saw that the jukejoint was boarded up and locked at the end because stack was still inside, so i realized that he probably watched smoke die.
maybe when night came and he could come out, he went over to his brother’s body and held him. spoke to him, maybe even cursed him out for not letting him turn him. he just holds him. all night. until the sun comes up.
his dead brother in his arms. maybe that was the last time he saw his brother and the last time he saw the sun.
oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words)
pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader
tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.
logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.
he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.
you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."
"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.
your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.
"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.
your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.
it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.
but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.
the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.
"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"
but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.
his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.
then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.
your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"
"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.
"what?" you whisper.
he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."
"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.
logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.
". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.
you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.
"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.
it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"
fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.
you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.
he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.
"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"
you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.
seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.
"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"
you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.
". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.
you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.
god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .
"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.
but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.
and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.
his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .
he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.
as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.
you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.
"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.
you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.
logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.
your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.
"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.
it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.
Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words
Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤
This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕
Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+
The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.
You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.
You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.
When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.
Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.
His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.
Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.
Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.
This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.
This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.
“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.
“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.
The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.
You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.
“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.
“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.
“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.
“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.
“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.
“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”
“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.
“It was an educated wish!”
“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.
The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.
When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.
It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.
Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.
You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.
“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”
“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.
“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.
“You’re all fucking dead.”
Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.
They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.
So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.
“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.
You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.
“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.
“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”
“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”
“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”
“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”
Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.
“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.
Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”
“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.
Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.
A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.
You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.
“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”
You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.
“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”
Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.
“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.
“I did.”
Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”
“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?
Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”
“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”
A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.
Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.
“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.
Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.
Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.
You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.
It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.
This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.
And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.
It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.
Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.
You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.
There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.
He’s just Logan.
You bury yourself deeper in his neck.
It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.
Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.
“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”
That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.
All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.
“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”
“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”
“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.
“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.
Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.
Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.
Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.
Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.
Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.
“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.
Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.
Dog tags; his old dog tags.
‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.
The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.
He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.
For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.
As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.
Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.
His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.
“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.
He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.
Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.
Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.
You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.
“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”
“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.
“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.
It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.
Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.
It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.
Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.
“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.
He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.
Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.
He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.
Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.
Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.
If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.
Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.
“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.
You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.
Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.
So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.
You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.
He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.
The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.
Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.
Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.
“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.
“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.
Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.
Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.
You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.
The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.
Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.
Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.
“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.
“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”
He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.
Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.
When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.
Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.
After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.
It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.
There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.
Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.
“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.
“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.
After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.
“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.
“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”
“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.
“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”
“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”
“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”
Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.
After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”
“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”
“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.
You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.
“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.
“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.
The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”
LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.
begging you for ak!jason x hero reader hate sex pls imagining it is not enough i need to read it and inject it into my brain 😁
Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, table sex, secret relationship, hate sex, banter, enemies who fuck, age-gap, pussy slapping, clit stimulation, size difference, name-calling, degradation, size kink, condom use, body betrayal, Reader is Batman's new ally
Word count: 0.7k
A/N: I wanted this to be short but I got carried away, evil Jason was just too hot.
Jason smirked at you, his armor leaving indents on your thighs as they were spread out for him. "Wipe that smirk of you face already, its disturbing." You push your hand against him, of which he bites the fingers off one by one as the table under you shakes from the force of his deep, hard thrusts. "Fuck! Are you trying to break the table?"
"No, just you." He pushes closer, his hands on your hips, encouraging you to roll your hips with him. You try not to, you try not to give him the satisfaction of it, but can't resist him, "What would Bruce say if he knew his new friend was spreading her legs for me? Bet he'd be really angry with you. Yeah, I'm thinking... a little spanking for the naughty girl."
"Bruce wouldn't- ah, fuck, oh!" You grabbed onto the edge of the table, your cowl fully slipping, your face revealed, eyes widening. "D-Don't look at me you motherfucker, this is just-" He slapped your pussy again before pressing his fingers against your clit.
Your hips rose from the table to meet his thrusts, the echoing sounds filling the storage house. The weapons you used lay aside, the condom wrapper glistening in the dim light. At least he remembered that not wanting a repeat of you denying him like last time.
Last time. "We should stop doing this Jason. It' wrong." You were a hero, and him... something much darker, not a villain not yet but he was so close to that title.
"Yeah its real fucked up how easy you are. Letting me fuck you, coming all the time, screaming my name. But you have been distracting me more then usual. Maybe you should let every villain in this city fuck you, see if you can set them on the correct path. Then again, I am a very possessive man, I would kill any guy who wants this sweet hole. Its mine." Jason took your hands in one of his and pinned them down, "Keep them there, don't you dare move."
For some reason you listened. It was so shameful to obey him but had Jason's big, hard cock pumping in and out, making your body react.
"She obeys!" Jason boasted laugning.
"Fuck you." You still had the strength to flip him the bird.
"Aw that's adorable, is that the finger you use when you think of me?" You did. More then one finger because one wasn't nearly enough. "Bet you love having the real thing huh? Finally a man who knows what to do with a whore cunt like yours." He curled his finger over your clit, sending your back arching. "You think he's listening right now?"
