“This was a side of her the officers, at least, had never seen - the leader, the would-be sergeant, sure, but Joan the friend, the jokester, the co-conspirator? It was a new look for a woman they might have said they knew already. Harry, obviously, had no such struggle - she was his classmate, and, it seemed, his friend. He held his hands up in mock surrender.”
worst behaviour — jeon jungkook , series index , mdni 𑣲 ch: 25.5 — girl talk (extra chap) _ written / explicit cw
note: this happens after the last convo between lexi and y/n in ch:25, and before y/n talks to jungkook about their “relationship” . i honestly wasn’t gonna write this at first because i was just gonna mention the call briefly in the next chapter, but then i realized the chapter was already getting way too long + i do NOT have enough image space for all that soooo… full separate chapter for the ft call it is.
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“there she is!!” alexia practically yelled the second you answered the facetime call. “the woman who casually destroyed my brain chemistry tonight.”
you groaned immediately and dropped backward onto your bed dramatically.
“lexi, i am just as confused as you right now.”
“confused?” alexia repeated loudly. she adjusted herself against her pillows, her green face mask already on while her curls were pushed back with a fluffy headband. “you just told me your relationship is fake after i spent months thinking you were in a real relationship with that man.”
you scrunched your nose awkwardly.
“i am sorry?”
alexia immediately flopped backward onto her bed like she had just been shot.
“why are you apologizing?”
“because…” you frowned a little. “i lied? i don’t know what to say.”
she waved her hand dismissively.
“okay but i get it though. don’t worry.”
you blinked at her in surprise.
“you do?”
“of course i do,” she said immediately. “jesus christ, do you remember when i slept with hoseok?”
you nodded slowly. “yeah?”
alexia groaned loudly, dragging both hands down her face.
“those bitches—” she paused for a second before correcting herself dramatically, “sorry. i mean, those hoseok fangirls.”
you laughed quietly when she made an annoyed face.
“they were literally trying to send me threats and shit. like oh my god, stand UP girls. all this over a man?? and a fuckboy out of all people??”
you hummed sympathetically.
she sighed and adjusted her blanket.
“so honestly, i get why you’d want people to shut up. and what you both did.. kinda makes sense in that situation.”
you stayed quiet for a second.
“i still don’t know how it worked,” you admitted. “but i’m glad it did.”
“mhm.”
there was a small pause before you suddenly asked,
“have you heard from hoseok recently?”
alexia looked up.
“huh?”
“last time i heard from him was when he randomly texted me saying he was going on vacation and would be offline.”
“ohhh yeah,” she nodded. “his hometown i think? honestly i haven’t really been talking to him either.”
you frowned slightly.
“why not?”
alexia shrugged one shoulder casually, though her expression shifted a little.
“i don’t know. it’s awkward around him sometimes.”
“awkward?”
“yeah.” she picked at her sleeve absentmindedly. “he’s chill but he also makes me uncomfortable now. not because he did anything wrong,” she clarified quickly. “he was genuinely great. but i’ve realised i shouldnt be around people i’ve slept with after things end. you know? maybe that’s just a me thing.”
you stayed quiet while listening.
alexia sighed softly.
“i just hate that weird feeling afterwards. like suddenly i become hyperaware of everything. i start overthinking how i act around them and stuff. so i kinda distance myself instead.”
you nodded understandingly.
“that makes sense.”
then alexia tilted her head slightly.
“do you feel the same way about jungkook?”
you blinked.
“huh?”
“do you feel uncomfortable knowing you slept with him while still wanting to stay friends with him?”
you thought about it seriously for a second.
“honestly…” you muttered slowly. “not really?”
alexia immediately raised an eyebrow.
you sighed.
“it’s different, okay?”
“elaborate.”
you pulled your blanket closer around yourself.
“maybe because we’ve been friends for so long now? it just feels comfortable.” you paused briefly before continuing quieter, “he feels like my friend before he feels like my fuckbuddy.”
alexia snorted.
“he is also your boyfriend.”
you corrected immediately.
“fake boyfriend.”
she rolled her eyes dramatically.
“not this again.”
“what do you mean ‘not this again’?”
alexia sat up straighter on her bed.
“because BOTH OF YOU spend so much time together that i genuinely thought you guys were one argument away from getting married.”
you immediately pulled the blanket over half your face.
“can you lower your voice?”
“NO.”
alexia stared at you like she was trying to solve a murder case.
“wait no, hold on. i actually need to process this properly because this entire situation is insane.”
she started counting on her fingers dramatically.
“you guys became friends.”
“mhm.”
“then started “fake” dating.”
“yeah.”
“then started sleeping together.”
you closed your eyes tiredly.
“yes.”
“then he takes care of you. and he even took you out to a fancy dinner for new year’s, like a real boyfriend.”
silence.
“AND gave you a polaroid album filled with pictures of you that he secretly took over several months.”
you groaned louder this time.
“alexia.”
“and you’re STILL calling this fake?”
“well technically speaking we—”
“don’t give me that nerd shit right now babe,” she interrupted immediately. “just tell me what your actual issue with him is.”
you frowned.
“my… issue?”
“yes. because clearly there IS one,” alexia said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the screen. “otherwise you’d probably be dating him for real by now.”
you looked away from the camera immediately.
because unfortunately…
she is right.
alexia stared at you through the screen for a long moment before speaking carefully.
“okay. explain exactly why you’re confused right now.”
you sighed heavily.
you don’t know why you’re confused.
or maybe it's because everything just suddenly felt too real?
the dinner.
the album.
the way he looked at you when you opened it.
the stupid handwritten note inside that simply said:
“for someone who hates pictures, you sure look pretty in every single one.”
(which is something you still hadn’t told alexia about yet.)
you squeezed your eyes shut.
“i think…” you started slowly. “i think maybe i messed up.”
alexia frowned immediately.
“how?”
you stared at your ceiling.
“what if i accidentally led him on?”
silence.
then alexia blinked.
once.
twice.
then:
“no you didn't.”
you sat up defensively.
“no listen to me first.”
“i’m trying.”
“i mean think about it from his perspective,” you rambled quickly. “we fucked, and we started fake dating, then we became best friends, then we started hooking up again, and now i’m acting all relationship-y with him and sleeping and cuddling with him and spending all my time with him and—”
“because he ALSO does those things with you.”
“but what if he thinks this is leading somewhere?”
alexia blinked.
“...okay?”
you frowned immediately. “what do you mean okay?”
“what’s wrong if he does?”
you opened your mouth, then closed it again because honestly, you didn’t fully know.
“i don’t really want him to,” you muttered eventually.
alexia narrowed her eyes instantly. “why?”
“because…” you sighed frustratedly. “lexi, he’s a fuckboy.”
“not anymore he’s not.”
you blinked at her. “huh?”
alexia sat up straighter on her bed, suddenly looking way too invested in this conversation. “a fuckboy is someone who sleeps around, avoids commitment, lies, leads people on, whatever,” she explained while counting on her fingers dramatically. “but jungkook has been fully committed to whatever THIS is with you for months now.”
you stayed quiet.
she tilted her head. “so is he really a fuckboy?”
you frowned slightly. “hm.”
alexia immediately pointed at the screen. “you see?”
“don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“that smug face.”
“oh, my bad. do i remind you of your “cocky fucker”?”
you pout. then you mumble, “but lexi... i can’t just date him.”
alexia’s eyes widened instantly. “so you DO want to date him.”
your head snapped up. “wha— WAIT no, i didn’t mean— lexi that’s not—”
“the truth is finally out,” she whispered dramatically, placing a hand over her heart.
you groan. “you are evil.”
alexia laughed while you slumped deeper into your bed miserably because unfortunately, the more you talked, the worse this entire thing sounded.
you stayed quiet for a few seconds before mumbling softly, “he’s not a bad guy though, just.. cocky sometimes.”
alexia immediately froze.
you stared at your ceiling while speaking slowly, almost like you were realizing the words as they came out. “like… who wouldn’t fall for this idiot?”
alexia let out the loudest squeal imaginable. “OH MY GOD.”
“stop screaming.”
