#dc smut

[missglaskin]

“You’re such a perv!” 

Aka DC Superheroes as pervs; Dick, Jason, Tim, Roy, Wally

Please don't put a community label on this (it will only shadow ban it)

Surely your friend and confidant is not some peeping tom right?!

Warnings; SMUT, female reader, vigilante!reader, Perv shenanigans, panty stealing, masturbation, dirty thoughts, corruption kink, invasion of privacy

Dick Grayson has always been your closest friend; he's the leader, the guy that everyone either wants to be like or wants him for themselves. But the boy wonder had his eyes on you, his oblivious friend. He has always been there, aiding you in missions; always saving the day, or praising you for a job well done. So how could you ever possibly know of his intense desire just for you. Dick knows his actions are downright disgusting, that small voice inside his head filling him with guilt, but his desire is just stronger. 

Missions with you are the worst. Watching you be so confident and just kick ass has him feeling all sorts of ways. Trying to turn away from your line of sight so you won't see his hard-on, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against his suit. Dick will use any excuse to get away, jerking off on the side of a rooftop, a hand against a wall and another stroking his cock, while he imagines it was your hand instead, and that alone pushes him over the edge. 

He'll find a way to make you want him too, Dick knows you're not immune to his charms. Will it be too obvious that when he goes for a hug, it's a little too tight. Is it when he places a hand on your waist pretending to keep you in place, daring his fingers to go further down. Will you push away the hands that place themselves on your thighs to pretend he's comforting you. You won't. Just as you refuse to shove away the fingers that inch closer and closer between your legs. Is it really so bad if you want him too.

--------------

Jason Todd knows he's a sick fuck. What kind of friend is he to even think of such things. But they are just thoughts, right? As long as he doesn't do anything creepy that is. Surely anyone dreams of fucking their best friend-that is, imagining your lips wrapped around his dick while he fists your hair, forcing you to take all of him. The guilt returns when your voice reaches him, asking him if he heard you, interrupting his brief moment of fantasy. He's relieved that the mask doesn't allow you to see how intensely he's staring at you.

It becomes a line he knows he crossed. When Jason found himself staring at your apartment window - he didn't intend to, he was just patrolling and happened to come across your apartment. Knowing you were safe and well should have been his reason to leave, until you started undressing. Seeing your tits exposed made the blood rush to his cock and when you bent slightly to remove your panties, Jason was sure he could have come right on the spot. 

You went to take a shower as Jason entered your apartment. Surely you must know to keep your window locked. Finding himself creeping toward the bathroom as if you were beckoning him in, instead, he stopped and stood over the disregarded clothes; reaching for the panties. Jason would have beaten anyone to a bloody pulp if they had done that, but it was his own reflection staring at him. He is a sick fuck, he thinks as his finger brushes over the damp spot and how he shoves it into his pockets. He's not sure if he should return your panties later, given that he eagerly rubbed his cock with it, leaving it cum stained.

-----------

Tim Drake is a wolf in sheep's clothing; he is the one person you never suspect of thinking such perverted thoughts. Tim is aware he can never justify the things he's doing. He just tells himself that he merely lacks the courage to approach you, not that it's a good reason, but it's enough for him to maintain that tiny sliver of morality. There are moments when he wishes he could just concentrate on his patrolling to keep you off his mind, but you are always there, at the back of his mind. 

Tim realizes he just can't get off without thinking about you. Tim tries watching some porn, but he keeps imagining your face instead of the actress, and he hates how it helped him reach his orgasm. Or in the mornings, when his boner is becoming too much of an issue and he's in the shower trying to rid of it. His thoughts wander to picturing you in front of him, bare and wet, with your back against the glass walls and you moaning his name. 

If there was ever a time that Tim was made known that he was really sick was that day. Him laying in bed stroking his cock and seeing the phone ringing in the corner. It's you. He ought to have just let it ring or decline, but Tim didn't know what possessed him to answer the call. Your voice is heard as he bites his lip to not let his whimpers be heard, tasting copper on his tongue. Tim moves the phone further away when he reaches his high, cum covering his hands and stomach as he continues the conversation, hoping you don't hear his ragged breath.

-----------

Roy Harper was the one person you could always confide in. He had a way of cheering you up, your tears dried as your laugh echoed throughout the room. How you consider him to be your closest friend and best partner in crime as you speak to him, while Roy thinks of how the low cut of your shirt gives him a good view of your tits from an angle. When you call his name to get his attention, Roy gives you that smile of his as he uses an excuse to use the restroom. 

Roy loves taking pictures of you. You knew Roy had them, just never imagined he would have them in his sights while he jerked off. Pictures of you with a skirt had Roy fantasize about wearing em while he's railing you from behind. Your face pressed against the pillow while you bubble nonsense, too drunk on his cock. Pictures of you looking up, had him fantasizing of you staring at him with those eyes of yours as you use your mouth, bobbing up and down on his dick.

Unaware too Roy had 'private' photos, all thanks to a few hacking tricks. Roy was occasionally tempted to send you a nude photo of himself, see how you react, and cover it up by saying it was a 'mistake'. Would you perhaps return one or get jealous wondering who it was intended for. Roy gets up, cleaning himself as he’s planning to you meet you later that day. He eyes the slightly crooked tile above his ceiling, storing all the belongings he's taken from his visits to your place. Roy thinks when the two of you are official, he should hide it in a better place.

—-----------

Wally West had plenty of opportunities to hint at his feelings toward you. He liked making flirtatious comments, complaining when he wasn't paired with you during missions, and placing an arm over your shoulders. But you just assume it's Wally's typical self, not noticing his hurt look when you claimed to be "just friends". Then again you never noticed his hurried departure and quick return, where he avoided making eye contact at all costs.

Wally feels the guilt the most. He could have just confessed to you like a normal person. Guilt consumes him when he sees your gullible smile, unaware of the horrible things he did behind your back. It's not his fault really; he was invited to your place and was simply looking around until he found a certain drawer. Wally reassures himself it's not that bad if he only takes one. But it gets to a point where you're complaining to Wally about how your clothes disappear (not telling him which kind).

A point comes where Wally reaches his breaking point. The sneaky pictures, lying on your bed when you weren't around, face in the pillows to inhale your scent could do so little. As he stares at you speaking, Wally makes a move expecting to be rejected, but you kiss him back. He was in heaven, the dreams he had in every waking point coming true. He was where he wanted you to be, on top with you full of his cock, your eyes nearly blacked out as he slams his hips repeatedly into yours. Can you blame him for moving too fast when he has been holding back for so long. 

#dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #wally west x reader #roy harper x reader #dc comics x reader #yandere dc comics #yandere dc #dc x reader #dc smut #dc comics smut #smut #yandere smut #yandere x reader

[amourisms]

Dick Grayson smut? You write him so well :)

beautiful eyes.

summary : dick really loves your eyes.

pairing : dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings : throatfucking, pet name ( princess ), little bit of manhandling.

wc : 0.5k

a/n : a littleeee drabble because it took me far longer than i'd like to admit to finish this

your lips returned to their rightful position, wrapped around him as his hand was now getting comfortable with a fistful of your hair as the other guided your hand to rest on his thigh, where the other followed suit.

he started off slow, letting your chokes gradually get louder and louder until your nose was pressed against his pelvis. his pace became more unrelenting, letting out whimpers and groans in response to your gags. tears began to fall, and neither his stare or his pace quit. you were completely his to control, and just the thought of it made you clench your thighs together as much as you could in your position.

"god, you're so beautiful" he told you breathlessly. you found it hard to believe with tears running down your face and a mixture of spit and his pre sloppily painted the sides of your mouth, but every word he spoke was true. looking at you like this, dick truly believe it was better than any piece of art or masterpiece created. you were better than any piece of art or masterpiece created.

you so desperately wanted to touch yourself, to ease some of the aching in your stomach but your hands were glued to the sides of his thigh as he kept pushing into you. your jaw grew tired, but your want for please him outran any remnant of tire in your body. the scene was so surreal. all so lustful, so messy, so rough. all so obscene.

his own need grew stronger and stronger with every second he had your lips wrapped around him which was apparent in the way he kept going further and further down your throat. the knot in his stomach was growing undone, but when you finally looked back up at him with those needy, gorgeous eyes, thats what pulled it undone. he came with a guttural groan, staying in your mouth leaving you to choke it all down and when he finally pulled out he still wasn't done. he cupped your cheeks with a singular hand, "tongue out, princess" and when you obliged he used his other hand to grab his cock. tapping it on your tongue for you to swallow the rest of it.

#dick grayson #dc comics #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dc smut #dick grayson x y/n #dc robin #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader #smut

[visionsofmagic]

day 10: bruce wayne [car sex]

࿓ synopsis • bats fucks you in his batmobile to teach you a lesson after you disobey his order.

―❦ nsfw, autonomous driving, one has clothes on one hasn’t, suited!bats, batmobile, markings, car riding, possessiveness, jeaolusy, pet names, swearing, master kink, rude!bats, identity dilemma, inner toughts, spanking, begging, brat taming, clothes full on/off, kissing, ‘is all I guess. • 1.9k • thought comic bats while writing but you can imagine this with any version of batman as you like of course. enjoy the beginning of the second week of kinktober event, hope you will like this week too! [kinktober m.]

“bats – please –“ as the gotham’s city’s night lights pass behind the black windows of the batmobile you’re in, your own voice gets silent by the loud sound of the road, yet, they reach to his ears that are covered with his black batman mask. “it’s too much –“ 

the man under you stays still even when his actions don’t stop – fingering your clit, he seems like he doesn’t care about how you’re sitting on his lap, soaking onto his black bat suit, getting wetter each passing time – having no dress on you makes the situation more sinful, especially when he has his own armored suit on, even the mask is still covering his face and ears – his bat ears is a source of balance for you to hold onto while taking his fingers as if it’s the first time he does this.

you have no idea how this man makes you feel stranger to being fucked by him whenever he has you like this – weak yet so powerful because of the whole situation.

it should’ve been a peaceful night, a simple mission – yet, it turned into something more, and you were the one to blame the moment you began to flirt with one of the guests to distract him. you were doing what he told you to from the other line of the call, giving instructions one by one with the help of the device on your ear. it was going all right until the man got interested in you, buying you drinks, joking around, and asking if you would like to follow him to do upstairs. 

you didn’t yet you had to act close to the man to get rid of him because bats told you to leave his side immediately. your mistake was taking that decision; putting one of your hands on the man’s shoulder, raising on your feet, and whispering something into his ear before leaving. apparently, this made bruce go mad – causing him to give you a lesson that you had to learn right away.

the moment you entered the batmobile, he took you onto his lap, taking all your clothes from one to another, looking darker than ever – hands fast, lips kissing yours so passionately that you believe your lips begin to bleed, the suit remains on as he begins to finger you – he just opens the zipper of his armored pants, leaving his hardened cock visible to your eyes.

wanting to touch him, your hand goes to his cock, yet, it is stopped in mid-air. he doesn’t waste any more seconds, slapping your clit, he adds, “you had to earn it. you will not get it until you beg for it.”

now here you are; already cum for one time, its hints still on your thighs and his pants, however, he doesn’t stop – you know he waits for you to beg – you try not to beg, stubborn, believing you did nothing wrong, but, it’s too much – he knows every point to make you beg – the vigilante know your own body more than you do.

when he hits your g-spot with only his gloved fingers, again and again, you cry out loud, “bruuuce – aggh – please -!” the words go out of your parted lips on their own as your hands grip his bat ears strongly, bouncing on his fingers when he doesn’t move them. the knowledge of making a mess out of you doesn’t reach into your brain, so, you continue fucking his fingers – his dark-colored eyes look up, a smirk position on his attractive masked face, mocking you. “please! I need youu – aggh!”

“pathetic,” he remarks, “bouncing on my fingers as if they’re my dick,” a chuckle breaks the lewd sounds – the outworld out of the batmobile is long forgotten. “want it so much? want me to bend you over, fuck you in this car?”

without thinking, you nod rapidly, eyes half-closed, your second cum drips onto his fingers, high hits the body, feeling a bit exhausted yet ready to take his thick cock now. 

your mind can’t comprehend what he’s doing but in a moment you find him lowering his seat, opening enough gap between your bodies and the batmobile’s front. 

afraid of falling into the surface, you try to hold his shoulders – still can’t believe you fucked yourself on his fingers and cum onto them when he talked dirty. the power – the effect he has on you is incredible! the mind is so dizzy because of him that you realize what he has done after a moment, your widening eyes look at the front mirrors of the car, seeing the road in front of you – the scene changes faster than you think – you swear the car moves like a lightning. 

the reality hits your face similar to the feeling of cold water washing your body over on a hot day. however, you can’t focus on it when bruce’s gloved and wet hands position on your waist, highering your ass up, pulling your body closer to his face.

when you hold onto the wheel to stay still, excitement and shock blurring the last cramps of your mind, fear of going in an extremely fast batmobile makes your blood boil – yet the trust you have for bruce is there, strongly holding you. his low voice reaches your ears after a while, and his hot breaths wash your pussy and ass holes that clench around nothing, making you jump in pure pleasure. “you disappointed me,” he says, “you disobeyed a direct order from me. that man meant nothin’ to me but disobeying – oh – what a bad choice y/n.”

you couldn’t wait any longer, knowing his one step away from licking you, lust takes control of you, and you begin to say how sorry you’re – how you didn’t mean to – both you and bruce know you did mean to, to get his attention, to get this side of him, because you’re a brat of him who he will tame.