No, the comms were off, you made sure of that. "N-No. He can't be."
"Then why is your pussy trembling so much? You want him to hear? Didn't know you let cockhungry sluts in your ranks these days Bruce. Must be real desperate. Poor little thing probably didn't even know how much of a slut she was." He spoke with an almost maniacal edge to his voice, his cock twitching inside you.
"S-Stop it. Its not true." You whimpered, getting all teary eyed.
"Yes. It. Is." He accompanied every word with a slap on your pussy, each sting making your head spin until a high pitched moan left your mouth, "Hear that Bruce?! That's your partner being my little whore!"
"I- I hate you." You managed to still bite back but your body didn't agree with your actions, and honestly you weren't sure your heart did either but that was easier to ignore when you were being pounded by Jason's cock. "I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!" Jason was only spurred on by your words, fucking every inch of his fat cock into you until he felt your walls tighten. Despite your best efforts not to your body reacted to his, stars dancing behind your eyes, head spinning, only able to feel his cock still working between your legs and his fingers on your clit. "St-ah-op."
"But babygirl," Jason pulled out and took the condom off, letting the cum gather on the floor, "We still have the whole box of these to go through."
gunplay, bit of a gory description, hate sex, degradation, brat taming, throat fuck, ruined orgasm, arkham knight gear stays on, reader is a vigilante. a/n at the end :p
the arkham knight’s watched you long enough to know how you operate; your favorite moves, how you approach the enemy, how you talk to the enemy. you’re reckless and actively searching for a thrill out in gotham. and in turn, he gets his fun in tearing you down. the tone you tend to take with him is testy more often than not, and he waits until he’s got one thread of patience before he disarms you of your boldness. then he continues. on from the shield to the armor, then digging into bare skin just to fuck with you. to humble and embarrass you.
“you think you’re so cute,” he mutters with an agitation about him, gothamite accent still coming out thick through the voice modulator. “you like this shit? me fucking you ‘til this pussy’s all sore?” the look on your face is helpless, tears swelling in your lashes and gasping at the bruising grip on your hips. he’s burying his cock to the hilt and pulling your little sense of decency out with it each thrust, and still, you’ve got the nerve to test just how quickly he’ll break you with a little more incentive.
“I think-“ you start, though you’re temporarily interrupted by your own moan. “I think you like this.” your hand clutches onto any part of his gear when he responds with a harsher fucking, legs trembling and still trying to shit talk him. “just a fucking brute looking for an- mm- an outlet.” the deep laugh that comes from the depths of his throat is threatening, accompanied by a grip on your hair that yanks your head forward.
“look at that,” he orders, chin forced against your chest and making your throat tighten as you mewl. “look who’s leaking all over my cock like a cheap whore instead of patrolling and say that shit again.” and because you like this little game, you do. it’s an attempt to psychoanalyze him, to get in touch with his own self loathing and provoke something deadly.
“always so angry,” you whisper, “don’t know anything other than that.” your words start slurring together, but the somehow condescending tone is still there to tick him off more. now his pace picks up and a gloved hand rudely gropes your chest, almost like a handle as he pistons into you. even through pathetic whimpers, you manage, “I bet this bloodthirsty act is-“
“all you do is bark, huh.”
in a matter of seconds, the brutish tendencies spill. your body’s slammed into the mattress and your head jerks, light stinging in the back of your head suggesting that you’ve hit the headboard. and with the cool steel he’s slipped down your throat, you’re reminded that the blood thirst is a bit more than an act. he does it as if he’s throwing you a bone, pacifying you, the rowdy little thing that just wants something to chew on. it makes you choke with wide eyes, barrel of the gun shoved into your mouth until you feel his finger on the trigger brush your chin.
“i’d shut that damned mouth,” the arkham knight warns, “y’can’t council me with a bullet in your neck, doc.” he’s stopped fucking you to let the silence after a bone chilling realization disturb you, but your body betrays you- you can’t help how you tighten around his cock at the position you’ve put yourself in. it takes everything not to move your hips as you pant over your ruined orgasm, the tingly feeling you get from fucking your boss’s first priority target behind his back. it’s teetering away and replaced with repulsive guilt, but only for a mere moment.
“you’re a fucking joke,” he chastises, “think about it- if I pull off that bloodthirsty act… all it takes is a bang, then you’ll be drownin’ in my color.” he speaks with desire, as if he looks forward to it. the drag he adds to the ‘bang’ is complemented with a rigid scratch in your throat as he pushes it further down, just to hear the sorry gasp of fear you give him. “that turning you on?”
it is. desperately, in fact. such a crude and gory picture’s been painted in your mind, yet he makes it sound so poetic and unique to himself. the imagination can be terribly vivid; so much as a flinch of his finger and the sheets are dowsed in your blood—no, like he said, his color—while you choke on the metallic taste similar to the one sheathed between your lips now. less vividly, but real, you see him, clad in chest plates and thick cargo material, nothing but a digital glitch from the helmet while he’s got you speared on his cock and gagging on his handgun.
