ꪮꫀ boyfie! jason todd who comes home from patrol absolutely wrecked. shoulders heavy, knuckles split, body screaming for rest. but the second he steps through the door all that weight starts slipping off him because he knows you’re waiting in his bed.
he leaves the red hood behind in pieces. jacket slumped over the couch like a dead thing, holsters clattering onto the counter, boots kicked halfway down the hall. he doesn’t care about the mess. he just needs you.
the bedroom is dark and warm when he finally crawls in. the mattress sinks deep under his huge frame as he slides behind you, careful even when he’s this exhausted. one thick arm curls around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest until every inch of him is wrapped around you. he’s sooo big, broad shoulders curving over you, scarred thighs tucked behind yours, but the way he holds you is nothing but gentle.
jason buries his face into the crook of your neck, nose pressed right against your warm skin, and breathes you in like you’re the only oxygen he’s had all night. slow, greedy inhales. you smell like sleep and his shirt and that soft vanilla lotion and home. he lets out this low, broken hum against your throat, lips brushing lazy kisses along the side of your neck, slow and sleepy.
“missed you, baby…” he whispers, voice all gravel and exhaustion, barely above a breath. “fuckin’ needed this.”
his massive hand slips under your (his) shirt, palm splayed wide over your belly, thumb rubbing the softest little circles while he nuzzles closer. he tangles your legs together, curls around you tighter like he’s trying to disappear into you. every tense muscle in his body slowly melts the longer he holds you, chest rising and falling against your back, warm breath tickling your collarbone, lips still pressed to your neck like he can’t bear to pull away even an inch.
ꪮꫀ boyfie! jason todd who’s six foot something of pure muscle and danger, but turns into the clingiest, sweetest giant the second he’s home with you. tucking his face into your neck, hugging you from behind like you’re his whole world, finally letting himself rest because you’re right here in his arms.
he presses one last soft kiss right under your ear, sighs deep, and falls asleep like that. wrapped around you completely safe, warm, and so inlove it hurts.
STOP WITH THE “Jason Todd is nonchalant when he’s in love” PROPAGANDA. BOOOOOOOO TOMATO IT
that man would rather DIE AGAIN than be nonchalant. even when he’s trying to be, he’s a terrible liar who makes it obvious when he likes someone. and in these headcannons I made shit-ly, I will-
Jason Todd who has very pink ears the moment you tell him he’s cute
Jason Todd who has sweaty palms the WHOLE time you hold hands for first time
Jason Todd who lets out the biggest snort when you make one of the worst jokes known to man
Jason Todd who trips on air walking simply walking to you
Jason Todd who runs over a pothole while looking at you walking to your door which made him practically FLY out of his seat
Jason Todd who panics with getting you flowers and ends up buying you the whole store on Bruce’s credit card
Jason Todd who fixes his tie a whole fifteen times while he waits for you to open the door to your first date
Jason Todd who breaks down in sobs after an intimate moment
Jason Todd who still feels Jokers hands on him
Jason Todd who sobs even more after you gently rock him and forth, skin to skin, whispering affirmations
Jason Todd who makes you breakfast in the morning, accidentally burning the eggs and bacon
Jason Todd who watches you in awe and disgust because you still ate the burnt food
Jason Todd who makes a playlist based off your favorite songs and songs that remind him of you.
Jason Todd who plays that playlist everyday without fail
Jason Todd who memorized your phone number and knows your voicemail by heart
Jason Todd who thinks about you or him taking each others last name
Jason Todd who buys you everything and anything. Books, snacks, clothing, as long as you’re happy.
Jason Todd who lets you decorate his apartment, motorcycle, helmet.
Jason Todd whose first kiss with you is awkward and really bad due to the fact that he’s nervous
Jason Todd who names the stray cat he took in after you but adding Jr. at the end
Jason Todd who learns how to do your hair
Jason Todd who stops being Red Hood after a few more years because he hates the look on your face when you see him hurt
Jason Todd who does odd jobs but lands a Liberian job while you’re off achieving your dreams
Jason Todd who finally feels peace after he becomes a stay at home husband, taking care of the house. And most especially you. He takes care of you like you took care of him when you both were young.
Jason Todd who got you by never being nonchalant
—
I had an urge to write this my bad, this is so shitty PLEASE. I wrote this while watching 90 day fiancé, it was bound to be terrible, should I make more stuff like this
STILL OBSESSED .ᐟ jason todd x fem!reader ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
warnings.ᐟ smut, established relationship, postpartum body appreciation, breast/nursing kink (soft), obsession with reader’s chest, penetration, breeding-ish talk, possessive jason, praise kink, soft!dom jason, aftercare, smut with feelings
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
The quiet in the safehouse was a new kind of quiet. It wasn’t the empty silence of a long patrol or the tense stillness before a fight. This was a soft, sacred hush, punctuated by the tiny, snuffling sounds of the three-months-old baby finally sleeping in the bassinet beside the bed.
You were propped up against the headboard, bathed in the low glow of the lamp, and Jason couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop looking.
Motherhood looked good on you.
It looked… fucking incredible.
Your skin had a new glow, your eyes held a softness he’d never seen before, but God above, it was your tits that were going to be the death of him.
They were… more. So much more. Plump and heavy and full, straining against the thin, soft cotton of your nursing tank. He could see the faint map of blue veins beneath your skin, see the way they swayed with your every breath.
They were a fucking miracle, and he was utterly, completely obsessed.
He’d been watching you all evening. Watching you nurse your son, his heart doing something strange and tight in his chest at the sight. Watching the way you’d winced just a little when the baby latched, a reminder of the sweet, aching sensitivity. He’d brought you glasses of water, pillows, anything you needed, his focus a laser beam on you.
Now, with the baby asleep, the focus had shifted. The reverence was still there, but it was curdling into something hotter, something desperate.
You felt his gaze, heavy and dark, and looked up from the book you were pretending to read. “What?” you asked softly, a small smile playing on your lips.
“Nothing,” he murmured, his voice a low gravel. He was sitting in the armchair across the room, but he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes were fixed on your chest. “Just looking.”
You shifted, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. You knew what he was looking at. You could feel the weight of them, the persistent, low thrum of need that had nothing to do with milk and everything to do with the man staring at you like he wanted to devour you whole.
“They’re a little… much,” you said, a self-conscious hand coming up to cover the deep cleavage the tank top revealed.
“Don’t,” he said, the word sharp, almost a command. He stood up, crossing the room in two silent strides. He knelt on the bed beside you, his large frame making the mattress dip. “Don’t you dare hide them from me.”
His hand came up, not to move yours, but to cover it, his fingers lacing through yours. His touch was calloused, rough, a stark contrast to your softness.
“They’re perfect,” he breathed, his eyes burning with a intensity that made your breath catch. “You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about them. About how you look. About how you must feel.”
He guided your joined hands away, his gaze dropping to the exposed swell of your breasts. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Can I…?” he asked, his voice ragged. “Please. I need to.”
You nodded, wordless, your own need coiling tight in your belly. You’d been touched so carefully, so clinically for weeks. This… this was different.
He didn’t rush. He was worshipful. He leaned in, nuzzling the valley between your breasts, inhaling deeply.
“You smell different,” he mumbled against your skin. “Like you. And milk. And… mmm, home.”
His mouth was hot and desperate as he kissed the upper slope, his tongue tracing the line of a blue vein. A shiver wracked your body. He moved to one straining peak, his mouth closing over the damp cotton, sucking gently. The fabric was instantly wet, plastered to your skin, and you cried out, your back arching off the headboard.
The sensation was electric, a direct line to your core, which was already clenching with empty, aching need.
“Jason…” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.
He pulled back, his eyes black with want. “I need to be inside you,” he growled, the words raw and honest. “Right now. I can’t wait. I need to feel you.”
