Rafe Cameron X Sleepy!reader

↳ ageless/blank blogs dni

18+ content, scent kink (?), lots of tension, pussy eating devouring, vaginal sex

thinking about jason todd losing his fucking mind when you buy that pheromone oil and he just has to act like he doesn’t wanna fuck you all the way up. you’d drag him to the mall after applying it, hiding the little bottle before you left. he gets an immediate whiff of it after you settle behind him on his bike, already clinging to his jacket and he’s tempted to reposition and fuck you right there.

and of course it’s a bit busy today, so he’s got no choice but to stay attached at the hip. he’d lean down quite a ways to speak to you whenever it’s crowded, like he always does. but there’s no way you could miss the way he lingers by you, back hunched over as his hands move from his pockets to your waist to get you unreasonably closer.

jason todd who hovers over you the whole time, joining you in the dressing rooms and ignoring your half-assed order to wait. there isn’t much to stop him from following, given he’s 6’1” with over 200 pounds of muscle and all that. slipping off your clothes makes it all the worse, but he still sits back and watches. you’ve got him distracted, eyeing at your ass while you get jeans on and nearly missing when you toss them for him to keep a hold of. if you hadn’t known any better you’d say his eyes are practically growing green, like he’s straight out of the pits and starving. by now he’s got a good idea of what you’ve done- not that it’d deter him or have him upset. he’s just been caught terribly off guard by it, which was the point.

you try to head out once you’re done and a startling grip on your shoulder twists you around. a quick peck on your lips, then your cheek, followed by a roughly contrasting bite into your neck has you gasping between him and the flimsy door. you’ve damned him to no little self control during this little escapade and have the nerve to be scolding him now, leaving him grumbling in frustration and prying himself away- not before leaving a dangerously bright hickey just above your collarbone, of course. lots more where that came from, he’d tell you, since you wanna act all high and mighty like you’ve never let him fuck you in similar spaces before.

jason todd who’d damn near break the handles of his motorcycle, taking risky short cuts and speeds you’ve never seen before, at least not while you were on board. in his defense, you’ve decided to sit in front of him now, plump ass all up against his crotch and v-neck traveling low between the valley of your chest. fucking vixen, he’d mutter, adding more bruises along your neck as you fumble with keys.

he’s impatient and agitated that you’d do this to him. jason’s never felt so hungry, so insane over something in a long ass time, much less you. poor guy doesn’t even realize he’s trapped you between himself and the door again, only making it harder to get the door open. even so he’s rushing you, gravelly voice against your ear telling you to get the damn door open- ‘less you wanna put on a show for anyone other than me.

and now jason todd’s got you right where he wants you, not wasting another moment without shoving you back up against the door. he’s finally got you and he can’t even decide how he wants you, but he settles on the scent that’s driving him insane and it becomes clear. jason’s tearing clothes off and groping at every inch of you before he kneels and secures your legs over his bulky shoulders. he wants- needs to eat you. absolutely fucking devour you.

gonna eat this pussy til you can’t fuckin’ think, he’s already moaning, sucking at your thigh and pulling your panties to the side. and to think you even had the nerve to try stopping him- a deep laugh vibrates against your core and you head thumps against the wood behind you. thick fingers prod at your hole and curl up inside as he’s lapping and sucking at your clit, groaning against your cunt for what feels like hours.

you’d think he’s done when he finally pulls away and you wobble on weak legs, only for jason to drag and bend you over the arm of the couch. nah- we’re far from done here, he says while stretching you out, burying your face into the cushion and arching your back until your feet hang over. I’d be wrong to leave this cunt all empty and aching, wouldn’t I? even after at least… three orgasms? the girth and overstimulation has you crying, clutching the fabric and mewling when the fat head of his cock pistons into that sweet spot over and over. greedy fuckin’ pussy just suckin’ me in- goddamn. maybe you should keep using this pheromone shit- since it’s got you just as worked up. ❧

There’s A String Tied to My Lower Left Rib, Third From The Bottom

dick grayson x afab!reader

aka the professional boyfriend

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader wears dresses, sexual content at the end (18+)

Dick Grayson is a vigilante. He’s a master martial artist and gymnast. He’s something of a playboy and a heavy flirt. But the claim he really takes pride in is that he’s basically a professional boyfriend. That he’s your professional boyfriend.

