwarf next to him. Denise watched with a soft, maternal smile, her gaze flickering between you both.

Just as Jobe was about to lower the phone, you caught a glimpse of the sky behind him. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of orange, pink, and purple. It was a perfect, impossibly romantic backdrop.

“NO, JOBE, WAIT!” you burst out, your hand instinctively flying to his shoulder to stop him. Your fingers gripped the soft fabric of his t-shirt, your excitement getting the better of you. You were talking to him like he was an old friend, the celebrity status completely forgotten in the face of the stunning sunset. “I need one on my digi camera! This sunset is amazing! I need this.” You gestured wildly with your other hand towards the sky, your eyes wide and pleading. He looked down at you, your hand still resting on his shoulder, your face lit up with the golden hues of the sun, and let out a low, amused chuckle. His expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t look away from you, not even for a second. He was captivated.

“Oh, yeah, that would be sick, mate,” he said, his accent thickening slightly. “Let’s do it.”

He turned to his mother. “Mom, can you take these for us?” He asked, holding out your digital camera.

Denise walked over, a knowing smile on her lips. She took the camera from you, her fingers brushing yours. She looked between you and her son, a silent understanding passing between them.

You and Jobe stood side-by-side, facing Denise. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even realise what was happening. His arm naturally found its way around your waist, his large hand resting on the curve of your hip. You instinctively leaned into him, your head falling gently against his shoulder, your hand coming to rest on his solid waist. You felt the warmth of his hand through your thin skirt, his fingers caressing the fabric gently, almost absentmindedly. It felt so natural, so right.

Denise raised the camera. “1… 2… 3…”

The flash went off, and you both blinked rapidly, the bright light leaving spots in your vision. You pulled away slightly, still rubbing your eyes, and walked over to Denise.

“Thank you so much, Momma Bellingham!” you exclaimed, grinning as you reached for your camera.

Denise chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. “I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, amused by the unexpected nickname.

You and Jobe continued to chat for a few minutes as Jude started to wrap things up with the last few fans. He seemed in no rush to leave your company.

“So… um, I hope you’re doing better after that injury you got last game,” you said, looking up at him.

He tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “Ay, how’d you know about that?” he asked, his tone genuinely intrigued.

“I watch all of your games, silly,” you said, a soft smile on your lips. Great, now I sound like a stalker (you thought to yourself after your remark).

His expression melted. The playful curiosity was replaced by something deeper, something softer. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. “Is that so, huh?” he breathed, his voice low. “Well… I really appreciate that, mate. I don’t think you truly know how much that means.”

You knew your face was flaming now, but you didn’t care. The sincerity in his voice hit

you right in the chest. “I even got tickets for the next upcoming game next month,” you quickly added. “It’ll be my first match I’ll watch in person. Hopefully, you’ll be playing.”

“C’mon, you know I’ll be there!” he said, grinning. He started to tell you about the new training drills he’d been working on, and his excitement was palpable. But you were lost. You couldn't concentrate on a single word he was saying.

He was even more handsome in person., the straight, white flash of his smile, the sheer breadth of his shoulders… he was even taller than you’d expected. Your gaze traced the line of his jaw, the small mole near his eyebrow, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football.

You were so obviously checking him out that you didn’t even realise you’d started looking down, a shy smile playing on your lips, trying to avoid his gaze. The air between you both crackled with unspoken electricity.

Denise watched everything, her eyes sharp and analytical. She’d seen that look before, in her husband’s eyes, in Jude’s eyes. She saw the way her son’s hand had lingered on your waist, the way his voice had softened, the way he was hanging on your every word. She knew. And the knowing smile that touched her lips was undeniable.

A few moments later, Jude and Ashlyn finally made their way over. The reality of the situation crashed back down around you.

“I better get going now,” you said, a little abruptly, cutting off Jobe mid-sentence. You hadn’t even heard his last question.

You turned to leave, but Jobe’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. His touch was warm, sending another shockwave through your system. Your heart hammered as you turned back, your eyes wide.

“Hey, wait,” he said, a soft, almost hopeful smile on his lips. “You didn’t give me your name?”

It was once again another shocker. You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up with reality. You hadn't even registered he'd asked such a question during his rant about training drills and upcoming fixtures.

"Oh, sorry," you said, letting out a breathy laugh. "I didn't even know you asked that, Jobe."