He was on you then, his mouth crashing down on yours in a searing kiss as his hands shoved the straps of your tank top down, baring you to the waist. The cool air hit your wet, sensitive skin, and you moaned into his mouth.
He handled you with a new kind of possessiveness, his hands cupping the heavy weight of your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples, which were already hard and aching.
“So fucking perfect,” he chanted between kisses, between bites along your jawline. “Mine. You’re all mine.”
He yanked his own shirt over his head, not even bothering with the rest, just fumbling with the button of his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. He was already rock-hard, leaking, his length straining against his stomach.
He positioned himself between your legs, which you opened for him willingly, desperately. He didn’t enter you yet. Instead, he leaned down, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, hungrily, while his hand worked the other.
You sobbed, the dual sensations overwhelming, your hips bucking against nothing, seeking friction. “Please, Jason… please…”
He released your breast with a wet pop, his breath coming in harsh rasps. He looked down at you, your breasts glistening in the lamplight, your face flushed with pleasure, and he lost the last shred of his control.
He drove into you in one smooth, powerful thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt in your wet, welcoming heat.
You both cried out—a guttural groan from him, a sharp, pleasure-pained gasp from you. You were still so tight, so perfect for him. He stilled for a moment, buried deep, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. Never.”
Then he began to move, a slow, deep, rolling rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, palming your breasts, thumbing your clit. He was relentless, consumed, his entire world narrowed down to the feel of your body around his, the sight of your full breasts bouncing with every one of his thrusts.
“Touch them,” he demanded, his voice a harsh rasp. “While I fuck you. Play with them for me.”
You obeyed, your own hands coming up to knead and squeeze your sensitive flesh, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples, and the sight of it pushed him over the edge.
With a broken shout of your name, he came, pulsing deep inside you, his body shuddering violently. You followed him over, your own climax crashing through you, milking him through every last wave of his pleasure.
He collapsed on top of you, careful to keep his weight on his elbows, his face buried in your neck. His breath was hot against your skin. You could feel his heart hammering against your own.
For a long time, the only sound was your ragged breathing and the soft, sleeping sounds of your son nearby.
Finally, Jason shifted, pulling out of you with a soft groan. He didn’t go far, just rolled to his side, pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. One of his big, rough hands came up to gently, reverently, cup one of your breasts, his thumb stroking over the oversensitive nipple.
“Still obsessed,” he mumbled, his voice already thick with sleep. He pressed a soft, drowsy kiss to your shoulder. “Always will be.”
And as you drifted off in his arms, surrounded by the quiet and the scent of him and milk and sex, you knew it was the truest thing he’d ever said.
˗ˏˋ Content ˎˊ˗ softness, domestic intimacy, Jason being gentle, back scratches
| navi. | dc mlist. |
The apartment is quiet in that late-night way—no traffic, no sirens, just the low hum of the city trying to sleep.
You’re curled up on the couch with one of Jason’s books resting open in your lap. It’s something thick and a little beat-up, the spine cracked like it’s been loved too hard. You’re not even sure you’re fully processing the words anymore. Mostly, you’re waiting.
The sound of the window sliding open makes you glance up.
Jason steps inside like he always does—careful, controlled, already scanning the room even though he knows you’re safe. The Red Hood comes off first, set gently on the counter like it’s fragile. Then the jacket, the gloves, the boots. Each piece of armor shed like he’s slowly remembering how to be human again.
“Hey,” he murmurs when he finally looks at you.
“Hey,” you smile back, softer.
His shoulders drop at the sight of you curled up on the couch. Like something in his chest finally unclenches.
He crosses the room, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head that smells faintly like rain and gun oil and him. You hum quietly, leaning into it, and that’s all it takes.
Jason sinks down beside you, tugging you gently into his chest. One arm wraps around you instinctively, pulling you closer until your side fits perfectly against his. Like you were made to go there.
“You steal my book again?” he asks, amused.
“You never finish them anyway.”
“Rude,” he scoffs—but he reaches for it anyway, carefully sliding it out of your hands. He adjusts until your head rests against his shoulder, your cheek pressed to the worn fabric of his shirt.
He starts reading out loud, voice low and steady, the kind that settles deep in your bones. You barely register the words. Mostly, you focus on the way his chest rises beneath you, the rhythm of his breathing grounding you.
His other hand starts moving without him even thinking about it.
Slow. Gentle.
Fingertips tracing lazy patterns along your back. Up and down. Circles. The faint scratch of his nails just enough to make your skin buzz.
You melt.
Your grip on his shirt loosens. Your breaths get heavier. Slower.
Jason notices immediately.
He glances down, lowering his voice, adjusting the book so it doesn’t dig into you. His hand keeps moving, more deliberate now, like he’s guiding you into sleep.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
Your eyes flutter shut.
Jason stops reading altogether once he realizes you’re gone. He sets the book aside carefully, like it might wake you if it makes too much noise.
He doesn’t move after that.
Just stays there with you tucked into his arms, scratching your back in slow, steady motions—protective, patient. Like he’s guarding something precious.
Because he is.
He presses a soft kiss to your temple, resting his cheek against your hair.
Jason Todd is the unnaturally attractive TA in your college class. Your really hot TA that just found out you’ve been selling essays to your classmates
Contrary to what the majority of your English module thinks, writing an essay is really not that hard.
It just isn’t. You’ve written them at three in the morning with zero hours of sleep, in libraries, in bed. Even on the toilet on a particularly gruelling deadline. Everyone has those things they’re just good at, and yours has always been anything English related. Novels, poetry, sonnets. It’s partly why you’d even chosen this extra module for the year. You had an extra space to fill and you knew it wouldn’t impede on any work for your degree. It's an added plus that you enjoy it as much as you do, and an extra added plus that you’re earning money for it.
Maybe it's unethical to prey on the lesser-minded people in your class. It’s definitely an interesting discussion on the laziness that plagues Gotham College, but you’re not one to complain about it. At least it's you writing it, a human, and not some AI website that will single-handedly destroy the environment. You’re doing the world a service, if anything. And you only charge fifteen dollars per essay, which isn't bad. You do have some rules when it comes to writing. For example, you only will write four essays per coursework submission, mainly because there's only so many points you can make without just repeating yourself. So if the students decide they want to bid against who those five essays will go to, that’s not exactly your fault. Some of the more difficult assignments really gets the ball rolling. You guess an empty bank account is better than failing.
It’s all good fun until you get caught.
It’s not the professor that catches you. Mr Owen is a sweet man, and you think that even if he did realise what you were doing, he wouldn't have the heart to tell you off for it. He’d probably just be happy one of his students was having so much fun in class that she was doing other people's work. No, instead, it’s his highest graded ex-student, now TA, Jason Todd.
Jason is only three years older than you, having graduated last year, and was now helping out Mr Owen. You’re sure it’s for experience, or to fill up his CV for some work experience, but you don’t complain. The few classes he teaches every few weeks have been great. He’s good. Really good, actually, which he’s surprising because the first time you saw him you’d thought he might’ve mistaken the lecture hall for the bodybuilding classes on the third floor.
Jason is entirely too attractive to just be a TA. You’ve, embarrassingly, scoured every modelling agency in Gotham you could find, because there is no way somebody who looks like that would just slum it in an Intro to English class. The defined lines of his chest and arms you can see over the button-ups he wears to class, the perfect poster-boy hair that always falls just right over his face. And you’ve heard the rumours about his motorcycle, which adds about ten points to his overall attractiveness. You’ve never seen Jason smile once, always looking over the class with that bored expression over his pretty face. He’s situated right next to Mr Owen at the front, his own desk that’s always cluttered with papers and pens.