“ngh-“ you sputter, spit dribbling around the metal as your dilated pupils are met with a blank red stare. what was intended to be a no is presented as a yes, cunt twitching when he fucks the pistol into your mouth. much to your dismay, he likes the look on your face, and the gun slides out of your mouth after he leaves your pussy aching without an orgasm. deciding against words, you whine, limp on the mattress and easily dragged to the floor on your knees.
he’s yanked on the cute little ponytail you only wear for nightly duties, making you pout. it hurts- but there’s no point in saying that. he knows. that’s the idea; letting you know that you’ve yet to deal with anything near his full potential of brute strength because this is his bare fucking minimum. “I was gonna do this first,” the agitated grin in his voice is evident, smacking the head of his cock on your tongue as your mouth hands agape. “but I thought I was being nice by fucking everything outta that pretty little head.” you’d had half a mind to start sucking at the tip, but he beats you to it by shoving your head down, groaning as you gag against his happy trail. “hell, I’m still being nice- I bet this dick feels way better than a bullet.”
your hands search for abandon before weakly hooking onto his thigh straps, bracing yourself for what anyone could piece together as pleasurable torture. your pretty lashes flutter through your cowl, stained with dark eye make-up and tears. “y’look a lot more pathetic like this, doll- who knew that was possible, huh?” the arkham knight has you utterly broken, and he feels you’re no where near humbled yet. ❧
a/n ;; woahhhh porn w/ plot who cheered??? this is kinda piggybacking off of this anon I received referring to my first fic for the arkham knight, shout out to that nonnie :). as always rbs and commentary are appreciated, i hope this was up to par, ty for reading <3
he’s so mean and mocking, has you pinned to the wall, hand shackling your neck, your head getting fuzzy and your vision going blue.
feels like ur on a drug, chasing that high more and more with each thrust he gives you. he’s got this sexy half-smile half-smirk thing going on, and he’s sweating so much, it slicks his hair back and makes his curls wet with it’s salty sheen: sharp glisten as they bounce up and down every time he moves.
you can barely get a word out, feel the sentence bubble up in your throat for what feels like hours before you finally manage to hear it vocalise and ring in your ears, each word cut off by a hiccup and jason’s still so cocky and mean but also tender, wipes the corners of your eyes, likes to see the mascara smear on your face and his thumb, before cradling your face and shutting you up with a kiss. lips soon swollen and eyes wanton.
“you talk too much.” he’d simply say to ur desperately and pathetically feeble attempt at dismissing the eye rolling feeling of his dick so deep inside fucking you so good rn.
before you manage to say anything he shushes you and puts a hand over your mouth, “thereee. that’s betterrr.” he’d coo, feeling you drool from the inside of his palm.
“fuckin’ horny bitch. didn’t realise you wanted to be fucked this bad.”
he kisses your cheek. barely sucks the flesh when he lets go. “jesus fucking christ. god, look at what you’re doing to me—fuck.”
his forehead leans against yours, his voice now quiet and whispery, sounds almost like a whistle, “wish you’d said something earlier. telling me i could’ve fucked you months ago?”
you give in, eyebrows crease and u nod your head with a muffled cry. he laughs, mimics your nod and says through a broken chuckle, “yeah? i could’ve? tell me i could’ve, baby. tell me i fucking could’ve.” he removes his hand. waits for your response, though his hips don’t stop.
he gets impatient, watches at how you look down shamefully, slaps your face a little to get you to look at him, “come on.”
miserably and moaning you bite your lip—a sort of nervous panic and tell him what he wants to hear, “you could’ve fucked me forever ago. anytime you wanted.”
he gets so hard. like, way harder than he already is and he connects your lips again, both pleased and amused then compliments you so sincerely, almost to himself, “so fucking fine.”
MINORS DNI 18+
WARNINGS: sexual content | mild gunplay | sexual harassment | flirting | enemies to lovers
“Now, where do you think you’re goin’?” The deep, digitally edged voice of the ARKHAM KNIGHT miraculously cuts through the ringing in your ears. The bullet hole dug into the concrete above your head smokes, and you breathe in its fumes, your hands over your head in a defensive pose. His warning shot. Laying on your stomach, you’d attempted to crawl away, and at the sound of his heavy boots sauntering after you, you’re secure enough to lift your head. You check his location, and he’s right on top of you.
“Wait!” you plea, raising a hand to him only for his glove to clamp around your wrist. Your socket aches as he yanks on your arm, lifting you in a swift motion to cup his forearm under your thighs and sling you over his shoulder. Your stomach makes contact with it, the air in your lungs huffing out with a groan as he straightens to his dizzying full height. “Let- me- go!” The fear of his gun had worn off, now carrying you to a car he’d called for back-up while you thrash in his grip.
“Easy there, little miss.” His one arm strapped around your legs by the inside of your knees, keeps you secure as he jostles you, making you emit another yelp from his shoulder digging into your diaphragm. “Wouldn’t want another accident, would we?” Your hands brace against his lower back, picking yourself up to observe your surroundings. The wreckage of the militant car you’d crashed lies waiting for Batman to inspect it. Surely you made sure the driver crashed for good reason, and you’d rolled out at the last second. Unscathed save for a few bruises and scrapes. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take good care of you. Until I don’t need you anymore.”