“this is SO fun,” she gasped dramatically. “it’s literally like watching a silly little rom-com in real time.”
you rolled your eyes hard. “okay but that doesn’t mean i SHOULD date him.”
“why not?”
“because!” you sat up frustratedly again.
alexia tilted her head. “because?”
“i don’t know,” you groaned. “i guess you're right. i just have… issues.”
“oh yeah?” she asked immediately. “what are those issues?”
you went quiet.
then eventually: “well… kyle was nice.”
alexia stared blankly. “your cheater ex?”
“yeah.”
you pulled your knees closer to your chest slowly. “he was like… my dream at first,” you admitted quietly. “he said all the right things. he made promises. he acted perfect.” you swallowed slightly. “and then he still cheated anyway.”
alexia’s expression softened immediately. “so you’re afraid of betrayal.”
you shrugged weakly. “sure.”
“and because jungkook used to be a fuckboy,” she continued carefully, “you don’t believe he’d actually be fully committed to someone?”
you sighed tiredly. “i don’t know, lexi. it just takes me a really long time to trust men these days.”
alexia nodded slowly. “i get that.”
you stared down at your hands. “i think when i’m attracted to someone,” you admitted quietly, “i make the stupidest decisions possible. and then afterwards i step back and think… maybe this isn’t right for me.”
“mhm.”
“like maybe i got carried away.”
“mhm.”
“and maybe i ignored obvious signs.”
alexia stayed quiet this time.
you exhaled softly. “i just…” you frowned slightly. “i don’t trust myself around people i like.”
that made alexia pause for a second. then softer now, she asked:
“do you think jungkook would hurt you?”
your answer came too quickly.
“no.”
silence.
alexia blinked slowly.
you did too because apparently your brain had answered before you could think properly.
alexia stared at you carefully. “that was fast.”
you looked away immediately. “well…”
“no, go ahead,” she said suspiciously. “explain yourself.”
you groaned dramatically. “i just mean he’s… different.”
“different how?”
you thought about it. about the way he always showed up. the way he listened. the way he remembered things you forgot mentioning. the way he looked at you like you were something soft instead of temporary.
your stomach twisted.
“i don’t know, he just is,” you muttered weakly.
alexia smiled knowingly. “girl, you’re cooked.”
“i just…” you sighed. “i want to be sure about the next person i let myself.. love, you know?”
alexia’s expression softened almost immediately.
“that’s fair.”
you stared down at your hands for a moment before continuing.
“it’s fair, right?” you added quietly. “i don’t think i can handle another situation where i trust someone completely and then find out i was stupid for it.”
alexia nodded slowly.
“you weren’t stupid.”
“i kinda was.”
“no,” she said firmly. “you trusted someone you loved. that’s different.”
you stayed quiet. because sometimes you still couldn’t tell the difference.
alexia adjusted herself against her pillows again before speaking softer now.
“i think you’re trying really hard to protect yourself before anything even happens.”
you frowned slightly.
“well yeah.”
“but you’re also acting like jungkook and kyle are the same person.”
you immediately shook your head.
“they’re not.”
“exactly.”
you exhaled slowly.
“i know they’re different logically,” you admitted. “but when feelings get involved, i panic.”
alexia hummed understandingly.
“because feelings make things real.”
“mhm.”
“and real means there’s actually something to lose.”
you looked up at the screen quietly.
sometimes alexia understood you a little too well. and you love her for it. so much.
you remembered how you used to think alexia wasn’t your person. that the two of you were just friends. acquaintances, maybe.
you never thought you’d let someone in this much again, let alone someone who listened to all your messy thoughts without making you feel strange for them.
sure, jungkook did that too. but with him, it almost felt inevitable. you spent too much time together, shared too many late nights, too many vulnerable moments, too much intimacy for closeness not to happen eventually.
but with alexia, it felt different.
natural. easy. safe.
there was no pressure to be anything other than yourself around her.
even after everything in the past, after drifting apart while you were dating kyle, after the awkwardness and misunderstandings and all the moments where both of you probably thought the other person was upset, somehow you still found your way back to each other.
and maybe that’s why you love her so much.
because despite all the little differences and distance, the two of you still chose to let each other back into your lives.
“lexi?”
she looked up immediately from where she was peeling the rest of her face mask off.
“mhm?”
you smiled a little to yourself.
“i love you so much.”
alexia froze dramatically.
then she gasped loudly and clutched her chest.
“oh my god,” she whispered. “this is huge for me.”
you rolled your eyes playfully, already laughing.
“i’m serious.”
her expression softened almost instantly after that.
“i know,” she said quietly. “i love you too, bestie.”
something warm settled in your chest at her words.
alexia smiled at you through the screen before pointing suddenly.
“now i know you’ll be okay eventually.”
you frowned slightly.
“what does that mean?”
“because you’re letting people love you again.”
that made you pause.
because maybe she was right.
a year ago, you probably would’ve shut down completely before conversations like this could even happen. you wouldn’t have admitted your fears out loud. you wouldn’t have let alexia see you like this. you definitely wouldn’t have let yourself care this deeply about someone again.
but now?
you had alexia. you had jungkook. you had people who stayed.
and maybe that scared you a little.
but it also felt nice.
. . .
“okay but, back to jungkook though,” alexia said suddenly. which made you chuckle.
“have you ever thought maybe you don’t actually need to decide everything right now?”
you frowned slightly. “what do you mean?”
“i mean maybe you don’t have to immediately figure out whether he’s your future husband or your future heartbreak,” she explained. “maybe you can just… let yourself fully like him first.”
that made you pause.
because honestly, you hadn’t really thought about it that way before.
everything in your head had become so black and white recently.
it was either: trust him completely.
or: run before things get worse.
you never really considered there could be something in-between.
alexia noticed your silence immediately.
“see?” she pointed triumphantly at the screen. “that brain of yours is always overthinking and trying to speedrun emotional damage.”
you rolled your eyes despite the tiny smile pulling at your lips.
“don’t call me out like that.”
alexia laughed.
you did too, quieter this time.
then after a few seconds, you admitted softly,
“i think i’m scared because if this goes wrong… i lose more than just a boyfriend.”
alexia’s smile faded slightly.
“you lose your best friend too.”
you nodded.
and somehow hearing it out loud made your chest ache a little.
because that was the real terrifying part.
not the sex. not the feelings. not even the possibility of rejection.
it was the idea of losing him entirely.
alexia looked at you carefully for a moment before speaking again.
“okay,” she said softly. “but do you know what i think?”
you hummed quietly.
“i think if jungkook really cares about you the way i think he does,” she said, “he’d rather move slowly with you than lose you too.”
you stayed quiet for a moment, staring at your blanket while your thoughts spiraled again.
then alexia sighed softly.
“you know,” she started again carefully, “sometimes people are worth the risk.”
“you think so?”
“look,” she shrugged slightly, “i wouldn’t be saying this if i didn’t know how jungkook is with you.”
you let out a quiet laugh through your nose, mostly because hearing it out loud still felt ridiculous somehow.
alexia smiled a little.
“i really do think you should give him a chance.”
you frowned weakly.
“or at least ask him how he feels,” she added softer this time. “you know… instead of driving yourself insane trying to figure it out alone.”
you stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at your ceiling, while your thoughts kept getting louder and louder in your head.
then eventually, you cursed quietly under your breath.
alexia watched you carefully through the screen.
you swallowed slightly before letting out a weak sigh.
“okay.”
“okay?” she repeated softly.
you rubbed tiredly at your eyes.
“maybe i owe it to myself to stop running before anything even happens.”
alexia’s expression softened almost immediately.
you laughed quietly, though it sounded more exhausted than amused.
“god. listen to me. i sound insane.”
“no,” she said gently. “you sound fine.”
you hummed.
“trust me, ___. you got this.”
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a/n: then jungkook says “i don’t have a crush on you” 😂🤣😂🤣😂 funniest shit ever.
Rabbot ‘together since the start’ social media au:
Part 9/? + phone convo below!
Masterpost
——————
The first thing Robby hears when the line finally connects to Whitaker’s phone is overlapping voices and general chaos.
