WRECKED
Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader
Words: 9k
Plot: It's your first time with Jason. You thought you knew what to expect, until he ruined you. (yep, I'm officially a hoe and my old crushes are coming back lmao)
It starts the second you're outside the bar. Jason's hand finds your waist, pulling you close like he can't bear the space between you any longer. His lips crash against yours—hungry, rough, possessive. You gasp into his mouth, and he takes full advantage, tongue sliding against yours as he walks you backward toward his bike.
You don't make it far. His hand cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devours you. His other hand grips your ass, fingers digging in like he owns you already. He groans when you grind into him, hips meeting yours with a delicious friction that has you whining.
"Fuck," he mutters against your lips. "Can't wait to get you home."
The ride to his apartment is a blur—his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles that make your pussy throb. The second you're inside, the door slams shut, and he's on you. His mouth finds yours again, teeth scraping your bottom lip before he bites just enough to make you moan. His hands slide under your thighs, and he lifts you like you weigh nothing, pinning you against the door.
You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist, feeling how hard he is through his jeans. He rolls his hips, grinding against you, and you whimper, clutching at his jacket.
"Jesus, listen to you," he growls, lips trailing to your jaw, then your neck.
His teeth scrape over your pulse before he sucks a bruise there, and your head thumps against the door. His big hands squeeze your ass, lifting and dropping you just enough to rub you against the bulge in his pants.
"Jason," you gasp, hips moving on instinct.
"Yeah, baby? Feels good?"
His voice is low, rough like gravel, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. He carries you to the bedroom effortlessly, tossing you onto the mattress with a grin. You barely catch your breath before he's climbing over you, tossing his jacket, kissing you like he's starving.
"You're so fuckin' pretty," he murmurs, fingers working at your clothes. "Bet you taste even better."
Your shirt goes next, then your bra, and shit, the way his eyes darken has heat flooding your cheeks. His palms cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You arch into him, moaning when his mouth replaces his hands, tongue flicking before he sucks one into his mouth. His other hand kneads your other breast, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.
"You like that, baby?"
His voice is a growl against your skin. "So sensitive... fuck, I could play with these all night."
He trails kisses lower, teeth grazing your stomach, and your breath hitches. His fingers hook into your waistband, dragging your pants and panties down slow.
"Fuckin' gorgeous," he mutters, spreading your legs. "Look at this pretty pussy."
"Jay," you whimper, hips lifting.
"I've got you," he promises, "Gonna make you feel so fuckin' good, baby."
Then fuck, his mouth is on you. His tongue drags through your folds, slow and filthy, making your back arch off the bed. He groans against you like you're his favorite meal, licking you like he can't get enough. His tongue flicks over your clit—soft at first, then harder when you moan—and you feel the smirk against you.
"Goddamn, you taste so fuckin' good," he mutters, voice rough.
His tongue dips lower, fucking into you, and you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. He sucks your clit, tongue flicking just right, and your hips grind against his face, chasing the heat coiling in your belly.
"That's it, baby. Take what you need," he growls, tongue relentless.
Your legs shake, toes curling as the pleasure builds, sharp and hot. His hands hold your thighs open, keeping you right where he wants you. You moan his name, voice wrecked, and he groans against you, the vibrations shooting straight through you.
"Fuck, Jason—"
You're close, teetering on the edge—your whole body strung tight, nerves buzzing—when one thick finger pushes in. It's slow, intentional, stretching you inch by inch. Your breath catches, walls fluttering around him, so full from just his finger.
"Fuck," Jason groans. "God, you're so tight."
His eyes stay on yours, drinking in every twitch, every gasp that slips from your lips. His free hand holds your thigh open, firm but gentle, like he wants you spread just for him.
Then, without warning, he adds a second finger. The stretch is intense, burning in that delicious way that has your back arching, hips tilting to take him deeper.
"Easy," he murmurs, soft, despite how wrecked he looks. "Gotta stretch this pretty little pussy out for me, baby. Can't have you strugglin' with my dick."
God. Your cheeks burn, heat flooding through you at his words, pussy clenching tight around his fingers. He feels it, and the groan that rumbles from his chest is obscene.
"You like that?"
His grin is crooked, cocky. His fingers curl pressing right against that perfect spot inside you. Your mouth falls open, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as your hips jerk.
"There," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "Right there, huh?"
His pace picks up, slow but deep, fingers fucking into you like he's got all the time in the world. He twists them just right, dragging along your walls with a rhythm that has your thighs trembling. The wet sounds echo in the room, filthy and soaked, each thrust squelching louder as your arousal drips down to his palm.
"Jesus, baby," Jason groans, gaze dropping to where his fingers disappear into you. "Look at this pussy, so fuckin' wet for me. I haven't even fucked you yet, and you're already drippin'."
Your head falls back, heat swirling in your belly, pleasure winding tight. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, precise circles that make your vision blur.
"That's it," he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh as he presses kisses between filthy praise. "Take it, baby. Just like that... fuck, you're squeezin' my fingers so good."
He leans down again, tongue flicking over your clit, and you cry out, hips jerking. The combination—his fingers curling deep, tongue working your sensitive bundle of nerves—has you unraveling fast.
"Jay—fuck—I—I'm gonna—"
"I know, baby," he growls against your pussy, voice wrecked. "Cum for me. C'mon, lemme feel you soak my fingers."
And fuck, you do. The coil snaps—hot and all consuming—as you cum hard, walls clenching around his fingers. Your whole body shudders, pleasure crashing over you in waves. You sob his name, hips rocking through it, chasing every last spark.
Jason keeps going, drawing it out, his fingers fucking into you through your orgasm. Your slick coats his hand, dripping onto the sheets, and the sounds—messy, obscene—only make the high hit harder.