You gave him your name, your voice barely above a whisper. Part of you wondered why the hell he would even need to know it. You were just another fan, another face in the crowd. Tomorrow, he'd probably have a hundred more people asking for pictures, and your name would slip from his memory like water through fingers. You'd probably never see each other in such a moment again. Before parting ways, you couldn't help yourself. A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you looked him up and down, taking in his tall frame one last time.

"Not like you'll remember my name by next month anyway," you teased, your tone light and airy. Jobe's eyebrows shot up, a look of mock offense crossing his handsome face. "Watch!" he called after you as you started to walk away, his voice carrying that warm Brummie lilt. "I wouldn't... hopefully I will see you at the game, yeah?"

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching his eye one last time. He was still watching you, a small, lingering smile on his face. Denise was beside him, whispering something in his ear that made him duck his head and laugh.

You forced yourself to turn around and keep walking.

Don't look back again. Don't look back again.

You didn't.

The night went back to normal after you both parted ways. The festival music pulsed through the warm beach air, the fire crackled, and your family's laughter filled your ears. But yet, every single interaction you'd had with him kept replaying in your head on an endless loop.

The way his hand had felt on your waist.

The way his eyes had softened when you said you watched his games.

The way he'd said your name back to you, testing it on his tongue like he was committing it to memory.

You found your cousins near the fire-pit, huddled around the warm glow of the flames. They were all laughing, drinks in hand, clearly having the time of their lives without you. "Finally!" your cousin Mia shouted as you approached. "We thought you got lost!"You flopped down onto the log next to them, pulling out your phone. "You're never going to believe what happened to me." "Did you get hit on by the pool boy again?" your cousin Leah teased. "No," you said, a giddy smile spreading across your face. "Worse. Better. I don't even know." You opened your camera roll and shoved your phone in their faces. There it was. The picture Jobe had taken of you both. The one where the obvious height differences showed as you leaned up looking at the camera. The reaction was immediate.

"OH MY GOD!" Mia shrieked, grabbing the phone from your hands. "IS THAT JOBE BELLINGHAM?!"

"Wait, wait, wait—" Leah leaned in closer, her eyes wide. "You met JOBE? Like, the Jobe Bellingham?!"

"And Jude," you added nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "He was there too. But Jobe was the one I talked to."

"Great!" Mia threw her hands up. "The ONE moment I leave you behind, you meet freaking Jobe Bellingham... heck, even Jude!"

"I'm so jealous right now," Leah groaned, dramatically clutching her chest. "This is actually so unfair."

Your oldest cousin, Melanie, had been quiet, studying the picture with an analytical eye. She zoomed in, tilting her head, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"You both would look so cute as a couple," she said finally, her voice dripping with teasing. "Now that I'm looking at the picture properly... I mean, look at the way he's holding you. That's not just a  picture, Y/N. That's literally a moment."

Your cheeks immediately flushed. The thought of it, of you and Jobe Bellingham, together—made your stomach do a full somersault. You snatched your phone back, staring at the picture again.

"Ugh, I wish," you said, flopping yourself backward onto the sand, staring up at the starry sky. You felt utterly defeated. "You guys think he's still thinking about everything right now? Like... I can't just be ME, right? I'm just some random girl."

You sat up abruptly, your eyes wide. "I mean, I know he's famous and all," you continued, your voice gaining momentum. "But I swear, it felt like he was a little interested. If only you’d see the way he looked at me? That wasn't just a fan picture. That was—"

"You're a beautiful girl," Melanie interrupted, her voice firm and reassuring. "Even I wouldn't pass up a face like yours."

"Exactly!" Mia chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, he's probably trying to find your social media as we speak. Like, why else would he want to know your name? If you were just another fan, he would've taken the picture and moved on. But he ASKED. That means something."

"Maybe he's already googling you," Leah added with a mischievous grin. "He's probably scrolling through your Instagram right now, trying to figure out how to slide into your DMs."

All these back-to-back remarks made you laugh. Hard. Your cousins sure knew how to support your delusions. They had you believing that maybe, just maybe, something had actually happened between you and Jobe Bellingham.

But you didn't want to spend the whole night talking about a boy. You were on holiday with your family, surrounded by warmth and love and the sound of the ocean. You decided to forget that whole thing had happened for a moment.

"Alright, enough about Jobe," you announced, standing up and brushing the sand off your skirt. "Who's ready for some more pictures?"

You pulled out your digital camera, the one that had started this whole mess, and spent the rest of the night capturing moments. Your cousins goofing off. The sunset finally disappeared into the dark ocean. The fire crackled. Your aunt attempting to dance and almost tripping over a log.

You laughed until your stomach hurt. You sang along to the festival music. You ate too much s'mores and got sand absolutely everywhere.