And pride really is the right word. He’s so proud that he gets to have this pretty girl on his arm and buy her pretty things even when you insist you have enough. He loves getting to help you take your makeup off when you’re too tired and make you laugh like it’s his job. He’s absolutely gratified that he gets to be your prodigal, sweet boyfriend that, despite your protests, insisted on carrying all five of your shopping bags for you.

You step over an uneven stretch in the sidewalk and lean slightly against Dick’s shoulder. “I’m worried the navy one is too…much.” You say, thinking back to how the blue cocktail dress fit on you, how it stopped barely below your ass.

He furrows his eyebrows with a pout, “Too much?”

You look over at him, matching his expression. “It’s really short. I mean it’s cute and I like it, but…I don’t know, this is kind of a fancy event isn’t it?” 

He puckers his lips, shaking his head. “Short’s good. I like short.” Yeah, you’d noticed with the way his eyes had been glued to the hem of your dress, willing it to slip up just a little more.

You laugh, “And I’m sure you and all the old businessmen will appreciate it greatly.”

His face drops at that, not thrilled at the prospect of those, usually very sleazy, old men getting to see so much of you. “The black one’s good too.”

You peer over into one of the bags, “Or there’s the red one with the—”

Dick shakes his head quickly, “Not red.”

You snicker at that, knowing full well what his problem is with it. “Then why did I get it?”

“Just for me.” He pauses, “Or for something my brother won’t be at.” He mumbles, scanning both sides of the street. He shuffles the bags in his right hand onto his forearm so he can take your hand in his as you step into the road. “No, the black one looked great on you. And we won’t have to go searching for a matching tie.” 

Once you reach the other side he lets go of your hand and he circles behind you, nudging you over to the inside of the sidewalk.

You glance down at the row of bags littering his arms and the red indents beginning to mark his skin. “Will you please let me hold some?” You frown.

“Will you please hold my hand?” He echoes, matching your serious tone with faux urgency of his own. You deadpan him but take his hand anyway. You don’t notice it, but he’s got a dedicated gaze focused on your fingers intertwined in his.

You continue on down the street, hand in hand, the warm sun shining on your necks. You pick up the pace a bit as you approach your apartment building, aiming to get the door for your boyfriend. You reach for the handle only for Dick to call out, “Don’t touch that!” followed by him clamoring like you’re about to touch a hot coal, rushing over to beat you to the punch.

“Oh my god..” you mumble to yourself, biting back a smile. The bags haphazardly fall further down his arms, no doubt uncomfortably as he pulls the door open for you, pretending to be far more eloquent than he actually was. He gestures you in and smiles sweetly at you when you give him a flat look. 

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder at him with amusement glittering across your face as you dig for your keys.

“Not a thing.” He grins, watching with adoration as you open the apartment door. Frankly, you’re surprised he didn’t attempt to juggle the bags and unlock the door himself.

He kicks the door shut behind him as you help slide the bags off of his wrists, piling them on the counter. “When do we need to leave?”

“Uh…” he glances at the wall clock, “Not till seven.” He places his hands nicely on your waist, looking down at your lips. “You wanna get something to eat before we go?”

You muse, “This is the one with those mini stakes, isn’t it?” He nods. “No, I wanna get my fill on those. Oh, and the bruschettas! I love these caterers.”

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

You break away from his gaze and turn to the counter, preparing to scoop the shopping bags up when you’re interrupted by his relentless fervor.

“Ah, ah.” He hooks a finger into the loop of your jeans, tugging you back to him. “Give me a kiss.” 

“Dick.”