You have no idea how he caught you. There are only about forty students in the module but still. You’re careful with what you write, making all your work different enough from the exemplary essays you hand in under your name that you were sure nobody would ever find out. Until, of course, Mr Owen is handing back your most recent submissions, and you find a sticky note tapped to the back of yours. Your brows furrow, confused, and you peel it off carefully to read it.
“You made the same point about Angelou’s simplicity in three different essays. If you’re going to keep writing them for half the class, don’t get sloppy.”
Your face heats almost immediately, your stomach sinking with a horrible feeling. You stuff the note under your paper, eyes immediately darting to where Mr Owen is still handing out the papers. But he’s not looking at you like he’s about to report you to the student board. He’s just rambling on about the new poet you’d all be looking at. He doesn't even look in your direction once he’s walked off. And when you consult the note again, you find that the handwriting looks nothing like his almost illegible scrawl. This is blocky and neat, and you feel that same swooping feeling in your gut when you realise who’s handwriting it is.
And sure enough, when you do look up, Jason Todd is looking back at you with the smallest (and first) smile you’ve ever seen on his face.
You start praying that some impromptu tsunami will burst through the windows of the hall and whisk you away. It’s just your luck that the one time you want Gotham to deliver one of its life threatening incidents, the world outside is calm, the sun bright with mid-day light and the campus buzzing with students. You are decidedly not looking in Jason’s direction. You can live the rest of your life without seeing that smug look on his face again.
You sort of feel like you’re about to throw up from nerves, but there’s something worse than the threat of expulsion bothering you; his stupid little comment. You’re not sloppy. He’s got some nerve calling you that. You’d love to see him come up with five different essays on the same fifteen line poem. Hell, you’d settle for three.
You fidget uncomfortably for the next ten minutes. The room feels hotter all of a sudden, and you tug at the collar of your sweater. You don’t even know what to do. Will Jason report you? Or just keep leaving passive aggressive notes all over your essays? Your sloppy essays. Surely Owen will catch on, and then god knows what will happen.
Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall and you see that you only have twenty minutes left. You can definitely make it through without any incidents. And then you can run out of the classroom before Jason Todd can even look your way. It’s fine. Fine.
Your thoughts are interrupted as Jason suddenly stands. He’s tall too, and when he takes the two boxes from Mr Owen’s frail hands your eyes don’t miss the way his arm flexes beneath today's light blue button up.
“Thank you, Jason. Just to my office, please.” He nods, pointing to the other two boxes on the floor. “Feel free to take someone with you.” Mr Owen gestures vaguely towards you and the others sitting in the room.
You hear movement behind you and you can only imagine everyone sitting eagerly in their chairs to be picked by the hot TA. You, on the other hand, are very content in staring really hard at the table in front of you and avoiding all forms of eye contact, which is harder since you’re sitting in the front row. It works, for about ten seconds, before a loud thud jolts you, an embarrassing noise escapes your throat.
“Do you mind?” Jason’s voice is deep and low, a lilt of Jersey accent curling around the syllables.
You could say no. But he knows what you’re doing and the way he’s looking at you with his hands braced on the desk is kind of intimidating.
You nod, getting up with little grace. You nearly trip as you round the desk, and quickly grab the two boxes. Jason holds the door open for you with one hand and carries the last two boxes with the other. He’s definitely showing off. But whatever. The walk to Mr Owen’s office takes about seven minutes. So fourteen there and back and then however long it takes to dump the boxes in his room and leave. You can do that.
You’re not even sure why he asked you to do this. There were about fifteen willing people almost falling out of their seats to help him. And you were definitely not one of them.
Your trainers squeak against the tiled floor, and your hands are starting to tingle from the lack of blood flow. The boxes are heavy, and you try and readjust them to ease the pain a little.
“You alright there?” Jason speaks up besides you.
You glance at him from and find that he’s looking back with an amused expression on his face. Of course he’s not struggling. You’re sure those biceps could carry about six boxes all on their own.
“Yes. Thank you.” Your voice is clipped and sharp, and he bites back a smirk.
The two of you fall back into silence. Not for long though, because that smooth voice carries out across the empty corridor again.
“Your essay was good.”
Your face feels hot again. This time when you reply, you keep your gaze firmly away from him.
“Thank you.”
“It’s very refreshing to see such original work.”
Oh, what a prick.
“I mean, most of your class, it’s the same regurgitated ideas.” You only hum in response, and it doesn’t deter him.
“Honestly, it’s just sloppy. But I-“
“My work is not sloppy!” You nearly yell, turning to him quickly.
Jason’s brows lift in surprise, but he quickly schools his expression to something a little satisfied, that makes your irritation spike more. It’s maybe what he wants, and it’s definitely inappropriate, but you’ve never been very good at concealing your emotions.
“I’d like to see you write five different essays on the same topic for only fifteen bucks a paper. And on Mary Angelou no less! That poem was fifteen lines long!” You scowl, shuffling the boxes in your arms again. “There is only so much that I can say. And I don’t think my points were very sloppy.”
You two have stopped in the corridor now, and Jason looks completely unbothered by the boxes you two are lugging about, while you are ignoring the burn in your biceps.
“Fifteen bucks a paper?”
You pause a little. You’re surprised that’s all he had to take from your outburst. You feel a little silly for yelling, and your voice comes out quiet when you speak again.
“Sometimes more. There’s a bit of a betting pool going around.”
He snorts, and it’s strange seeing it on his usually stoic face. “What’s the highest you’ve charged?”
“Thirty five. It was for the one on Finnegans wake.”
Jason laughs properly at that, and you can’t help the little smile that tugs at your lips. He continues walking and you follow after him. But only after hesitating for a little.
“That’s not half bad. Good money for a college student.”
You scoff. “It’s great money. Takes me a few hours to cough out the essays and I get a minimum of sixty every time.”
Jason only nods in a way you think might be impressed. Luckily, you finally reach the office, and he holds the door open for the two of you. You quickly walk in, the boxes landing on Owen’s desk with a heavy thud. You huff, rubbing your hands on the rough material of your jeans and squeezing them to get your blood flowing. You lean against the wall as you watch Jason flit about the room, shoving the boxes in the far corner and grabbing some papers from his desk. He doesn’t say anything while he does it, and it causes the nerves stuttering in your chest to increase.
You bite at your lip. “You- You’re not going to tell Owen, right?”
Jason looks up from where he’s rifling through one of the desk drawers. He fixes you with a steady gaze, tilting his head just slightly.
“I probably should. But I won't.”
You visibly relax, exhaling heavily. “Really? Why not?”
“Half the people in your class are just here to fill an empty class. People like you are actually good at what they do.”
Jason seems to find what he’s looking for, sliding the papers under his arm as he shuts the drawer with a click. “Letting you carry on this little side hustle means I get to read actually interesting work. Even if they are getting sloppier.”
You glare at him and he smirks, walking over to open the door once more. You don’t leave just yet.
“You can’t call me good and sloppy in the same breath.”
“I think I just did.”
You huff. “Fine. You’ll see. The next four essays won’t be sloppy.”
God. You could live the rest of your life without ever hearing that word again.
———
You and Jason develop a little system.
You find out, after meticulous analysis over some of your friends papers, that all the essays are graded by Jason. It’s all in that same familiar scrawl, and after some not so subtle staring after a submission day, you see Mr Owen dumping all of the classes’ work on Jason’s desk. So you feel a bit of relief at not being caught and expelled.
It’s after your little interaction in the office that you start to find even more post-it-notes taped to the back of your paper. And it’s names. Names of all the papers you’ve written, which Jason seems to always find with alarming accuracy. The notes he leaves in the margins of your own works start to feel less like the professional scrawl you're used to, but a little more teasing.
“Excellent point. Johnson’s essay had one alarmingly similar.”
