⋆ ˙ jason todd fucks you in a headlock. (18+)
a burly bicep is curled tightly around your throat, the cephalic vein of the muscle popping with every roll of his hips. the pressure he applies there, enough to make you drool all over the beefy muscle, his tanned skin already glistening with your spit.
jason’s ripped and scarred chest is pressed firmly against your sweaty back, his lips are hovering right over your earlobe; so you hear everything. every grunt or shaky breath, and each filth laced word he says.
“you’re taking me so well, baby, so well.” he whispers. “keep it like that, she’s so tight.”
you moan, broken.
somehow, he manages to bury himself even deeper inside your soaked pussy, his big—swollen tip bruising that sensitive and soft spot that makes your walls flutter brutally around him. at that, you feel his cock twitch, how his breath hitches, and how the ridiculous thick muscle over your pulse point tightens.
the slight but controlled shortness of breath the grip causes is dizzying, plus the intoxicating thought of how easy is for jason to handle you this way, to keep you pinned right against him; with no way to slip away from his touch. it does something to you.
and he knows it.
“fuck, baby— you really like this shit, don’t you?” he rasps out, low, a smug tone as he says it. “hell, of course you do.”
you try to answer but, right now, there’s just no way you can.
his pace is cruel now, pelvis slapping against the plump flesh of your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. your round breasts bouncing under his hold as he thrusts into you, rough and raw.
“you know… i’ve taken the lives of many men like this.” jason grunts, and he can’t help the cocky and lazy smile that curves his lips. “just from applying a little pressure, right here.”
and suddenly, all the air seems to thin out at once, your lungs giving up for a moment; begging for oxygen. your stomach curls, knots. your heartbeat hammers wildly beneath his ruthless grip, and you’re entirely sure jason feels it, the effect it has on you.
so he doesn’t stop, he knows your limits. the tension still lingers, since he isn’t done with you, at least not yet. not until you’re full of him, with a white endless trace of his sticky load dripping down your inner thighs, and surely not until he makes sure it stays there.
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