“Just one.” Yeah, right. You oblige him though, pushing up on your toes to meet his lips. His thumb strokes your cheek as he kisses you deeply. You break the kiss after a moment only for him to chase your lips to follow it up with another. And then another. And another. He hums against your lips, smiling wide. “Thank you, baby.”

You pull back again and smile as you stop his chest with your hand when he follows. “Ah, I’m not new around here. I know where this’ll go if I let you.”

He nods complaisantly, “Then let me.” His eyes are focused on the small space between you, where his touch lingers along your ring finger. You lean up again and place a kiss on his forehead that has him getting hopeful, only to be met with disappointment when you back away from him, bags in hand. He throws his head back with a groan just to really hammer home the severity of his dismay.  

It doesn’t last too long though because the second you’re back in the room he’s trailing after you like a puppy, following you down to the couch. You roll your eyes at him when he opts to sit ridiculously close to you, though there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips that makes your act lose all credibility.   

He nestles his face into the crook of your neck and is clearly very pleased when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You exhale contentedly, resting your cheek against his head. You lie idle like that for a few minutes, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and casting a daydreaming gaze out the window. And apparently, he was daydreaming too. 

“I wanna marry you.” He murmurs into your neck after a while. 

You laugh incredulously, “Have you been drinking when I have my back turned?”

“‘M serious.” He nudges you off him so he can look at you.

You hum, sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “You’re being very…” you scrunch up your mouth to the side, “…Ostentatious today.” 

He barks out a laugh, “Wow. Word-A-Day teach you that one?”

You shove at his forehead back with no real force, biting back a giggle. His eyes flicker back and forth between your mouth and the crinkle in your eyes as he grins. “I’m going to let that one go because you got me some really nice clothes today. As your repayment.” you say, running your finger over his lips. 

He takes your hand, pressing a firm kiss to it. “Let me marry you?” 

You sigh bashfully, “Dick—”

“Please?” He sticks his bottom lip out and gives you his puppy eyes, causing you to avert your gaze quickly. You’re not convinced he doesn’t have a superpower in that area.

You know he’s not really proposing right now, he’s too much of a romantic to do it like this. He’s just getting the idea in your head, getting you excited about it. It’s working.

“I’d be such a good husband to you.” He kisses your collarbone, “So good.” He murmurs against your skin, lips never departing. You struggle to keep your face neutral, making a point of closing your eyes in an attempt to increase your odds of success. He’s being nice though, you know. To let you play pretend right now when you know he could break your facade in a second if he really wanted to.  

“Mrs. Grayson…” he squeezes your hips, lips traveling further down. “Doesn’t that sound pretty?”

It really does. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about marrying him before. He’s nothing if not husband material and honestly you really really want to hear him call you his wife. Call him your husband.

Your hand moves to his hair, petting it softly as he goes on. “Buy you a nice ring. Pretty white dress ‘n a big party just for you.” He brushes your shirt up and trails open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your chest feels warm and you can feel your pulse thrumming all throughout your body.

He slowly guides your underwear down your thighs, his lips following the hem close behind. “Come home to you every night, kiss these pretty thighs,” He scoops both of your hands up in one of his, pinning them to your stomach. “Kiss this pretty pussy.” He places a chaste kiss on your clit and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re not nearly as hesitant on this as you’re pretending to be, and you both know it. But he’s perfectly fine with begging a little while you pretend you’re not lightheaded at the idea of marrying him. “I’ll think about it…” 

He grins at you before going in on your core without mercy.

He’s trying real hard to land that promotion.

🩵 reblogging = supporting; likes don’t do the job 🩵

Oh, He’s Big Big 18+

Thinking about Jason Todd just being big. Big hands, big cock, even bigger heart. Practically pawing at you, able to hold the plush softness of your thighs when you’re sitting on his face, hands large enough to encircle your entire wrists. Cock the size of a monster can, splitting you open so that you feel in it your throat when he’s fucking you into the bed. Being sore for days after a quickie. Jason who cares so much. Will be there any time of day or night if you need him and will break a few noses along the way.

That’s it. Send tweet.