“keep your begs for forgiveness for later. you have to prove to me that you’re capable of obeying me, you pretty brat.”

“anything, I will do anything for you bru -!” a slap to the ass, a slap to the pussy – scream escapes from your lips. “bats! just give me an order, will do it – just please – please fuck me already!”

“in that case,” he says, not licking you, making you pout in disappointment but when he lowers down your body, his cock’s tip meets with your aching pussy’s folds, he clicks a button, the engine slows down a little bit, the wheel of the car gets closer to you. “hold the wheel.”

you try to understand what’s going on, “what are you doin – aggh!”

his left-hand grips your neck, holding it tightly, closing the gap between your face and his, he points to the wheel that stands right in front of you. “hold the fucking wheel if you want to be fucked, y/n.”

swearing lowly, your shaking hand finds the wheel, holding it strongly, waiting for bruce to push a button – when he does, the engine starts moving faster than before. unlike the previous situation, this time, it’s you who drives the batmobile.

“bruce – how – “ your words are cut off by his deep voice.

“don’t take your eyes off the road. you will take us to the home without an accident. if you turn even a little bit, I will stop fucking you my love.” the difference in his words and voice make you go crazy, and that craziness doubles up when he lowers your body down enough to make him thrust his thick cock into your pussy, filling you up.

screaming with sudden pain and pleasure, your eyes roll over for a second before looking right at the road in front of you – gotham city still stays under the darkness of the night, the only voice that world excepts is the powerful sound of the batmobile riding on the endless looking road, the moans coming from you and swears from bats mixing with the flesh hitting the flesh can be heard by only you and bruce – the sin you commit cannot be known by another.

the focus you put on the road gets distracted whenever bruce shoves his dick into your wet clit. back of your thighs hitting his clothed thighs sends pain through your body, leaving red marks on your flesh – the balls that meet with your ass cheeks increase the sensitivity you have, making you cry as you clean them rapidly to see the road.

his name comes out of you over and over again, the brain is too occupied to drive, the mind is too crazy to function, and the body is too full of him, the man who wants to devour you, and doing it right now – using your body as he pleases, not moving his hips greatly, instead, he makes use of your body by lifting it up, then, pulling it down until his dick fills your walls deeper, harder and rougher.

“fucking brat,” he says, a poison that his voice holds captures you – you feel so pathetic as if you’re his fucktoy now. then why do you feel so high like the most powerful drug in the whole world gets into your veins with the maximum level, you ask yourself, then the answer travels to your mind after he adds, “can’t obey her master? what a pretty yet mindless girl you are, don’t you think?” oh, right, he’s the most powerful drug on the whole world, and now, you’re at his mercy.

“u-huh – agghh – oh myy – bats! please, please, please –“ you have no idea what you’re pleasing for, but he knows – he chuckles lowly, having fuck great entertainment thanks to you that you feel a kind of pride in an instant.

“u-huh?” he mocks, fucks you still, close to the edge, just waiting for the right moment. “too cockdumbed to even understand what I’m saying. but you do good my good girl, keep going, we’re close to the cave.”

the new information makes you happy, smiling widely, and looking outside clearly, seeing the cave’s entering. with the relief, you begin to drive the car more carefully than before, hands getting stronger, losing yourself in the pleasure of being fucked by bruce in his damn batmobile.

finally reaching your destination, you slow down the engine, the cave’s front door opens, and pushing a button, bruce hugs you from behind, making you sit down on his cock with an instantaneous speed, earning the loudest moan out of you.

the mouth standing beside your ear says, “cum. cum on my cock.” and you who doesn’t know she’s waiting for him to allow her – to order, do what he tells, cum on his cock as his hot semen hit the deep inside of you in sync.

kissing your shoulder, he holds your shaking body because of both the coldness of the cave you have entered and the opposite sense of warmness that bruce gives – the smell of highness on the air, chests getting up and down, breaths rapid and low, lust ends – its place gets completed with the affection of love.

“did so good,” the car’s door opens, bruce takes your body in bridal style after wrapping it with his cape. his gentle lips put kisses on your face as he walks into the bathroom of his room, watching your soft features, eyes closed to sleep. he smiles fondly, proud of you. “let me take care of my pretty girl now.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *lots of kisses!*

#🔥 kinktober 2023 second week #kinktober 2023 #dc #dc comics #dc x reader #dc smut #bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #batman smut #robert pattinson!batman #comic!batman #bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x you #batman x y/n #batman x f!reader #LET THE SECOND WEEK OF KINTIBER 2023 BEGIN! #hope you liked1 muuuah

[luvf4ngz]

In Bloom - jason todd.

Contents: Marking, Biting, Scratching, Possessiveness, Implied Sexual Content

Word Count: 464

Authors Note: Consider this a love letter to Jason Todd and my marking kink - taken from my AO3 <3

For the most part, Jason Todd enjoys the powers that he got from his dunk in the lazarus pits. Increased strength, increased speed, and increased stamina - things like that made it easy for him to do his job. To take down the baddies of Gotham and clean her from the inside out. To protect the ones he cared for, to protect the ones that didn’t have anyone else.

One thing he hated, however, was his healing factor. 

He hates how fucking fast your scratches and hickies disappeared off his body, leaving him a blank and loveless canvas once again. 

He always craves your marks on his skin. He absolutely adores the scattered love bites and dark bruises decorating his frame. He can often be seen in the bathroom of your shared home, body twisted in the mirror as he admires the deep carmine strokes that paint his back, or leaning in close to lovingly rub at the mauve blotches that stain the skin of his neck. 

He makes it a habit to show off your markings, often refusing to sport a shirt wherever he’s out and about - or at the very least a quite revealing muscle tee. His marked skin makes his friends’ eyes roll, makes his brothers give him disgusted expressions, and makes strangers on the streets grimace at him. 

He doesn’t care. He's shameless, especially when it comes to you. 

He always just wants to show you off, to express how fucking grateful he is to be yours. 

That's why he always encourages you to sink your teeth in harder, to rake your nails down his back harsher, anything to make those little symbols of your love for him last longer.

“That’s right, princess, there you go. You’re taking me so well, huh? Hold onto me a little tighter.”

In return, he’ll slam his cock into you faster, grip onto the soft of your hips harder, bite and mark you up himself. He paints your body like Monet, because to him you’re definitely as precious as the most exquisite work of art in the world.

He’ll never get enough of feeling how your skin gives way to his sharp canines, or how your shaking body feels under his calloused fingertips.

It’s the thought of losing you, of ever having to let you go that makes him fuck you rougher - that makes him hide his face in the crook of your neck and dent your skin with his teeth.

He relishes the sight of you the next morning: spread out on the bed with telltale signs of lovemaking covering every inch of your flesh. 

He can feel his heart beating out his chest, feel his blood thrumming furiously under your veins because you’re so wholly and undoubtedly his.

Just as he is yours. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

#jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut #dc x reader #dc smut #sumi — dc. #sumi — works. #sumi — my love.

[chxrrydrxp]

Arkham Jason is a munchhh, he's all up in the pussy like omnomnom. Bro isn't letting you go until you SQUIRT

you're so right anon like-- mmmmm he's slave to the pussy he will never get enough

I whipped this thing up and lmao it wasn't supposed to be this long but I hope you like it!

word count: 1.1k

(mdni)

tw: occasional spanking, squirting

ℯ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ℴ𝓃 𝓂ℯ

(Jason x fem! reader)

You had been talking to him in the kitchen, discussing dinner plans, and next thing you know he had you pressed up against the counter, with his hands roaming your thighs and your hands under his shirt.

He buried himself in your neck, licking and sucking at the skin as you whined his name helplessly.

“Fuck..Jay..”

You gripped the sides of his arms softly, rubbing your thighs together. You felt him chuckle into your neck, noticing the way you leaned your hips into his. Your hands impatiently fumbled with his belt. You needed him now.

“Not just yet..”

he mumbled into your neck moving your hands away. You groaned at him, desperation flooding your eyes. “Jay- oh!” He quickly interrupted your complaint, gripping your ass firmly and pulling you close against his hardness. You almost melted, feeling him so hard against your abdomen. He lifted you from your thighs, lips still glued to yours as he carried you to your shared bedroom. Your hands tightly pulled at the collar of his shirt as he laid you on the bed, leaning over your body. He kneeled at the bed with his knee spreading your thighs apart.

“Y'look so good like this baby.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you gazed up at his towering body. He really could do whatever he wanted to you. He was huge. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you, reveling in the heat that spurred between you.

“I need you..now,” you pleaded to him, bucking your hips to his obvious bulge. He seemed to have other plans. His lips attacked your neck once again, leaving dark hickeys down your collarbone. His hands reached under your shirt, flicking his thumb over your hardened nipples.

You squirmed at the teasing, impatiently pulling at his shirt. His kisses moved down your collarbone back to your tits and he teasingly nibbled on them. Your hand rested in his hair as he moved further down to your bare stomach. Your heart dropped with your mind weighed down by the implication of the position you were in. His now wet kisses made you feel so hot, quite literally, and your mind relaxed once more.

All this build-up was driving you nuts. His calloused thumbs rubbed over your thighs slowly, while he inched his head further down. He leaned his head closer to your heat, kissing dangerously close to your clothed pussy. A soft whine escaped your lips, as you clawed at the sheets. “Jason what are you-.” You were cut off by the velvet sensation of his hand dipping into your underwear.

“Fuck..God you're so wet…just for me.”

His middle finger rubbed at your soaked clit causing you to twitch, with heavy breaths slipping from you. He leaned back up to kiss you, all while still working on your clit. Your mind went foggy, as you barely managed to kiss him back. He slipped a thick finger while still rubbing your clit with his thumb, then slipped another in. Curling his fingers, he groaned into your ear. He suddenly pulled back from the kiss to gaze into your eyes.

“eyes on me.”

Your legs trembled, as you fought to maintain eye contact. He removed his fingers, bringing them up to show you. You looked away in embarrassment, but he turned your face back to look at them.

“What a mess.”

You so wanted to slap that cocky smile off his stupid face, but your violent thoughts were interrupted as you watched him slowly lick your arousal off his fingers. His strong hands suddenly grabbed you by the waist, flipping you onto your stomach.

“ass up, princess.” You got into the humiliating position as he slid your wet shorts and panties down to your knees. Your legs trembled at the sensation of his warm breath against your cunt. Jason licked a long, warm lick from your hole, then sucked at your clit lewdly. You whimpered into the mattress, clenching the smooth sheets covering your bed.

“Jay-..oh fuck..,”

He continued teasing his tongue around your clit, licking in tight circles that had your pussy clenching around nothing. He pulled away to catch his breath, smacking your ass. “Aw c'mon..don't do that,” he cooed, noticing the way you attempted to muffle your sounds. “But I-,” you attempted to argue.

“You heard me”

His deep voice elicited a foreign sense of danger as if it was a threat. The fear sent waves of restless anticipation throughout your body, which almost had you backing your pussy onto his face again. You shamefully lifted yourself onto your elbows, obliging to his embarrassing command. He grabbed your hips tightly, getting back to work with his tongue. He slurped at your clit, with a mixture of saliva and arousal dripping down his chin, and then onto the bed where faint dampness began to form.

“That's my girl..look at you... drippin' all over my chin like this. Dirty girl.”

Your broken cries filled his ears, giving him a twisted motivation to hear you get to your breaking point. He slipped two fingers back in with ease, thrusting them quicker than before. You could hear the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, nasty sounds filling the room. You thought your voice would've given out by now from the way you helplessly gasped his name. “Fuck, ” You felt a familiar coil in your abdomen, signaling your end, and causing your whole body to shudder.

“Jay m’gonna cum..!”

He groaned into your cunt, not letting up with his fingers and tongue. Your thighs instinctively began to shut, but Jason quickly spread them back open, continuing to torture you through your orgasm. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, with rough moans escaping your swollen lip.

“Jay! That's enough I can't- fuck..!”

He smacked your ass once again, pulling back to take a breath. “You can take it ma,” he whispered, rubbing the slit with his thumb.

“I know you can.”

He spread you open, watching the slick drip down your hole, then he caught it with his tongue, resuming his sucking and licking as you whined his name continuously. Your whole body felt like it was on the verge of collapsing from all the overstimulation. You groaned into the mattress once more, as a result of the overwhelming sensitivity of your now puffed-up pussy. Jason held you tightly in place as the coil in you began to release again.

A voiceless cry left you, as your legs gave out and you collapsed onto the bed, thighs trembling. You fought to catch your breath while riding out your second orgasm. Now flat on the bed, Jason still didn't let up. His hands gripped your ass tightly as he buried his face into your cunt, pulling the orgasm from you viciously. You felt an odd release, feeling better than usual. He moaned onto your cunt, then pulled away admiring his work.

“Well this is new,” he muttered with a look of pure satisfaction with your wetness dripping down the lower half of his face. This was gonna be a long night.

wow that was a lot. hope yall enjoyed 🫶🏾

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #ceri drabbles #ceris asks #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd imagine #dc red hood #dc smut

[kennedybaby]

they're talking.

talking as if they hadn't been taking turns on you for hours, folding you into different positions and buried their cocks between your puffy folds as your freshly-manicured nails rakes their back. "jesus," you took a sharp breath, stomach caves in slightly as dick pushes your knees up to your chest, easily slipping his fat cock into you. you can hear the way he gulped as your dripping cunt throbs around him, his eyes shuts tight, "i swear..." the rest of his sentence grow incoherent as dick leaves sloppy kisses on your neck.