“You use ‘ergo’ a lot.”
“I agree. Patterson is overrated.”
You act like you hate it. Sigh and roll your eyes when you feel his heavy gaze from the front of the room when you’re being given feedback. Your seat is almost perfectly aligned with his desk so it’s hard to miss. When you’re daydreaming during the especially long lectures, and your eyes trail over to him, and sometimes you catch him looking back.
Some days, while you’re leaving class, you linger by his desk, and the two of you talk. At first, you were just insulting the copy of War and Peace on his desk. You’d called him performative and he called you annoying. But you two talk more as the days go by, sometimes not about English, but about each other.
It’s fine. This is just- Actually, you don’t really know what this is. You don’t think it’s not allowed, college wise. He’s only three years older than you, and he’s technically not actually your teacher, so it’s not completely weird if you’re developing a little crush on him.
But you don’t act on it. You never do, because there’s a distance between the two of you you’re both too nervous to cross. You don’t know how much of this is just for fun, and you’re not about to embarrass yourself by assuming anything further.
But things change one day.
Mr Owen is out sick, and so Jason is in charge of the lecture. The room is immediately more awake, everyone sitting on the edge of their seat to witness Jason in action. He usually sits back for Owen’s lectures, more focused on observing the class or typing whatever he does on his laptop. The lessons he runs are far and few between, so everyone is excited to see his teaching methods in action again.
Or just to see him. There’s a lot of girls you don’t normally see so close to the front sitting in the same row as you. You’re sure it has something to do with the email Owen had sent last night warning about his absence.
“So. Who actually read The Wasp Factory?” He asks, hands holding him up on Owen’s desk. He’s wearing a white shirt, and the material stretches over the hard lines of his arms.
There’s a bout of movement across the room, and you watch the girl sitting two seats next to you almost shoot out of her chair with how fast she sticks her hand up. Her lips are glossy and sticky, her shirt unbuttoned a little too low. Personally, you think it’s a little overkill, but Jason eyes land on her out of all the other eager-to-please students, so maybe she’s doing something right.
“You’ve read the first five chapters, right?” He asks, and she smiles brightly.
“Yes, sir.”
Jason nods. “Would you consider Frank a reliable narrator?”
It’s an easy question. Even your best customers can answer that. The girl seems to think the same, but just as her mouth opens to respond, Jason keeps talking.
“Frank demonstrates a vivid and unusual imagination from the beginning, and we know that his father is part of the reason. Frank even believes his own father, the source of all his education, to be unreliable with the information he provides him. Do you think both of them could be considered as unreliable narrators, or does the blame fall on the narrator we see, Frank?”
He doesn’t stop for breath once, words coming out untainted and smooth. The girl stammers a little, mouth opening. Jason’s face is expressionless. The room is quiet for a beat too long, and your face creases, cringing a little.
“Today would be nice.” You mumble under your breath.
Well. At least you thought it was under your breath. But it actually was loud enough that both the girl and Jason heard you. You watch his lips twitch with a barely concealed smile, and the girl turns to glare at you. Your face heats, guilt seeping into your skin. You really hadn’t meant for anyone to hear, and she doesn’t take the apologetic look you give her very seriously.
“Bitch.” She says, and Jason holds up his hand.
“No, since she’s so eager to talk, maybe she can try to answer my question.”
It’s a challenge. Careful brown eyes study you and you straighten slightly under his attention, aware of the rest of your class also looking your way.
“Well. I think that both Frank and his father are unreliable narrators, but in a different sense. I think as a reader, it’s obvious that Frank is going through a personal crisis because of Eric’s arrival, and his invasion of this world Franks created for himself leads to a personal crisis, which lets us finally see the truth he hides from us. His father, while not actively lying to the reader, spends Frank’s entire life lying to him, and so inadvertently lying to us. So I think that they’re both to blame. Sir.”
You tack on the honorific at the end for fun, and maybe to poke fun at the girl next to you. Maybe you really were a bitch, but there's a weird curl of jealousy settling in your chest that you can’t really explain, and it’s making you act like an idiot. Jason raises one eyebrow, just for a second, before he nods.
“Good work.” He lingers for just a second too long, staring right at you, before he turns to the rest of the room. “Now, what do we think the wasp factory actually symbolised?”
The rest of the lecture goes by uneventfully. You keep to yourself, doodling on the corner of your notebook, staring at Jason when he’s not looking your way. Teaching is a good look for him, you think. He’s good at holding the class's attention, and the matter-of-fact way he talks to you makes it feel more like a conversation than a lecture. When it comes time to pack up, you linger a little, avoiding the gaze of your new friend as she practically storms out the hall. The room is nearly empty when you make your way around the table, but before you can walk out, your name is called. By Jason, no less.
You head darts towards where he's seated at his desk. “Yes?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” He fiddles with a pen in one hand, twirling it between his fingers.
You nod, hand tightening over your backpack strap. “Yeah, sure.”
When you make your way to the front of his desk, he slides over a leaflet to you. You begin reading it, but he explains what it is anyway.
“I’ve got this conference tomorrow. Well, it’s more like a community thing. Free classes for upcoming students to see what the course and university is like so that they’ll sign up for it next year.”
You glance up at him. “I’m already a student, if you couldn’t tell.”
He hums. “Oh, I’m well aware.”
You think it’s best for you not to dwell too much on that statement, and the teasing lilt of his voice.
“I mean, would you be interested in coming down and helping out?”
Your finger pauses where it's hovering over the corner of the leaflet. “Me?”
Jason leans back in his desk chair. At some point in the lecture he’d unbuttoned his sleeves, and the fabric was folded up messily up by his elbows. His arms lean on the armrest and you will yourself to look up at his face. His hair is curlier than when he’d come in, the humidity frizzing it up and making it look ruffled, but you think it’s cute.
“You’re intelligent. Very intelligent, and one of the best students in this class.” He speaks with such conviction, and your face heats at the compliments.
“Owen can’t make it and I’d like to have a student there for the people coming to talk to. Might be easier to talk to a pretty face like yours instead of mine.”
Jason thinks you’re pretty. What a great day today has been.
You slip the leaflet back on his desk. “I’d love to. Do I need to bring anything?”
“No. Maybe just a book if you want to seem smart.”
It’s not a date. It’s really not. So there is no reason for you to be as happy as you are, or for you to be smiling as much as you are. You adjust your backpack once more. “Thank you for the offer, Mr Todd.”
He winces at the name, waving you off. “Please. Just call me Jason. We’re practically the same age.”
“Really?” You muse. “It feels a little unprofessional to just call you Jason.”
Jason’s tongue poke the side of his cheek, a smile curling against his lips. “You know, you might be right. You wanna call me sir again?”
Your face burns and you laugh a little nervously. “No, no, Jason is fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
You quickly walk out, desperate to get away from that teasing face.
—
It feels weird coming into college on a Saturday. The halls are crowded with fresh faces, all beaming with excitement and hands full of the college freebies. There's stalls set up outside the classroom doors, with what you assume is other student volunteers smiling behind them. That’s probably what Jason wants you to do today. He hadn’t given you much information, but you’ve come in eager all the same. You weave through the crowd, muttering apologies as you make your way to Owen’s room. It’s empty, apart from a few of the students who have showed up early, and you immediately spot Jason at the front of the room.
He’s wearing a black turtleneck that hugs his chest, and a sleek pair of trousers held up with a fancy sort of belt. Jason looks good. You think he’s dressed up a little more than usual, but you can’t judge him too much because you are too. It’s nothing too special, just a nice button up and jeans. It’s a big step up from the usual lumpy sweaters you come in with. It makes sense, though. This isn’t the same class of students he sees three times a week, but instead people he actually has to make a good impression for.