“Hi, Dr - stop trying to grab the phone - hi Dr. Robby,” Whitaker says, voice sounding slightly far away. “You’re on speaker -“
“Your man is a badass!” Santos whoops, drunkenly interrupting, the phone jostling in the hand of whoever is holding it. “He didn’even - he didn’hesitate -“
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Robby snaps, and that seems to sober some of the chatter. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on! Where is Jack?”
“He’s with the police,” comes Mel’s voice, a little less clear than it normally is but certainly more sober than Santos. “Talking! Not in trouble, he - he was the hero, not the bad guy!”
“He literally saved my life,” comes an inebriated but sincere sob from Javadi. It makes Robby soften just a little. She’s crying and obviously very shaken. “He didn’t care if he got hurt, he just saved me -“
Christ, he forgets they’re all just kids.
“Okay, but he’s conscious and upright, correct? And has Javadi been checked out? Is she okay?” Robby asks, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Yes sir,” Whitaker says, and Robby can practically see him nodding. “Paramedics have checked her out, and checked him over too, but he declined care because he said the doctor at home is better looking.”
Robby can’t help but snort, shaking his head. Of course he fucking did.
“What happened?” He asks. When they all start talking at once, he clarifies. “One at a time, please.”
“We were leaving the pub to go dancing, and Dr. Abbot was going to walk us there and then go home,” Mel says, and truly thank god for her, Robby thinks. “Vic was at the back because she had a rock in her shoe. We walked by this alley and just as everyone passed, a guy grabbed Vic from behind and clamped his hand over her mouth, but Trinity saw -“
“You’re damn right I fucking did, piece of shit motherfuckers -“
Robby can’t help but smile fondly at Santos’ fiery interjection. She’s a protector, through and through.
“- and Dr. Abbot was just there before anyone could even react, told us to call the police and he just ripped Vic free and then the guys were on him but he just -“
“He kicked their asses!” Santos interjects again. “He didn’t even hesitate, he just - and then they fought back but he won! Knocked those fuckers out and now the - ouch, stop punching me - now the cops have ‘em!
Robby sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose even as he smiles a little.
That’s Jack - headfirst into the danger to help. No matter the cost.
“Can you put him on the phone please?” Robby asks.
“Yeah, yep, of course -“ it’s Whitaker again, the rustling of the phone loud as he extricates himself from the group. There’s more shuffling and the sound of a crowd and then -
“Hi baby,” comes Jack’s voice, a little sore sounding but clear.
“Jesus, Jack,” Robby breathes out, sheer relief finally flooding him. “Are you okay? Where are you, I’ll come get you.”
“I’m alright,” Jack reassures him, voice warm despite the slight nasal sound. Hit in the nose, definitely. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Looked like more than that,” Robby insists. “Santos posted a photo.”
Jack laughs, and Robby can practically see the wince that comes with it as he moves his face. “Course she did,” he says. “She said I looked really badass.”
“You look like you’re giving your husband more grey hair,” Robby groused.
“Good thing I like an older man,” Jack teases.
Robby rolls his eyes. “Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get you.”
“Nah, the boys in blue are gonna drive me home,” Jack says. “They’re going to drop off the kids, too, I want to make sure they get home safe.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll be home before you know it,” Jack murmurs, the warmth soothing some of the anxiety in Robby’s chest. “And then you can fuss over me all you want.”
“Alright,” Robby concedes with a sigh. “Fine. Text me when you’re on your way, okay?
“I will,” Jack says. “Love you.”
Robby sighs, smiling softly. “Love you too, you big fucking hero. Get here soon.”
Plot: Jason wants you to learn self-defense in case he's not around, but he should've known you'd turn it into a game—batting your lashes, pouting, testing his patience at every step.
Words: 7k
A/N: this oneshot is basically an expanded (and slightly spicier, oops) version of a convo we had a few days ago about Jason teaching his girl self defense. it spiraled into something much steamier than planned, but I mean... are we surprised? big thanks to that little idea spark, y'all know who you are 🖤
Jason stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down at you like he's really trying to figure out where he went wrong in life because when he said he wanted to teach you self defense, he expected some pushback. Maybe a little nervousness. Some hesitation. At worst, some stubborn "I don't need to learn that, Jay, you're always with me" bullshit.
What he didn't expect was for your eyes to light up like he just told you he bought you a puppy.
"Can I learn how to stab someone?" you ask, voice soft, excited, like you're asking if you can bake cookies later.
Jason blinks. "What."
You nod, like this is a normal response. "I mean, obviously, I have a taser and bear spray, but I think a knife would be a nice addition, you know?"
He has to take a second to process. "You—you have a what?"
"A taser! And bear spray," you clarify, eyes shining like you're announcing your engagement. "Bear spray is way better than regular pepper spray, so that's why I have that instead. Been itching so bad to use them, but who knew it took eons to get assaulted in Gotham when you actually want to?" you let out a dramatic sigh. "Like, I've been ready for this for years. I am so fucking up the first stupid asshole who wants to try me."
Jason has to take a very deep breath before responding, because he doesn't know whether to be concerned or turned on. Like, he genuinely doesn't know what to do with this information because he came into this fully prepared to convince you that learning self defense was a good idea in the first place. Again, he thought maybe you'd be scared, maybe you'd worry about getting hurt.
Which, in hindsight, was fucking stupid.
Because yeah, you're his small, sweet, shy girl, at least 90% of the time. All soft smiles and warm cuddles, curling into his side, acting all innocent. But he should know better. Because you're also a menace. Especially when you're drunk.
And the thing is, alcohol makes you bold as fuck. Your mouth runs without a filter, and somehow, that always ends with either you ready to commit assault over the stupidest shit or getting him in trouble. Like that one time a guy tried to cut in front of you in line at a food truck, and before Jason could even blink, you were calling the dude a "dickless little piss baby" and offering to fight him over a fucking taco.
So yeah, he should've known.
"Baby," he finally says, rubbing a hand down his face. "You don't get to just manifest gettin' mugged."
You pout, arms crossing tight over your chest like you're trying to physically contain your frustration. "I'm not manifesting it, I just think it'd be fun."
Jason stares at you, unimpressed.
"Not fun fun," you amend quickly, eyes darting to his face as you shift on your feet, hands waving as if that'll somehow make your argument more reasonable. "But like... practical fun. Who doesn't wanna kick some criminal ass?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, voice dry, incredulous. "Doll, no one just casually waits for an opportunity to fuck someone up."
Your pout deepens, bottom lip pushing out as you tip your head, batting your lashes. "You do."
His eyes narrow. "That's different."
He groans, tipping his head back like he's asking the universe for strength. "Okay, yeah, no weapons for you."
"How?"
You take a step closer, blinking up at him, playing up your sweetness like you're not actively trying to convince him to arm you with a knife.
"What? Why not?" you whine, stomping your foot just a little because this is bullshit.
"Because," Jason says, tone final, firm, like he's laying down the law, "I'm not lettin' my girl run around with a blade just waitin' for some dumbass to try her."
You huff, arms crossing tighter as you glare. "This is so unfair."
He scoffs, throwing his hands up. "Unfair—you—oh my fuckin' God, no knife trainin' for you and that's it."
Your jaw drops, scandalized, because how dare he? "Jay—"
"Fuckin' no," he cuts you off with a sharp look, voice absolute. "You don't get a knife."
Your lips wobble like you're actually sad about it. "But—"
"Jesus Christ, you're worse than me," he mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deep like he's trying to summon the patience of a saint.
Which, let's be real, he doesn't have. Not when it comes to you and your innocent—and very concerning—enthusiasm for fucking people up.
"Baby," he starts, slow and measured, like he's talking to someone who's about to do something really fucking stupid. And honestly, maybe he is. "This is self fuckin' defense. Meanin' it's only for when you have no other choice. Got it? You are not—I repeat, not—goin' out of your way to stab someone just because you wanna see how it feels."
You blink up at him, lashes fluttering, mouth curling into the sweetest little pout. "I would never do that."
Jason stares. Stares. Because you're lying. Blatantly.
"You just said you've been waitin' for someone to try and mug you," he points out, voice flat, arms crossing again as he levels you with a look. "That doesn't sound like self defense, baby. That sounds like premeditation."