But in the back of your mind, one thought lingered.

Jobe Bellingham asked for my name.

It was stupid. It was delusional. It was absolutely, positively nothing.

But still.

He asked.

Coming back to your hotel room, you could hear the muffled sounds of your family getting ready for bed in the adjoining rooms. The festival had worn everyone out, and the distant crash of waves was already sending  the resort into a peaceful silence.

You showered quickly, the warm water washing away the salt and sand from the evening. Wrapped in your comfiest pajamas, you pulled your laptop out and sat cross-legged on the plush hotel bed. Your digital camera was still heavy with memories from the night, and you couldn't wait to see how they'd turned out.

You transferred the pictures from your camera to your laptop, then from your laptop to your phone. The familiar process was almost meditative. Once everything was transferred, you opened your camera roll and began going through the moments you'd captured at the fire pit on the beach. You slid through each picture, critiquing every angle and lighting. Your cousin's mid-laugh. The fire crackling. Your aunt's disastrous dance moves. Each one brought a smile to your face.

You slid right once more.

And then you landed on it.

The one Denise had taken of you and Jobe.

Your hands flew to your mouth immediately, muffling the scream that threatened to escape. Your eyes went wide, practically bulging out of your head.

"This is  THEE vacation picture," you whispered, your voice trembling with immense excitement.

You stared at the screen, unable to look away. The sunset behind you both was absolutely breathtaking—swirls of orange, pink, and purple bleeding into the darkening sky. But that wasn't what had you frozen.

It was you and Jobe.

You were both smiling, looking so natural and comfortable with each other. Your head was resting against his shoulder, your hand placed casually on his waist. And his arm was wrapped around you, his large hand resting firmly on your hip.

You zoomed in, your breath catching in your throat.

"WHAT THE HECK?" you whispered, your voice pitching higher. "How did I not blow up in the moment when that happened?"

You zoomed in further, examining the way his fingers curved around your waist. His hand was massive—one hand was literally covering most of your waist. Only ONE hand. The warmth you'd felt in that moment came flooding back, and you could practically feel his touch again.

"His hand is literally covering most of my waist," you repeated, your cheeks burning. "We literally look like a couple."

You stared at the picture for what felt like hours, zooming in and out, examining every detail. The soft smile on his lips. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners. The way you looked so safe in his arms.

You couldn't wait to go home and post these pictures after your vacation. You already knew which one would be first.

1 Week Time Skip

It had been two days since you'd come home from vacation. The post-holiday blues had hit hard, but you'd finally unpacked, done your laundry, and settled back into your normal routine. And now, sitting in your childhood bedroom surrounded by the familiar comfort of your things, you felt like this was the best time to post your vacation dump to Instagram.

You opened the app, your thumb hovering over the upload button. You'd carefully curated the perfect slideshow, making sure to put the picture of you and Jobe first. It was the crown jewel of your entire trip—the moment that had replayed in your head a thousand times since that night.

Like last time, you were freshly showered, sitting in bed in the dead of night. The soft glow of your phone screen illuminated your face as you gave your pictures in the slideshow one last look through, seeing if you needed to add or remove anything before posting.

“Should I post it?” a nervous voice whispered in your head.” What if people think it's weird?” “ What if it comes off as obsessive?”

But then you looked at the picture again. By the way Jobe was holding you. At the genuine smiles on both your faces. It wasn't obsessive. It was a beautiful moment captured on camera.

"AND POST," you announced to no one, pressing the button immediately and placing your phone face down on your nightstand to avoid seeing any notifications.

You didn't want to obsess. You didn't want to refresh the page every five seconds waiting for likes.

Slowly, you dozed off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the surprise of your life.

Your eyes fluttered open, the morning sun streaming through your curtains. You reached for your phone, still half-asleep, and your thumb pressed the home button.

Your Lock Screen was filled with notifications. They were never-ending—every time you scrolled, more appeared at the bottom. Your heart started pounding as you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram.

Your jaw dropped.

The picture had gone viral overnight. Slightly viral, at least. You'd gained 130k likes—the most you'd ever gotten in your entire life. Your notifications were flooded, your DMs were overflowing, and your comments section was an absolute frenzy.

You scrolled through the comments, your eyes growing wider with each one:

"Are you two a couple?" "Very beautiful couple 😍"

"I'm a new fan of his,is this Jobe's girlfriend?!" "This picture is so Pinterest coded omg" "The way he's holding her... I'm crying" "Wait, is this real???"