You just stare at him for a few seconds, still standing by the front door and clutching the strap of your bag. He looks up suddenly, and a small smile graces his lips at the sight of you.
“You came.” He makes his way around the desk and stops in front of you.
Jason’s taller up close. And he smells good. Something spicy and crisp.
“Of course.” You gesture behind you. “Do you want me to set up one of those stalls outside?”
He makes a face. “Oh, no. You’ll be in here with me.”
His hand meets the small of your back as he leads you to his desk. You ignore the warmth that spreads over your skin at the contact, and dump your back beneath it. You sit down on his chair and spin yourself around.
“So this is what you see during all the lectures.” You ponder, fiddling with his penholder.
Jason huffs a laugh. He leans against Owen’s desk, and he studies you. “You look nice.”
Your eyes dart up to his, red dusting your cheeks. The compliment is barely a thing, but you feel flustered none the less. “Oh. Thank you.”
Jason moves on quickly. “So. The whole point of today is to give these guys a taster of what these classes are like if they were to sign up when they’re enrolled. I won’t need your help with the lessons per say, but since you’re a second year and you’ve been an eager student all year, you’re here if they need to ask anything.”
You nod. “Am I supposed to chat you and Owen up to them?”
He laughs. “Well, I’d hoped you wouldn’t need to. You like the class enough that you write five essays at once for it.”
You glare at him as he smiles cheekily. When you turn to the room, you find it’s been slowly filling up while you’ve been talking, people quickly taking up the seats. It feels different from up here, all their faces trained on the two of you, and Jason watches you carefully.
“Nervous?” He asks.
“No. If you can do it then this will be a breeze.”
It sort of is a breeze. The first half is just like your lessons, and he’s found a short poem to go through with the class. It’s the same type of engaging content he keeps you all hooked with, and you watch the students eat it all up. Sometimes, when there’s a particularly stupid comment made, he glances at you slightly, like it's a private joke between you two.
The second half is more for questions, and you’re surprised how many people want to talk to you. It’s a mix of high-school students and people starting next year, all queued up in front of the desk. They ask you about campus, the student accommodations. Some of them ask about your major and your studies, and some about Owen and Jason.
You’re well aware that he’s sitting quite close to you, but even if he wasn’t, your response would be the same. You sing his praises, complimenting his teaching methods and feedback. You tell them he’s a great TA and you’re sure that when he commandeers his own classes you’ll be in the front seat. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his gaze from where he’s sat beside you.
The class was coming to a close, and most people had left. The majority of the students had prepared their questions, so you get through them quickly. This guy, however, seemed intent on wasting your time. He was one of the upcoming first years, and he was leaning incredibly close to talk to you. You’re not stupid enough to not realise when someone’s flirting with you, and you smile weakly, a little nervous to tell him you aren’t interested.
“You know, maybe if I get your number I could text you any other questions I have.” He grins and you laugh weakly.
“Look, I-“
“You can direct them to me.”
You didn’t even realise Jason coming up behind you, and his presence is sudden, hands resting on the back of your chair.
“My name should be in the college directory, which is available online.”
His tone is clipped, and the boy in front of you doesn’t look too happy at his words. You don’t really care though, because Jason’s fingers brush against your shoulders and the contact keeps you distracted.
Jason and this guy are doing some weird alpha male thing in front of you, and you let it play out. The boy loses, and walks out, despite still looking a little agitated at the rejection. The rest of the room quickly clears up after, and then it’s just you and Jason.
You sigh, stretching a little. “Well. I think that went well. Do you-“
Your words trail off, because the second the last person is out, Jason strides towards the door and locks it. Your mouth snaps shut as he does so, a flutter of something curling in your chest. He walks back over, this time stopping in front of you. You’re separated by the desk, and you wish he would’ve just come stand with you. The chair is soft beneath you, and your hand grips the soft fabric. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t decipher. Just when you go to ask him if he’s okay, he begins speaking.
“Why do you think student-teacher relationships are such a popular trope in romantic literature?”
Oh. So maybe you aren’t the only one who’s been feeling the tension between the two of you. He asks the questions with the same air he asks questions in class, so you don’t hesitate to reply.
“I think it’s the power dynamics, and also the forbiddeness of it all. The taboo. It’s interesting to see people make the risky decision of being together knowing the consequences if they’re caught.”
He nods. He walks around slowly, and you turn in your chair so you’re facing one another. You have to look up to see him clearly, and you wonder if he can hear how loudly your heart is beating.
“I think people also like the desperation. The student has some sort of emotional relationship with the mentor, so.” Jason steps closer and you're surprised you’re even able to speak with this proximity.
“They’re just eager to please in any way they can.” You finish, tongue darting out to lick your lips.
Jason hums. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. When you don’t push him off, it trails up, ghosting over your neck to settle on your chin, fingers gentle as they raise your eyes to look up at him properly.
“Is that you?” He murmurs. “Are you eager to please me?”
It feels like more than just a question. It feels like he’s asking for permission.
The more logical part of your brain tells you that this is probably stupid. He’s not your teacher, technically, but there’s probably some regulations about a TA and a student going any further than just that.
But unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the less reasonable part of your brain seems to be louder. At some point during the lesson, he’d undone the first two buttons of his shirt, and his hand is curving against your jaw, and you wonder what it would feel like for them to touch other parts of your body. Jason always looks good, but right now he’s looking at you like it’s taking every fiber of his being not to do something reckless. And honestly, you feel like you’ve done enough eye-fucking during class. You deserve this, really.
Your answer slips from your lips before you can really stop it. “Yes.”
He drags you to your feet, pressing you against the wall behind you two, the chair rolling and crashing into something you can't see. His eyes bore into yours, bright and a mosaic of blues you never really noticed. But you’ve never been this close to him before, one breath away from kissing.
Jason swallows roughly and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob. “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know.”
His hand is warm where it grips your jaw. “The taboo, remember? That’s what makes this so hot.” You try to sound teasing but you just sound breathless. Desperate.
His lips twitch into a smile, and he hums. “Do you wanna be good for me?”
You nod quickly, and in one swift motion he’s capturing your lips on his own. They move against yours steadily, his hands sliding down to grip your hips and push you against him harder. He tastes like the mints he leaves on his desk, and you sigh, heat coiling in your gut. Your arms trail up to drape around his shoulders, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. You whimper in the back of your throat as his teeth graze your bottom lip, his tongue deepening the kiss. Jason presses a knee between your legs, and your hand in his hair tightens. He groans, breaking the kiss, his breath as heavy as yours. His nose bumps the side of your face, and he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.
“How did you know I liked you?” You ask, hands sliding down the smooth material of his shirt.
“It’s hard to miss you ogling me every lesson. Your seat is practically right in front of my desk.” He mumbles against your skin, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses down your jaw.
You frown. “You ogle too. Don’t think I missed that.” You quip and he huffs a laugh.
“So bratty.” He sighs. Jason looks down at you, eyes shining, and brushes a lock of hair out of your face.
“Let me take you out.” He suddenly says.
His lips are glossy from kissing you, and there’s a dusting of red over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. This close you can see a scar that runs down his sharp jaw, and smattering of freckles on his forehead. You’re not sure how you and your grandpa sweaters have landed a man like this.
“Really?” You sound a little in awe and he laughs.
“Yes, really. As much as I’d like to bend you over my desk, I think you deserve much better than that.”
“You- Well, yeah.” You nod, not trusting what else might come out of your mouth.
Jason presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “There’s always next time, though.”
guys i have a Jason Todd itch.. watching the superman movie has put me in a dc mood!! And also someone requested college Jason and idk if this counts but.. lowkey teacher x student is kinda lengers to me
Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.
Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.
Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )
AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.
A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??
A/N: PART 4!! >>> Jason’s MILF
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.