You tilt your head, like you totally don't see the problem here. "But Jay—"
"No," he lifts a hand, cutting you off before you can even start with whatever bullshit argument you're about to pull. "No buts. This isn't a game. If someone actually attacks you, you do exactly what I teach you. No extra shit, no tryin' to one up them, and definitely no pullin' weapons just because you feel like it. Understand?"
You nod, but it's too quick, too eager. Too much like you're just saying it so he'll shut up and move on to the part where he actually shows you how to hurt someone.
Jason sighs through his nose, jaw tightening as he gives you a slow once over. "Say it back to me."
You bite your lip, rocking on your heels, playing up the innocence in your eyes. "I will only use self defense if I absolutely have to," you recite, soft, sweet. "I will not go out of my way to fight someone, no matter how bad I wanna try out my taser—"
Jason groans, tipping his head back. "Jesus Christ."
"—and I will definitely not stab anyone unless I am in mortal danger."
He squints at you. "Are you fuckin' with me right now?"
You clasp your hands behind your back, swaying slightly, still looking up at him like you're the picture of pure intentions.
"No, baby," you say, voice syrupy and so fucking fake, and you can see the muscle in his jaw twitch, the barely contained exasperation tightening his shoulders. "I'm taking this very seriously."
"No," he mutters, rubbing his hand down his face again. "No, you're not."
You step closer, pressing your fingers to his chest, looking up at him through your lashes. "I am," you insist, voice so soft, so sweet. "Don't you trust me?"
Jason's hands drop to his hips, and he leans in, just enough to look you right in the eye. "Not even a little."
He exhales slowly, leveling you with a look that's somewhere between exasperated boyfriend and man barely holding onto his sanity. He doesn't know why the fuck he thought this would go smoothly. You, of all people. You, with your wide, innocent eyes and that suspiciously sweet little voice, who he knows is just itching to cause some kind of bullshit.
He should've seen this coming. Should've known.
Because realistically speaking? You rarely go anywhere without him. It's fucking Gotham, and he's Jason fucking Todd. Which means if you're not with him, you're with someone he trusts or you're home where he left you, safe.
Not because he's some controlling asshole who doesn't let you live your life, but because he's been out there. He knows what this city is. Knows how fast things can go from fine to fucked in the blink of an eye.
And not that the freaks here need a reason to attack people only at night anyway, God knows they don't. Broad daylight, rush hour, middle of the fucking street? Doesn't matter. Gotham's got its own fucking rules, and they don't care if you're just trying to grab a coffee or get home from work. But still, he thought it'd be good for you to at least have some self defense training.
What he didn't think, was that you'd be fucking giddy about the idea of stabbing someone. He drags a hand down his face for what feels like the thousandth time, shoulders tensing as he looks at you again, standing there all sweet and so fucking suspicious.
"You're gonna be the death of me," he mutters, shaking his head.
You just beam at him, rising onto your toes to press a quick kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. "But I'm cute," you remind him, voice sickly sweet, lips brushing against his skin.
Jason sighs, tilting his head down just as you try to step back, catching your chin between his fingers before you can get away. "Yeah?" he murmurs, eyes flicking between yours, thumb stroking along your jaw. "That supposed to make me forget you just admitted you're impatient to commit a felony?"
Your lips part, your breath warm against his, but you're still smiling, still playing that little game of yours, still batting your lashes like you're the picture of innocence. "Not a felony," you say softly. "Just... an act of self defense that may or may not get me arrested, depending on the jury."
He groans, dropping his forehead against yours, shaking his head as his hands slide down to your waist.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mutters, voice rough, full of barely contained affectionate frustration. "You are so lucky I love you."
You giggle, bright and genuine, wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing yourself into him like you know exactly what you're doing. "I know," you say, smug and happy, and fuck, he's so fucking gone for you it's ridiculous at this point.
Jason breathes you in, lets his fingers tighten around your waist, and kisses you. A slow, lingering press of his lips, soft enough to make you melt a little, teasing enough to remind you that he's got other ways of distracting you. And maybe he should've just started there instead of pretending this was ever gonna be a serious lesson.
But he pulls back, just enough to murmur, "You done playin', doll?"
You blink up at him, still smiling. "Depends."
Jason squints, lips twitching. "Depends on what?"
"Depends on whether you're actually gonna teach me now, or just keep kissing me until you forget about it."
Jason huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he pulls away, finally taking a step back. "Alright," he says, rolling his shoulders, glancing down at his hands like he's mentally preparing to deal with you. "Let's try to get through a fuckin' lesson, then."
You giggle again, soft and way too pleased, and he already regrets this, because he knows you're gonna try some bullshit the second he gives you an opening. He knows it. Can see it written all over your too sweet expression, the way you're still smiling, still batting your lashes, like you're not already planning your next move.
So he sighs, rolls his shoulders again, and chooses to ignore that for now. Because if he wants to get anywhere with this, he needs to at least get the basics into your head before you start trying to murder him.
"Alright," he starts, keeping his voice even, professional. "This isn't a "how to win a fight" lesson, okay? You're not lookin' to beat someone. You're lookin' to get the fuck away as fast as possible. You with me?"
"Mhmm," you hum, tilting your head, still smiling.
Jason narrows his eyes, but moves on. "Gotham's a shithole. You're not gonna have time to square up and throw a clean punch. So this is about gettin' yourself out of a bad situation before it gets worse. You get grabbed? You break the hold and you run. If they're faster than you? You make sure they regret gettin' close to you in the first place."
You perk up, excited, and Jason almost groans. So fucking predictable.
"So," he continues, pretending he didn't notice, "most common grabs. If someone gets your arm—"
He reaches out, quick but controlled, his fingers circling your wrist in a firm grip. He doesn't squeeze, just holds, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. "What do you do?"
You think for a second, then— "Break their fucking nose?"
Jason lets out a rough chuckle, shaking his head. "Okay, yeah, that's an option, but first? You wanna break the grip. They grab your wrist, you don't pull back. You twist toward their thumb, push through the weak point in their hold."
He loosens his fingers just a little, giving you the chance to practice. You try it, twisting your wrist too quickly, too eager, but Jason keeps his grip light so you actually get the motion right, slipping out of his hold easily.
"Like that?" you ask, looking pleased with yourself.
"Yeah," he nods. "If they grab both wrists, same thing, but you yank up and break out of both at the same time. Quick, before they can adjust their grip. Got it?"
You nod, biting your lip like you're really paying attention, and fuck, Jason has no idea how much of this is actually sticking and how much is just you playing with him. But he moves on, because next is something he needs you to know.
"Okay," he murmurs, voice dropping slightly. "If they go for your throat—"
His hand ghosts up, barely touching, just resting his fingers lightly against your neck, so gentle it's barely pressure at all. But it's enough to make your breath hitch, just slightly, your body going a little still.
Jason watches you carefully, reads every microexpression, every little flicker of something across your face before continuing.
"People fuck this up in movies. You don't try to pull their hands off. You're not gonna be strong enough to break the grip outright, especially not if they're bigger than you."
He flexes his fingers slightly, just enough to demonstrate, to show you what he means before pulling back. "You wanna go for the thumbs. That's the weak point. Both hands, grab their thumbs, push out and down, then duck away. Got it?"
You nod, more serious, something thoughtful in your expression.
"Good," he murmurs, then gestures to your hair. "If they grab your hair—"
"Oh fuck no, I'd simply die," you say, deadpan. "That's my nightmare scenario, Jay."
Jason huffs a laugh. "Yeah, well, let's say you'd rather not die, baby. If they grab it, you don't try to yank away, or you're just helpin' them control you. You grab their wrist, stop them from jerkin' your head around, and you drive your knee into their fuckin' balls until they let go. Got it?"
"Got it," you echo, nodding, biting your lip like you're really thinking about it.
Jason watches you for a second, then takes a step back, flexing his fingers. "Alright," he says. "We're gonna go through these real quick, one by one, get the motion into muscle memory, yeah?"
"Yeah," you nod, lifting your hands a little. "Okay. Ready."
Jason nods, reaches for your wrist again—
And you go straight for his throat. No hesitation. Zero fucking hesitation. You move fast, hands darting up like you're ready to go for his jugular, and Jason barely manages to react in time, catching your wrists before you can dig your fingers into his windpipe.