You bend your spine to glare at the back of his helmet. “He’s gonna find you.” you claim defiantly, pressing your lips into a thin line as he approaches the new car.
“Yeah? Let him. That’s what you’re for.” A queasiness sets in the pit of your stomach. The combination of adrenaline, your unfortunate circumstances, and the fact you’re leading Batman right to this enemy. “You got quiet there, sweetheart. You shocked?” his proud remark is met with your rally, sharply inhaling through your nose and opening your mouth to bite back when you’re interrupted. You squeak as you’re thrown into the backseat, your ass hitting the cushion and bouncing to a stop as he climbs in after you. There was no time to let you adjust before he invited himself in, his knee resting on the outside of your leg with the sole of his shoe planted firmly on the floor of the car. You see how he gently sways in his standing position as the vehicle departs, and your mouth dries from his compromising straddle. It’s disgustingly intimate. “If I didn’t know any better, babygirl, I’d say you’re enjoying this.” An indignant expression takes over your countenance, scrambling until your back hits the opposite door. He chuckles, sitting down where your legs once were on the seat. Leisurely, he rests his wrist on his propped up knee, keeping his gun handy. It taps and your breathing intensifies.
So as to not make any sudden moves, you’re tentative in your action to sit forward, and you keep your eye on him from the side. “Where are you taking me?” you question, failing to entirely conceal the quiver in your voice. He and his militia had plucked you from the Clock Tower, having been aiding the Bat in his endeavor to take back Gotham in its darkest hour.
The Arkham Knight shifts in his seat, and you hear a jingle. “Oh. Almost forgot.” There’s a tone of amusement in his phrase as he invades your space again; instinctively you shy away, but he snatches your wrist, raising your arm and cuffing you to the handle on the roof. “Can’t have you trying to get away again.” You wish you could stop hearing the grating technical noise of his mask when he talks, whatever he uses to veil his true auditory signature from any voice recognition. When you face him, you’re taken aback by how much closer he is to you. The eyes of his helmet remain on you as you press yourself to the window. Harshly, his hand comes to pinch your jaw between his fingers and his thumb, and your brows knit together as he examines you, adjusting you side-to-side. “What’s so special about you, huh?”
You yank out of his hold, incredulous over his question. “What are you talking about?”
“The Bat. He’s coming after you. Shouldn’t matter to me why, but it does. He got a little thing for you?” The knuckle of his index finger brushes up your thigh flirtatiously, and you jerk it away.
“No.” you answer.
“You sure?” A lilt of surprise to his tone has you bewildered, eyeing him up as he hums. “That’s lucky.”
The crease in your brows deepen as a curl of disgust tugs at your upper lip. “Is it?”
His arm stretches up, revealing the view of his gun in his other hand, reminding you of its ever-weighing presence. Suddenly your boldness is once again depleting, you don’t notice until it’s settled that his arm now rests behind your head on the back of the vehicle seat, curling around you, tucking you into the space in his side. “Sure. You know, there’s not much to do up at the safehouse. We could…” as he trails, the end of his weapon seeks you out, and your heartbeat quickens at the sight of a gun tracing down your chest. “have a little fun of our own while the Bat catches up to us,” Its tip hesitates at the neckline of your shirt, and you exhale deeply, caving in your chest with a gulp. The gun catches on the hem, tugging it down enough to show him your cleavage. “how’s that sound?”
"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3
Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader
Words - 900ish
Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing
Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3
**
He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.
Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.
He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.
“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”
“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”
“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.
“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”
It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.
You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.
It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.
You needed him and he knew it.
You need him now and he knows it.
There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.
Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.
“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”
He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.
Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.
Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.
“Say it.” Jason demands.
Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.
“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”
“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”
Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.
“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.
“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”
“Uh–plea–please.”
“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”
tags: fem reader, meanie jason, alcohol, penetrative sex ofc
it was a messy break up the two of you had when still in college, if that’s what you could label it as. an established relationship was hardly spoken of throughout your whole time being with him. something along the lines of friends with benefits and situationship is what you’d categorized it in your mind.
because fucking without feelings quickly turned into fucking and cuddling without feelings, which then introduced everything that was a relationship—but without a relationship as the title.
jason was allergic to the conversations you’d attempt to bring up. asking the man ‘what are we’ as you slipped his shirt onto your sweaty skin. to which he’d shrug off while allowing you to spend the night, wrapping an arm around you and making you breakfast in the morning. just the way you liked.
it was two years since you graduated and the man had hardly touched your mind. only the times in which you’d catch up with friends from the same era in your life would you be reminded of him. and sometimes on dates and one night stands would he flash through your head, the remembering of how good at sex he was with you in comparison to the midnight men who didn’t know how to touch you right.
the man of choice tonight, though, was the man himself. the man who you despised, who you tried to ignore all eye contact with when you saw him walk into the bar where you and your friends were all sat at. head kept down and eyes locked onto the drink in your hand
but, one drunken thing led to another and your ankles were now thrown over the broad shoulders of the man who—without a doubt—hit all the places in which you’d missed him touching.
but the sensuality that existed in your uni years was taken away. soft thrusts turned rough, hardly giving you a chance to breathe through the yelling moans that you let out. sweet kisses turned teeth clashing and bites hard enough to make blood rise to the surface. if a sober thought past your mind, you’d yell at the man for attempting to leave a hickey. drunken thoughts could care less though as he selfishly left his marks from the underneath of your jaw to the side of your hip. saliva trailing down your body and swollen skin rising with heat.