"Goddamn," he mutters, watching you with a look that's part worship, part starving. "Look at you. So fuckin' pretty when you cum. Feels so good around my fingers... can't wait to feel you around my dick."
You're panting, body wrecked, but his mouth finds you again, fingers slipping out of you, and he's licking you clean, tongue dragging through your folds, tasting every drop you've given him. You whimper, overstimulated, but he groans, sucking your clit just to hear you whine.
"You can give me another one, baby," he murmurs against you, voice dangerous. "Haven't even started yet."
Your orgasm barely fades before Jason's mouth is back on you, tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe through your folds. Your hips jerk, thighs trembling from the overstimulation, but his hands press your legs open, keeping you spread wide for him.
"Jay—" you whimper, trying to close up, overwhelmed, but his grip tightens.
"Uh-uh, baby," he murmurs against your soaked cunt, voice rough and dark. "Told you, I'm not done. Not 'til I taste everything you've got for me."
Fuck. Heat swirls in your belly, a mess of pleasure and desperation, nerves alight. You try to squirm, try to close your legs again, but it's useless. His arms are strong, holding you open like you're nothing to him just something to devour.
And God, the way he eats you out...
His tongue moves slow, deliberate, fucking into you with wet, obscene strokes that make your head spin. It's messy, his spit mixing with your slick, dripping down to the sheets below. Every flick, every press of his tongue is precise, like he's studied your body, like he knows exactly how to pull those sounds from you.
Your back arches, hips trying to ride his face, and he groans, the vibration shooting through you. His hands grip your thighs, thumbs pressing bruising marks into your skin as he guides you over his mouth.
"You taste so fuckin' good," he mutters, pulling back just enough to breathe you in, his lips slick with your arousal. His eyes drag up your body, gaze heated. "Could eat this pussy all night."
Your mind reels. No one's ever eaten you like this before, ever. The guys you dated? Please. They'd barely been able to find your clit, let alone worship you like this, like you're the best thing Jason's ever had in his mouth. And God, the way he looks at you—like you're his, like he lives for the way you moan, the way you fall apart under his tongue.
"Jay," you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, tugging but he just laughs, deep and hungry.
"You can pull all you want, baby," he grins against you, fucking into you with his tongue again. "Not lettin' you go 'til you cum on my face."
His tongue fucks into you deep, and fuck, your legs shake, your whole body strung tight. Pleasure coils low in your belly, building fast, dizzying. Jason knows. Of course he does. His gaze stays locked on your face, watching every gasp, every shudder, loving how you fall apart for him.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs, lips dragging over your clit before he sucks—hard, perfect. "Give it to me. I wanna feel you cum again, wanna taste it."
And fuck, you do.
The second orgasm hits hard, ripping through you with white hot intensity. Your thighs clamp around his head, but he doesn't stop, hands holding you open as he devours you through it. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body writhing, sobbing his name.
So good—too good.
Jason groans like he can't get enough, tongue dragging through your soaked folds, drinking down everything you give him. In his head, it's a mess of thoughts—she's so fuckin' beautiful, so tight and wet and perfect. Could spend hours between her legs, make her cum until she's cryin'—mine.
When you finally go limp, chest heaving, body wrecked, he pulls back with a filthy grin. His lips, chin—soaked. His eyes burn into you, warm and starving.
"Fuck," he breathes, kissing your inner thigh. "So good for me."
Your chest heaves, vision hazy as you blink down at him. His mouth is slick with your arousal, lips curled into that cocky grin, but his eyes are soft, like you're the only thing that matters.
Then he moves up, muscles shifting beneath flushed skin, body radiating heat. His hand comes up, fingers threading into your hair, cupping the top of your head just right. The touch sends a shiver down your spine—gentle, but possessive. He tilts your face toward him, gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips, and then he kisses you. God.
It's messy, hot and filthy, your mouths sliding together. His lips are soft but urgent, tongue pressing past yours like he needs you. You can taste yourself on him, thick and salty, spreading across your tongue. Your fingers clutch his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle as you suck on his tongue, drawing a deep, hungry groan from his chest.
He presses closer, crowding you against the bed, hand tightening in your hair. The kiss turns sloppy, wet noises filling the space between gasps and moans. His lips drag over yours, breathing you in, swallowing the soft whimpers you can't hold back.
Then, he pulls back. Barely. Just enough to look at you. His gaze roams over your face—flushed, lips swollen and slick from him—ruined. His thumb brushes your rosy cheek, tender amidst the heat.
"You're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with something soft, something real. "Don't be shy."
Heat rushes to your cheeks. Fuck. You blush, lips parting to speak but words fail you. All you can do is nod, heart pounding.
And then you pull him back in.
Another kiss, this one deeper, needier, tongues tangling like you can't get enough. Because you can't. Not with the way he holds you, not with the way he tastes, not with the way his body presses into yours like you belong there, like this is where you've always belonged. And God, maybe you do.
Your hands are all over him: fingers dragging across heated skin, nails scraping over the hard planes of his back as you kiss like you'll die without it. It's frantic, messy, lips sliding, teeth clashing, tongues greedy. His hands are everywhere—gripping, squeezing, grinding you against him until you can feel how hard he is through his jeans, thick and aching.
Somehow, between kisses that leave you breathless, you fumble with his shirt, tugging it up. Jason breaks away just long enough to yank it off, tossing it aside.
God, he's all muscle. Broad chest, pecs firm, shoulders so wide they make you feel small. His abs are cut, ridges begging to be traced, and fuck, you do. Running your hands down his stomach as he groans, head tipping back. His skin is warm, stretched over powerful muscle and old scars, stories written across him.
Your gaze drops, and oh God.