"wait, dick—" your words were cut off when jason slapped the tip of his cock against your swollen lips.

"hush." jason mumbled under his breath, eyes narrowed when you poked your tongue and lazily runs along the vein on his length. "sorry, princess." dick whispers, his lips forming a small smile. "a bet is a bet, and you lose so..." you rolled your eyes at the way dick pretends to empathise you but he's clearly too pussy drunk to even form something to make you feel better.

dick moved his hips slowly, face buried into your neck. big, calloused palms easily lifts your hips up to bury his cock deeper as he lets out a deep groan. "...so you gotta back it up." jason continues, pushing his tip into your mouth as he watches you instinctively puckered your cheeks and bobs your head up and down with his fingers tangled with your locks to keep your head in place. "fuuuck, startin' to think you purposely lose from how good you're slobbering all over my cock." the both of them chuckled as dick playfully nudges jason in his thigh and clicks his tongue.

"don't be mean." jason scoffs at dick's words.

"i'm not. look at her, she's not even denying it." dick turned his eyes back on you, watching as your eyes gradually gets heavy with your mouth filled with jason's dick as you subconsciously rolls your hips against his own.

"guess she's not."

© kennedybaby.

#dc smut #jason todd imagines #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine

[blue-sadie]

Movie Marathon

Them getting distracted from the movie

Your rigid breathes and soft moans were almost drowning out the sound of the boring rom com you guys decided on, your eyes were closed tightly as he worked his fingers inside you.

He found the movie boring half way through and decided that he should annoy you instead, he started with throwing little bits of popcorn at you to get your attention on him but when that didn't work he started to tease you.

His hand slowly found its way onto your inner thigh, his finger tips running from your knee to the end of your pj shorts each time getting slightly higher into them, he then attached his lips to your neck making sure to leave a few love bites and hickies.

One finger slowly became two then to three, his slowly but eager thrusting fingers were driving you crazy, the movie was long forgotten as you squirmed beside him, him whispering his dirty desires only making it worse.

His fingers slowly fastened their pace and started curling inside you while his thumb rubbed your clit, your moans and whines only fueling his desire to make you cum but he won't just make you cum once no no no he's only stopping when your shaking and begging him to stop.

Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, Jake Lockley, Peter Parker, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel x reader #marvel x reader smut #dc #dc fanfiction #dc smut #dc x reader #dc x reader smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader smut #barry allen x reader #barry allen x reader smut #oliver queen x reader #oliver queen x reader smut #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader smut #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut

[angelltheninth]

hii could i req for a red hood jealousy smut? been thinkin abt him recently (only if ur not busy!) tysmm btw i love love your fics :))

Jealousy can make sex so much better. Or so I hear.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, jealousy, semi-public sex, alleyway sex, rough sex, possessive sex, creampie

A/N: A delicious little smut blurb for you to indulge in. Enjoy.

Everyone who knew Jason knew he had a jealous streak in him, a vengeful streak, a slightly sadistic one as well. You knew it well and you craved to see that side of him come out for you more. Which is why you had no problem with him dragging you out of the club you'd been dancing in and fucking you in the dim, empty alleyway behind the club.

"Good for you babe, finally getting what you fucking wanted!" Jason dug his fingers into your ass cheeks as he used them to hold you up against the wall. "Pretty bold of you, entertaining those shitbags while I'm bringing you drinks. Thank fuck your pussy is right here for me otherwise I'd do a lot more then throw those drinks into their faces." Jason's pants were all the way down his legs, gathered up around his boots as he kept increasing his punishing pace.

You fisted your hands through his hair and pulled him closer, "You love fucking me like this. I know you do. And I... I need it hard tonight, please Jason."

"You could have asked like a normal person. But no you had to go and play as a fucktoy. In a club we frequent. You know damn well I'd give you anything. You will take anything, no, everything I have to give you as your punishment." He couldn't keep the possessive look off his face, couldn't stop his lips from clamming your lips, your throat, your shoulders, your collarbones, "Mine." He growled, "You're mine. This is mine. This sloppy, tight cunt is all mine. Those guys are lucky I even let them lay eyes on you."

"If I'm yours then you better prove it Jason." And he knew exactly how. Undeniable proof. Warm, thick cum pumping into your pussy, flowing down your thighs, staining your clothes, "Yes, mmn, more, you have more for me? I don't think I've learned my lesson yet." You clenched your pussy around him, trying to squeeze out as much cum as you could. He had much more to give, more then you can take in fact. His cum will be staining his bike seat for sure by the time he's done laying his claim.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #titans x reader #titans #titans smut #dc #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x reader #dc smut #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #red hood smut

[jaybirdzi]

12:39 am

warnings - smut, p in v, not-so-gn (usage of 'good girl'), slight degradation, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

minors dni !!!

dbdbbe all i can think abt is jason absolutely going at it after a long day of patrol. he is tired, but soo pent up, and there you are, looking all pretty in just his shirt and panties. it was almost like you were begging to be taken.

your back was arched into the mattress, his hand holding down your shoulders against the bed. muffled moans and whimpers escaped your parted lips, eyes teary from his cock slamming into your walls. “what a good fuckin’ girl. takin’ my cock so well aren't you baby?” he drawls, groaning at your walls tightening with every word. your hips squirm against his ministrations, his hand slaps against your ass, causing a squeak to escape your lips

“‘m talking to you baby, you're a good girl aren't you?”

you could only nod, not trusting your fucked out brain to work enough to form coherent words.

"use your words like a big girl." he slaps your ass again, a yelp escaping your throat. you grip at the sheets, only able to think about his thick shaft stretching out your walls so deliciously.

"y-yes 'm a good g-girl" you stammer out between moans and whimpers as his thrusts seemed relentless.

"you gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby." his hand travels from your hip, to your puffy needy clit. his calloused fingers tapping agains the swollen bud. loud moans resonated in the room, moans turning into full on sobs as you nodded, eyes closing shut.

"cum for me baby" he whispered, leaning his body over yours as you came over his cock. he didn't stop, now focusing on his orgasm.

you were a whimpering and drooling mess, body jerking with each thrust. he grunts and lets out a low moan, finally reaching his climax, your walls tightening around him, his cum coating your walls.

he pulls out your panting body, he takes shallow breaths, reaching for a napkin and wiping his dripping cum from your folds. you whined, still sensitive.

"sorry baby. i'll buy you the pill tomorrow" his voice came out low and rumbly. you just nod as he helps you sit back up. he sets you on his lap as he kisses around your face. "you really did so good for me." he kisses your forehead. "now lets get you cleaned up baby."

i need him to be real SO BADLYYY!!!

#jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc smut #red hood #red hood smut #drabble #jason todd drabble #your honor i love him

[dxxdhood]

good looking

pairing: jason todd x gn!reader

summary: jason comes home after patrol, and he looks so nice you can't help but suck him off.

tags: smut (18+), oral (m receiving), hair pulling, slapping, sub!jason todd, dom!reader, brat taming, teasing

wc: 1.2k

It’s dark out, raining hard enough to crack concrete when he finally walks in. Jason’s eyes face the ground as he takes off his jacket and utility belt, bundling them both up and dumping them in the laundry basket to deal with later.

“Hey, how was the patrol?” you call out from the kitchen, fixing up dinner for the two of you.

He trudges over to you, blood finally visible in splotches on his undershirt in the dim kitchen light. “Could’ve been worse.”

Looking him over, you force yourself not to dwell on how attractive he looks in his crime-fighting attire. None of the cuts he has seem too deep. Luckily, most of the blood doesn’t seem to be his own. “No excuse for me not to make it better.”

And even though he’s half turned away and fully trying to hide it, he smirks.

.

Waiting in the bedroom for Jason usually never takes this long. You’ve already spent forever looking over every piece of the scenery, including Jason's bookshelf filled with novels he never has the time to read. Honestly, your impatience is making every second stretch out for longer than they need to. And even though you tried not to admit it earlier, you wanted to jump his bones the moment he walked in.

His hair was rain-slicked enough to where it curved across the back of his neck in half-curls, and water droplets ran down his cheeks following the strong line of his jaw.

He walks into the bedroom, then, deciding to finally make good on your promise. You run up to him, not even taking a second to admire him only clothed in a towel, and kiss him.

Jason takes a second to reciprocate. There’s always an undercurrent of insecurity when you initiate something with him, like on some level he can’t believe someone dishes out affection so easily. The thought has you kissing him harder, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling gently at the strands.

Jason lets out a small sound, and you can feel the vibrations of it through your own body. You break away from the kiss, and he doesn’t have a moment to question it before you grab him by the hand and drag him to the bed.

“Glad to see you, too,” he snorts.

You don’t have the strength to shove him down, but you grip him by the shoulders and attempt to push him to the mattress. Jason, thankfully, takes the hint and lays himself down.

“You sure you don’t wanna eat dinner first? It smelled pretty good while I–” You crawl on top of him and kiss him deeply again, scratching your hands down his shoulders and biceps.

“I’ve been wanting you since you walked in,” you whisper into his ear, seeing his eyes widen from your peripheral vision. 

He exhales and wraps his hardened hands around your hips. “Well, shit, don’t let me stop you.”

You move down his body, now sitting on his thighs. He’s entirely laid out for you, only a towel to cover up his bottom half and he’s gorgeous. You run your hands across his pecs and abs, stopping to kiss at his nipples until he whimpers. Jason covers his mouth with a hand, but you grip it and pull it away, daring him with a gaze to try and stifle what you so badly want to hear. 

You pull the towel away, and sink down lower, head only inches away from his cock before you kiss down his v line and bite at his thighs.

“Holy shit–” he gasps, but you continue kissing up the inside of his thighs, getting dangerously close to his cock. Every time he thinks you’re finally going to lick at the base, you go back to lapping at the new bruises you’ve given him. You can tell it’s starting to turn him desperate by how he’s gripping the bed sheets hard enough to tear them, but he hasn’t begged for anything yet, so you continue teasing him.

“Jesus, baby, can you–” he cuts himself off in an attempt to swallow down another moan. Shame on him, didn’t you remind him already?

“Yes, Jason?” you ask sweetly, feeling up the muscles in his ass and thighs.

“Shit! Can’t you just touch me already?”

You respond by sending a hand up to grip harshly at his hair, sucking a particularly nasty bruise at the apex of one of his thighs. 

“Sorry, sweetie, I'm sensing a tone issue,” Hah, thank god you’re the one in control tonight, because you could tell Jason wanted to spank you for that one.

“Fuck! Please, baby, please touch me. I swear I’ll be g-good, just please–” And in response, you finally lick a stripe from the tip of his cock down to the base. 

Jason groans and fidgets, wrinkling the sheets, but you ignore him and begin swirling your tongue around his head. You get close to taking him in your mouth, your lips perched right at his dick, but whenever you sense his anticipation becoming too great, you go back to teasing him at the base or licking at his balls. 

Before Jason even has the time to beg again, you decide to take him all with no warning, and his hips immediately twitch up. You feel his tip tickling the back of your throat, but you shove his hips back down on the bed, and he whimpers at the harsh treatment.

You stare back up at him, and his eyes are so pretty. Watery and ready to spill over if you don’t start moving soon. You take pity on him and begin sliding up and down at an annoying slow pace. 

He sighs, but he places his hands against your head, scratching against your scalp. You reach a hand from his hips to rub at his nipple, and Jason’s body tenses as he lets out a curse, allowing you to go faster and rub your tongue against his sensitive vein.

“Ah! Fuck, please–” Jason begs, clearly unsure of what he’s even asking for, but his face is so tense, sweat mixing with water from the shower, and you know he needs a little something to push him over the edge. 

You slap his cheek and he moans loud enough for your neighbors to hear. Before he even realizes it himself, his cock starts to twitch and he cums in your mouth. 

He looks horrified for a moment, probably feeling like an asshole for not giving you a heads up, but you slide off of his dick, still making complete eye contact, and swallow right in front of him. 

You swear you see his eyes roll back in his head as he slams his head back down on the pillow.

“That’s was– Oh my god, that was–” you chuckle at how thoroughly you’ve broken him.

“Amazing, right?” you snuggle up next to him, kissing his cheek. “Now what about mine?”

#jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x gn!reader #gn reader #smut #dc comics #dc smut #dom reader #sub character #jason todd #red hood

[visionsofmagic]

day 13: clark kent [aftercare]

࿓ synopsis • after having a rough session with clark, you let him take care of your exhausted body.

―❦ nsfw, kissing, soft!clark, after a rough sex, f!reader, pet names, confessing, cleaning, washing, watching, fluff, i's all! • 0.6k • couldn't publish sooner, but, here we are at least. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

"agh -" you say, moaning lowly, in pain that comes from your sensitive clit as clark's fingers travel on it, cleaning you under the warm water.

“oh, baby,” he says, fingers stop for a moment, eyes scanning your face; furrowed brows, lips are getting a bite, hands hold him from the neck and chest as a source of cure and stability at the same time. “you okay? I can go slower if you want.”

he proposes as you sit on his lap, hugging him, and negatively shaking your head while one of his strong arms holds you from back so that you stay still, warm water waving from time to time as you move in sync.

sitting on the clean bathtub, you let clark take care of you after one of your roughest sex – you can see all the redness on your body which he left intentionally yet acting so innocent when he sees them, fingers caressing your soft skin gently as if he wasn’t the one who fucked you in different positions, earning a pathetic state out of you, nearly making you use the safe word because of how good he was fucking you and how much you wanted it to end even though your actions told otherwise.

fear of fainting, you stopped when he got your fourth orgasm, then, cumming all over you as he cries in pleasure, confessing how you make him so weak that he loses mind whenever he has you beside him, under him, above him – in every way he can, he loves it, he loves you.

so it’s not a surprising thing when he picked you up from the messy bed after preparing the bathtub for you to wash and get clean, got into it, taking you into his arms, making you feel smaller yet quite peaceful, letting him do whatever he wants to do to get you cleaned up, ready to rest on the bed you are sharing with him beside you.

he said sorry over and over again until you said it was okay – that you enjoyed every bit of it because you missed him as much as he missed you.

fingers gripping your chin, he makes you look at his shining blue eyes – your own reflection on them. he smiles widely, fingers moving to your hair, caressing it gently, still having that precious expression on his face, looking like a greek god yet feeling so human – one of his kind, always.