"y’know my pussy missed me," jason grunts, one hand grabbing at your thigh harshly while the other’s pushing on your waist, holding you steady as if you’d squirm out of his grasp if you were able.
the words make you moan. his ownership of something that wasn’t his—hasn’t been his for years now—making your walls clench around him, and he can only laugh dryly. "fuckin’ whore, should’ve known you’d miss my cock, yeah? couldn’t wait to get fuckin’ stuffed the second you saw me walk in with all your friends," it’s hard to understand what he’s saying, but you can only bite back. "y’know you only walked in that bar for free pussy," and now jason’s hand is moving upwards.
rough and calloused fingertips finding your throat and pushing down to disable any airflow into your lungs. "what’d ya say?" his lips are pulled into a smirk, head tilting curiously—stupidly, because he knows you can’t answer. you can only sit there with your mouth agape as jason’s thrusts don’t slow for a second.
the sound of his thighs slapping the back of yours was filthy. but the wetness that screamed inbetween was worse. cum dripping down jason’s balls that hit your ass, spreading more wetness and making that much more a mess. "that’s what i fuckin’ thought, fucked all stupid," he groans, releasing his grip for a few seconds to allow you airflow.
his body leans down, and it’s hard not to devour with eyes alone the man that’s before you. broad shoulders that are near double yours. pecs that surround a silver cross necklace the man has worn for years now.
it makes you want to laugh. his attempt at finding peace in religion when he fucks you hard enough that you swear you see god in an orgasm. the way he tears you apart with words alone as the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. the way he leans over you so the stupid cross hits your cheek with a feel of cool metal when he’s groaning out the words, "stupid fucking slut."
he’s holding himself up with a single hand. rough scars littering the skin while veins draw their way up to his forearms. the muscle flexed beautifully. so much so, that when you finally reach it with your eyes, you arch your back and squeeze them shut.
getting fucked alone by jason was enough. but to drink in the man that jason had become? close to doubling his size since college—which was only two years ago… you needed an entire day to process it.
instead it’s squished into the few hours that he’s seduced you into his bedroom, fucking you round after round. "who’s been fucking you when i’m not around?" he grunts in your ear, breathing into it before his tongue slides against your lobe. the question takes you out of the daze that you’ve been put in, attempting to scoff but ultimately moaning at the possession jason’s showing.
"fuck—shoulda-shoulda asked me earlier, would’ve made a list," you say between pants of breath. jason’s lips open to bite down on the soft lobe, a whine that pushes your head back against the mattress you were laid on.
"aw," he starts in a coo, "for being a slut," his tongue licks your neck, "still feel as tight as ever. still carved to the size of my fuckin’ cock ‘n nobody else’s." teeth clamp down on your sensitive skin, and your nails press that much deeper into his backside. an attempt at a warning, but jason loves the way the pain is subsided by the pleasure that is your dripping cunt.
his thumb finds your throat, pushing deeply to choke you once more. "must not be fuckin’ anybody worth a damn. nobody as big as me, huh?" thrust after thrust and you’re cumming on his cock without warning. a loud and choked moan slipping out of you while your vision turns dizzy and it makes jason wanna fuck you again.
after all, he could care less about the fact that you’re probably overly sensitive right now. maybe a few years back he would’ve pulled out, would’ve asked if you’re okay and thought of various ways to perform aftercare on your fucked out body. but, jason could give a fuck less, especially with the bratty words you’re spitting out to him. you don’t have a care in your tone, so why should he?
that’s why the snapping of his hips never halt. he doesn’t give you half a second to calm down when he feels you clench deliciously around his member. and when you’re whining, "jay-needa second, please!" he’s sucking on your tender skin, moving to cover your lips with his own.
his skin slapped against yours, giving you rough thrusts every second. Your nails digged into his shirt while your legs were hooked around his waist. you held on tightly as the red hood fucked you up against the wall of one of his safe houses. "can't believe you're taking my cock like this, even after you've cum, how many times is it now?" you weren't sure how you ended up in this position but you weren't complaining especially when his cock felt so good. your bra was practically falling off and you had no clue where your underwear was. his pants were at his ankles and his holsters were on the floor. you couldn't deny sex with him was messy but it was so worth it. "oh fuck you, just shut up and keep fucking me, that's your job isn't it?"