He's stripping out of his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, and fuck. You knew he was big. You knew it from the way his hands dwarfed yours, the way his fingers stretched you open when he prepped you, the way his cock felt heavy against your belly when he first laid you out beneath him.
But seeing it, really seeing it, makes your throat go dry. He's long and thick, veiny, the head flushed and leaking. Precum beads at the tip, dripping down the shaft, smearing across your skin when he presses close again. You can feel it, sticky warmth spreading over your stomach—fuck.
Your legs are already spread, body pliant under his touch, flushed warm from how long he's spent kissing every inch of you. But now that you're here, staring down at that thick length, your confidence wavers.
"Jay," you breathe, voice softer than you expect—half awe, half holy shit.
He knows. Of course he does. His hands are already smoothing up your thighs, squeezing gently as he leans over you. Dark hair falls forward, that white streak that you like catching the dim light, casting shadows across his wrecked face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, consuming you.
"You still good, baby?"
His voice is low, thick with restraint, like he's holding himself back by a thread. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Instead, your fingers flex against his shoulders, gripping hard. He's just... so big.
Jason lets out a quiet chuckle, dipping down to kiss your nose—sweet, soft. "You're lookin' at me like I'm about to break you."
You swallow, heart pounding. "You are."
His jaw flexes, something raw flickering across his face—heat, hunger, but something tender too.
"Nah." His lips brush yours softly, a promise in the wreckage. "Gonna take care of you." Another kiss, deeper this time, stealing your breath. "Gonna make it feel good."
He lines himself up, cock heavy in his hand, and fuck, you can feel it—hot and throbbing against your soaked folds. His other hand rests on your thigh, holding you open like it's the easiest thing in the world.
You're panting, skin flushed, every nerve lit up as he drags the thick head of his dick through your slick, smearing precum and arousal together until it's messy, sticky, filthy.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice rough, wrecked. "Look at this... look at how wet you are for me."
His gaze drops to where you're spread wide for him, cock nudging your clit—a jolt shoots through you, your hips twitching—but his hands hold you down, firm and unchanging.
"You hear that?" he rasps, rolling his hips just enough that the head slides against your swollen clit, slick noises filling the air. "Soaked, baby. Shit, you're fuckin' perfect."
Heat flares through you, cheeks burning, but you can't stop the needy little whimper that escapes when he teases your entrance again, tip pressing just barely inside.
His gaze lifts—hungry, dark, soft. Like you're his whole goddamn world. "You ready for me, pretty girl?" His thumb brushes your cheek, tender despite the weight of his cock poised at your entrance. "Gonna take care of you, yeah?"
You nod, breath catching. "Yeah... Please."
Jason's jaw tightens, like he's barely holding on. "Good girl."
And then he starts to push in.
The stretch is instant, your pussy straining around the thick head of his cock. It's too much, too big, and your fingers scramble for purchase, gripping the sheets tight as a gasp rips from your throat.
"F-fuck—"
"Shhh, I've got you," Jason soothes, voice gentle even as his hips press forward. His hand slides up, thumb stroking soothing circles into your skin. "Just breathe for me, baby. So good, takin' me so fuckin' well."
You try, you really do, but God, the fucking burn. It's sharp, making your legs twitch, hips jerking. His cock splits you open, inch by slow, agonizing inch.
Jason groans, head dropping to rest against your shoulder for a beat, shaking. "Jesus, baby... you're—fuck. Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight."
His words send heat pooling in your belly, but it's so much, stretching you to your limit. You bite your lip, eyes squeezed shut as he pauses, hips still, letting you adjust. His hand cups your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone.
"You okay?"
His voice is soft, earnest, like he'd stop if you asked, like he wants you to feel good more than anything. And he does.
You nod, chest heaving. "Hurts... but fuck, it's so good."
"Yeah?" His lips brush yours, achingly tender. "You're doin' so fuckin' good for me, baby. So fuckin' tight, can barely—shit—barely fit."
And then he rocks his hips, just a little, just to test the water. White hot pleasure sparks, the pain melting, shifting into something else entirely. Your walls clench around him instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, and fuck, your whimper slips out, soft, shaky, helpless.
Jason's breath catches, body tense, every muscle flexing. He looks down at you, pupils blown, lips parted. "Fuck, do that again," he rasps, voice barely there.
Your mind swims, overwhelmed, but when he rolls his hips once more, your body betrays you, another whimper falling free.
Jason growls. Deep, rough, like he's losing it. He pushes in slow, cock thick and unforgiving as your pussy clings to every inch, stretching around him. There's a burn, sharp and intense, making your breath hitch, but fuck, it feels so good, hurts just right.
"Shhh," Jason soothes, voice low, thick with restraint. His hands frame your face, holding you steady, his muscles taut beneath your fingers. "Doin' so good, baby. Just a little more. Almost there."
He pauses, lets you breathe, lets you feel. His cock throbs inside you, barely halfway in, and you're already so full. You gasp, head tilting back, chest heaving.
"Fuck," you whisper, walls fluttering. "So big..."
His jaw flexes, a soft groan spilling from his lips. "Yeah? You're takin' me so fuckin' well. Goddamn, look at you." His gaze drops, watching where his cock disappears into you, your slick coating him. "Messy already, baby. So pretty."
He eases in further, slow, careful, letting you adjust. Your cunt struggles to take him, every inch a stretch, a burn, but it melts, shifts into pleasure, thick and all consuming.
And then he bottoms out.
You gasp, a soft cry escaping as his hips press flush against yours. "Oh God—" so deep, so hot, so full.
Your pussy clenches, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. Jason leans down, kisses you. Slow, deep, hot. His tongue slides against yours, coaxing you into a messy dance that makes your walls tighten around him.