“you have no idea how much I missed you,” he says, now taking warm water on his palm, then, cleaning your naked body within it – he seems to have guilt because of what he has done to you; biting marks as he claimed you shine brightly, red marks on your waist is visible due to holding you tightly as he shoved his cock into you, the neck has pink colors because how he held it, pushing your face onto the pillow so that you could moan as much as you wanted while he had you from behind.

all because of him.

he would never hurt you, he didn’t either, yet, he seems a bit sorry. however, you know he also has prideful feelings, so, you smile softly, resting your head on his wide shoulders, saying, “they all will heal, don’t feel sorry – it was so good that I can’t wait to get better and do all those things again.”

he chuckles, kissing your forehead, and then, your whole face, “then get better soon because there are lots of things that I want to do to you, my prettiest girl.” with that, he kisses you one more time. he cleans you, drying you with the softest towel, changes the sheets, and puts you on the fresh bed, taking his side beside you – hugging you, he watches how peaceful your face looks, smiling down at you, and sleeping as he has you close enough to himself – he knows he should leave soon enough yet being with you seems as the right thing to do. he missed you so much after all – the world can wait a bit longer.

#🔥 kinktober 2023 second week #kinktober 2023 #dc #dc comics #dc x reader #superman #superman x you #superman x reader #superman x y/n #clark kent #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #superman smut #dc smut #henry cavill #henry cavill!superman x reader #WAS A DAY AFTER THE DETERMINED DAY BUT HERE WE ARE! HAVE FUN ^^

[luvf4ngz]

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance. 

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis. 

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful. 

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.” 

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles. 

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after. 

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.” 

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.” 

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp. 

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness. 

“I know it not ‘seems’.” 

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses. 

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.” 

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.” 

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!” 

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin. 

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns. 

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again. 

“Spiderman panties. Cute.” 

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs. 

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders. 

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement. 

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you. 

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines. 

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal. 

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure. 

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs. 

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” 

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes. 

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” 

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion. 

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more. 

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white. 

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason��s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities. 

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue. 

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him. 

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath. 

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves. 

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses. 

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it. 

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes. 

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.” 

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock. 

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan. 

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him. 

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support. 

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. 

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now. 

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm. 

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers. 

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction. 

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl. 

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds. 

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply. 

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach. 

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait. 

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap. 

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands. 

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock. 

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast. 

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you. 

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips. 

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now. 

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out. 

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt. 

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss. 

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy. 

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm. 

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it. 

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you. 

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks. 

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom. 

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

#sumi — works. #sumi — dc. #red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #dc smut #dc x reader #mdni #sumi — my love.

[chxrrydrxp]

I can't stop thinking about Arkham Jason and him only being soft with us... But during steamy times he's a full on BEAST

*screams*

my brain is just brimming rn.

I love the idea of AK! Jason being sweet. in the game, he's mouthy and can seem like a jerk (I take down APCs just to hear him verbally abuse Batman) but with reader?? ahhhhgghh

he's the kinda man that'll carry you over a puddle even if you're wearing boots and he's wearing flip-flops. (okay maybe that was extreme) but thennnn

(mdni)

warnings : creampie, breeding, brief oral- fem receiving

he has you on your back with your legs over his shoulders, and his arms wrapped around your thighs as he mercilessly pummels your puffy cunt.

AK!Jason is very verbal so you know he's just filling your ears with the most disgusting, vile,..

"what was that baby?" He thrusts deeper until your nails are clawing at his arms. "sorry- couldn't quite catch that?"

your thighs are trembling in his arms as he licks up and down your legs. he's so kinky.

"oh fuck baby..you don't know what you do to me"

after he fills you with cum, he pulls out slowly, loving to see the white liquid slowly seep out of your reddened hole.

"Well would ya look at that"

when I say he's nasty I fucking mean it.

he kneels to the pool of liquid at the base of your cunt and licks up, til he reaches your clit making you tremble from overstimulation.

#this was disgusting im so sorry yall im ovulating #jason todd x reader #ceri drabbles #jason todd #ceris asks #jason todd smut #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #dc red hood #dc smut #red hood smut #jason peter todd #i need him #i need him to ruin me #im sorry

[kennedybaby]

HOW DID YOU GET THAT WAY?

YOU DON'T EVEN HIDE HOW YOU FEEL.

18+ / semi-rough sex, exes fucking, female! reader. that's all. i giggled while writing this.

Letting Jason into your apartment past midnight only meant one thing. It's arguing slash fucking. Sure, it's a bad combination, you're his ex— his favorite ex. At least, that's what he told you. Being a hopeless romantic with a pussy that longs for no one but your ex, you happily let him inside when he decides to come over after patrol.

Jason knows you love it. As much as he hates letting you get under his skin, he loves taking out his anger on you.

“Fuck you.” Funny.

He's been trying to get your shorts off while you blabbered about how Roy and you have been flirting back and forth. It’s dumb, he shouldn’t care that his ex and his best friend are flirting with each other. But he does. That’s why he’s here, holding you down to the couch with his jeans gathered around his ankles and his throbbing cock pressed against your dripping pussy. Besides, he knows you're bluffing— Jason knows you'd say anything to make him jealous. And God does he hates how much it works on him.

Jason had the tip of his cock rubbing furiously between your folds, coating them with your slick as he looked down at you. “You’re bullshitting me, [Name].” He huffed, cheeks flushed as his hands gripped onto your sides. “Am not.” You playfully said to him, poking your tongue out as you grind yourself against him. He lets out a deep groan, pushing your hips down as he shoots you a glare.

“Yes, you are.” He rolled his eyes, his thumb reached down to push the head of his cock into your pussy. His lips curled into a smirk when he heard a gasp leaving your lips, “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.” He mutters under his breath, burying himself deeper inside of you as his knees digs into your bed.

“No. Roy and I—”

“Shut up.” He puts his hand over your mouth, muffling down your protests as he easily buries himself deeper inside of you due to how wet you are. And to be honest, he'd hundred percent sure you were soaking your panties the second he went inside of your apartment. Your fingers curled around his shirt, “I hate youuuuuu. Shooo much." Your words slurred as your lips formed a small pout, your eyes flickers down to watch the way his cock stretches you, your lips spread around him as Jason pushes himself in and out of you.

“Just… don’t get why… you’re this mad over me flirting with Roy.” A long whine left your lips before you looked back up at him, the bed underneath your weight violently creaked as your nails dragged on his back. “Not my fault, I have needs.” You huffed, furrowing your brows as Jason let out a breathy chuckle when you put up a frown on your face.

“You have me.”

“You’re my ex.”

“And?”

He slammed his hips into you right before you got to say anything, a sheen layer of sweat coating your body as you threw your head back. “Just stop talking about him when I’m balls deep in you, it’s weird. Talk about me instead.” It feels nice, sort of satisfying to know you at least made him sort of jealous that it’s enough to get him to pins you down and fills up every crevices of your wet cunt.

“No fun.” You muttered under your breath, arms curling around his neck as you pulled him down for a kiss. His lips quickly capture yours, ignoring the way your teeth clash against his so long as he has your lips on his own. “Nah, just like it better when you're moaning about how big my dick is.” He flashed you a toothy grin, fingers gripping your waist as he slightly lift your hips to thrust deeper. The veins on his cock rubbing against your gummy walls, a small bump on your lower stomach shows up every time he pushes himself deeper.

“They’re not… big.” You pants in between words, head tilts back into your pillow. He bits his bottom lip back when he felt your pussy squeezes around him, sucking him in. Your eyes turning watery from the pleasure, lashes thick with tears as he clenched his teeth. “Yeah, right." Jason lets out a scoff, pulling back away from you for a split second as he turned your body over as your stomach lay flat on your couch, his hand pressed flat on your back before he forced you to keep your hips up.

His cock finds its way back buried inside of your sopping cunt, your ass pressed against his pelvis as he gripped your hips. His fingers leaving red marks on tour skin, “You better keep your ass up.” There’s a certain firmness in his voice, his eyes looking down at you when you tilts your head to the side to looked back at him. Jason leans down to lean his chin on your shoulder, his lips hovering your ear as he slowly rocks his hips into your again.

“Gotta remind my ex girlfriend who she belonged to again.”

whoever reading this, please send anything sexy about dc men or women... I AM DYING TO JUST RANT ABT THEM c: sorry for the blue balls ending!!!!

#jason todd smut #dc smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader smut

[pluvialpoet]

how to disappear

Summary: a reunion ten years in the making serves as a reminder that absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder- especially when history has a tendency to repeat itself 

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Requested: no

Warning: nsfw!!! (18+ MDNI), porn with plot, lovers to enemies, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, choking, angst, minor barbara gordon slander (for the plot, I swear)- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 12,874

masterlist

Light reflects off the crystals that hang from the chandeliers above, and like a moth drawn to a shiny flame, you bask in the warmth of their glow. For as beautiful as the crystalline teardrops twenty-two feet overhead are, they dull in comparison to the- equal parts blinding and mesmerizing, simultaneously gorgeous, yet gaudy- diamonds that dangle from earlobes, rubies that rest against décolletages, and the pearls placed upon dainty fingers in an over the top display of money, power, and status. It’s the epitome of wealth, and though meant to allure, you find yourself disgusted by the flashy exhibitions of greed and corruption.

Every smile is artificial. Every laugh is humorless and diluted. Any feeling beyond complete and utter misery is a hoax. Yet, they play their parts. Each and every one of them continues to mingle, boast, and feign genuineness, but it’s obvious what they are, even beneath their disguises, you recognize the vultures circling the fresh carnage of the innocent- with blood on their talons and a hunger that’s never truly satiated. Do they even know what they’ve done? Do they even care? Given a chance to make amends, would any of them take it?

Revulsion counters amusement as you watch the elite interact with one another. It’s pathetic. In a room full of affluence, not a single person knows pleasure beyond material possessions, and that’s an injustice in itself. Amongst thieves, you’re the honesty that rivals them all- and that’s a scary revelation, all things considered.

Taking advantage of the large crowd, you continue to bump elbows with the rich- literally- as you weave your way through the opulent mass. A tight-lipped smile is granted when you pass an older woman, and an even wider flash of teeth catches your attention from a man around your age. Mimicking the gestures seal your fate, damning you- even if only temporarily- to this game of confusion, a game in which approval and disgust are indiscernible. Having had years to grow accustomed to the tricks of this elitist trade, it’s almost impossible to recall a simpler time. Back when you still thought there might be a modicum of authenticity behind the action, back before you were close enough to spot the invisible strings controlling the marionettes, you believed- and even hoped- that you had it all wrong. There was a time, long, long ago, when you were desperate to believe that there was still some good left in these people, but you grew out of your naivety. Now older, and wiser, you won’t make the same mistakes you once made. Under the influence of optimism, your purpose became convoluted. Not anymore.

Without anyone to dissuade you from reaching out- to challenge you from swiping a few bejeweled tennis bracelets, engagement rings, or even one or two watches and calling it a day- a thrum of urgency spreads through your fingertips. It’s an impulsive electricity you can’t deny. Besides, it’s not like social dynasties would crumble if a few diamonds went missing. If only it were that easy…

Wealth doesn’t doom these poor, unfortunate souls, but their greed- coupled with the blood on their hands- paints a distinguishable target on their backs. If you look closely, it’s impossible to miss that they’re all cut from the same cloth. A hundred different reflections of the same privileged archetype imitate the same gestures, mannerisms, and movements to a tee. An amateur would operate under the guise of distraction- causing a small scene and offering their apologies before making off with their prize- but you’re not an amateur. Not anymore. Not by a long shot. 

A few women- four or five, at most- nurse flutes of bubbling booze a few feet away. The sound of their laughter is a little too joyous to be feigned and when one of them waves a manicured hand towards a waiter, signaling another round of drinks, you start to put the pieces together. Perhaps, the ladies in your sights are the most genuine in attendance- even if they’ve lost themselves to their cups. Matching their demeanor is child’s play. Once equipped with a half-empty glass from a server on their way back to the kitchens, you stumble towards the group, plastering on the same elated- intoxicated- grin, and hope that they’re inebriated enough to be welcoming towards a newcomer. Masking the bitter taste of insincerity with a sip of prosecco, a greeting rises from the mix, but it never has the chance to come to fruition because a large hand wraps around your wrist- effectively halting your heist before it even really had a chance to begin.

You should’ve known better.

As you turn to glare at the idiot who dared to put their hands on you, your breath catches.