"Jesus Christ!" he barks, startled, holding you back as you giggle, eyes bright, too fucking pleased with yourself. "We are literally practicin' breakin' a wrist grab, and you go for my fuckin' throat?"
"It was open!" you defend, twisting in his grip, trying to move your arms, but he tightens his hold. "Seemed like a good opportunity!"
Jason lets out a long, slow exhale, like he's praying for patience. "You are so fuckin' lucky I love you, I swear to fuckin' God," he mutters.
You just beam at him, but he's determined to get through at least one lesson with you before you either land a dirty hit or he ends up putting you in a fucking time out.
It's a battle though. Because every time he tries to correct your form, show you the right way to get out of a hold, you're already one step ahead—twisting in his grip, shifting your weight, going for some batshit move you absolutely should not be attempting yet. And you do get it right, more than once, your motions smooth and sharp when you actually focus, but the problem is that you never just focus.
It's always followed by something else. Something you shouldn't be doing. Like now.
"Jesus, baby," Jason grunts, dodging just in time as you try, for the millionth fucking time, to go for his balls. "Do you have to aim there every fuckin' time?"
"It's a very effective tactic," you say, so damn pleased with yourself. "It's a vulnerable spot, isn't it? You literally said I should make them regret getting close to me."
"I meant them, pretty girl. Not me."
"You're just in the way," you say, batting your lashes, grinning. "Move, and it won't be your problem."
Jason lets out a sharp huff of laughter, shaking his head. "Y'know what? Fuck this."
And before you can react, he moves. Quick. Smooth. Controlled. His arm hooks around your waist, the other sweeping your legs clean off the floor, and the next thing you know, you're falling, pulled down with him, but the landing is soft, the plush rug cushioning you as Jason twists, making sure he hits the floor first, his arms caging you close against his chest as you let out a startled little gasp.
Your hands press against his chest, pushing yourself up slightly, but Jason doesn't let you go far—his grip tight, his fingers curling against your lower back, keeping you right where he wants you.
He smirks up at you, all slow and lazy, something dark flickering in his eyes, and when he speaks, his voice is warm and rough, low enough to send a thrill down your spine.
"Careful with my balls, baby," he murmurs, the rasp in his voice making your stomach flutter. "I thought you loved gettin' fucked."
Your breath hitches, heat sparking through your veins, and he watches the way your lips part, your lashes fluttering as your grip on his chest tightens just slightly.
You let out a soft little giggle, feigning innocence, tilting your head as you trace a slow, teasing line over his collarbone, down to the fabric of his shirt.
"I do," you murmur, pouting a little, "but I'm also very dedicated to my studies, Jay. You wouldn't wanna distract me, would you?"
Jason huffs, his grip tightening for a split second before he shifts, one arm coming up, curling around your back as the other slips down, fingers pressing against your hip as he flips you under him in one smooth motion, his weight pressing you down into the rug.
"Doll," he breathes, tilting his head, his lips so damn close to yours, "I don't think you wanna study right now."
And then he kisses you. Slow. Deep. Messy. His lips part against yours, his tongue licking deep into your mouth, coaxing a sweet little whimper from you as your hands fist into his shirt, pulling him closer.
He kisses like he owns you, mouth hot and searching, tongue sliding over yours with purpose, like he's trying to taste every little gasp you give him. His hand slides up, fingers cupping the top of your head as he tilts it just how he wants it, deepening the kiss until it's all spit and need and heat. You can feel the groan rumble in his chest before it spills into your mouth, vibrating against your lips, low and rough.
Your lips part wider for him, letting him devour you, and he takes full advantage, licking into you slow and filthy, like he's savoring every second of it. His teeth catch on your bottom lip when he pulls back just a little, only to dive right back in, lips sealing over yours again like he can't stand not kissing you.
And fuck, you melt for it. For the way he kisses like you're something sweet he can't stop craving, like he wants to drag the taste of you out long and aching and endless.
His weight presses against you, his body solid, heat radiating from his skin, and when his thigh shifts, pressing between your legs, you let out a soft, shaky little sigh, your body arching up into his. Jason smirks against your lips, his fingers dipping under your shirt, warm against your skin as he teases up your waist, his touch light, slow, deliberate.
"That's what I thought," he murmurs, voice thick with want, "guess you're not so dedicated after all, huh, baby?"
And he doesn't stop there. His hand drifts higher, fingertips skimming your ribs before they finally close around your tits, squeezing, kneading, teasing you with slow, intentional touches. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows how sensitive you are, how easy it is to work you up until you're a whimpering mess for him.
His lips brush your jaw, then your neck, pressing slow, open mouthed kisses against your skin, dragging his tongue along the pulse that flutters under his mouth. His voice is deep, mocking, when he finally speaks, words warm against your throat.
"So damn insatiable."
And you are—grinding against his thigh, your breath coming faster, hips rolling like you need something—anything more than just the pressure of his leg against your cunt. Your nipple pebbles against his palm, and he chuckles, tugging your shirt up with one hand before leaning in and taking it into his mouth.
The heat of his tongue makes you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before he bites, just enough to make you jolt. Then he soothes it, licking over the sting, lips closing around the peak to suckle again, slow and deep, making you arch into him, chasing the feeling.
And he loves it. Loves the way you squirm, the way you whimper, the way your grip tightens in his hair when he switches to the other, dragging his teeth over the soft curve before his lips close around it.
He mouths at you like he's starving, like your tits are the only thing he needs to live. His tongue drags slow, lazy circles around your nipple before flicking the tip again and again, just to hear you whine for it. Then he sucks harder, lips sealed tight, cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls another breathless moan out of you.
"Fuck, baby," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick and ragged, hot breath ghosting over the wet flesh. "These tits—God, you know what you do to me?"
He licks lower, wet and messy between the swell, then back up again, trailing spit like he wants you soaked everywhere, not just between your legs. His hands push your shirt higher, bunching it under your arms as he palms both at once, squeezing, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples, slick with his spit.
He leans in again, lips dragging between them like he can't choose which one he wants more, switching back and forth like he's addicted, like he's trying to memorize every soft noise you make when he tongues one and rolls the other between his fingers.
You're grinding harder, pussy practically dripping, every drag of his thigh against your clit making your whole body twitch. And Jason? Jason just grins, lips still wrapped around your nipple, watching you fall apart just from how he sucks your tits like they're his personal fucking addiction.
He hums against you, the sound dark and pleased, one hand sliding down, down, slipping past the waistband of your shorts.
His fingers slip between your thighs, pressing just right over the soaked lace clinging to your cunt, and he groans, low and rough, like he feels it in his chest.
"Jesus, you're so fuckin' wet, baby."
And you are. The fabric is already drenched, sticking to you, barely anything separating you from the slow, teasing circles he's rubbing against your clit. But it's not enough, not when you're already aching, already needing more, and he fucking knows it.
You whine, hips shifting, trying to push against his fingers, but he doesn't give you what you want. Just keeps barely touching you, brushing his knuckles over the damp lace, the ghost of pressure over your pussy enough to make you whimper.
His mouth is still working you over, still licking at your tits, sucking slow and deep until your nipple pebbles against his tongue, until you're so fucking sensitive you can't stop the little noises slipping from your throat.
Your fingers tighten in his hair as your voice comes soft, needy. "Jay, please—"
He hums against your skin, tongue flicking over the peak of your nipple before he suckles again, just toying with you, like he's perfectly content to keep you like this—whining, squirming, so needy it's almost pathetic.
His lips curl against your skin as he finally lifts his head, his fingers still moving slow, teasing, barely pressing against your clit.
"Please what, huh?"
His voice is dripping with amusement as he brushes another lazy touch over your pussy. "What do you want? You were talkin' so big earlier. What happened, baby?"
You whimper, hips shifting again, trying so desperately to push into his touch, but he doesn't let you. Just holds you down, controlling the pace, the pressure.
"C'mon, doll," he murmurs, voice thick with mocking sweetness as he drags his fingers over your clit—slow, featherlight, barely enough pressure to give you what you need. "Say it. What do you want?"