A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.
A son, a brother, a hero….
But there’s two things everyone can agree on.
1). He’s a good boyfriend.
For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.
His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.
There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.
Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.
Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.
Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.
Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.
2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.
Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.
The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.
“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.
Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”
He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.
“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”
The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.
There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.
So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.
“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.
Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.
“Marry me.”
The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.
“What?…”
“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”
Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.
Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.
“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.
“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”
+++++++++++++++++
A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.
It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.
“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.
Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”
The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.
Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.
“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.
Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.
“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.
“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”
Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”
Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.
“Did Todd and his woman get married?”
Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.
Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.
In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.
The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.
The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.
“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”
Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”
Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”
Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”
Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”
Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”
Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…
Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”
Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.
Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.
“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,
“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”
Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.
His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.
His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.
“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”
(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”
Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.
“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”
His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.
“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.
Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.
“Your wish is my command.”
Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.
“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.
His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.
The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.
‘I am hers and she is mine’
“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.
“Don’t you fucking tease me…”
*RING* *RING*
Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.
“Answer it.”
“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.
“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”
Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.
She was just as fucked as he was.
With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.
“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.
Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”
“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.
His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.
“But we are family for fucks sake.”
Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,
“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”
“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”
Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.
His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.
“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”
He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.
“I-I..”
“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”
Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.
Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.
“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”
The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.
“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”
He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.
Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.
“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.
“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”
She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.
“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.
“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”
Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.
His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.
“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”
His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.
His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.
“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.
“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.
“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.
“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.
“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”
Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.
“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”
Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”
Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.
The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.
“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.
“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”
**********************
AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.
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@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.
the official beginning of the jason todd x sionis!reader timeline
you have an argument with your piss poor excuse of a father, only this time, it results in him draining your bank account. angry and freshly broke, you use the only logical coping mechanism; you fuck his rival's sexy son.
tw: mndi 18+, problematic reader, daddy issues, oral sex, p in v sex w/ fem!reader, top!Jason, voyuerism (rooftop sex), brief daddy kink, jason is a little ooc but it's for the plot. reader doesn't know jason is red hood here.
a/n: it's the prequel, baby !!
quid pro quo | pride & periods | is this love? | tremble & shake | scorn to change my state
"Are you sober?"
"Am I what?"
You and Jason Todd were meant to be rivals. At least, you considered him a rival. He had never seemed to care. Granted, he was presumed dead for most of high school, taking any hope for legitimate academic competition with him. By the time he reappeared in Gotham, your father had already decided you weren't cut out to destroy anybody - although he hadn’t failed to remind you of what could’ve been the entire time Jason owned the Penguin’s hangout.
You still hated the guy. His apparent death had killed all the worth your father saw in you. For him to have been alive this whole time was a major slap in the face.
Secretly, you always thought your father wanted you to destroy Jason because he wished you were Jason. Was it really so fair that Bruce Wayne really had everything handed to him, including all the sons he could want. What was Roman Sionis stuck with? A squeamish daughter with no ambition, who couldn't even prove she was better than some adopted street kid.
Now you exist as more of a pet to him than anything else. Something for him to own, something he could keep leashed at his side, something he could brag about, as if he had any real pride for you. Which was why a single, sham threat to change your last name was enough to have your personal bank account closed.
Well, if you don't need daddy's name, you don't need his money either. It's just a lesson in responsibility.
Yeah, right. Like he wasn't going to find a way to keep you from making money of your own.
But, you could still prove your ownership over yourself. After several minutes of staring blankly at the wall when you realized your father hadn’t been bluffing, you dug to the bottom of your laundry to locate the cherry colored dress that got you into anywhere for free. You weren’t sure what it was you were aiming to accomplish, but the damn dress was going to ensure you didn’t need the Sionis money or name to get what you wanted. Your feet moved with a mind of their own right into your favorite bar, right into the perfect tall, dark and handsome ride.
You hadn’t recognized him at first. You hadn’t seen him in person in God knows how long, not since you were 15, probably. There was nothing special about his jeans, Mickey Thompson t-shirt and leather jacket. He didn’t look like a prince with the lazy way he slouched against the counter at the far end of the bar. From the entrance, his face blended in with all the others, unremarkable and unimpressive. Until the slight tug of his upper lip suddenly had you back in freshman year English, pouting as the teacher praised your would-be rival’s take on Romeo & Juliet.
Finally, a six-foot-something, Wayne branded plot began to formulate.
Of course, now you're rolling your eyes at him. You hate having to repeat yourself, even over the loud buzzing of the bar.
"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"
Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.
"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"
You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.
"Do you know who I am?"
He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.
"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.
"My dad hates you."
He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.
"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"
You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.
"Fuck me."
IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.
"What?"
Ugh, again with the repetition.
"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.
The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear, his crooked nose nudging the side of your head.
"Hey, you sure you're sober?"
The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.
"I'm dead sober."
"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."
You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"
"Todd."
"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."
Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose.
"And why'd he do that?"
You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm.
"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow.
"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."
"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."
"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin.
Something in your belly tightens. Maybe he’s a more worthy opponent than you’d initially assumed.
You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath.
"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,” your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. “And I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."
"You should know you’re worth more than just bragging rights, princess,” he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath.
"Prove it."
"...and you're sure you're sober?"
"Wanna test my breath?"
He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.
You can taste the single sip of beer, but it’s not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.
"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"
You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.
"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."
***
"You're freaky, you know that?” Jason teases as you push open the roof access.
"The cameras up here have a delay. My dad's people won't be able to snitch until tomorrow morning, so we have all the time in the world,” you smirk at the way his eyes bug out, tugging on the collar of his jacket with a sly wink. “Don’t worry. The cameras don’t pick up anything that happens on the ground. Plausible deniability.”
He gestures to the roof set-up. The ledge comes up high enough to hide from peeping neighbors, but a string of yellow Christmas lights keeps the spot well illuminated.
"Yeah? And what about other prying eyes? You aren't worried Batman's gonna show up and scold us for public indecency?”
The mental image is funnier than you let him think. You give him an amused little hum as you press yourself against his chest, walking two fingers up his ridiculously prominent bicep.
"Hmm, technically this is private property and besides, this is Red Hood's territory."
"Red Hood? You really are freaky.”
His lips are twinged ruby from being a human breathalyzer. A thin sheen of your lip gloss reflects the warm light surrounding you. Little scars decorate his hard face like freckles. You trace over a recent nick under his eye.
"Please fuck me, Jason.”
His arms are still at his side. His fingers twitch, either from anticipation or anxiety.
"You're sure you want this?"
"Fucking positive. Do you?"
The green of his eyes are shadowed by his hooded eyes. His unflinching gaze is locked in on you. There’s a weight to it that seems to put pressures on all the right places.
"Oh, fuck yeah, I do."
He doesn’t stop to think this time before he kisses you. It’s harder than earlier, his hands roaming your body. He had his moment to explore your cherry flavored mouth, now he’s taking what he wants. What you both want.
There’s no shared breath between you as you suck on his bottom lip, ensuring your lip gloss is smeared everywhere. A large hand snakes its way up your spine to grip the back of your head. You gasp as fingernails dig into your scalp and Jason takes advantage of your parted lips to run his tongue over yours.
You rack your nails over his stomach, catching the muscular grooves of his abdomen to make his shudder. You flatten your palm to sneak it downwards when he retaliates by grazing over your tailbone. You quiver under his touch, feeling that obnoxious smirk on his face.
“Tell me,” he pants between wet smacks, “if”, smack, “if anything’s”, smack smack, “too much.”
This gives you pause. What a chivalrous sentiment from a man who’s about to ram his cock into you on the dirty ground of a bar rooftop where Red Hood might see just to trifle with your father. Actually, you weren’t sure anyone had offered you that sentiment before. It has you rubbing your thighs together.