And then you saw one from your cousin, mia: 

"YOU NEVER SHOWED ME THIS PICTURE OMG SO GORGEOUS YOU BOTH ARE!" "You're famous now :)"

This was all so much to process. You felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention brought to your account. You'd posted vacation photos before—you'd never gotten more than a hundred likes. And now, hundreds of thousands of people were looking at you.

Soon after, you saw messages from your family members coming in. You clicked on the one from your older uncle, who was a crazy football fan:

"Scrolling on Facebook and I saw this picture of you and the Bellingham brother. Is this real or AI?"

Then from your cousin chat:

"GIRL, you're currently trending on Twitter with that damn picture. It's literally everywhere."

You placed your phone down, just staring out the window for a while. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning.

"This feels so weird," you said aloud, your voice barely above a whisper. "So this is how it feels to go viral overnight, huh?"

But despite the overwhelm, you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face. You'd been bubbly the whole morning since that moment. Every time you checked your phone, the likes and followers kept climbing on your picture. It was surreal. And as the hours went by, as you did your daily routine, the numbers just kept growing. It was a matter of time until it stumbled upon Jobe's feed.

Across the country, the final whistle for training blew, and Coach called today's session to an end.

Jobe walked over to the locker room, his shirt drenched in sweat, talking to one of his teammates and good friend off the pitch, Carney.

"Finished earlier than expected today, huh?" Carney laughed, tossing his towel over his shoulder.

"Coach probably has a babe to meet at 6pm sharp," Jobe replied with a grin.

Both Jobe and Carney let out obnoxious snorts of laughter, causing the other mates to look their way. They weren't surprised—it was always them making the noise.

The atmosphere simmered down as they reached the locker room, and Jobe sat down on the bench, peeling his shirt off. He pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly at first, just doom-scrolling through his feed.

And then it happened.

Your picture appeared on his feed.

His thumb froze over the screen. His heart gave an unexpected lurch in his chest.

It was the picture. The one his mom had taken of you both at the resort. The one where his hand was resting on your waist. The one where you were both smiling like you'd known each other for years.

He read the caption, then scrolled to the comments. His ears grew redder by the moment as he read what was being said about you both:

"He would look amazing with you" "Are you his girlfriend?" "Beautiful couple 😍" "How does it feel to live my dream?" "Jobe needs to wife her up immediately"

He zoned out mid-way, his mind drifting back to that night on the beach. The way you'd walked up to him so confidently. The way your eyes had lit up when you talked about the sunset. The way you'd said you watched all his games. That kind of support you showed, that's the kind of support he wanted from someone dear to him. Someone who saw him for more than just a Jude Bellingham's little brother. Someone who genuinely cared.

And your eyes. Your smile. The way you'd looked at him like he was just a normal guy.

He wished he could go back to that moment again. He wished he could relive it.

"Jobe?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to find Carney staring at him with a suspicious expression.

"Dude, I'm talking to you," Carney said, tilting his head. "What has you so down in that damn phone, man?"

Jobe turned his phone off quickly, adjusting his voice, trying to sound casual. "What'd you ask,mate?"

Carney gave him a slow, side-eyed look. He knew Jobe was suddenly acting a bit funny, his face visibly super flustered all of a sudden. But he tried not to question it too much.

"...I said if we're still on for the game with the boys later?" Carney repeated slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, course we are," Jobe replied, his voice a little too quick. "Wouldn't miss it, lad."

Carney just nodded, still side-eyeing him, but let it drop.

Later that night, back at home away from the world, Jobe finally settled into his bed. The house was quiet, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic outside.

He pulled his phone back out.

He opened Instagram.

He went back to your account.

Just to watch it once more. Just to reminisce on the moment with you again. He scrolled through the pictures you'd posted. You with your family. You laughing at the fire pit. You looking beautiful in the golden hour light. And then the picture of you both, staring back at him like a reminder of something he couldn't quite let go of.

Finally, his thumb hovered over the like button.

He pressed it.

*Jobe Bellingham liked your post*.

Little did he know, something so small was about to add even more fuel to the raging fire over this picture that was already sending the football world into a frenzy.

Soon after, he went through your previous highlights, looking at pictures of you and the other moments you'd shared on social media. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you seemed so genuine and real.

It was taking everything in him in that moment to not DM you.

To not type out a message and send it into the void.

To not tell you how much that moment had meant to him.

But he held back. For now.

Back on your side, the moment THAT like came in, your phone buzzed with a notification.

"user Jobe Bellingham liked your post."