Two birds die from the blow of one stone, and he takes advantage of your stupor- finding that you’re more pliant in your daze- leading you away from the women you intended to rob, and into the crowd. More witnesses make it less likely for you to cause a scene. At least, that’s his logic, anyway.  While it’s not exactly flawed, it’s not all that accurate, either, but for old time's sake, you’ll play along. His hold on you remains firm, and he reaches for the flute in your hand with his other, placing it on a tray and discarding the prop. Your surprise begins to morph into anger- especially when he pulls you closer towards him as the orchestra starts to play a tune. Remembering the steps forced upon you as a child is muscle memory, and you glare daggers up at him- though, they don’t pierce nearly as deeply as the blue of his irises.

“Nice hair,” Dick revels in your obvious frustration of being thwarted, his lips curling into a smirk when your frown deepens, and he asks, “I thought you were blonde, last I saw you?”

“I was,” For the sake of maintaining appearances, you don a phony expression of your own and respond with as much benevolence as you can muster- even though you’re filled with animosity- as he leads you through the steps of the dance. “And you didn’t have a five o’clock shadow,” You note, allowing yourself a split second to take in everything that’s changed since the last time you saw him, before pressing your lips together tightly with a huff.

“Things change.” 

 As if he needed the reminder…

Chance has never meddled in your relationship. Coincidence doesn’t exist within the realm of precision both you and Dick operate from. Everything has always been on purpose, calculated and planned, never left blindly to fate or possibility- which is why this meeting isn’t an accident. As if he can feel you about to pull away, he flexes his fingers against you, tightening his grip and holding you in place. Ten years later- ten years too late- he’s found you. Not destiny, not a fluke, but with his own intention, and you wish that he would’ve just stayed away.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” As you abandon your costume, your smile falls away to reveal genuine loathing as you force the question from behind gritted teeth. Still, despite your obvious disdain, he doesn’t let you go. “Last I checked, you were in San Francisco- and more recently, Blüdhaven. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” His amusement contradicts your revulsion, and a shallow breath purges the threat of an outburst. Dick has always had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing your buttons and doing everything he possibly could to make you tick, but the sudden onslaught of such juvenile taunting fills you with a fire not even he can extinguish- not anymore. Despite his charming exterior, the steady flow of his breath, and the easy grin of confidence that was once impossible not to mirror, dampness swells where your palms meet, and you feel the rough, raised reminders that he’s kept busy during your time apart- that he’s evolved into a stranger despite how familiar he still seems- and you wonder if he can feel it too, if he can tell just by touch, that you’re not the same girl he once knew.

“I keep tabs on everyone who might get in my way,” Your eyes narrow accusatorially, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not special.”

“That’s not what you said the last time we-“

“Yeah, well, the last time was when we were teenagers, and a lot has changed since then.” Any attempt to remain cordial flies out the window when he dares to mention the last time- like it hasn’t plagued you for a decade. Not even he possesses the antidote to the venom your words carry, and he winces slightly as your rebuttal shakes. He clears his throat softly, the sound filling the lull where an apology should sound, and he takes a look over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Any chance I can convince you not to go through with whatever it is you’re planning?” It brings little joy to watch his smile dissolve into something more serious. His face hardens, and you notice lines and creases that you aren’t well acquainted with- unable to distinguish battle scars from the divots of age- and you quickly shake the thought away. Instead, you stare at him blankly, not revealing an answer. Though, he takes your lack of conversation as a reply, and with a heavy sigh, he shakes his head, “Yeah, I figured.” 

He dares to express melancholy. Stunned by his nerve, after everything, not even shame or regret could rattle his courage enough for him to reconsider such a crestfallen expression, and the discouraged twist of his lips and the downcast slant of his eyes are so pronounced and dramatic that you’re unable to discern whether or not this is part of a ruse, or his genuine reaction.

“Did you think that would work?” Your skepticism is muddled with ridicule, a mocking scoff filling the line meant for his counter. It’s almost laughable- the nerve he has to look dejected by your questioning. To be fair, it’s been a while since he’s danced this dance- a routine once familiar, consisting of bite and bark, push and shove, before simultaneous defeat and victory-  but he’s smart enough to know that that’s not how this works. “I mean what did you think would happen, birdy? I’d take one look at you, all grown and handsome, and reconsider my plans?”

Even in heels, he’s taller than you remember. He’s always been pretty- all mesmerizing eyes, slightly crooked smile, and sunkissed skin- but not even he was immune to the awkwardness brought forth by puberty. There was a time when he thought his shoulders were too broad, his ears too big, and the angular structure of his face too sharp and strong for a boy. It didn’t look right. Features that were admirable on their own, looked out of place on his face- or so he feared. You always thought he was beautiful- especially when he didn’t know it.

Now, Boy Wonder is all grown up, exuding confidence and oozing charm. He knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t parade his arrogance- not anymore. His early twenties were a never-ending roller coaster of trying to find himself, his purpose, and where he fit into the grand scheme of things. Conflicted by right and wrong, tempted by lust and surrender, divided by good and evil, he’s had a lot of time to awaken from the grogginess inflicted by nightmares of freedom and liberation. Still, his eyes are just as mesmerizing, his teeth are straight- but his smile is still crooked- and he’s truly grown into himself. The man before you is a boy evolved- still a bird, but with a different set of wings. Robin is an old friend, a fond recollection of a different time, and though the stranger before you mimics the familiarity you’ve longed for, he’s not Robin, anymore- he’s Nightwing.

“Look, they’re anticipating for you to strike,” His warning is low and hushed, but even in whispers you’re able to detect his plea. Call it concern, or at the very least interest in serving justice as quietly as possible, but his timbre urges you to reconsider- if not for his sake, then for the sake of those around you. He really doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Security has been tripled, and you’ve grown sloppy-“

“Did you ever consider that the trail I was leaving behind wasn’t for anyone else but the one person I wanted to find me?” There’s no affection behind the way your fingers thread through the dark tresses at the nape of his neck. Without any fondness, without passion, or care, the action is mindless, meaningless, and merely muscle memory. There’s no repressed feelings you wish to convey, no animosity you’re trying to diffuse. With no hidden agenda, the gesture serves no purpose- except to unintentionally torture you both. Old habits die hard, and something undefined urges you to reach for him. He flushes, and the sight is so droll that you can’t bring yourself to stop. His lips part once, twice, three times, trying to produce an answer, but he’s at a loss. When you cock your head to the side, he tenses. “Of course, you didn’t,” You purr, and he clears his throat softly. 

Dick’s no stranger to berating. He knows what it feels like to be chastised, scolded, and reprimanded. This exchange feels similar. The only difference is that you don’t raise your voice, your eyes don’t darken and you don’t threaten him- not with words, at least. If anything, the remark feels like a gentle rebuke, but the sting left from the impact of your insult brands him with shame. You’ve always seen right through him. Easily able to discern real from fake- truth from falsity- under both his domino mask and the hardened mask of his stoic expressions, you’ve always had a knack for exposing his most vulnerable self- welcoming his flaws, humility, and weaknesses to light. Even though he’s not the same kid he was when you first crossed paths, he feels just as naive and guileless as the boy he once once. 

“You and the bat were never really known for considering every angle,” Spoken so thoughtfully, he’s almost able to forgive the verbal assault. As intended, the blow lands- precise, heavy, and unforgiving in the center of his chest- and the muscles in his jaw tighten with thinly veiled frustration. It seems, that in the moment he needs his voice the most, it evades him. He swallows consonants and vowels, a jumbled mix of letters that sit heavy atop his palate, and focuses on maintaining his composure- though, his steps are a beat behind and his footing seems, suddenly, unsure. You’ve struck a nerve. Whether or not you intend to wound, the damage is already done. Picking at scabs that should’ve scarred a long time ago cause his insecurities to bleed- a punch more lethal than brute strength and weaponry combined. 

Blindsided by the truth, he feels utterly defenseless.

“Can I ask you something, Dick?” Your brows barely pinch together, your voice calm and steady as something softens in your gaze. Dick should know better than to let his guard down- especially when you lean in, and your lips brush against his ear, “If you’re the hero, here to save the day, does that make me the villain?” 

“No, you’re not-“

“How about this, which is the lesser of two evils- knowing that you’re protecting a corrupted establishment because it’s what you believe to be morally correct, or taking back what was wrongfully stolen and returning it to its rightful owners?” As you tilt your head to the side, he hates the way that you look up at him through your lashes. It’s not a demure move. You’re demanding an answer, and a look like that- a look meant to allure, tempt, and bait- would have a weaker man spilling his deepest darkest secrets. With a sharp inhale, he reminds himself that the tricks up your sleeve aren’t new. He knows all of the cards you’re going to play- albeit, he’s unaware of the order in which you’re going to play them- and he won’t allow history to repeat itself. Purposely, your thumb caresses the back of his hand- the touch feather-light, but far from hesitant or accidental- and his breath hitches. Dick doesn’t undermine the small, sinister smile that threatens to spread into a victorious grin when he fails to answer your question. Perhaps, he doesn’t know the answer. Or, perhaps, he’s just distracted. Either way, your voice fills the absence of his own. “We’re not on different sides of a playing field, Grayson. You and I aren’t on opposite ends of a spectrum, we’ve always been right in the middle- dancing on a thin line.” 

Prompted by the soothing symphony of strings, Dick twirls you- delicately extending his arm and leading you into a spin before pulling you back in- and it’s fitting, the push and pull between you so familiar it almost feels as choreographed as the steps of the waltz you’re dancing.

History repeating itself, just one more time.

“We both know you’re not here to turn me in, because if you were going to, you would’ve done it by now.” Your arrogance causes something to snap within him. Clarity comes rushing back as he breaks free from your spell. Without meaning to, his grip on your hand tightens.

“Look, I understand why you’re doing this, but-“

“No, you don’t.” Like a switch being flipped, your façade shatters- revealing a face so unbridled with emotions that not even a mask could obscure. He’s defensive. Tired of grappling for control over the situation, he tastes power as he parts his lips with a clever retort, but you don’t allow him the space to get a word in. “Did you know that last year, the city council held a vote to refurbish a few run-down parks on the south side of Gotham with the hopes of restoring the communities destroyed by violence, or increasing the GCPD budget?” The heat behind your accusation pokes and prods at his curiosity, coloring him intrigued. Admittedly, he’s not the most up-to-date on Gotham’s politics, but something this large shouldn’t have slipped under his radar- or the watchful eyes of those who swore themselves to protect the beloved city.

It’s deeper than that, though.

Your frustrations, however warranted, seem to extend beyond such an injustice. Between the lines, amongst all the words you haven’t said, there’s a decipher hidden in every twitch, gesture, and glare. From the way your eyes narrow, to the sharp exhale and tightening grip of your fingertips. To sweaty palms and clenched teeth, all the way to flared nostrils- there’s something just beneath the surface that he can’t crack. Too much time has passed for him to unscramble tacitness when he no longer understands the codes in which you speak, and, unfortunately, he needs you to paint a clearer picture than the vague abstract before him.

“When it came down to it, do you think that the citizens of the south side had a say in the matter?” Dick’s smart. He’s not just a pretty face or a nice body- he’s actually got brains to match. You know- deep down- that sooner or later, shapeless pieces will fall into place to reveal the completed puzzle, but you need him to come to the conclusion all on his own. It would be easy to simply reveal your motive, and while a straightforward approach may have been less complicated than the mental gymnastics you’re forcing him to perform, it wouldn’t have been as impactful. Dick needs to understand, and to understand, he needs to feel- the same anger, outrage, and upset you felt. “Do you think the people on the other side of the tracks were given a chance to speak in front of the council?” 

“They can’t segregate who speaks publicly-“ The gears are turning- some slower, some faster, and others completely out of control as he struggles to make sense of your elusiveness. When the current song fades out, a scattered round of applause takes its place before a new song begins. Hardly anyone else is dancing, save for a handful of couples who look just about as miserable as you and Dick- without the coordination or grace, the two of you share. It takes him too long to jump to the conclusion, and you tire of waiting for him to put the pieces together on his own. He always did work better with a helping hand- though, the quality of his work declined greatly whenever your hands were involved.

“You’re right,” Your agreement further confuses him, until an additional explanation provides the last bit of clarity he’d been seeking. “But they can change the date, time, and venue of the meeting without alerting the other parties involved, parties that spent weeks building the foundations of a strong claim, and vote on the matter without them being present- subsequently, granting them access to funnel more funds back into their pensions.”

“That’s not possible,” His argument is backed by disbelief instead of reason, denial influencing his refusal to accept such an absurdity, even in spite of proof, and every ugly, undesirable, nasty feeling you’re not supposed to have swirls together in the pit of your stomach at his incredulity.

How can he still be so blind? How, after all of the evil that he’s witnessed, how can he deny the truth in favor of possibility? He may be a man grown, but he still lives in a delusional state of boyhood- where he still clings to hope and the prospect of good intentions even when the jury has already delivered a conviction.

“Why not?” You seethe, simultaneously demanding an answer without allowing him the chance to speak. Unfortunately, whatever’s been brewing amongst your insides finally bubbles over and your own reluctance to accept an outcome where he doesn’t justify your point of view sharpens the words at the tip of your tongue until they’re as lethal as any weapon. “Because good old Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t let that happen?”

It’s resentment- the concoction without a name- but it’s also envy, pain, and perhaps a bit of fear. At the very least, it’s petty, to bring her into this and force him to pick a side, but it’s been corroding your logic- eroding a place in your chest that’s been dormant ever since he last filled it with life and meaning- and you watch his demeanor shift when his lips part to defend her. You can’t bear whatever praise he’s sure to dole out in her defense, especially when she’s just as guilty as the rest of them, as far as you’re concerned. Before he has a chance to tear you to shreds with his ire, you interrupt.