He groans softly into your mouth—low, rough, and fuck, you feel it everywhere. His tongue dances with yours, messy, heated, but not rushed, like he wants to savor you, to taste every little sound you make. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he leans into it, deepening the kiss until your lungs burn and your head swims.
Your pussy flutters around his thick cock, gripping him with every shift of his hips, the fullness inside you making your toes curl. Every swirl of his tongue sends sparks down your spine, feeding that deep ache between your legs. God, you're so full of him, your slick walls clenching like your body is begging to keep him there.
And underneath it all, that steady throb of him inside you, every flutter of your cunt making him curse softly against your lips, hips stuttering as your body squeezes him tight.
"Shit, baby," he groans into your mouth. "Clampin' down on me like that—fuck—feels so fuckin' good."
Your head spins, drowning in heat and him. When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes are dark, soft, wrecked.
"You alright?" he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek.
You nod, breath shaky. "Please... move."
That's all it takes. Jason pulls out almost entirely, the thick head dragging against your sensitive walls, your slick making a wet sound that has him groaning, hips trembling.
Then, he pushes back in slowly, every inch filling you perfectly.
Your mind blurs, overwhelmed by the stretch and heat. Fuck, he feels so good, so full, your pussy molding to him like it was made for this. And bare, skin to skin, it's different. Better. Raw. Intimate.
No barriers. Just him. You. Heat. Friction.
Your thoughts spiral, remembering how sweet he'd been, getting tested just for you. "You don't have to, baby," he'd said, so sure, so trusting.
But you had anyway. Wanted to reassure him. Wanted this. Bare. Real. And God, you hadn't known sex could feel this good. Jason's pace is slow, deep, torturous. His hips roll, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you.
"Fuck, baby—" his voice is rough, wrecked. "Pussy's perfect. So fuckin' tight. So good. You hear yourself? Best fuckin' sounds I ever heard."
Your moans spill free, soft, needy, mixing with the slick sounds of him fucking into you. His lips find yours again, kissing you, worshiping you, every thrust measured, deep, making you feel every inch.
Jason moves slow, deep, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your whole body ache for more. Every thrust has him sliding against your walls, every drag of his cock making your pussy tighten like it never wants to let him go. And fuck, he feels the way you're so wet, so hot, your cunt pulling him in like you were made for this.
"Shit," he mutters, voice rough as his forehead drops against yours. "You're gonna kill me, baby."
His lips brush your cheek, your jaw, his breath ragged, every exhale heavy with restraint. "Sound so fuckin' sweet."
You can't hold still. Your hands scramble for purchase, gripping his arms, his back, nails digging into the muscle that flexes with every roll of his hips.
"Jay, I—"
"I know, baby," he whispers, voice strained, thick with want. "I know. I've got you. I've got you."
And fuck, he does. His hands are everywhere—one sliding down your thigh, fingers digging in as he lifts your leg higher against his waist, adjusting the angle. And when he thrusts again, his hips roll slow, deep, dragging pleasure through your veins, making your body tremble beneath him. You're stretching, adjusting, but it still feels like too much—too big, too deep—but you love it, love how he's holding you together even as he's pulling you apart.
"Fuck," he groans, voice shaking. "Look at you."
You barely have the strength to open your eyes, but when you do—fuck. He looks wrecked. His jaw is clenched tight, his eyes dark and hungry, but his hands stroke along your body, like he's memorizing every inch of you. And then he leans down, lips brushing your temple, voice low and possessive.
"Mine," he murmurs, rough and raw. "All mine."
Your breath hitches, body clenching around him at the gravel in his voice.
Jason grins, breathless, his nose brushing yours. "Love those little noises, baby." His hips roll again, slow, teasing, making your toes curl. "You gonna keep whimpering for me?"
You can't stop. Not when he has you like this, stretched out beneath him, held so gently even as he fucks you deep.
He groans, lips trailing down your throat, biting lightly at your shoulder. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough, words punctuated by another deep, perfect thrust. "Gonna make you feel so fuckin' good."
Your body arches, thighs shaking, and Jason—God, he feels everything. How you clench when he kisses you, how your cunt squeezes him when he praises you.
You cling to him like you'll fall apart if you don't, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, pulling him down until his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep, sloppy, hot, all teeth and tongue, your moans spilling between his lips as he fucks you faster. His hips snap forward, each thrust deeper, harder, making you cry out against his mouth.
"Fuck—baby," he groans into the kiss, tongue sliding against yours, tasting every little sound you make. "So fuckin' sweet—"
His skin slaps against yours, the squelch of your slick coating him every time he bottoms out, his pelvis rubbing right against your clit—right there—and it's too much. Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, pulling him closer, tighter, like you can anchor yourself to him.
"Jay—oh my God—"
"Yeah?" he grunts, lips dragging down to your neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks that'll sting later. "That feel good, baby? Fuckin'—God, you feel so fuckin' good around me."
Your moans get higher, softer, desperate, your body trembling beneath him as he pounds into you. Every thrust hits that spot, the pressure building so tight you can barely breathe.
"C'mon, pretty girl," he pants, voice wrecked, hips grinding deeper. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum on my dick."
That pushes you over. Your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train, pleasure exploding through your veins, blinding, hot, overwhelming. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a cry that's half a moan, half a sob, your cunt clenching so tight around him it pulls a growl from his chest.
"Fuck, fuck, baby—"
He keeps moving, hips grinding through it, dragging out your orgasm until you're shaking, your thighs trembling around his waist. Every thrust makes you feel it everywhere, your clit rubbing against his skin, sparks of pleasure crackling through you with every squelching slide of his cock.
"Goddamn," Jason groans, head dropping to your shoulder, panting, his voice rough in your ear. "Pussy's squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—shit. Feels so good, baby, so fuckin' good."