you felt his thrusts pick a sloppy and desperate rhythm, one you'd felt many times. "you want me to shut up or you wanna get fucked like a slut? you only get one" his groans became louder and he looked up at you, practically locking eyes with you. if his helmet hadn't been on, you'd probably find this intimate but this was nothing like that. this was his way of reminding you, that you were his whore, nothing more. just fuckbuddies, for each other mutual release. work had taken a big toll on you and the red hood would never tell you was bothering him but you always saw the effect of it when he fucked you.
your moans became a mixture of begging for him to stop but also begging for more. "red can't take no more- oh fuck! harder harder harder! please red" he was big, if you didn't already know, and he barely fit in you the first few times. but once you started to take him more & more often, he made sure that he'd bottom out in you every time. if you could take all of him, why wouldn't he take advantage of it?
he let a couple of frustrated groans, swearing at you constantly but you loved it. you knew he was stressed and frustrated and had so much pent up inside him, you were goddamn release. so he'd fuck you any way he liked, as long he to make of you. out of everything, you were the one thing the red hood could control in his life and he needed that. "just fucking shut up and take it, baby, we play this little game every week and it always ends with you begging for more" his hands move towards your ass, gripping it tightly, pulling you even closer to him, so he could fuck you just the way you wanted. "ohhhh god! i'm gonna cum red, m'gonna make a mess" you slurred, being drunk on just his cock.
"good girl, cum f'me like my little whore, then i can paint your thighs for you," he said while pounding you into the wall. your face was stained with tears, you could barely catch your break and everything felt so good and bad at the same time. you weren't sure if it was his words or the way he grabbed his face and forced you to look at him but you practically came on the spot and the red hood followed as he quickly pulled out of you.
you whined at the empty feeling of a lack of warmth, while he spilled his poad onto your thighs, painting your thighs with his load. the red hood wasn't going to be risky with you especially when you didn't know him that well.
except you did. but he didn't want to remember those times.
he got you a towel to clean yourself up and you placed your hands on his shoulders trying to steady yourself. the red hood made a grunting sound in annoyance and that quickly made you let go of him. he pulled up his black jeans and grabbed his holsters along with them.
the grunt had snapped you back into reality. you quickly began to grab your clothing that had been flung around while also putting it back on. you searched everywhere for your underwear but couldn't manage to find it and accepted defeat. this wasn't the first time you'd lose clothing because of this man and you hated it. the two of you hated each other, whatever you had was just for sex, well it was supposed to be just for sex. you don't even know the man's identity or what he looked like, but that doesn't stop your desire for him.
the red hood made himself comfy on what seemed to be his bed. he took off his holster and removed the gun, unloading it before placing it in a locked drawer. you watched him contemplate taking off his helmet in from you but he quickly redacted his hands from his head. he needed you to pray soon, not just cause he wanted to take off his helmet but also because he didn't need you snooping around this place. you'd find a lot of things you weren't ready for. your eyes focused on the bed, something about how messy it was caught your eye. it was messy enough that maybe two people had been in it…
you knew you couldn't possibly be the only one he's fucking. but it didn't bother you any less, you'd think he'd have the decency to clean up when he invites you over but he doesn't. another annoyed grunt leaves his lips, as he looks up, with his helmet still on. "you plan on staring for the rest of the night or what?" his voice was deep and strained like it was trained to talk that way. he knew you had been staring at the bed, and he knew why but there was no point in teasing you now.
"don't be a fucking ass, i'm just about to and you were the one who dragged me here dickhead"
"yeah, for a fuck" he said followed by a laugh, "i think it's time for you to go home"
"next time how about you call one of your other whores, i've got an actual life unlike you who goes around this city playing pretend" you knew the moment those words left your mouth, that you were fucked and not in a good way. you planned to quickly get out the door but you weren't quick enough. he slammed the door shut and locked it, trapping you in the middle.
"you think what i do doll, is for fun? that's it's a game?" he asks grabbing your face and forcing you to face him again. once again he was in control of you, putting this barrier between the two of you by wearing his helmet yet forcing you to face him. he chuckled and for a moment you caught a small glimpse of who might be behind the mask but that was quickly shut down when he asked you another question "you think that i just bring home every girl on the street huh? that there are 'other whores'?"
"yeah i do, you're more than a whore than i am- "
"if you value your life i’d choose those next words carefully y/n"
your name came out of his lips like it was a sin. he wasn't supposed to know that, he wasn't supposed to know you at all.
"you don't know a fucking thing about me, you're just some faceless vigilante who has a thing for every girl he manages to pick on the street"
"i know more about you than you could possibly imagine," he says grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the door. the way he held your wrist wasn't even tight like he wasn't dragging you like he usually would. in other words, he gave you the opportunity to run away but you didn't because this relationship you had with him was addicting and you kind of wanted to see how you'd be punished. "you want to do it on the bed right?"
he's pushing you onto the bed and you know you're in trouble cause how tf did he know? he wasn't a mind reader because if he was he would've let you go home by now. you weren't even shocked that he suggested but more that he knew that that's what you wanted. the two of you rarely even spoke casually and even when you did you didn't expect to listen or pay attention but he did and on his own accord too. the red hood knew just what you wanted from him, but he had to hear it from you if you were going to get it. "but you gotta say it doll"
"say what red?"