Something unmistakable and hard pokes your belly as your hips meet. His tongue feels along the ridges of your lips before licking between them, once again filling your mouth with him.
Cigarettes have never tasted so good.
The arm around your waist slides to fill his free hand with your ass. You alarm yourself by letting out a muffled moan when he squeezes. He’s going to make a mess of you much quicker than anticipated.
It’s just because the cameras are picking this part up, you think to yourself, I’m still in charge, Jason Todd isn’t going to get the best of-
Your thoughts are interrupted by the hand on your ass rounding your hip. Two fingers play with the hem of your short dress and pull the skirt up to reveal the skimpy thong underneath. Jason finally pries himself away from your mouth to get a good look, letting out a low whistle as he admires the coordinating colors.
“You’re so organized, aren’t you?” He croons in a much gruffer voice than he’s been using. The rough pads of his fingers knead circles into your thigh, making you keen. “Daddy must really be stressin’ you out, baby girl. You’re so tight, need to unwind…”
You let out a little breath as the hand on your head moves to cup your chin. Jason’s lips are satisfyingly swollen and a rash of scarlet has started to spread across his cheeks, although it’s nothing compared to the heat rising in yours. The fingers at your thigh skim inward, ghosting over the elastic of your underwear.
“This alright?”
Later you’ll curse yourself for not saying something snarkier or dirtier, for not grabbing the outline of his cock and reminding him whose idea this was…but right now, there’s nothing in the world you want more than for this man to touch your pussy.
You nod, “Please, Jason-”
“Please, what?”
Oh, this fucker with his little smug expression.
“Please…Please touch me, Jason.”
Although every time you say his name, his chest tightens up beneath your palms.
He cups your sex, feeling along the thinning string keeping you covered. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s clinging to your lower lips. His index and middle fingers are cold against the thin fabric of your thong. It's a sharp juxtaposition from his hot breath on your lips, then your jaw, then your neck.
Dagger-like canines whet the skin of your throat. The tip of his tongue drags a straight line down your jugular while the tips of his fingers trace circles over your flimsy underwear.
“So wet,” Jason lets out a pleased hum, snapping the string with a thawk to make you jolt. “And in these pathetic excuse for panties? I wouldn’t be surprised if you left something behind in the bar.”
Your natural instinct is to retort, but you don’t have a chance to get a word in before he’s pushing the flimsy fabric aside and swiping his middle finger through your slit.
“Daddy makes you mad and the first thing you do is parade yourself around with your fucking pussy out. You just went out looking for trouble, didn’t you.”
“Nuh-ah-uh,” you protest weakly, gripping his shoulders for support. He’s massaging your lower lips with false mercy. “Wasn’t looking for anything until I-ah-until-ahh-til I saw you.”
His canine bites down as his thumb presses your clit like it’s a button. Two fingers slip inside you with an embarrassing amount of ease and you whine as they scissor you open.
“You really know what you’re doing,” you huff, a half hearted attempt at a joke. He pauses, as if he’s surprised to hear you say that. His fingers freeze up inside you, then start to pump in and out carefully - cautiously even.
“Maybe that’s just what you needed, hmm,” he muses into your skin, planting another wave of kisses along your jawline. “Someone who knows what he’s doing to help you loosen up.”
He’s straining painfully against you. It seems unfair to let him do all the work when he’s also begging to be fucked to shreds. You reach for his cock, only for his fingers to retract from your cunt and curl around your wrist.
You whine, both at the sudden lack of him inside you and your foiled attempts to gain some control. Your knees nearly buckle as he removes his arms all together to shrug off his jacket. But he merely tuts, “None of that, princess. Why don’t you lay back down? I think the cameras got enough.”
Well, fuck it. You told him to treat you like a trophy, no point in confusing the man now.
He drapes his jacket on the ground before twining his arms around your waist and shoulders to lower you down on top of it. The inside is surprisingly soft against the exposed parts of your back.
“You just gotta let me take care of you, baby,” Jason coos, gently grabbing your ankles to move your legs apart. He takes his sweet time dragging your panties off, letting each callous on his hands hit your smooth thighs. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna taste so fuckin’ sweet.”
Taste?
“What’re you-”
“Shh, trust me,” he says, coming up to kiss you. He pushes your dress up to your waist, stopping to rub your hip affectionately. “You’re gonna be glad I did this. We can stop if you get uncomfortable.”
He kisses either thigh as he dips his head between your legs, his black hair tickling your skin. You suck in a breath of anticipation, but he steals it when he places an open mouth kiss on your slit.
You crane your head to look at him. Not a single other person has done this to you before. You were beginning to think it was just some sort of myth, but the way Jason licks from your hole to your clit with a blistering, flat tongue is suddenly very real - and very good.
He blows a harsh breath on your clit before delving back into your cunt. He licks his way into you, filling you with a new strange, wet sensation. His tongue is hot on your already burning core and you think you might melt into a puddle. You bite your lip, but it’s not enough to stop the pathetic cries that come out of you as Jason Todd, your alleged nemesis who never paid you any mind, the son of the dull pain in your father’s ass, eats you out.
The sound is obscene and loud, masking your soft pants. The wet noise echoes off the high walls of the ledge while Jason works your cunt with a stupid amount of precision. His mouth is sloppy, engulfing you whole. But, his tongue is tactical, taking its time to draw out a map of all the places that make you moan and squirm.
“Oh God, oh God!” You cry out, your hands flying to grab a fistful of black and white hair as he laps at you. His arms hook around your knees to yank you closer. He’s unreal, unrelenting in his dining. When he switches to deliver kitten licks to your clit, two fingers take his tongue’s place in your hole.
You buck upwards as his fingers curl inside you, easily stroking at that sweet spot just out of reach of your own fingers. His free arm pins your twitching hips down, and that’s when you officially relinquish all control to him.
“Jason, ahhh” you groan, every muscle and nerve in your body quaking. “Jason, I’m gonna…please let me…”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He sucks down on your button, letting his teeth graze the nerves in just the right way to send that unforgiving twinge up to your belly until it whites out your vision. Your orgasm floods his face, but he keeps licking until it stops. Only then does he pull away, giving you a shit eating grin dripping in more than just lip gloss and beer.
“That’s a good fuckin’ girl, asking so nicely. And so damn sensitive, it’s cute.”
Your heart races at being called a good girl. You should be spent already, but something about the fact that he made you cum in only ten minutes makes you want even more.
He rises to his knees and you stare at him in awe as his body towers over you, blocking out anything but the hungry gleam of his eyes, the carnivorous bite of his lip, the mounting sweat of his skin. Anything but him.
The lights glow gold behind him, crowing your own personal Apollo with his halo. His pupils are blown out, but his stare hasn’t lost its cool. You, on the other hand, are trembling beneath him, your pussy clenching at the sound of his zipper coming undone.
Your eyes bug out to match the size of the cock he pulls from his jeans. It’s stiff as it fills his grasp, already leaking into his palm. He grins proudly at your awe.
“See why I wanted to warm you up, pretty girl?”
The adrenaline of the moment gives you the strength to sit up and press your worshipful lips to the ruddy head, revealing in the way it twitches. The remnants of your lip gloss add to its shine. Jason mixes it with his spit as he spreads it across his veiny flesh.
“You’re a God, Jason Todd.”
He bends down to reward your praise with a kiss, a briny tang replacing the burn of tobacco. Your hands come up to caress his jaw before dropping to his shoulders, proactively digging into his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his to connect to his neck, repaying him for the bruises he decorated you with earlier.
He hums in pleasure, tipping his head to give you better access. He smears your lipgloss residue onto his hand and lubes his cock with a Lime Crime Wet Cherry and spit cocktail.