Your fingers scrape down his back, desperate for more, even as your body twitches with aftershocks. His cock drags against your over sensitive walls, making you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.
"Look at you," he pants, fucking into you slow now, deep, making you feel every inch. "Takin' me so good, baby—fuck, love how you cum for me."
Your brain's mush, your body boneless, but you want more.
"Jay..."
It's half a moan, half a whimper, and fuck, the sound makes his hips stutter. His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowing with instant worry. Shit. His brain short circuits, thoughts racing—did I hurt her? push too far?
The last thing he wants is to hurt you, to ruin this. His heart twists, the rush of panic making his grip ease but then you lick your lips, breath shaky, eyes dark with need.
"H-harder," you whisper, voice barely there but wrecked, needy, and so fucking hot it punches the air from his lungs.
He goes dumb for a second—blinking, brain lagging—because holy shit.
"You sure, baby?"
His voice is rough, low, edged with concern but there's heat burning bright in his eyes. You nod, brows furrowed, lips parted, dripping for him, and God, he's gone. So fucking gone.
You have no idea how completely wrecked he is over you, how your face, your sounds, the way you look right now is burned into his soul. Fuck, he doesn't think he's ever wanted anyone this badly—no, not badly. Desperately.
"If something doesn't feel right," he rasps, leaning in, voice serious beneath the hunger, "you tell me, yeah?"
You nod again, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, and that's it, he loses it. His hips snap forward, harder, deeper, faster, dragging a sharp cry from your throat as your head throws back, mouth falling open. God, the sound, the way your tits bounce with every thrust—it's too much.
His gaze locks on them, entranced, like they're the prettiest fucking thing he's ever seen—soft, perfect, fucking begging for his mouth. He leans down, tongue flicking over a pebbled nipple, sucking, licking, his lips wrapping around it hungrily.
"Fuck—" he groans against your skin, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.
He moves to the other, sucking deep, leaving faint hickeys, marks he wants burned into your skin because you're his right now, all his.
"Look at you," he pants, thrusting deep, hips grinding against you, rubbing your clit just right. "So fuckin' gorgeous... bouncin' for me like that—shit, baby, you're unreal."
Your nails dig into his back, scraping, making him groan against your chest. His thrusts pick up, relentless, dragging wet, filthy squelches from where he's buried deep, your pussy clenching around him so perfectly.
"Fuckin' God," he grits out, "feel like you're made for me." His voice breaks, wrecked with pure need, hips slamming into yours, making the bed creak, skin slapping loud and obscene. "So tight, baby, takin' me so fuckin' good—shit, you hear that? Hear how wet you are for me?"
Every thrust makes your breath hitch, your body rocking with his. His mouth moves between your neck and chest, tasting, licking, biting, leaving you marked, claimed.
"Fuck, baby—fuck," he pants, hips relentless, his abs flexing against your stomach, body hot and solid. "You're gonna ruin me. Shit, you already have."
He pulls away, your nipple leaving his mouth with a wet pop, and fuck, the way your chest heaves makes him want to dive back in, but no. Not yet.
He sits upright, hands gripping your hips, and Jesus, the sight wrecks him. His gaze locks on the place where his dick slides in and out of you, slick and glistening, soaked with how fucking wet you are.
"Shit, baby—" his voice catches, rough and wrecked, "look at this."
Your pussy stretches around him, tight and perfect, swallowing him whole. Every thrust drags a filthy squelch, his cock gleaming with your slick, and fuck, you're making a mess—dripping down to his balls, coating him. His abs flex with every deep thrust, jaw clenched as he watches your cunt take him, take all of him.
"Goddamn," he groans, hips rolling, eyes glued to where you're joined. "Look at you takin' it—fuck, baby, you're takin' my whole dick—" He grits his teeth, pulling out slow, just to watch your pussy cling, desperate to keep him inside. "You're gonna kill me, baby. Shit."
You squirm, sheepish, a flush burning across your skin. "Don't... don't look at me," you whine, voice small, embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze, the way he's devouring you with his eyes.
His gaze snaps to yours, dark and hot, but there's warmth in it, soft and reassuring beneath the feral hunger.
"Hey," he murmurs, hips still moving, deep, slow, "don't do that. Don't hide from me." His thumb brushes along your hip, gentle despite the rough pace. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, baby, every part of you. Watching you take me like this—shit, it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."
His hand moves, sliding down until his fingers find your clit, puffy and needy. He circles it, slow, deliberate, just as his hips pound into you, dragging a choked whine from your throat.
"Jay—oh, fuck... too much," you whimper, hips jerking, trying to squirm away, but his grip tightens, holding you right there.
"No, baby," he pants, hips relentless, dick hitting deep, stretching you wide. "You can take it. You're my good girl, right? Gimme one more, c'mon, I'm so fuckin' close."
Your mind spins, thoughts scattered, every thrust punching pleasure through your veins. He's big—God, so fucking big—stretching you to the limit, filling you so deep it feels like you can feel him in your throat. Every thrust hits that spot, sparks exploding behind your eyes. This is the best fuck of your life, no contest.
And yeah, people call him scary, say he's dangerous, but not here, not with you. Not like this. Not when his touch is careful, when he's so mindful of your pleasure, his voice gentle even as he wrecks you.
"God," he groans, hips slamming into you, his thumb rubbing against your clit with every thrust, making your thighs shake. "You feel so fuckin' good. Tight, wet, takin' me so perfect. Baby—shit—you got no idea what you're doin' to me."
Your nails dig into his arms, desperate, overwhelmed, his dick dragging against your walls, making you see stars.
He pounds into you, hips slamming against yours with bruising force, each thrust dragging a broken moan from your throat. His fingers circle your clit, faster, harder, until you're falling apart, babbling, a mess of whimpers and cries.