"that you're a jealous doll and if you do, i might just fuck you in the bed if it's that special to you" he knew what he wanted from you and you wanted from him. you may hate each other but deep down there was always going to be something else mixed in with those feelings. and one day he'd have to tell you why but that day is very far away. you didn't want to answer him but he called you sweetheart and promised to fuck you in his bed, how could you say no to such a rare offer?
"…m jealous," you said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. the red hood didn't know why you were jealous and he didn't really care why yet it still excited him. and before you knew it, he's fucking you into the bed. the bed creaked as he pushed your body deeper in the bed, holding onto your hips as if his life depended on it. he had you on your tummy, fucking you from behind like his personal fuck today. you don't even remember him taking off your clothes again or if he'd even let you go home tonight but that didn't matter because this was the routine.
fuck. fight. fuck again harder.
this relationship you had with the red hood was wrong on so many levels and it was toxic, you knew that but you were going to stay. yes, you hated how much he reminded you of him. because he was gone and he was never going to come back and you had finally come to terms with that only for the red hood to reopen that wound. as much as you hated the red hood and as toxic as this relationship was, you wanted to be special to him because of the past and maybe that's why you wouldn't leave and he wouldn't even let you if you wanted to.
JASON TODD who listens to you go on about something you’re interested about for hours on end, nodding whilst repeating “Yeah, that’s great, love.”
After a few more hours, he cannot take it anymore. His hand finds your chin, slowly guiding your lips against his. After a few moments, his chapped lips remove themselves from yours and your head turns to the side curiously.
He lets out a small hum, as a lazy grin forms on the lips that were previously latched against yours. “Sorry, baby. Just needed you to shut up.”
Just a little something to outline how i see this verse going. Suggestions/requests/feedback is highly appreciated.
WARNINGS: angst, SMUT minors DNI, probably bit of OOC
***
He was strong enough to snap her body in two if he wanted.
To break her neck.
To choke her.
To hurt her.
But somehow in his crazy, washed brain, he knew he needed her. And in some messed up, freaked out, impaired way he felt for her.
Not only because she knew what he’s been through, but because it was also so easy to dump all his frustration into her.
He failed in his mission to kill Batman?
Rough sex
His militia was questioning his abilities to lead?
Blowing steam off while pounding into her.
Did he love her?
Yes.
No.
Honestly, what is love? He lost the meaning of this word a long time ago. What he felt for her was like what the owner feels for a pet. Some kind of allegiance. Sure, he would feel some sort of emptiness if someone were to take her away and would probably kill that person off while getting his revenge, but it was nothing more than that.
Or at least that was what he was telling himself.
He was not Robin anymore and his childish infatuation for her surely turned into something more animalistic. She was at his mercy.
Just like right now.
There were some disturbances in the force and it made him angry. Angry enough to grab her from the tech room where she was working and drag her into his own bed, stripping off his armor and clothes, doing the same to her, pressing her to the mattress with all the brute strength he had.
“Jace…..” she writhed underneath him, feeling him kiss her body with the animalistic urgency, biting, scratching and squeezing. All of her body, except her mouth. He avoided that like a plague. He didn’t need intimacy, closeness and all that bullshit. She was just a playtoy for him. The same way she was for Harley back in the days. The same way he was for Joker. “Please….” A single tear flew down her cheek.
“Shut up.” He hissed, entering her without any prep or warning, just with one push. And it hurt like hell, even after all this time she was kept in Arkham like a prisoner. Well, he was big after all. Her poor body should have been used to all kind of torture by now, but the truth was far from that. And Jason made sure she stayed tight for him. “Just shut the fuck up and take what I give you.” Jason added, putting a hand on her mouth to muffle the scream she dared to let out.
“Jace….” She moaned, not sure if it was pleasure or pain. The fact was that she might have developed some sort of Stockholm syndrome. She knew him when he was Robin. She loved him when he was Robin and in the back of her head she had this crazy scenario that if she could only comply with his action and commands he would come back to her. Love her back. Love her again.
Poor little thing thought she could save him from himself.
She believed that she could be the one to see and have the real Jason, not the Arkham Knight. But the more she tried, the more she failed. “Baby….” She writhed, one of her hand reaching for his chest and shoulder, trying to touch him, to feel his skin against her, to ground herself.
Mistake.
She wasn’t appalled or disgusted by marks Joker left on him.
He was.
“Get your hands off me!” he shouted and grabbed her tiny wrist in his ironclad grip, leaving bruises and making her whimper in pain. She should have known better. He hated his body, all those scars and imperfections. He hated being reminded of the past tortures and rough treatment and her touch, even if it was so loving and tender did just that. “You little whore!”
“I’m sorry.” She cried out “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…..”
“Just shut up!” he yelled picking up the pace, pounding into her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. He did not care about her silent begging, pleading and whines. If anything, having such sense of control only spur him on. “I know you like it, don’t you? Being treated like a slut you are? Hm? Y/N? Answer me!”