“Look, just because the commissioner has a heart, doesn’t mean that the animals working for the force do.” Without any conviction, you start to claw at the mire on either side of you, closing you in. “It’s always been bad, but it’s gotten a lot worse.” He can’t argue with that. Worse doesn’t even come close to how downright doomed Gotham is now that someone’s poisoned most of the police force. The one group of people who are supposed to remain impartial to power and abide by the laws they’re sworn to uphold, have turned their backs on the people who needed them most, and the people hurting- the ones without flashy jewels or the stomachs for caviar and champagne- don’t have anyone looking out for them. 

Not the way they used to, anyway. 

“You don’t get to come here and lecture me about what’s right and what’s wrong, just because she asked you to.” Bittersweet tips towards bitter and a sour taste settles in your mouth at the suggestion that she had even the slightest part to play in your reunion. “You’re a few years too late for that, birdy.” This time when the song ends, you take a step back- though, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand before you pull away, the phantom of a silent prospect lingering even when the warmth of him is gone. Once, it was what you sought. He was what you sought. Years of desolation turned your desire for that same heat- tender touches and gentle caresses against skin- into favor of bleakness. You don’t regret pulling away from him, not as much as you did back them. This time, it’s warranted- a choice you make unobstructed by what you’re feeling, now that you know the outcome of what was fated to happen between the two of you.

“I appreciate the dance,” You swallow, your throat tightening with words you won’t allow yourself to say. Instead, a retort finds you, though it feels foreign as you speak it into existence. “Maybe we’ll do it again in a couple of years,” 

Without waiting for a reaction, you head off down the same way you came, and this time, without any intervention, he lets you go.

The bathroom door shuts behind you, and the sounds of lively chatter and the hum of instrumentals fade away until you’re consumed by a silence so stark that it buries you. It doesn’t feel real. The soft tapping of your heels against the glossy marble floors cuts through the nothingness- even the slightest echo in the void registering as an alarm, coaxing panic and fear from the rusted, forgotten cells you banished them to long ago- and when you finally take a look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the face that stares back at you.

Your reflection is plagued by guilt, and haunted by ghosts of the past. Well, one ghost, in particular.

Running into Dick Grayson was something you’d prepared for. Since the day you last parted, you always knew that there was a possibility your paths could, and inevitably would, cross again. It was destined to happen, and you were doomed from the start. He makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak. Back then, before everything that drove a wedge between the two of you, you had a bit of a soft spot for him. He was the only other person in the world who truly understood the life you lived because he was living a different version of the same life. Both protégés, both headstrong and zealous- attributes recognized as both strengths and faults- and both dancing a choreographed routine in the shadows cast by the bat and the cat. The two of you were fated. It was only a matter of time before you started pulling your punches, and he started letting you get away.

The chase was always the best part- second only to the capture.

Still, it’s been years since he left. You’re not the same girl he once knew, and he might as well have been a stranger. More than a decade apart will do that to two people. For everything that’s changed, one thing remains the same- the chase and the capture are unavoidable.

With a shaky exhale, your chest tightens. Resting your palms on either side of the expensive stone washbasin, you attempt to focus on regaining your composure- but another heavy intake of breath punches your lungs. You haven’t come this far just to let him swoop in and gain the upper hand. You’re done pulling your punches. Flipping the golden faucet on, you allow trickling water to interrupt the unbearable silence that surrounds you- a lull so loud it sounds like buzzing static without the interruption of something mundane. With a few more deep breaths, in and out, you begin to fumble with the clasp on your clutch, opening the small bag to retrieve a tube of lipstick. The color has started to fade from your lips, and you use the moment of stillness to touch up your makeup. If nothing else, maybe your reflection will look less distraught with a signature swipe of dark red. You long for a sense of familiarity that you can control.

Above the trickling from the luxurious spout, the door squeaks- or perhaps, it cries- as it’s pushed open, revealing a mirage basked in artificial light and a custom-tailored suit. As your fingertips graze the fixture responsible for the steady stream of distraction, a thud sounds, and seconds later, the unmistakable click of a lock latching into place seals your fate. A wave of emotion- a tsunami of feelings- brings forth a myriad of everything, all at once. Just as you suspected you always would, you’re drowning- caught in a riptide of your past and present, finally merging in a deadly current that threatens to pull you below the depths of your worst fears and direful imagination. You swallow thickly as you close your eyes. It fills your mouth with delusions of saltwater.

This isn’t supposed to happen- at least, not like this, it’s not- but the one thing you’ve been running from has finally caught back up to you. Now’s the time to set the record straight. No more ties. No more draws. Tonight, the victory is yours- regardless of his intervention. He’s taken too much from you to take this too, and you’re done letting him.

“I already told you that this is pointless,” You don’t even look at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his overbearing stare. A swirling sea of darkening blue attempts to sail back to shore- pleading to find refuge within familiar comforts and intimacy- but you cast your gaze back to your reflection, focusing on fixing the corners of your lipstick and leaving him afloat. “You’re not going to stop me.” The promise is backed by conviction- though, you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him, or yourself.

The muscle in Dick’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth- forcing ivories to clench and grind against each other, creating a perfect, white prison to cage the words he wishes to speak. Stifling his emotions is conventional. It’s a routine he’s perfected through years of reluctant practice. Though uncomfortable and daunting, the void in which he sentences all that’s repressed is secure. It’s safe- if only in the sense that it’s familiar.

You’re familiar- rather, you were once familiar- but he can’t cross a bridge that’s been burned, molten ash still ablaze amongst the rubble, and expect to be welcomed back with open arms. Not after everything that’s changed. Not after everything that’s happened.

Not after what he did.

“I need a list of names,” The determination in Dick’s voice contradicts everything he feels inside. His face hardens- a mask, a shield, protection- and he stands a little taller, fixated on resolving the one problem he could actually solve. “Names of the officers involved in whatever this is,” He clarifies with an uneasy edge to his voice- like he already knows he’s bit off more than he can chew, but he can’t stop himself from going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths.

For all that’s changed, Dick remains the same. A phantom- a spirit, a memory, a ghost- of the boy you once knew disappears just as quickly as your imagination teases familiar red, yellow, and green. He’s not the same. You know it to be true, and yet, you find yourself distracted by glimpses and figments from a different life entirely.

“Grab a pen,” A scoff, an eye roll, and the gentle shake of your head, disbelief and credence existing in tandem- contradicting each other when your eyes finally meet his. “It would be a shorter list if you started with the people who aren’t guilty of committing some type of fraudulent activity.”

You’re not a bad person. Despite varying beliefs, you’re not evil. Mayhem doesn’t bring you joy. Confrontation doesn’t get you off. There’s little pleasure to be found in being the itch that people can’t scratch. You’ve never sought out violence or peril, and you seldom plan on causing either. Just like Dick- just like Bruce- you operate under a different moral code, but a moral code, nevertheless. Even if the only thing it provides is an excuse to justify why you do what you do, you still hold yourself to a standard. Unlike the vile, chaos-thirsty cravens that would happily light the match and watch the world burn, you’re selfless- bound to your morals, if nothing else.

What you do, the sacrifices you make- everything that you’ve lost and everything you’ve fought for- is fueled by benevolence. You’re in a position to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. The power to defend those who have had their rights stripped from them- those who have had their power stolen by greed corruption and profit- is in your hands. You’ll be damned if you let anyone stand in your way and prevent you from doing what you know is right.

Through the reflection in the mirror, you recognize the face that stares back at you. Gone is the fear and doubt that mangled your features unrecognizable. With a heavy sigh, you unclip the earrings that dangle from your earlobes- and the buzzing sound of static fades away completely.

You know what you have to do.

The sound of your heels against the tile might as well have been deafening in contrast to the silence that follows your remark. As you cross the room, your resolve sharpens. Dick Grayson has taken so much from you, you won’t let him take this, too.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ You feign saccharine, your tone phony and filled with counterfeit regret, as you reach for the locked door handle, but Dick blocks the latch, stepping in front of you before you have a chance to wrap your hand around the lever. He knows exactly what buttons to press and genuine annoyance, anger, and frustration fill the space where your poor imitation of remorse once occupied. Through gritted teeth, you command him, lowly, “Move, Dick.”

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart,” He says it so easily, with a sorrowful sigh and undisputed repentance, that you almost buy the sincerity he’s trying to sell. Unfortunately, for him, you’re not in the market for his misery. He’s a few years too late. Dick can turn his charm up to ten thousand- he can say all the right things and plead with his perfect crystalline eyes- but you won’t risk everything you’ve fought for for a few crocodile tears. You know, now, that you’re better than that. One way or another, you’re getting out of this bathroom- and if you have to go through him to do so, then so be it.

“And you know I’m not above fighting you, right?” He’s entirely unprepared for your snark, the bite that fuels your reply nearly nipping his sense of control straight from the palm of his hand. It’s obvious that this isn’t the same game that it once was, but something much more dangerous. “The dance wasn’t enough?” With your arms across your chest, you challenge, and he hates the way you’re looking at him- like your eyes are piercing straight through him instead of actually looking at him. If you bothered to look closely enough, you’d be able to decipher all of the blatant emotions he’s never been the greatest at hiding. One look and you’d see him- and his heart beating proudly on his sleeve. It’s why you don’t spare him a glance. “You still feeling nostalgic for old times? Because this feels awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

“What are you going to do with the money?” He asks, fighting to keep his voice stern. His poker face was never the best- or, maybe you could just read him better than most people could. Still, as he stands before you, he grapples with his devotion to whatever this competition is. This clash will never see a winner- only two losers- and he knows it. You do, too- but unlike him, you’re not willing to back down without a fight.

“Give it back to those who rightfully deserve it.” He doesn’t deserve your honesty. He has no right to the truth, but you don’t have it in you to scheme an elaborate lie. However gratifying it might’ve been to feed him false information and watch him fly in circles, you’re too exhausted for mental gymnastics. Like clockwork, you give, and he takes- his stare narrowing, almost accusatorially.

“And who are you to decide who rightfully deserves it?” There’s an edge to his question- like he can’t fathom justice without his divine intervention- and it’s grating, the way he can make you feel so small, and worthless with a single sentence. His arrogance is astounding. Who was he to seek vengeance against Slade Wilson? Who was he to target Heartless? Who was he to sentence Tony Zucco to his death- by placing him behind bars, and granting other enemies easy access to the crime lord, which ultimately led to his demise? The self-righteous guilt trip nearly gives you whiplash from how fast it makes your head spin. He’s no different than you are- no better or worse, since you operate on the same playing field. He doesn’t get to act like he is. Someone needs to knock him down a few pegs, and you’re happily up for the challenge.

“Who are you to try to stop me?”

“Someone who knows you,” He replies, instinctively. “Someone who’s a friend, not a foe.”

“Hmm,” With a bitter laugh, your stomach churns- twisting, clenching, and swirling with swells of irritation, regret, and sorrow- and although it’s a familiar discomfort, it’s been years since you’ve felt the threat of splintering cracks, chipping away at the stone-cold facade of your exterior. Come to think of it, the last time you felt this way was when Selina had told you that Dick left for San Francisco. The reminder fills you with a bitterness you’ve long tried to suppress, and as it bubbles to the surface, so do all of the repressed thoughts and emotions that’ve haunted you for years.

For a moment, you ache- chasing forgotten remembrance plagued by wistfulness. Then, you burn.

“Friends call every once in a while, and if they can’t make it to a phone, they send a postcard to let you know that they’re still alive and well.” Vexation forces your eyes to narrow, the color of your eyes morphing into something much more bleak. With a heavy exhale- filled with frustration and a semblance of humility- you remind him, “Friends don’t disappear into thin fucking air without letting you know why- especially, after those friends, were always a little more than just friends.” There’s a darkness behind your eyes that Dick’s not familiar with, and a weight settles in the hollow emptiness of his chest before sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly- the tastes of bile, rue, and shame all indiscernible from one another as he forces them back down.

He knows you’re right.

While his absence was abrupt, it had nothing to do with any ill will towards you. There was never a falling out- no crossing a line of no return or being pushed past a point that shattered a shared fantasy. Though the bullet posed no real threat of death by passing through his arm- beyond the phantom agony of lead tearing through flesh, and the hot, wet feeling of crimson pouring from the wound- a part of Dick Grayson did, in fact, die that night, at the hands of the Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime set off a domino effect when he fired at the young Boy Wonder, inevitably altering the course of his life forever. Acts of violent intent seldom harm a single soul, and as if it were fated, you became another casualty from an attack that was never meant for you.

When Bruce fired Dick, he was angry. Back then, thoughts of hanging up the cape never, ever, crossed his mind. Back then, he was content with fighting crime alongside his mentor, and never really considered what would happen next- or if there’d even be a next, or an after. He felt betrayed, abandoned, and filled with cynicism. As selfish as it was, you weren’t even really an afterthought in the downfall of his life caving in and swallowing him whole. He needed time to heal- time to rebuild- and prioritize who he was when he wasn’t hiding in the shadows left behind by a cape and cowl. Years passed, and with time to reflect, Dick’s bitter resentment morphed into a new kind of devotion to himself, and the few that started to look to him for guidance.

Before the Titans, he never really considered himself to be a leader. He spent most of his life abiding by rules and plans- roles and paths- that were set for him by another. Had he been hungry for control before, his first real taste solidified an insatiable appetite for the very thing he felt himself deprived of for too many years. Though, he’d come to learn that there was an ugly side to the power he wielded. Some days, the responsibility felt like a burden, and others, he felt like his guilt and uncertainty would swallow him whole. He bottled up all of his doubts, packed them somewhere deep inside the closed-off caverns in his heart where darker demons haunted, and forced them elsewhere- out of sight, and out of mind, but never truly gone.