Your heart stopped.

You stared at the screen, your mouth falling open.

He found your account at last.

This was the night everything changed for your life. And subsequently, Jobe's own too.

.

.

.

.

author's note .☘︎ ݁˖- first story on Tumblr kinda nervous 😬

[honeysucklewatr]

jason todd can never fuck you without seeing your face.

he works himself up just to lean himself all the way over, breaking his neck just to kiss you. ignoring how his bones ached in protest and his hips bucked.

at first you think he’s just being sweet, not letting you suck him off because he wants you closer, or making you lay on your back instead of your stomach. his eyes watching yours and trailing across your face as though it was all he needed.

even when you closed your eyes, basked in the feeling of him and tried to get used to the stretch. jason didn’t even need words when they failed you, instead he read your face. felt how you tensed and your hands grabbed at his back. he cooed a response out of you.

“that feel good ma?” rasping with difficulty as you gasped softly. then you nodded and he cupped your cheek, voice soft as feathers as he spoke to you. “can you tell me how it feels?”

a shudder runs through you as he shifts his hips just barely. “good. it feels really, really good.”

then he smiles and rolls onto his back, pulling you into his lap as he did it. you sink back onto him so easily this time, sighing in unison as he seated himself fully inside. his hands fell to your ass, taking cupfuls as you fluttered your lashes at him when he began moving you. slowly at first but quickly his movements grew more frantic as the sounds rumbled from his chest and echoed through your skin, penetrating your thoughts in the same way he did your body.

jason loves to watch you lost yourself in it, seeing the hunger grow from your shyness and fucks you til you’re begging him for more. because you are as insatiable as he is and even more is never enough.

after he coaxes you through an orgasm and stares through half lidded eyes, you try changing the position yourself. though you fail, collapsing onto his chest and begging for more with that hoarse tone in your voice that told him you were exhausted.

jason could never deny his sweet girlfriend from his touch could he?

pulling off his lap, he moved to situate himself over you once again. pulling out just for a moment while you flop onto your stomach, sighing into the pillow dreamily. he blinks as he hovers over you, hand grazing your side as he says your name. swallowing thickly as the sight of you arching for him, stomach flat on the mattress as you pulled your arms under the pillow, burying your face into it and got more comfortable.

jason breathes heavier as he rasps. “i wanna see your face too princess, come on.”

though you only hum and murmur something that sounded like ‘mm too tired’. jason snakes his arm under your chest and pulls you up by your throat, not enough to hurt, but just enough to coax. your hand slides behind you, guiding his throbbing length through your puffy folds before sinking back onto him. sucking him in and moaning as you arch your back further. jason nearly chokes on his spit and pulls your face towards him, craning his neck just to kiss you even as you start to fold in on yourself when he picks up the pace.

the sound of his skin on yours is obscene, the pace he keeps is relentless. his eyes watch your shut ones as pushed you into another orgasm and reach your peak with a whimper. jason swallows the sweet sound from between your lips and lets your hands weakly tug at his hair at the crown of his neck more harshly than you’d intended.

the pain doesn’t bother him then. if anything, the sting reminds him you’re still there.

when you’re limp against him, shuddering from the feeling, he lets you gently onto the sheets. jason manhandles you onto your back again, fucking you right as you’re blissed out on him, humming with his name on your tender lips from how hard he’d been kissing you from behind. he’s rougher with you now that he can see your face fully again. that was exactly what he needed to tip over the edge. he moans your name out broken, dark hair sticking to his forehead as his perfect heterochromic eyes bore into your glazed ones.

“you’re so perfect ma,” he whimpers gorgeously. “god, you’re so beautiful.”

though the fucked out grin you gave him made him sputter and groan. hips stuttering as he gave powerful thrusts into you and let go, painting your walls a milky white you could practically taste. even then his eyes are open, arms braced by your head so he didn’t crush you with his weight and also to continue to see your face as your mouth gaped open in a silent moan. tongue touching the tip of your top teeth before you giggled at him weakly. grazing your fingernails up his back as he shudders again and continues to thrust into you like he couldn’t resist, not when he’s got you under him like this.

you have to pull him to lay all the way down so he is laying over you, his weight like a heavy blanket that could lull you to sleep. dick so good it sends you into full rem quickly.

though when you wake up in the morning, jason’s laying on his side, his hand draped over your waist as your leg hung over his. and his eyes were set right on yours, lips ready to say your name like it had taken permanent residence on his tongue.

not proofread! im fighting demons so mb for not updating regularly lmao :p