“Jace…..” she begged, squirming and trying to free her hands, which were now pinned above her head “I….I…..” he was rough, brutal even, but he never failed to bring her pleasure, by some twisted accident igniting the fire inside her and her body slowly started to take over making her unable to form any coherent though, settling on arching her back, whining and silently begging him to not stop while losing her breath.
“So cock drunk, aren’t you?” he groaned, pushing her body back to the bed harshly, one hand still pinning her hands to the mattress, the other gripping her hip, pushing into her more, harder, faster. “So fucking stupid you can’t even answer one question?”
“I….. ah! Please…..” she whined throwing her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her throat.
“Oh, no, you don’t get to cum. You’re here to serve me, remember? Not the other way round.”
“please…. Jay, please…. I’m so….. “ she gulped awkwardly. She shouldn’t even think about saying it, but it just slipped past her lips “so close. So good. You’re so good. God, Jason, please, please, let me. “
“No.” he smirked vindictively grabbing her throat, cutting the air supply and watching her struggling to breathe. He himself was so close to cumming now.
Finally, with just one more thrust he came inside her, letting out groans and animalistic sounds. But not words. He felt good with her, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit it.
And this time she got lucky since she managed to orgasm with him.
It happened from time to time, not that he cared at all.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He pulled out, immediately reaching for his pants ready to go back to his duties.
“Don’t go.” She cried out, pulling herself up, her blurry eyes and tear stained face making him stop for a second. What the fuck was wrong with her? He treated her like nothing and she still gave him that loving gaze? Why? She was supposed to break, to let go of all her hopes and fantasies filled with happy future with him and yet, all his actions did nothing to make her do that. “Please, don’t leave me.” She begged, her body shaking, clearly getting into the subdrop phase. She needed aftercare, even the slightest aspect of it. Her entire posture, her curved, trembling lips, the stain from the tears on her cheek.
She was so fragile and vulnerable.
She was so pathetic.
Fuck!
Those were the times when something in him broke. He might have been brainwashed to hate batman and everything connected to him, his freaking assistant included, but it was y/n. His friend, his first love (and most probably last, since he didn’t have much opportunities to meet girls). He wanted to hold her. She’s been through enough. But he couldn’t break. And even her sad eyes and extended shaking arms were not enough to make him change his mind.
“Clean yourself up.” He muttered “you’re dripping.”
And then he moved towards the adjacent bathroom. He needed a moment for himself. To collect and control every stupid emotion bursting inside him. The thin walls however did nothing to muffle the sobbing and crying of Y/N, who was shaking on the bed, silently calling his name, begging for attention like a little child. Even after all he’s done he was crying for him, wanting his touch and hugs and care and attention.
Fuck, he couldn’t go soft.
But it was painful to hear her like this.
To see her broken. By him. By the only person she wanted and need.
Fuck, she was making him soft.
He yelled in frustration and punched the mirror.
Hard. Hard enough to break it into little pieces that fell to the ground and hurt his knuckles.
The sound clearly scared her, since in a second she appeared in the bathroom door, watching him bleed to the floor. Wearing only her shirt and panties since it was all she could grab in a hurry to check on him.
Fucking check if he was all right.
“what are you staring at?!” he yelled turning towards her. Her eyes wide in fear, her lips trembling, her body shaking but she was so fucking beautiful like this. Just like in the other life, before Harley left her fingerprints on Y/N.
“I… I …..” she stuttered “you’re hurt.”
“Yeah, so what? It’s not like I haven’t been before.” He shrugged, shoving her away, trying to move past her.
“Let me help you.” she whispered, lifting her hand trying to reach him, but quickly realizing how much of a mistake it would be. Again. “Let me patch you up.”
“Why?”
“Cause I don’t want you to bleed. I don’t want to see you like this. Please, Jason, let me…. Let me help you.” she mumbled looking at the ground, too shy and scared of another punishment for even suggesting something like that .
Jason couldn’t comprehend it.
How was it possible that she wasn’t completely broken like him?
What the fuck was wrong with her?!
“Why do you care?!” he yelled in frustration, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into the wall, a little squeal escaping her lips in the process. “Why?” he grabbed her chin making her look at him
“You know why…..” she sobbed
“don’t you dare saying it!”
“I…. I won’t….. I won’t, I promise. Please…. It hurts.” He let her go, preventing her from falling to the ground. “Let me….”
“Grab the kit. Just do your job. And do it silently. I don’t want any other stupid words coming out of your mouth, you hear me?”
She nodded and without a sound sat him on the bed taking a spot next to him. Her skillful, soft hands patching him up quicker than anyone else ever could. Years of practice as Wayne assistant (i.e. Batman’s helper).
“thank you” he whispered when she was done, not looking at her. She just nodded again, smiled lightly through the tears and laid down on the bed, not daring to hope for anything. Not anymore. And Jason was not going to give her anything, apart from throwing her a blanket so she could cover herself. And then he left, leaving her in the dark, still unable to figure out what was wrong with her.