Your panties are soaked, the thin lace clinging to your cunt, and you know he can feel it. The way your slick seeps through the fabric, the way it makes every slow, teasing brush of his fingers more slippery, easier for him to keep you right on the edge without giving you anything.
Your breath stutters as you try again, voice coming out soft, desperate. "I need—" a sharp inhale as his fingers skim your clit, and fuck, you're so sensitive already. "I want you, Jay."
He makes a low sound in his throat, something that's almost thoughtful as he keeps up those infuriatingly light touches, the pads of his fingers gliding over your slick, swollen clit with just enough pressure to keep you right there, to keep you aching.
"Yeah? Do you?" he grins against your skin, his mouth moving to your throat, kissing, sucking until he knows it'll leave a mark. "Cause earlier, you were sayin' I'm in your way."
Your pout is immediate, your fingers tightening in his hair as you whine, frustration bubbling up in your chest. "I was just talking shit, baby—please, I need you."
But he doesn't budge, doesn't give you what you want yet, just keeps playing with you, his fingers teasing just right over your clit, flicking, rubbing, not letting you grind against him like you're trying to.
"Need me, huh?"
His voice is so fucking deep, rasping against your skin as his fingers finally slip beneath your panties, pushing the soaked fabric aside. You gasp when he spreads you open, fingertips sliding through your slick lips, smearing your arousal around as he grins.
"Jesus, baby, you're so fuckin' wet."
He loves it, loves the way you writhe for him, loves how fucking needy you are, even as his cock throbs, straining against his sweats, aching to be buried inside you.
But he doesn't care, not when he's having too much fun teasing you, playing with you, dragging his fingers over your soaked pussy like he's just getting started.
Jason groans, deep and gravelly, his mouth slanting over yours with a heat that makes your toes curl. His lips are rough, possessive, like he needs to taste every single moan he pulls from you, like he wants to swallow them down, keep them all to himself.
His tongue flicks against yours, teasing, coaxing you into parting for him even more, and you can't help but moan when he finally presses his fingers against your clit, circling the swollen bud with slow, deliberate strokes.
The slick, wet sounds are obscene, filling the space between your breathless little whimpers, your needy, muffled gasps as he works you, rubbing tight, precise circles that have your thighs trembling, your body tensing as he brings you right to the brink.
Your hips jerk as he drags his fingers lower, sliding through your soaked folds, gathering up every drop of arousal before he brings it back up, spreading it over your sensitive clit, making it easier for him to tease you.
"Fuck, baby," he rasps, breaking the kiss just long enough to nip at your lower lip, grinning when you whimper, "you're drippin' all over my fuckin' fingers."
And you are, your slick coating his fingers, making his strokes smoother, more precise, working you into a mess of needy little gasps, of desperate, helpless little moans.
Your head falls back against the plush rug as he grins, taking the opportunity to kiss down your jaw, nipping at your skin between murmured praise.
He finally—fucking finally—slides a finger into your pussy, sinking it in slow, making sure you feel every inch stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, clenching at the intrusion, and fuck, he loves how tight you are, how you always squeeze around his fingers like you're desperate for more.
"That's it, doll," he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. "So fuckin' tight for me. You love this, don't you? Love havin' my fingers inside you?"
You whimper, nodding quickly, too lost in the slow, steady thrust of his finger, the way he angles it just right, making your cunt pulse around it.
"Yeah, I know you do," he rasps, a grin in his voice before he adds another, pressing both fingers deep, stretching you open as his palm grinds against your clit, sending a sharp, electric jolt through you.
You gasp, your hips rolling up, seeking more, but he just chuckles, keeping his pace slow, teasing, fucking you on his fingers with deep, steady thrusts that have your thighs trembling.
"Look at you," he murmurs, voice dark, full of heat, "takin' my fingers so good, baby. You're so wet, fuck, you're drippin' all over me."
You moan, making every movement smooth, obscene, the wet sounds of your pussy taking his fingers only making you more desperate.
Then he curls them, dragging against that perfect, sensitive spot inside you, and you cry out, your back arching as your pussy clenches tight around him.
"Yeah? That's the spot, huh?" he grins, doing it again, pressing his fingers just right, making your whole body shudder. "God, you feel so fuckin' good squeezin' me like that. You gonna cum for me?"
And God, you need to, you want to, especially with the way his cock is pressing against your thigh, hard and thick, the heat of it searing through his sweats. The thought of him fucking you, of him stretching you open on his dick instead of his fingers has you whimpering.
Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans, fingers thrusting deeper, his palm grinding against your clit, rubbing, teasing, working you closer, closer, closer.
Jason groans into your mouth as he kisses you, lazy and wet, his tongue sliding against yours in slow, sloppy strokes that have you whimpering. His lips are soft, warm, but his kiss is hungry, deep and messy, like he's devouring you, like he can't get enough. And you—Jesus, you're already a wreck, your body trembling against him, your breath hitching between every filthy press of his lips.
His fingers fuck into you with a steady rhythm, curling deep, pushing against that perfect spot inside you, and you shudder, your pussy tightening around his fingers, so close, so fucking close.
"C'mon," he rasps against your lips, his voice all low and wrecked, full of heat. "Let me feel it. Cum for me, baby, cum all over my fingers."
And you do. Your whole body locks up, pleasure hitting you like a shockwave, crashing over you in a hot, electric rush that makes your legs shake, your breath hitch in a broken gasp.
Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching so tight he can barely move them, your slick dripping down his hand as he fucks you through it, drawing out every last ripple of pleasure until you're gasping against his lips.
Jason fucking moans at the feel of you cumming for him, his fingers sinking deeper, fucking into your spasming pussy with slow, deep thrusts, coaxing every last drop from you. His cock throbs against your thigh, aching, needy, but he stays there, taking his time, watching you come undone.
Face all flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, your pretty little eyes all hazy and fucked out, barely even focusing on him as you come down from it. Jesus Christ, he fucking loves this. Loves how you always get like this whenever he touches you—dazed and needy, wrecked and whimpering, like he's the only thing keeping you grounded.
His fingers slow, dragging against your soaked, sensitive walls, making you twitch, and he fucking grins.
"Fuck, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with praise, "that was so fuckin' pretty. So good for me."
His hand lingers, fingers still buried inside you, soaked with your slick, and fuck, you're still clenching around him, like your body knows what it wants.
Him. Specifically, his dick.
And he's so tempted to just fuck you stupid right now, to shove his sweats down and give you exactly what you need—his cock, deep, hard, relentless—but no.
Not yet. Because you've still got a lesson to learn. But first, Jason drags his fingers from your pussy, slow and lazy, feeling the way your spent little hole clenches down on nothing as he pulls away. He lingers for a second, fingertips slick and shiny with your arousal, and then he drags them over your twitching clit, making you jerk against him, a choked whimper slipping past your lips.
And then—because he's a fucking bastard—he tugs your panties back up, pressing the soaked lace firmly against your still-sensitive cunt, trapping all that messy, sticky heat right where it belongs. You whine, a pout already forming on your lips, and Jason just grins, bringing his fingers to your mouth, rubbing them over your lips, smearing the taste of you against them.
You know what he wants. So you open up, tongue peeking out, and Jason groans as he slips his fingers inside, watching as you suck them clean.
Jesus.
Your tongue swirls over them, slow and wet, sucking him in deeper, your lips wrapping around his thick fingers as you hum against them, letting your mouth get all sloppy as you clean every last drop. Your lashes flutter, heat pools in your belly, your cunt throbbing again as you think—you really think—he's gonna fuck you now.
Because that's all you can think about.
His dick. Hard, leaking, hot, stretching you open, sliding in and out of your desperate, needy pussy, fucking you deep, fucking you hard, pumping you so full of his cum it drips out of you.
But oh, you're so wrong. Jason watches you for a second longer, his control fraying at the edges because fuck, you look so hot like this, but then he pulls his fingers from your mouth, spit clinging to them before it breaks. He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, and then he moves, getting off you entirely.
You gasp, scandalized, blinking up at him in betrayal as he stands over you, adjusting himself with a satisfied little grunt.