"Fuck, Jay... oh my God, please—"
You can't think, can't breathe, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your back arching, body tightening beneath him.
"That's it, baby. Fuck, you're takin' me so good. C'mon,give it to me... cum for me, doll—wanna feel you squeeze me," he growls, hips relentless, cock dragging against your sweet spot over and over.
And when it hits, it's devastating. Your vision whites out, body snapping taut as your orgasm crashes through you, intense and shattering. Your pussy clamps down around him, pulsing, milking his cock, making him curse, a ragged moan tearing from his chest.
But he doesn't stop.
He leans over you, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss, messy, desperate. His tongue tangles with yours, claiming, consuming, swallowing your gasps and whimpers as he fucks you through your high. His hips drive deep, faster, rougher, chasing his own release, and you melt under him—helpless, wrecked.
"God, Jay, you feel so good," you whimper against his lips, voice wrecked, slurred with pleasure. "So deep, fuck... so good—"
His eyes flutter shut, hips slamming into you with single minded focus, cock dragging against your sensitive walls. "Fuck, baby," he pants, voice rough, wrecked, "you got no fuckin' idea—shit—drivin' me crazy."
He moans right in your ear, making your whole body shudder. "Where d'you want me to cum, doll?" His voice breaks, hips still pounding, "Tell me—fuck—where d'you want it?"
You don't hesitate, eyes glassy, lips parted, "Inside me, God, please—"
And fuck, that's it, he's gone.
"Shit, fuck, fuck," he growls, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hips slamming into you like a man possessed.
His dick throbs, swelling inside you, then he breaks, hips jerking, and he cums, hard, deep. Hot ropes of cum flood your pussy, the pressure blinding, making you cry out, pussy clenching around him.
God, his load is huge. You can feel it—hot, thick, endless. Spurts of cum paint your insides, flooding your pussy so much it spills out, leaking around his thrusting cock in wet, sticky streams. Each pulse of his dick sends another gush of cum deeper, so warm and slick you swear you feel it spreading, coating every inch of your clenching walls.
And fuck, your cunt's puffy, swollen from how hard he's fucked you, stretched so perfectly around him, gripping him like your body refuses to let him go. His cock's still thick, throbbing, buried balls deep as he grinds his hips, like he needs to push it all in, like he wants his cum everywhere.
The pressure's too much.
Your clit's throbbing, overstimulated, slick and sensitive from how he rubbed it raw, from how his skin keeps dragging against it. And with his cum gushing inside, with his cock pounding it deeper, it tips you over again, one last time.
Your orgasm slams into you like a fucking freight train.
"Oh, fuck, Jay... oh my God—"
Your back arches, mouth dropping open in a silent scream before broken moans spill out, babbling, wrecked. Your pussy clamps down so tight around him it makes him curse, hips jerking.
"Shit, baby, fuck—" as you milk his cock, your walls spasming, pulling every last drop from him.
Stars burst behind your eyelids—white hot, blinding. Your whole body shakes, overwhelmed, nerves lit up, toes curling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you, relentless.
You can't stop shaking, can't stop moaning, a wrecked mess under him, drenched in sweat, skin tingling from how fucking good he makes you feel.
And he's still there, still grinding, fucking his cum into you, hips rolling slow, making wet squelches fill the air—filthy, messy, your combined slick and his cum making a sloppy mess between you. You feel it leak out, thick streams oozing past where you're stretched wide around him, warm as it dribbles down your ass.
"Look at you," he pants, voice wrecked, dark eyes devouring you. "So fuckin' pretty, makin' a mess all over me. Shit, baby, takin' me so good."
Your breath hitches, heart racing, head spinning. You're ruined. Destroyed. And fuck, you love it. Your body trembles, and you sob, not from pain, but from too much pleasure, from how overwhelmed you are.
"Shhh, pretty girl," he murmurs, voice soft, soothing, as his lips brush over your skin—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips—gentle pecks that ground you, anchor you to him.
His big hands roam your body, soothing touches that chase away the lingering tremors.
"It's okay, baby. Got you," he whispers, thumb rubbing soft circles along your hip.
His body's so warm against yours, chest rising and falling with steady breaths, damp with sweat. He's careful, so careful not to crush you with his weight, propped up just enough to let you breathe, but still close enough that you can feel him everywhere.
And fuck, his dick's still inside you, still thick, still faintly throbbing. The stretch makes you whimper, a soft, shaky sound that tugs at his heart. He smiles, leans down, and runs a hand through your hair, fingers gentle, comforting.
"You did so good for me," he murmurs, voice rough but tender. "So fuckin' good, pretty girl."
Your lashes flutter, heart pounding, and you murmur, voice wobbly, "God, that... that was... so fucking good."
He chuckles, low and warm, a sound that rumbles through his chest. "Yeah, baby?"
His dark eyes soften when you nod, your nose brushing his, eyes big and beautiful, looking at him with this adoring gaze that wrecks him all over again. Fuck, you let him fuck you like that—hard, deep, relentless—and now you're looking at him like he hung the stars, like he didn't just ruin you, like he's something good. And God, that does something to him. Warms him, unravels him, makes him want to kiss you again and again.
So he does.
He leans down, lips brushing yours, and the kiss unfolds slow, lazy, messy. His tongue slides against yours, soft moans mixing between your mouths. Your lips part, welcoming him, and he tastes you, deep and slow, like he's got all the time in the world. His fingers thread through your hair, cradling you, keeping you close as you melt into him.
Your breaths mingle, warm and shaky, tongues sliding together in a sloppy kiss that's all soft sounds: wet licks, gentle sucks, hushed moans. You cling to him, nails digging into his back, and he loves it, loves you like this—soft, wrecked, beautiful.
He breaks the kiss after a few lingering licks, breathing heavy against your lips, and slowly, he begins to pull out.