You’re so wrapped up in leaving a toothy imprint in the junction of his neck that you miss the hard switch in his expression. You yelp as he grips your thighs and hooks them over his hips, pinning you beneath him. Your torso flies back, but he reflexively catches your head before it can smack against the concrete.
He continues to cradle you, steadying himself as he drags his tip along your slit excruciatingly slow. He tuts and taps your clit when you bite back a moan.
“Don’t hold back now, beautiful,” he taunts, prodding your entrance with his blunt head. “What’s the matter, worried Red Hood might hear you?”
You try to grind against him and snarl when he pulls his cock away, “Don’t fucking tease me, jackass.”
Jason slaps his cock against you, then rests it on your belly. He lets out an amused scoff, “Wasn’t I a God thirty seconds ago?”
“Forgot to mention I’m an atheist.”
You cross your arms like you aren’t flat on your back with your legs up, but no poker face can hide the desperate squirm of your hips.
The bastard shakes his head and the weight of him shifts over your gut, “You just can’t help being a brat, can you? And to think, you were being such a good girl f’me.”
“Only because you were being nice-”
“I can be nice again, sweetheart,” his voice is low as he spits out the pet name. “But you gotta be patient.”
“I wasn’t raised to be particularly- AH!”
The head of his cock bullies its way past your labia and sits at the ready. You can already feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. It’s just the tip and it’s already bigger than anything you’ve ever had.
“You ready?” He whispers. You nod with a strained whine, but it’s not enough for him. “Take a breath, I gotta hear your voice, pretty girl.”
“I-”
Your heart pounds so fast, it stops for the split second that those sharp greens irises soften. His thumb rubs a circle behind your ear.
“Yeah,” you suck in one last breath. “I’m ready.”
“Just - hmm - Just tell me if you need me to stop.”
Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in. When you first saw his size, you had expected it to sting. But instead of sharp pain, he fills you with an instant and, based on the snail’s pace he’s moving at, neverending pressure.
“Oh, baby…Oh, that’s it, that’s it, nice and slow.”
It’s so much. It’s so good. Every bump and groove makes itself known as he buries himself inch by inch, rubbing against you.
"Fuck, you have a big cock," you groan, letting your head fall back on his jacket. He has the audacity to snort as he sinks the rest of himself into you, until his hips finally grate against yours.
The hand holding your head slips out from under you and pulls down the strap of your dress. Your already stiff nipple becomes absolutely statuesque when it meets the night air.
"Yeah? Well, you got a big fuckin' attitude, asking a man you barely know to come fuck you on a rooftop. You do this a lot?"
The edge of a callous catches your nipple.
"No! Just f'you!" You squeak with a jolt.
The callous turns into an entire paw, squeezing your entire breast harshly. You push upwards into the base of his palm, brushing your nipple against the defined lines.
"Just for me? Just had to have me?"
Jason leans in closer, so you can feel each hot strained exhale.
"Had to have you!"
There’s little more than a hair between your noses. That big strong hand finds its way to your throat.
"No one else pisses off your daddy as much?"
You have no explanation for what slipped out of you next.
In your entire sexual experience, you had refused to speak them. And more determined men than this one had tried to squeeze it out of you.
But something about the hand on your throat and the breath on your lips had you shouting,
"You're my daddy!”
Something flashes in his eyes and for a moment, you’re worried you fucked up. He freezes up. His face falls blank and his mouth goes taut as he considers your words. The hand supporting his weight jerks next to your head while you pant anxiously. You get the sense that this is a first for him too.
Then he lets out a breathless laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah, that's right, baby. I'm your daddy.”
He pulls out of you without warning or sympathy. Your hips chase his blindly, your hole weeping for his cock to come back. He sits back on his knees and hauls your ass over his thighs, spreading you open on his wide lap.
"You holding on tight, baby?”
You waste no time securing fistfuls of his shirt, the white logo distorting in your clutch. He lines himself up to your entrance again, brushing the sweat off your brow.
"You tell me if it's too much, yeah?"
“Of course, daddy.”
He grins, his sharp canines glinting. “Good girl.”
He abandons his slow and steady routine to shove himself into you. He so graciously gives you a moment to re-welcome him with a little squeeze before he’s pounding into you, ramming in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.
You make a valiant attempt to move with him. Really, you do. But the man is actively reducing you to a huffing and puffing ragdoll. The angle he has you at leaves you nowhere to go but the end of his cock. You want to say something, to egg him on, however all that tumbles out of your gaping mouth is a series of choked uhs and ahs.
That is until he hits a spot you didn’t even know existed and you let out an honest to God scream. In your defense, the speed at which he fucks you is utterly inhuman. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was Superman taking his fill of you.
He slows, moving just enough to rub up against that sensitive point. He revels in the way your legs crush his sides, your trembling knees digging into his ribs.
“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it, baby,” he groans. He plunges in as deep as he can go, lifting your hips like you’re made of clouds. Something in you pinches and burns as you open up even more for him.
He readjusts you with a grunt and sets a new brutal rhythm; fucking you fast and hard, then easing up when he strokes something that makes you shudder.
“Pretty girl,” he mutters, “Good girl…so good…so so fuckin’ good…”
Like clockwork, you gasp every time he slows down and drags his cock in or out of you. He lets you feel every minute detail, graciously allowing you to appreciate what he's giving you, before he's striking every sweet spot like lightning again.
“Come on, let Red Hood hear you.”
White, red and gold flashes before your eyes. Your mouth falls open dumbly as you cry out for your former woud-be-rival. Although there was ecstasy exploding from your core to your belly, the best feeling was him gasping your name in turn.
He pulls out of you just as he finishes, your name still falling from his swollen lips. With a heave of his chest, he rolls off of you and lands with a thump at your side. You pant together, waiting for the stars to pause their dancing.
“Gonna tell me why your dad took your dough now?” He finally puffs out.
“Fuck, I don’t even remember,” you laugh hoarsely. Jason snaps his head up to look at you. Dumbfounded is an adorable look on him.
“So you lure me into making a sextape for you, then conveniently forget your end of the bargain?”
“It’s not my fault you fucked my brains out,” you shrug as you sit up. You take an agonizing moment to stretch so you can enjoy the glare on his face. “Why do you wanna know so badly anyway?”
He sits up next to you, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair, “I’m gonna need another deal if you want me to start revealing my secrets.”
Jason Todd’s a quick thinker, you have to give him that. You consider him, consider the possibility of extending this hook-up into a full fledged thing. There has to be more to gain than lose. If you play your cards right, maybe you can beat your father to destroying the Wayne legacy. Or…maybe you can get your revenge by weaving yourself into it. Either way, you’ll ensure you come out on top.
“Tell you what,” you say, standing up and trying to ignore the way your legs shake. “I’m free tomorrow night. Do that thing with your tongue again and it might jog my memory. I’ll do something with my tongue and see if that doesn’t inspire you to share.”
He scoffs, “You’re a little business mongrel, y’know that?” You roll your eyes, but extend your hand out to help him up. He looks at your hand for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Then he accepts it, cautiously wrapping his large hand around your smaller one like he’s handling a snake. “No more rooftops,” he decides. “And no more up close cameras.”
You nod, “Fair. But I’m not calling you daddy again either. That was a one time thing.”
Jason laughs. It’s just a short bark, but it’s genuine. “No problem. It’s not really my thing either. I just appreciated its dramatics for tonight’s purposes.”
The corners of your lips twitch upwards.
“So…We have a deal?”
He gives your hand a firm shake, although it doesn’t betray the suspicion in those unnerving green eyes.
“I think you said it best yourself, princess. I think we have a quid pro quo.”
Something heavy settles in your chest like a weighted blanket as you shake his hand. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, it’s just that you sense Jason Todd is going to be around for a long time. And you’re going to get everything you can out of him.