"Baby, what the fuck are you—"
"Well," Jason interrupts, voice way too smug, "you haven't learned shit yet. Prove to me you can do what I told you earlier, and then I'll fuck you for as long as you want."
You stare at him, jaw dropping, because you cannot believe he just said that.
You sit upright, letting him pull you up from the floor, still gaping at him. "Jay, you can't be serious right now—"
He quirks a brow. "Bet."
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, your lower lip jutting out as you glare up at him. "You're mean."
Jason barks a laugh, eyes gleaming as he tilts his head at you. "You're the one who agreed to learn self defense, baby."
You whine, pouting like that'll somehow change his mind. "But I have a taser and bear spray—"
"I don't give a fuck."
You pout harder, but it's not working. Not even a little.
He just smirks, shaking his head. "The more you pout, the longer you waste time."
You stick your tongue out at him, frustration bubbling in your chest. "I hate you."
He just chuckles, dark and knowing, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up to yours. "Keep talkin' all you want, doll. We'll see how sweet you moan on my dick after."
Jason waits, watching, arms crossed as you huff and pout, clearly not happy about being denied, but then your expression shifts. Your lashes flutter, your lips part like you're about to whine, but he sees that little glint in your eyes—oh, you're about to try some bullshit.
And he's right. Because the second his hand reaches for you, you move. His fingers barely close around your wrist before you do just like he showed you, twisting toward the weak point by his thumb, slipping free in one smooth motion.
His brows lift, and for a second, he looks genuinely impressed. But he doesn't say it, just rolls his shoulders and reaches again, this time wrapping his hand fully around your throat, fingers firm but not too tight. Testing you.
You don't hesitate. Both hands, grab the base of his thumbs, push outward, duck and pivot out of his reach, just like he told you. And it works.
Jason lets out a low hum, watching as you step back, grinning like you just pulled off the heist of the century. "Huh," he says, head tilting, that hot glint of approval in his eyes. "Guess you actually did listen."
But then he moves again, lightning quick, fingers aiming for your hair, and without even thinking, you go for his balls.
"Jesus fuck!" Jason jerks back so fast you'd think you actually landed the hit, his hands immediately dropping as he glares at you like you just committed a war crime. "Alright, fuck this, I give up."
Your brain barely has time to process it before you're grinning, bouncing on your heels as you beam up at him. "I did it!"
"That's not—" he groans, running a hand over his face before glaring at you, but there's something hot in his gaze, something that has your stomach flipping. "Yeah, fine, you did it. Now c'mere, you little shit."
His gaze drags over you, slow and deliberate, as he takes a step closer, big hands flexing at his sides. His jaw twitches, like he's debating how he wants to grab you, where he wants to put you, and then he just fucking moves.
He's on you in a second, hands snapping up so fast you barely have time to gasp before he's got you by the waist, pulling you right up against his chest. His grip is firm, possessive, fingers digging into your ass as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you squeal, clinging to him as he starts toward the bedroom.
Jason smirks, voice dropping, rough and teasing. "Gotta say, baby, 'm real proud of you."
You preen, tilting your head smugly. "Oh? Does that mean—"
"Yeah, yeah, I keep my word." His hands flex, grinding you down against the thick, hard bulge pressing into your pussy, and your breath catches. His smirk deepens, dark and promising. "And you're gonna take every inch I give you."
And you did.
You took every inch, again and again, in every way he wanted to give it to you. On your back with your legs spread wide, face down with your ass in the air, straddling his lap while his hands dragged you down onto his cock, over and over until your thighs were shaking. He used every angle, every position, fucking you through the bratty attitude until all that was left were the soft, sweet little sounds you made when he hit just the right spot.
He stuffed you full of him each time, slow at first, like he wanted to feel every clench of your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around him with each stroke. But it didn't stay slow. Not when you were begging, nails clawing at his back, whispering his name like a prayer.
He came deep, again and again, grinding into you with a low, possessive growl as his cum spilled inside—thick and hot, dripping out around his cock every time he thrust back in. He fucked it deeper with each roll of his hips, chasing every last tremble from your thighs until you went all soft and pliant underneath him, wide eyed and dazed.
No more teasing. No more smug little smirks. Just you, sweet, ruined, and wrecked just how he likes you.
The way that this was three years ago… and I was so grateful then, but I realize now how crazy it was that I even did?
For reference, I moved to another country, to a huge city, in which I had family/friends/friends of family, etc.
Also— I moved there with… no real plan. Just vibes oh my god 😭 . I did get into a uni for music but honestly… (partied way more than I studied)
I got lucky— family friend (let’s call her Daria), let me live in her house. For as long as I needed. I mean, our families went way back and I grew up with her family and her. She was a sweetheart, really.
And also, this city is beautiful. Beautiful beautiful. But also?
Where Daria lived…. It wasn’t safe.
Like… to the point where we had to be home by ‘sunset’. Not after dark. Errands? Early in the morning. Dramatic stuff! But that’s how it was. And … I couldn’t do anything. It was in the outskirts of the city. It was a dangerous neighborhood which… hey, I’d lived there when I was younger and whatnot, but I mean… it was bad.
Honestly… another manifestation? Because I always had the mindset of; nobody can fuck with me, and if they do… we’ll switch places, yk?
But okay! Okay… back to the story…
I wasn’t happy. I didn’t have friends besides Daria and some others in that area…. That I had outgrown because we’d known each other when we were five and we were different… The other family members that I spoke to, lived in the other side of this city.
(I know I’m not saying the name of the city, and that’s for privacy matters. But believe me…. It’s huge. Like… NYC huge. LA huge. And a pain in the ass to get around in.)
Anyways. Yeah, nothing to do. I would go to my classes at the college (in the other side of the city) come back, eat… sleep. Repeat.
And now… that’s something I could keep doing but… did I want to? No.
This was around when I first found out about LOA. I would hear Neville talks when I’d clean/cooked. I believed in it easily… or at least… ‘the basics.’
Still; ‘let’s give it a try.’
I imagined myself in an apartment with lots of light coming in. Wooden floors. Clean. … roommates? Sure. And then also— me. In the neighborhood. A pretty place with lots of things to do nearby: parks, cafes, restaurants, etc. and safe. Obviously.
I wanted to live it up.
But… Tasha… did you have money? A little bit.
Did you have enough money to rent out a place like this? No. That’s why I moved in with Daria (love uu).
I let it go. Kept doing my thing. Helping clean the place. Eating with Daria’s family. Studying music. Social media at the time, etc etc.
Then… out of nowhere. On instagram… my cousin messages me.
He’s older than me by 10ish years. I thought he was the coolest person ever when I was a kid: gay and proud, independent, traveling everywhere… the funniest in the family. Period.
He messages me.
Let’s call him… Oscar.
Yeah, he messages me.
‘Baby Rua!!!… It’s your cousin, ‘Oscar’… you’re back in the city?! And you didn’t tell me? Tell me everything!!!!’
‘Oh! Yeah… I’m here for fun!… I’m taking some classes at so and so college located in ‘ ‘ . Yeah!’
‘Ok!! That’s fun… but where do you live?’
‘(Made up name of area)’
‘Jesus Christ… No—You’re coming to live with me!’
Turns out!!!… and I’ll try to get a screenshot from our convos… though it was lit. years ago. …
Oscar has been spiritual…. Almost his whole life. Tarot, astrology, Law of Assumption, etc… He tells me— months later when we’re living together and comfortably with each other—oh also; one of my favorite people on planet Earth. He’s a-fucking-mazing—
He tells me… He woke up from a nap that day he decided to text me. And he vaguely heard coming out of his dream: ‘Help your cousin’ (feminine, and in our shared language).
Well, shit—we have a lot of cousins, so he didn’t know which one the voice meant, but he went on instagram, started scrolling…. Saw a picture of me in his city!! Messaged his mum (my auntie) and…. Rest was history.
Yeah…. Not only did I get to live with one of the coolest people I’ve ever met— oh!!! And duh— in one of the coolest areas of the city. In a beautiful HUGE apartment (four + rooms) free of charge. Safe too. With ALL of my prequisites and more; a doorman, security, the coolest rooftop, elevator, balconies… Literally… the most beautiful neighborhood… literally a dream y’all… this experience brought me so many opportunities…
And… I also got to ‘meet’ one of my soulmates :,); ‘Oscar’.