You hiss, a sharp, shaky sound, and your thighs tremble, cunt sore, swollen, molded to the shape of his cock. The drag of him leaving your puffy, overstimulated pussy has your eyes fluttering, jaw slack, as warm, sticky cum begins to leak out, spilling down your messy folds.
And God, his eyes are glued to the sight.
Your pussy is glistening, wrecked, stretched from taking him so deep and so good, and there's so much cum, sticky strings connecting your swollen lips to his slick, flushed dick. His jaw clenches, fingers itching to push it back in, to watch you drip around his cock again. God, the urge is unbearable.
But then you whimper, soft and tired, and he shakes himself out of it, soothing a hand over your quivering thigh. "Easy, baby," he murmurs, voice rough but gentle, "I know."
He plops down beside you, muscles relaxing, and you instinctively snuggle in, nuzzling against his broad, sweaty chest. His heartbeat's steady, comforting, and without hesitation, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your temple, warm lips lingering as his fingers trace soft shapes along your damp skin.
"You okay?" he asks, voice low, concern threading through the roughness.
You nod, so sleepy, so fucked out, eyelids heavy. "Mhmm," you murmur, content.
He chuckles, that deep, warm sound rumbling through his chest, and god, it soothes you. His calloused fingers glide along your sweat-slicked skin, slow, comforting, as you breathe him in—warm, safe, so good.
You tilt your head up, blinking lazily, and pout, voice soft, "Can I stay?"
He pauses, brows knitting as he glances down. "What?"
Your cheeks heat, and you look away, suddenly sheepish. Fuck. He doesn't exactly scream cuddles after fucking. Not with the reputation that precedes him.
But then his fingers gently tilt your chin up, urging your gaze back to his. "Hey, talk to me, baby."
Your heart skips. You swallow, nervous, "I mean... I... can I stay the night?"
For a beat, there's silence, then he laughs, and it's a surprised, genuine sound, and cups your cheek, thumb brushing softly along your warm skin.
"I didn't know leaving was an option."
Your eyes widen, taken aback, and then you giggle, nose scrunching. "You like me that much?"
And God, you've only been together a few weeks, and yeah, maybe you thought he was just waiting to fuck you, toss you aside after, but fuck, he's been so good to you from the start.
You just believed the talk, like a moron. He's Red Hood, Jason Todd. He fucks and leaves. That's what everyone said. But he never made you feel like that. Not once.
"I do," he says, simple, honest, and it hits you right in the chest.
Your heart flutters, and you see it: the sincerity in those bright blue eyes, something soft and real that makes your throat tighten.
His hand trails down from your side, and then, he cups your ass, big hand kneading the soft flesh before giving it a playful slap.
You yelp, giggling against his chest, and he grins, "Couldn't help myself," he murmurs, teasing.
You almost fall asleep against him, nuzzled into his warm chest, surrounded by the steady beat of his heartbeat and the faint scent of his skin—clean, a hint of gunpowder, and something uniquely him that makes your head spin. God, he smells so fucking good.
His fingers trace soft patterns along your sweaty skin, gentle, soothing, and fuck, it's impossible not to drift. Your eyelids droop, breath slowing, body boneless against him.
But then he shifts slightly, muscles tensing as he moves, and you whine, voice small, "Nooo..."
He chuckles, the sound deep and fond. "C'mon, baby," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "We gotta clean up."
You pout, half asleep, mumbling, "M'tired..."
And fuck, he melts. Heart just gone. You're too cute, all sleepy and clingy, eyes heavy and lips pouty. "I'll clean you quickly, I promise, okay?"
You grumble, but when he pulls away, you whimper, instinctively clinging to him. His brows lift, a bit surprised. He's not that guy—not the cuddly type, not the one for soft aftercare. But for you? Fuck. For you, he is.
"Alright, baby," he murmurs, and then he scoops you up, effortless, like you weigh nothing.
His arms cradle you against his broad chest, warmth radiating off him as he carries you to the bathroom. The tile's cool beneath his bare feet, and the soft glow of the bathroom light makes everything feel hazy, dreamlike. He sets you down gently, but you cling, arms wrapped around his torso, cheek pressed to his skin.
"Jesus," he laughs softly, "you're really not lettin' go, huh?"
You mumble something incoherent, and he grins, wrapping an arm around you while he reaches to turn on the shower. The pipes groan, and warm steam begins to fill the air.
"Just a bit more," he says, voice low, chin resting on your shoulder as you lean back into him, "and we'll go to sleep, yeah?"
You nod sleepily, and he presses a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, lips warm against your cool skin. The water heats up, steam curling around you both, and he guides you into the shower cabin. The first rush of warm water hits your skin, washing away the sweat and stickiness, and you sigh, body relaxing further.
He steps behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. One of his hands spreads over your belly, rubbing slow circles.
"God," he hums, mouth brushing against your damp hair, "you did so good for me, baby."
Your heart flutters, but you just nod, too tired to do much else.
"Just a quick shower," he murmurs, reaching for his body wash.
He pours some into his hand—and God, his hands are so big compared to you—before he starts lathering you up. His fingers glide over your skin, gentle but thorough, slick suds sliding down your tired body.
He washes you carefully, every curve, every dip, soothing touches along your arms, shoulders, hips. He's fast but soft, intent on making sure you're clean without keeping you up too long.
When he finishes, he guides you under the spray, rinsing you off, and you just lean against him, boneless, letting him take care of you.
"See? Told you I'd be quick," he grins, fingers brushing along your waist.
"Mhmm," you murmur, sleepy satisfaction settling in your bones.
Then, it's his turn. He grabs the body wash, lathering up quickly, and you step back slightly, half lidded eyes drifting down his broad chest, strong arms, defined abs, water cascading down his tattooed skin.