It’s not fair that, somehow, you’ve come to possess the key that matches the lock on his Pandora’s box. Every emotion, every feeling, and every thought meant to be suppressed and banished to a place where they couldn’t torment or harm him, refuses to go gently when one simple, magnetic look threatens to release them from their cages of skin and bone. The most daunting realization of all, however, is that he’s the one to blame- for everything.

For all of it.

Selfishly, he’s hoped for an ember amongst the carnage he’s created. He’s held onto some convoluted idea of hope that whatever was once alight could be reignited again if he fully committed himself to an apology, but he failed to acknowledge the amount of ashes he’d have to sift through for a hint of a spark. There’s too much disappointment, too much duplicity, regret, and time passed between the two of you for things to ever revert back to even a semblance of what they once were.

He looks to you now, and he sees it- your anger is a mask for your pain. It’s so faint he almost misses it, but your lip threatens to wobble. Beyond the wrath you try to convey with the narrowed glare of your eyes, he watches as thinly veiled yearning mingles with what’s left of the color of your irises- simultaneously faint, yet prominent to the only other person who knows what it’s like to push away the person you love. What Dick and you shared wasn’t love, but it could’ve been and that’s what you’re both mourning- what could’ve been.

“You and I aren’t friends, Dick.” He hates the finality behind your conviction. It’s so cold, and void of the warmth he associated with you once upon a time. A split second threatens to expose the façade, and you blink back tears instead of allowing them to fall- swallowing emotion and banishing it elsewhere. Feelings have no place here. Instead, you grit your teeth, clenching them together so tightly that your jaw begins to ache. He watches you struggle to commit to the act- because that’s what your rage is, an outlet for your passions- and as you take a step closer toward him, his breath hitches. “Now, get out of my way,”

Toe to toe, you meet his gaze, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, despite your best efforts to disguise what you truly feel, Dick sees right through you- recognizing the parts of you that you try to mold and shape into something else. After all, he’s your greatest weakness- and you’re his. You always have been, and he always will be.

He dares to move. This close, he resists the urge to reach out for you and never let you go again, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you. Hesitantly, he raises his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as the shaky tips of his fingers graze your chin with a tenderness you’ve sought since the last time you felt it. The air is tense, passed back and forth by sharp breaths and thundering pulses- intimate with warmth and affection that mimics that of a simpler time- and when his palm rests against your cheek, cradling it with such gentle endearment in the face of betrayal, you let him. Dick’s throat bobs, and he pours everything he can’t bring himself to say into such a delicate touch. Every apology he wishes he had the courage to speak aloud, every declaration of devotion he was too afraid to voice, and every inevitable truth he attempted to ignore lingers, and you can feel it- in every shy stroke of his thumb across your cheek.

“You’re not going to distract me,” A single tear merges with the pad of his thumb- a testament to your resilience, but no match for the broken, battered, beaten bond you share with the man before you- and your certainty begins to dwindle. There’s a string that ties you to him- an invisible thread strong enough to stitch the two of you back together when you should remain apart- but you’re destined for him, the same way he’s always been destined for you.

It was foolish to believe any differently.

“I’m not trying to distract you,” Barely above a whisper, he pleads, desperate to make you understand, “I’m trying to apologize.”

He hangs his head with defeat, his shoulder slumping forward as he peers down at you. He’s never known such cruel torture. Such sick and twisted suffering is self-inflicted. The past erodes his future, but he can’t stop himself from resurrecting his demons. Foolishly, he invites them to haunt him further- and you’re no exception. His tightrope is stretched taut, and it’s a long way down. How much longer can he balance between anemoia and actuality before tipping one way or the other? It’s insanity- repeating the same act and hoping for a different outcome- but Dick can’t bring himself to accept that this time won’t be different. If nothing else, the possibility that this never-ending game could crown two winners is enough for him to play the martyr, and suffer whatever repercussions might follow after barring himself whole. What more does he have to lose, if not everything he’s already lost, again?

It would be so easy to reach past him and turn the lock in your favor, granting your escape. Hell, with the way he’s looking at you now, you know that he wouldn’t even put up a fight. He’d let you waltz right past him, slipping through his fingers for the umpteenth time because he knows that this time won’t be the last. It never is. Visions blurred by uncertainty flash before your eyes- infinite possibilities, each with consequences and punishments, rewards and sacrifices- but the unknown doesn’t elicit the same adrenaline-filled excitement that it once did. Maybe because this time, Dick isn’t fighting back. Surrendering his shield, he abandons resistance- instead, entrusting you with the vulnerability that spills from his heart, blood crimson against his fingers as he squeezes it with each thump and thud- crumbling before you, and submitting everything he has to give to you. Even if he can’t bring himself to support your cause.

You lean in closer, drawn to him- the same way you always have been, and likely, always will be- and your palm hovers over his chest. For a second, it’s unclear whether or not you’re going to reach out for him or push him away, but when your hand meets the fabric that covers hard muscle, you know you’re done for- because in the same ways he’s willing to fall before you, you’re willing to fall before him, too. Over and over again. Repeatedly and infinitely.

“Well, you have impeccable timing,” Your reproach is close enough for him to taste. It wavers against his lips and slips past his tongue, allowing him to savor parts of you he hasn’t been allowed to indulge in for so long. There’s no mistaking the invitation of your reprover, and Dick’s palm rests against your lower back, coaxing you closer towards him as his nose brushes against yours. It’s dizzying, and your arms find their way around his neck to steady yourself when he rests his forehead against yours with a soft sigh. The irony of the situation isn’t lost upon you- even when the two of you have ceded to one another, you’re still fighting to see who will give in first. As if he’s come to the realization at the same time, a large hand- rough and callused, but soft and tender in the way that it trembles against your cheek with anticipation- encourages you to tilt your head back, and you follow his lead. You hold your breath as your lips part, and Dick surges forward, slotting his mouth against yours in a kiss that’s fueled by the release of years of pent-up longing, need, and want. The gesture is foreign, yet familiar. Reminiscent of the past, yet entirely new. Everything you remember and everything you’ve ever dreamed of merge together in this moment and bring life to what had only ever been fantasy before his lips found yours once more.

It’s exhilarating.

“I missed you,” The affirmation rumbles against your skin, warm with fervor and urgency, and it’s completely unnecessary- considering that each movement acts as a balm to soothe wounds of time, fear, and doubt- but he vows with each breath, relying on words to convey what his actions can not, and vice versa. Masks are off. Shields have been abandoned. Capes remain long forgotten at the door. This is no longer about duty or morality. No, this moment is about two people seeking confirmation for what they’ve always known to be true- that a love unspoken, but never absent has always existed between them. Two people- not vigilantes or heroes- two hearts, beating to guide the other back, are bare, open, honest, and raw without the theatrics of a chase or the pretense of a game. Surrender invites you to balance on the edge of a precipice, and you’re the first to lose your footing.

Desperation is an influence, and his lapels wrinkle with the severity of your hold. Through the haze of everything unknown, he’s the only thing that’s clear, and you reach for him- blindly, but intentionally- clawing at the fabric that keeps him from you. Clashing teeth and bruising grips don’t elicit pain, not when real suffering exists in the absence of the other, and you allow him to paint you violet, blue, green, and red with desire, becoming the embodiment of his want. Your only regret is that the evidence of this divine crime will eventually fade away to nothing more than a memory- another ache that will never dull, a moment so unique that it can never be replicated. As you rejoice, you mourn.

“Sure you did.” His blazer drops to the floor as you follow your script, hardly taking a moment to realize that the page you’re reading from is blank- without word or direction- as you venture into unknown territory. Even when you don’t mean to be, you’re combative. Even when you don’t want to be, you’re still on edge. This is different. This already feels different than before, and maybe it’s because there’s a lot more at stake now that both of you have already lost one another, but for as overdue as this homecoming is, something subconsciously prolongs it further.

“No, really, I-“ He begins, ready to mold rhetoric and force it to take on a form that would allow you to see just how much you mean to him, but that would make this real, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for this to be real yet- because if this is real, if this isn’t just a cruel imitation of memory like so many variations before or a concocted fantasy so vivid you can feel yourself shaking, then that means you can lose it all, again. Just like last time. Within your grip, one minute, slipping through your fingers the next.

“Don’t.” Fear sounds different when there’s a bite to it. It could almost pass as annoyance, if you’re able to keep your voice just steady enough, and he mistakes the command for irritation, rather than the timidity it actually is. Whatever you’ve intended and he’s interpreted gets lost along the way, and he takes a hesitant step back. It’s impossible not to lunge for him as he retreats, but you remain still- your breath hitching when he holds both hands out to you, surrendering his palms while he shows he meant no harm.

“Can I…”

“You don’t have to ask,” You silence his fears quickly, closing the space between you before you even realize that you’ve taken a step. This self-sacrificial eagerness to light yourself on fire just to keep him warm has always been one of your greatest downfalls, but a most ardent gesture, and with ash on your tongue and soot in your lungs, you strike a match the minute he begins to second guess himself. “Just pretend it’s like before.” The suggestion sounds just as unsure as you are, but with a heavy breath, you encourage, “Pretend that nothing’s changed…pretend that we’re still…” You can’t even bring yourself to say it, because the kids you were back then are gone. They’re never coming back. You can’t avenge them or try to seek vengeance for what they’ve lost. It’s over for them, but this is just the start of this new beginning for the two of you. “Just for tonight.”

He moves promptly, gathering the skirts of your dress in one hand, fisting the fabric- a blue so dark he mistook it for black, or perhaps it was, until his fingertips were close enough to paint the illusion with light, making it appear different than it was- without any regard for creases or lingering proof of your affair. Support rests at your back, his chest firm and protective as you lean into the rippling muscle, and Dick continues to illuminate shadows of the past with each touch- eager to help you forget all of the agonies suffered at his hands in favor of remembering glimpses of peace. He’s ready to give you more than just a taste. Now, he wants to gorge you with the pleasure he’s reserved.

His hands shake- not with hesitancy, but anticipation, and when you catch his eye in the mirror, you shiver. You’ve never seen a blue so dark it looks black- until now. Without warning, he mouths at your neck- kissing, sucking, biting, any part of you he can get his lips on- reacquainting himself with parts of you that were once so familiar, and you allow him to explore. Blindly, you reach for one of his hands, taking it in your own, and he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours, but you gently guide his hand where you want it most- and he lets you, following your lead just as impulsively. You jolt at the first brush of his fingertips between your legs, even though you were expecting it, and he lets out a few ragged breaths against the back of your neck. It’s paradoxical, the chills that contradict the flush of your skin, but this relationship has never really made sense before. Why should that change now?

Almost as if he’s in a trance, Dick is overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the evening, but the whiplash is starting to subside in favor of something much more exhilarating. He never thought he’d have this again. He believed moments like these to be lost to time, and he wasted years grieving memories he could never replicate, only to feel the weight of your body against his once more. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything he never knew he wanted or needed until it was stolen from him, swiped right out from under his nose by his own negligence. He won’t make the same mistakes this time. No, this time, he’s going to do it right. He’s going to-

“Fuck,” When you grow tired of his stalling, you force his hand, again. This time, when your fingers meet his wrist, you press your palm on top of his- coercing him to mimic the shape- and maybe you’re the one in control, or maybe he finally rises to the occasion, but with a newfound determination, he cups your cunt- a choked sound catching in his throat when he feels how wet you are. You briefly wonder how something so vulgar can sound so pretty, but you already know the answer- it’s him. It’s always been him. Had it been anyone else, the effect would cease to exist, but it’s Dick, and that desire- that pull that you can’t ever deny- will always bind you to him.

You can’t help yourself from rutting against his palm, and he presses himself further into your back, allowing you to feel the hard outline of his cock against your ass. The hand that isn’t between your legs rests on your arm, and when he tries to hold your hand, you don’t deny him. There’s just too much fabric for you to hold in just one hand and some of it drapes over his forearm, but you manage to keep most of it from obscuring his movements. It’s a strange angle, and both of you are fumbling to make it work, but you crane your neck in search of him, and he answers your call with an eager kiss. Your tongue caresses his, savoring the feeling and committing it to memory, just in case-

He swallows your surprised gasp when he nudges your panties aside and begins to circle your clit. With just a bit of pressure, a crease forms where your eyebrows pull together, and you untangle your hand from his hold to brace yourself against the counter. It’s been a while since someone else has touched you, and it’s been even longer since the last time Dick had, but it’s so much better than evocations of pleasure. You swear figments are tangible. Spurred on by the reaction his touch has coaxed from you, he’s torn between making the moment last as long as possible or picking up the pace. He settles on the latter, considering that if this is heading the way he hopes it’s heading, he’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to you, but right now, he’s on borrowed time. You both are. With the reminder looming overhead, he adjusts his hand so that he can continue to work your clit while lining up a finger with your pussy. You’re so wet, and warm when he curls his middle finger inside, and he can’t remember why he ever left in the first place. What persuaded him away from Gotham when you were always right here? Would you have waited for him? Would you have followed him if he asked you to? He supposes none of that matters now, but he can’t help but wonder…

He adds a second finger, and even though your body gives little resistance to the intrusion, you groan at the feeling. His fingers are so long, reaching that spot inside of you that your fingers are just too short to reach, and they’re thick enough for you to feel yourself stretching around him with each thrust- not enough to cause pain, but an ache that serves as a reminder that it’s been too long since the last time you’ve had him like this. You vow not to let another ten years pass before you let him have you, again.