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—” 

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe it that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear the what you don’t say. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which was decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but actually several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise that covered his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth. 

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him? 

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. “Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

it’s an unusually quiet night in blüdhaven, meaning dick grayson has some time to kill. he doesn’t think that stopping by your apartment during his patrol will lead to much more than a brief conversation and a be safe, see you tonight kiss, which is how his pit stops usually go. that being said, tonight is the first time he’s shown up to see you in the full nightwing getup—escrima sticks and mask included.

it takes you one glance at his muscular body clad in the tight black and blue material to send a surge of heat between your legs, and before either of you can think clearly, you’re on top of him on your sofa, entangled in a sloppy kiss with your hands running through his hair. his fingers dig into your hips as you rock against his hard length, grinding your core against the textured material of his suit.

his hand reaches between you to pull your panties to the side so your bare cunt can rub against him freely, before he nestles his palms under your ass. he helps you roll against him as your wetness spreads over his lower abdomen, relishing in your needy whines. the feeling of his rigid muscles against you and his hot lips pressed to yours sends you into overdrive; you feel your thighs tightening around dick as you make a mess of his suit, an orgasm creeping its way down your belly.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, throwing his head back at the sensation of your warmth stroking him over his suit. “I should’ve worn this thing ages ago.” he squeezes your ass as you continue rubbing yourself on him. your movements begin to get sloppy, and heat starts pooling in your belly. you know you’re being greedy and dick deserves some attention too, but right now you’re too caught up in the way he feels against you to care.

“god…dick—nightwing—I’m gonna cum!” you gasp, clutching onto his shoulders for stability. he can’t contain the moan he emits at hearing you call him by his alias; it sets off a ringing in his ears, and he digs his fingers into your soft flesh, coaxing your climax out of you. behind his blue mask, his eyes are trained on your face, watching your expression as you whimper.

“that’s right, pretty girl,” he groans, meeting your movements with his own rocking. “fuck…cum for me, c’mon.” you bury your head in the crook of his neck as your body starts to tremble, your release ripping through you and dripping thickly down dick’s suit. you moan as he ruts into you through your orgasm, his pace slowing as your body stills.

he gently pulls your panties back into position, and looks down at the glossy mess you’ve left on his suit, a satisfied grin on his face. his masked eyes meet yours as he rubs small circles onto your hips, taking in your breathless form. “I think I’m gonna have to suit up around you more often.”

Keep It Down

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…

Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(

Word count: 1k

======

It was all quiet pants and silent tears. 

The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening. 

You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce… 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started. 

He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin. 

Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth. 

As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine. 

“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter. 

Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..” 

Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve… 

Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.

Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down. 

Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…

You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again. 

Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears. 

“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own. 

“As if, you were loud as hell.”

“Shut up…”

someone had to say it…, predatory behavior is not a kink !! Just makes you a very disgusting person to romanticize or write about it you have 1000+ other topics to write about not reasons why diddy was convicted

18+ minors dni

warnings: sex pollen but it’s a dick grayson solo special 💫

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

he’s not sure how he made it home in one piece, but the second he’s through the front door of his apartment, dick grayson is wrestling his way out of his nightwing suit, his ears ringing as he stumbles through his room and into his bathroom. his skin feels hot, too hot, and his breathing is ragged; ivy, he thinks hazily, discarding his suit on the floor. those fucking plants—it’s that goddamn pollen.

he rids himself of his boxers, and catches a glimpse of his sweaty, flushed appearance in the mirror. dick’s pupils are so wide that his blue eyes are almost black, and his cock is painfully hard, the tip red and angry as it leaks precum down his length. he grimaces as he lurches into the shower, dousing himself in freezing cold water. when dealing with poison ivy, he’s usually far more careful than he was tonight, and now he’s paying the price; too desperate to look for the antitoxin, he has to take matters into his own hands—literally.