Anyways!! That was a long ramble, but you get it.
Love you all! Be inspired. Go choose your dream lives.
Warnings: pregnancy, angst, baby saja dips middle convo
Fandom: K-POP Demon Hunters
Pairing: Baby X Reader
Rating: PG
Disclaimer; I don’t own KPDH! I js own the writing!
“Fainting and nausea spells answered; you’re pregnant.” The doctor announced into the room as he closed the door behind him, holding his clipboard against his front.
“What?” You asked, your eyes snapping from your knees to the older gentleman.
“You’re pregnant.” He repeated.
You felt your ears begin to ring as your vision began to tunnel.
Pregnant?
No way in hell…
Well, maybe… there was that one time last month…
“Oh God.” You groaned, your face in your hands. You listened as the doctor explained in long words about the results of your blood work, your HCG being elevated.
“You’re about 7 weeks along according to your last period.” The doctor finished. “Any questions?”
You shook your head silently.
“My nurse will be in shortly to get you scheduled for your first prenatal appointment.” He opened the door, and began to walk out. “Oh, speaking of, start taking prenatal vitamins as soon as you can.” He added, before walking out of the room again.
The rest of the appointment was a blur, walking to the front of your building was another one. You didn’t realize you’d actually made it all the way home before stopping in front of your front door.
You sighed, opening the door to your apartment. “How do I explain this to him?” You asked yourself, walking in and closing the door behind yourself.
You sighed, dropping your purse and slipping off your shoes. “How do you tell a demon, who has made it well known he doesn’t want kids, he’s having a kid.” You paused.
“Does he already have kids?” You shook your head. “Let’s not go down that rabbit hole.” You said, pushing some irrational fears down.
“Maybe if I tell him cutely over dinner he might take it better?” You pondered, walking back to your bedroom. Grabbing the tests off of your nightstand, four to be exact.
Somehow, in your head, one blazing positive meant the test was wrong, two meant the box you bought was wrong, three meant the other brand was lying, and four meant Urgent Care.
You walked back to your purse and shoes, slid them on and walked out of the apartment.
———
“What’s with wanting somewhere special?” Baby asked, leaning back in his seat.
“Well, you and the boys did really great at your concert last night. I thought you’d want to celebrate.”
“With my money?” Baby rose an eyebrow, smirking a little.
“No.” You rolled your eyes. “I already told you I’d pay.” You looked back up at him.
The soft classical music filled the restaurant as well as the chatter of other patrons and workers in the room.
The sound of your heartbeat was all that you could focus on. If you wouldn’t have applied extra deodorant, you swore you’d be sweating bullets by now. Your eyes nervously scanned the restaurant, before down to the gift bag you had sat under your chair.
“And, um, I have to give you something.” You said, leaning down and grabbing the small gift bag and placing it on the table.
Baby narrowed his eyebrows briefly. “What is it?” He asked, crossing his arms.
“Just open it.”
“I don’t like surprises, (Name).” Baby looked at you, then back at the bag. “What’s in the bag? You didn’t come in with it.”
“Open it.” You repeated, putting on a smile.
Baby groaned a little before grabbing the bag and pulling tissue paper out of it. “A shirt? You looked nervous over a shirt?” He asked, looking at you.
“Read the shirt.”
Baby took the shirt out of the bag and set it on the table. He looked at you, narrowing his eyebrows as he rubbed his fingers against the cloth. “What’s in it?” He asked.
“Jesus, Baby. Just open the shirt dude.” You sighed.
Baby rolled his eyes and opened the shirt, jumping slightly as the tests dropped on the table. “Saja baby… coming… soo—“ he looked at you, dropping the shirt on his lap and grabbed the tests.
“Coming soon?” He repeated, looking at the tests.
“Yeah, um… surprise!” You said, trying to sound excited, but your voice betrays you… incredibly.
Baby stayed silent, eyes flashing golden momentarily, before placing the tests back on the table.
“You couldn’t have waited until I ate?” He asked, looking up at you. “Now my appetite is ruined.” He scoffed, pushing his seat out from behind him.
“Where are you going?” You asked.
Baby shook his head, turning on his heel and walking out.
You watched as he walked out of the door, and disappeared behind a puff of pink smoke.
“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asked. “Or are we still needing a minute?”
You shook your head and stood up, placing some money on the table. “No.” You grabbed the tests and shirt and shoved it back in the bag before walking out of the restaurant and straight for your apartment.
Hi!! Love, love, love reading your posts. You really have no idea 😭. But anyways all my questions have to deal with richonnes intimate moments and interactions!!
1. How do you think the conversation between Rick and Michonne went after their first time? Since their night was interrupted by Jesus, when do you think they talked about it and how do you think it would go?
2. What do you think about Michonne being pregnant again and how do you think the conversation between her and Rick would go regarding it?
3. What is your favorite love scene between the two? Mine is in the beginning episode of towl (I don’t remember which one) where Rick is sliding the ring on to Michonne’s finger. OMG can we just please talk about the scene more, like it really does something to me 😩😩
#richonne4life
#neverplayedaboutrichonne
#norichonnedisrecptwillbetolerated
Love these questions and the hashtags! 🥰 I was eager to answer these as soon as I had the chance. Thanks for asking them, and thanks so much for reading my posts. It's been nice to focus on Richonne on the anniversary of TOWL today. It really is Richonne for life over here. 🙌🏽. Wrote out my answers below: 💗
#1: How do you think the conversation between Rick and Michonne went after their first time?
The timing of receiving this question is very fitting because I plan to expand on exactly how I think this convo went soon. After months of slowburn, I don’t imagine that Rick and Michonne move slowly in that first conversation after being together. Like, I think Rick would ask Michonne to move into his room, and they’d both express just how deep their feelings go and just how long they’ve had those feelings. They’d definitely walk away from that conversation confident that they want to be together for the long haul. And I imagine they'd find it refreshing just how normal and natural it is for them to operate like a couple in that conversation.
#2: What do you think about Michonne being pregnant again, and how do you think the conversation between her and Rick would go regarding it?
Sometimes I forget that it’s not already canon that Michonne is pregnant again lol. Because in my mind, I just feel so certain they go on to have another kid (a little girl is what I always picture). And I would absolutely love that development for them, especially with them getting to experience every part of the process together since they didn’t get to with RJ.
With the conversation they’d have about it, part of me feels like they have a conversation about it while not knowing she’s already pregnant, if that makes sense. Sorta like what I think happened with RJ. Because I feel like Michonne was unknowingly pregnant before Rick brought up having a baby in 9.03. Post-TOWL, I could see a moment where Rick and Michonne are watching RJ with adoration and acknowledging they made a great kid, and then Rick says he’d want another, and Michonne admits she’d thought about it and would too.
And maybe Rick and Michonne agree to have more of an approach of 'if it happens, it happens' than like actively trying. But whatever they got up to in between that apartment in What We and coming home, would have them learning sooner than later that their next bundle of joy is already on the way.
#3: What is your favorite love scene between the two? Mine is in the beginning episode of towl (I don’t remember which one) where Rick is sliding the ring on to Michonne’s finger.
YESSS. That love scene is 🔥on another level. That’s my favorite too. Literally everything about it is gorgeous and should be gushed about forever. I adore the ep 4 love scene as well, so it’s pretty much a tie. But what’s so great about the one where he slides the ring on her is that they’re fully back on the same page and back to being them. So it just feels like the ultimate display of oneness.
You could sense how meaningful this moment was to both of them after that proposal and after everything they’d been through. On top of being delectably steamy, it was so sincere and heartfelt. Rick looked at her like he couldn’t be prouder that the best woman in the world agreed to be Mrs. Grimes, not just recently but all those years ago. And Michonne looked at him like she knew she made the absolute right choice to join lives, bodies, and souls with the best man in the world.
And what I love about this scene, too, is that the proposal in the ep before was Rick beautifully professing to Michonne, “I’m yours,” and then this ep 6 love scene had something so seductively possessive in it as Rick also very clearly and sexily communicated to Michonne, “You’re mine.”