God. You bite your lip, not even subtle about staring. His muscles shift with every movement, abs flexing as he runs suds over his chest, water tracing every dip and ridge. And when he turns around to rinse off? Fuck.
His back is just as unfair, muscles rippling, tattoos stretching over his skin, and your gaze drops lower. His ass is perfect, firm and sculpted, like something out of a fantasy, and those thighs—Jesus.
Thick, powerful, covered in droplets that slide down to his calves. You can see the sheer strength there, thighs that could crush you without trying, legs that hold him steady when he wrecks you.
And then... yeah, he catches you.
"Caught you starin', baby," he teases, grinning, "like what you see?"
Your face heats, and you huff, "Shut up."
"Didn't hear a no," he laughs, water streaming down his face, blue eyes bright with amusement.
You pinch your nose just as he turns off the water, a little scrunch of your face that makes him snort softly.
"Such a drama queen," he mutters, grinning as he steps out first, water dripping from his tattooed skin.
He grabs a towel, gives it a quick shake, and then turns back to you. Warmth flickers in his blue eyes as he wraps you in it, pulling the soft fabric snug around your damp body.
"Gotcha," he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek.
He offers his hand, and you take it, stepping out carefully. The bathroom tile is cool against your feet, and you shiver, but it's not from the cold.
Because holy shit.
Your eyes catch on him: the broad chest, water sliding down sculpted abs, and then... yeah, of course your gaze drops. And even soft, his dick is huge. Like, what the fuck. Thick, heavy, resting against his thigh, and God, it's pretty too.
Veins running along the length, flushed at the tip, and that happy trail above it? Dark, perfect, practically begging you to lick your way down. The kind of sight that makes your mouth water, heat curling low in your belly.
Your brain short circuits for a second, and all you can think is how the fuck did that fit inside you? No wonder you felt stretched to the brink, stuffed full, wrecked. Jesus, he ruined you.
He smirks, noticing your stare, but says nothing, just grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist. Barely. It hangs low on his hips, dangerously close to slipping, teasingly casual.
"C'mon, baby," he murmurs, guiding you back to the bedroom.
The sheets are rumpled, still bearing evidence of what he did to you, and heat rushes to your cheeks. He tosses open his closet, rummaging for a second before pulling out a t-shirt.
"Here," he says, grinning, "this'll do."
It's worn soft, the fabric faded but smelling like him, that clean scent, mixed with cologne and something uniquely Jason. Your head spins, heart fluttering.
He gently dries you off, hands warm as he rubs the towel over your arms, shoulders, legs, taking careful time with your still sensitive skin. Then he slips the shirt over your head, and it swallows you whole.
Like, drowns you. The hem hits mid thigh, the neckline wide, slipping off your shoulder. The sleeves hang loose, practically devouring your arms.
Jason leans back, takes one look at you, and laughs. "Jesus," he grins, "you look like you're wearin' a damn dress."
You huff, slapping his chest. Which, of course, does absolutely nothing.
He's built like a fucking wall. Solid. Unmoving.
"Ouch," you deadpan, "my hand's broken now."
He catches your wrist easily, grinning, and then pulls you into him. His arms wrap around you, big hands sliding beneath the hem of the oversized shirt, and yep, they go straight for your ass.
He cups it, kneading shamelessly.
You huff, "You're obsessed."
"Yeah," he says, zero shame, grin widening. "I am."
Jason grabs a pair of boxers, slides them on, the waistband snapping against his hips. He picks up both towels, tossing them into the laundry basket.
"Hang on," he says, waving you off as you yawn. "These sheets are trashed."
You flop face first onto the bed anyway, muffled, "Don't care. Tired."
"Yeah, I know," he grins, peeling the sheets off on his side.
They're ... yeah. Destroyed. Wrinkled, soaked, and holy shit, he really did a number on you. You roll to the side, watching him wrestle with the fitted sheet like it's personally offended him.
"Need help?" you mumble.
"No," he grunts, "I got it. Fucking—goddamn thing—"
He finally manages, cursing under his breath, and throws on fresh ones. Then, without warning, he turns, grins, and scoops you up so he can fit the sheet on your side too.
"Jason!" you squeal, legs kicking weakly, "I can—"
"Shhh," he teases, "you love it."
He plops you onto the fresh sheets, and you bounce, letting out a giggly little noise. "Asshole."
"Yup," he agrees cheerfully, dropping down next to you. His arm snakes around your waist, dragging you in, and you go willingly, curling against his chest.
"God," you yawn again, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
His skin's warm, smells like him, that clean soap mixed with his natural heat. One arm drapes over his waist, your fingers splaying over solid muscle.
His hand finds the back of your head, gentle, fingers threading through your damp hair.
"You okay?" he asks softly, voice rumbling in your ear.
You nod, murmuring, "Mhmm... just tired."
"Sleep, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You melt, mumbling something incoherent, and he chuckles, pulling you closer.
And as you drift off, Jason just... lays there. Holds you. He wasn't expecting this. Not the clingy post sex cuddling, not you nuzzling into him like he's safe, like you trust him.
Not the way his chest feels tight, not in a bad way, just... fuck. He's not soft. Not really. Not supposed to be. But you curl into him, and it's like his body knows what to do, like holding you is instinct.
You're small against him, your breathing evening out, little puffs of air against his neck. And shit, he could get used to this.
Your leg hooks over his, possessive even in sleep, and he smirks, shaking his head.
"You're somethin' else," he murmurs, so quiet you don't hear.
But yeah... he's already all fucking in.
P. S: I didn't forget about your requests, guys. I have the Nightwing one you suggested, imma post it these days 🤭 I'm just a slut for both Dick and Jason rn ✋🏻