dick grits his teeth as he wraps his fingers around his shaft, hissing at the tenderness. relief floods his taut muscles, but he can’t help but think how much better your tight cunt would feel around him right now. the image of you bent over makes his hand pump faster as he pictures your pretty ass bouncing off his thighs, and he swears he can hear the way you’d moan at his intrusions. god, he wishes he could see your pretty pussy gripping him right now.

his knuckles are white as he strokes himself, the burning on his skin still far from subsiding despite the orgasm building in his lower belly. shit, just a little more. he groans at the thought of using the crook of his elbow to pull you flush against him by your neck, keeping you in a headlock as he fucks into you, just so he can hear you whine. fuck, there it is.

he presses his burning forehead against the tiles as his abdomen spasms, ropes of hot cum spurting out onto the wall as he swears loudly. cold water trickles down dick’s stomach as he pants, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. he realises the ache that had subsided just a moment ago is slowly building again. puzzled, he glances down, and his eyes widen at the sight of his cock, still rock-hard and twitching in the cool bathroom air. what kind of fucking plant was that?

he didn’t want to worry you with this—after all, he was sure his home remedy would work—but he realises he has no choice as he feels his skin growing feverish again, and he can only hope you’ll understand. he groggily shuts off the water and makes his way back into his room, collapsing onto his bed as he takes his phone from the nightstand. he manages to send you a single line—need you now, come see me—before he drops his phone in the sheets, his hand finding his aching cock once more. it’s going to be a long night.

I feel like boyfriend!jason would love watching you do your nightly routine, specifically when you go about your skincare.

He’ll lean on the doorway, broad arms crossed and bulging against his tee. His plump lips curl into a tiny smile as he watches your reflection in the mirror.

After cleansing, you apply your lengthy lineup of serums and toners. You didn’t use them every night, but every so often you’d go all out. Jason’s emerald eyes glint with a look of fascination. He adored seeing your natural, stripped-down self; a version of you not many people got to see. He felt special that he got to.

Jason may have been a bit obsessive with making sure you were taken care of. So he loved to see you taking some time to pamper yourself with your little skincare routine.

“You takin’ care of that pretty face, baby?” He pushes off the doorway and moves behind you. You feel his large hands slide up your arms to rest on your shoulders. Jason starts gently massaging, thumbs pressing into your muscles.

You sigh at the comforting sensation, and meet his gaze in the mirror. You can’t help but smile. “Mhm. You like watching?”

“You know I do. Love seeing you spending time on yourself..” He pecks a kiss to the top of your head. “Look at you, you’re glowing.” He trails kisses down your neck and you squirm in delight, his lips tickling your skin.

“Jason!” You squeal. He pulls back reluctantly, going back to watching you with a smile of content.

As you finish up your routine, a sudden idea pops into your head. You turn to face Jason with an excited grin.

“Can I use my skincare on you?”

Jason watches your eyes light up at the idea, and immediately he’s fucked. He can’t say no to you.

He laughs, “Why not.”

You’re then perched up on the counter, preparing your favorite hydrating serum and moisturizer for Jason. He stood in front of you, hands instinctively resting on your thighs as you lifted the dropper of the serum. Jason’s whole body relaxed, eyes fluttering shut, feeling you gently work the serum into his skin.

“Mm.. feels good, sweetheart.” He hums gently, opening his eyes for a second to look at you before closing them again.

Your fingers worked in circular motions as you went in with the moisturizer, being careful around any newer scars.

Jason’s heart swelled with emotion, skin tingling where you touched him so tenderly. Nobody ever went out of their way to care for him like you did. He felt he didn’t deserve you. You were too good—too sweet.

He was always so worried about making sure you were cared for, he sometimes neglected his own needs. But, you were always right there to remind him he deserved love and care too.

Under his closed lids, Jason felt his eyes water at the thought.

He knew right then—he was never letting you go.

tim: did you know demon spawn still sleeps with his stuffed giraffe? damian: is that so?? well i heard you still sleep with the night light on. jason: *walking past* you're both amateurs. tim: oh yeah? and what do you sleep with? jason: y/n.