He continues a steady pace, curling his fingers in such a way that sweat begins to glisten across your chest, and when a third finger threatens to join his others, you wrap your hand around his wrist- abruptly halting his movements.

“N-not enough time,” He doesn’t even get the chance to ask before you supply him with an answer, but he nods in understanding once you offer an explanation. He’s already reaching for his belt, unbuckling the clasp and roughly shoving his slacks down before you have a chance to catch your breath, and you’re grateful- if the speed in which he undresses is any indication of his own eagerness- that he’s just as desperate for you, as you are for him. Taking a moment to adjust your skirts so that you don’t have to hold them, you bunch them above your hips and lean forward, resting your forearms against the counter while Dick frees himself from his boxers, and when you look back in the mirror and catch sight of his cock behind you, you can’t help but swallow thickly.

He strokes himself a few times, smearing the pre-cum beading from his slit down his shaft as he prepares to take you. This doesn’t feel like last time. As he reaches for your waist and lines himself up with your cunt, this doesn’t feel like last time at all. This is new, and different and everything he’s wanted ever since the last time he had you in his grasp. This time, he won’t let you get away. With as much self-restraint as he can manage, you feel the tip of his cock against your opening, slowly splitting you open, and your back arches. Your own strangled cry prompts a groan from him he sinks into you, inch by inch until his hips are flush against you. You’re so full that you’re not sure if it’s too much or not enough.

“I’ve got you,” Dick assures, his grip on your hip tightening when he feels you struggling to accommodate him. He tries to be a gentleman. He tries to give you a few minutes to adjust- even though he wants nothing more than to take what’s right under his nose, what’s always been his- but his restraint snaps when he feels you begin to rock back against him.

“Move,” You command, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. With your permission, he’s happy to follow orders and obliges with a sharp thrust upwards. The sound you make is a mix between a sob and a moan, and his fingers flex against your hip as he repeats the action.

“I forgot…” Through clenched teeth, he confesses, and you don’t think anything of the admission, too lost within your own feelings to attempt to decipher his. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist, offering thick muscle to serve as a buffer between your body and the stone he has you pressed up against- relying on intimate gestures to make up for words lost in translation. Even now, when you’re not on the same page, you still know. Somehow, you know, and he does, too. Every time. Without fail. Always. Your head rolls back to meet his shoulder, and your fingertips claw at the back of his neck awkwardly, with transparent desperation to pull him closer. Within reach isn’t close enough. Near is too far. With a muted gasp, you push back to meet his next thrust, and he hisses softly before elaborating, “I’m so sorry if I made you forget.”

“Dick-“ Realization begins to splinter the mirage of bliss, and you manage to say his name with enough caution to serve as a warning. You don’t want to think about the past. Not right now. Not when you can see your future so clearly in the foggy reflection of the vanity. He wraps his hand around your neck, encouraging you to bare your throat to him and he licks at the vein that calls out to him.

“I won’t let you forget, not this time.” He vows, bucking his hips faster and faster as you whine in his hold. In some sick twisted way, he loves that he’s the only one who has this power over you- that he’s the only one who could ever elicit such a reaction- and it’s a testament to how much the two of you care for one another; the influence both of you have over one another. “This time, I want to remember.”

It’s going to be impossible not to.

“I-“ He can barely get a word out with how good you feel around him, and he takes a breath before trying again. “I know you want to pretend, but fuck…I can’t.” Dick wraps his arm around you, guiding your back to rest against his chest, and one of his large hands splays across your stomach, where he can feel himself inside of you. “I really did miss you,” Somehow he manages to find his voice. “Not just like this, either,”

“I-I missed you, too.” You don’t seem certain, not with the way you stutter, but your reply is genuine. It only appears dubious because Dick’s palm begins to press against you, and you all but choke on your confession. He can’t help himself, but neither can you.

“I’m close,” He rasps, brokenly. “Shit,” His thrusts begin to falter, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Are you-“

“Yes!” You yelp when his fingers start circling your clit, and he doesn’t relent, even when he feels you start to tremble beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by him, in the best way possible, and as eager as you are to chance your release, a part of you never wants this moment to end. “Dick, please d-don’t stop,” Your muscles grow taut, and when his thrusts lose their precision, you know that he’s almost there. “Just like before,” You encourage him, clenching hard when he bites your shoulder and your orgasm washes over you. “J-just like before.”

He knows what you’re asking for. He understands what you’re practically begging for, and in a fleeting moment of clarity, he catches a glimpse of the faded scar on your arm- his only regret being the fact that an implant still stands in the way of what he truly wants with you- but the thought disappears as quickly as it materializes.

A few seconds more and he grunts against your neck, pulling your hips to meet his and spilling himself inside of you. It’s even better than you remember and your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. Luckily, he’s there to keep you upright. Your vision starts to blur and the only sound you’re able to make out is both of you struggling to catch your breaths. With a heavy sigh, he pulls out, and you can feel his cum start to leak from you, but you’re too disoriented to clean it up. Instead, you lean forward, relying on the countertop for support as you hang your head and try to come back to your senses.

Dick leaves a trail of soft kisses down the back of your neck and his forehead is both warm and damp when it meets your shoulder, resting comfortably against your skin while he takes a minute to catch his breath, and these sensations- these tiny little reminders that he’s here, this moment is present and real- ground you. Where your mind is a mess, reeling with indecision, emotions, and thoughts you can’t yet process, your body is at ease.

As your eyes flutter shut, greedy gulps of air fail to satisfy your lungs, and you swallow thickly, allowing pressure to build up in your chest until you simply can’t take it anymore. Darkness saturates all that you can see, and you’re caught in a void- trapped, without any light to guide you back home. The gentle caress of his touch along your arm brands you, flush enough to make you burn with reminders of this fleeting moment- when embers of devotion inevitably fade into ashes- and you stiffen in his hold, not that he’s coherent enough to notice.

He seems to be in his little world as he tucks himself back into his pants and presses another gentle kiss to your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. Violent delights really do have violent ends and it’s not fair that you let it get this far without thinking about the consequences of your actions. None of this would’ve happened if you just let yourself love him- without fear, without judgment, without regret- and if you had just been honest with yourself all those years ago, this mess would’ve never spiraled so far out of your control.

Whatever repercussion await you, you’ll brave. Regardless of what happens next, you know that you have to tell him the truth- even if it kills you. The thought is often more daunting than the action itself, but as you turn yourself around in his arms so that you’re facing him, you’re petrified.

“I’m sorry,” The magnitude of your apology isn’t supported by the handful of letters that arrange themselves as they slip past your tongue. There has to be a better way to express your remorse, but if one exists it evades you. Over and over again, the same words come to mind and it’s not fair that you know exactly what you want to say, but you just can’t find the right words to absolve your shame. At your inability to voice your regret, frustration overwhelms you. Your lips part, ready to divulge your sins, but only a pathetic, meek sigh comes out. Why is this so difficult? You know the answer, and yet, you play the part of the fool- leaning on ignorance as a crutch for what you can’t bring yourself to brave. He deserves it, doesn’t he? The truth- not something partial, but whole. Transparency is the only piece left of a nearly complete puzzle, the only thing keeping this tragic tale of two lovers who break each other’s hearts only to stitch them back together again from reaching its inevitably doomed end. When your lip begins to tremble, Dick reaches for you, pulling you into his chest and embracing you in a hold that’s absolutely suffocating. You don’t deserve his kindness. You don’t deserve his love or affection- his tenderness or his forgiveness.

You don’t deserve him.

“Me too,” He sighs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before resting his head on top of yours. You can hear his heart- how steady it beats- and the sound rivals the racing of your own where it threatens to burst straight from your chest, and your eyes flutter shut, savoring the gentle lull of his own serenity before you poison his relief with your own disruption. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it may be, you know that you have to tell him. With a breath, you prepare for carnage.

“No, Dick, I-“

“Dick? Are you in here?” Barbara’s voice seeps through the wooden barrier that separates the two of you from the rest of the world- from reality- and as soon as she calls out to him, the illusion of tranquility is broken. Of course, it’s her. Of course, she’d be the one to interrupt you before you had the chance to speak, and of course, it would be her that drives a wedge further between the two of you with one simple revelation, “They’re getting away!”

It’s almost impossible to miss the sounds of commotion that follow her declaration. Faint screams and chaos replace the background of symphony strings and he turns to you then, a divot dividing the smooth skin of his forehead while his eyes narrow. Blue is black. Dark, and unmistakable. The muscle in his jaw looks like it’s about to burst with the severity of his clenching and his nostrils flare with a shallow exhale. It’s excruciating to watch him slip back into consciousness after being caught up in a dream, but a nightmare unfolds before you, twisting your stomach into knots so intricate they threaten to snap. You can’t breathe, and when you gather enough courage to finally take a step forward, he takes a step back. He’s never looked at you with so much hostility before, and you open your mouth to explain, to shower him with honesty and desperate pleas to make him understand that this wasn’t meant to happen like this, but no sound comes out. Not even a sigh. Not even a huff. Not even a pathetic, broken whimper. Nothing.

Unfortunately, Dick’s left to draw his own conclusions- to fill in the gaps in which your silence fails to atone for your crimes- and he paints a picture so drastically different from the truth, relying on his interpretation to establish a story so vivid he believes it to be real- even if it’s a figment of his own imagination, a product of his own devastation. Dispelled doubts come rushing back, and he allows them to influence the narrative- since you still can’t seem to find your voice- and everything left unsaid becomes louder in the silence. He mistakes your tears for guilt, instead of recognizing the regret and shame that mingle with saltwater. As gutted as he is, he looks to you for an explanation, but you can’t bring yourself to justify what you’ve done- even if it wasn’t your intention. Distracting him was part of the plan. Keeping him occupied was your mission, but confessing your true feelings and allowing yourself to fall back in love with him- not just the idea of what it would be like to love him- wasn’t part of your job description.

The second your paths crossed again, you were done for. It was never about seeking vengeance or getting even for the hurt that he caused you, because the minute that Dick waltzed back into your life, you knew you were doomed- because he makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak- and you let him. Every single time. Always and forever. Infinitely.

When he looks at you, he looks past you and towards your belongings on the counter. No. You shake your head, vehemently encouraging him to look away. If his eyes would just meet yours, if only for a second, you know you could save this. If not for the sake of putting broken pieces back together you could at least salvage fragments amongst the wreckage, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. No, no, no. His attention is solely on the expensive stone behind you, and when you reach out for him, your fingertips shaking as you grasp his bicep with all of the strength you can muster, he shakes you off of him.

Everything splinters.

When he reaches for your earring, you know that this is the end. It’s all over. A new moment will erase everything you thought you knew about pain, heartbreak, suffering, and betrayal. This moment, as it unfolds before you, will plague you until you meet your demise, because the second that he dares to bring the jewel up to his own ear, the exact moment that he hears Selina’s command through the gravely static of the earpiece you discarded earlier in the evening, you know that any hope for a future together vanishes- ripped straight from your fingers before you even had the chance to hold onto it and guard it with your life.

Even with his back towards you, you can see his face harden in the reflection of the mirror. Through the thin material of his crumbled dress shirt his shoulders tense and when he finally looks up to meet your stare through the glass, all traces of red, green, and yellow are gone. A piece of him- the piece of him that you’re most familiar with- dies, sprawled out and oozing across the marble. It’s too late to try to revive him. All that’s left in the wake of his slaughter is blue and black.

Blue and black, forevermore.

There’s nothing left for either of you here. Not anymore. Hope begins to decay, and the hollow hole in your chest that only he could ever fill begins to die from rot. Nothing will ever be the same. Not after this. Perhaps the final thought passed back and forth between a glare is the last thing you’ll ever share- beyond moments of destruction and beautiful chaos- but it’s clear to you both, that not all ghosts are meant to be resurrected.

Some ghosts should just stay ghosts.

a/n: hey, I’m raen and I’m down bad for this man lol…anyway, I’ve been working on this story for months. I literally poured bits and pieces of my soul into this (so if you wouldn’t mind interacting or providing feedback I’d be forever grateful) but I just wanted to write a tale of doomed lovers who care about each other in such a way that it leads to their downfall. I wanted this to hurt, and I hope it did- in the best way possible! I’m not above begging, so please, please, please feel free to send some feedback- as this is my first time writing for Dick and I would love to hear what people think! that being said, requests are also open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 

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[hearttjason]

ugh i need best friend!jason to fuck me

imagine you’re at home with him, his head in your lap as you watch some show on the tv. you feel him shifting, thinking he’s getting comfortable but he’s actually trying to hide his boner. he didn’t mean to get all hard and horny but you’re just so pretty!! :( unfortunately for him, you notice and start teasing him.

“jay, is this all for me?” you snicker. you and him fucking isn’t a rare occurrence, so he was more than ecstatic to have you underneath him. “shut up and take your clothes off so i can fuck you,” he practically groaned. you shimmy out your shorts and panties and the sight is so fucking gorgeous that he moans.

“can never get tired of seeing this pretty fucking pussy.” with that, he spreads your legs further, space limited by the couch, but he tastes you nonetheless. as soon as his tongue touched your slick he’s moaning like a bitch in heat. you’re whimpering and begging for more and he just tells you to “shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl”.

YALLALALALALLLLLSNBDHDDJ idk what i was doing with this but i hope y’all enjoy🤭

#jason todd #hearttjason #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #dc smut #dc x reader