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martiniluvr · 1 month

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I just read your NSFW alphabet and hear me out. Jason fucking reader in the batmobile, let the man play out his fantasy

may your harvest be bountiful anon. I was praying someone would ask for this muahaha 😈 you can find the prompt from the nsfw alphabet here ❣️

18+ minors dni

warnings: semi-public but not really 🏎️

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

you should probably have tried to sound a little more appalled when jason todd told you he’d ‘borrowed’ the batmobile, but there was something about the way he was sitting in the driver’s seat, with his red hood mask over his face, and his arm hanging out of the window, that weakened your resolve.

all it took was a cock of his head and a coy, “you gettin’ in, ma?” for your scowl to melt into a giddy smile. that’s how you found yourself here; zig-zagging through traffic in gotham with a barely-reformed crime lord piloting the in the batmobile like it’s a ferrari. sure, piss off batman. what could go wrong?

thankfully, you don’t have time to dwell on the thought as jason’s hand inches up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your short dress. “wanna take a detour?” he asks, and you can practically hear his grin under the mask. you glance over at him with a smirk as he veers off the city’s main motorway, heading towards the old harbour.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason’s large hands knead the soft flesh of your ass harshly as you grind against him on his lap, dragging you along his rock hard length and drawing out another whine from your lips. maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re in the batmobile when you definitely shouldn’t be, maybe it’s that jason is in his full red hood gear, or maybe it’s just because it’s car sex—whatever the reason, there’s a sense of urgency between you that has you both rearing to go now.

you lean back slightly to unbuckle jason’s belt, your back bumping into the steering wheel as your hands move dextrously. “shit, you in a rush, princess?” he chuckles, but you barely hear him. your lower lip is between your teeth as you work fast to free his cock from his boxers, and he hisses in pleasure as you pump him gently, smearing his precum down his shaft. he reaches between your legs to hook his finger around your panties, pulling the gusset to the side.

his green eyes widen as he feels your slick drooling out of you—fuck, you really are in a rush. you align your hips with his again, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. in the dim light of the setting sun, he can see the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and it sends heat rushing down his abdomen. you brace yourself on his shoulder with your free hand, sinking down on him gradually. you’re so wet that it only takes a moment to adjust to his size before you’re rocking against him again, and he pulls you back in for another hungry kiss, guiding your hips with his hands.

jason grins as he feels your cunt tightening around him when he brings his fingertips to your clit. “what, already, ma?” he teases, pretending his own release isn’t just moments away. “c’mon, that’s gotta be a new record.” you try to laugh, but he increases the pressure on your clit, and you arch your back as the coil in your belly tightens. shit, you realise, you’re about to cum in the fucking batmobile.

“fuck, jay, I’m so—” you begin, tangling your fingers in his hair. he cuts you off by sucking harshly at the delicate skin of your throat, and instantly you feel the coil snap. you cry out as you convulse around jason’s cock, slumping forward onto his muscular chest with a shiver. the sensation of your walls clamping down on him like a vice makes jason dig his fingers into your flesh as he pumps his own release into you, swearing raggedly as his hips buck.

the batmobile is silent apart from your heavy breaths, and the windows are conspicuously fogged up. you’re glad the harbour is deserted, or rumours might start circulating about what batman gets up to in his free time. jason runs his hands along your back tenderly, laughing to himself. “what?” you ask with a smile, picking your head up off his chest.

“that’s been on the bucket list for a while’,” he grins, and you giggle. you’re about to pull him in for another kiss when an incoming message from bruce wayne that makes your eyes widen lights up the dash. you know there’s a tracker in the car. I suggest you and your guest bring it back now. there’s a pause, and you and jason share a panicked look right as a second message comes through. in good condition.

#jason todd 🤝 defacing the batmobile #his beef with that car…unparalleled #luv u brucie xoxo #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dc comics #batman #batfam #batmobile #fem reader #batboys

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rosedom · 20 hours

Text

"you have invited ALHAITHAM to play . . . operation steal my heart

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!alhaitham, too much foreplay, too little sex, (light) jealousy, wall sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, PIV sex, no written aftercare .

A/N : hi guys ,, i'm not dead ,, no matter how much life kicks my ass, i'm still horny !!

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

“Can you at least keep the ring somewhere on you?” you whine, big ol’ puppydog eyes looking up at your fiancé.

Alhaitham fondly rolls his eyes. “So possessive—I’ll keep it in my pocket. Satisfied?” As proof, he opens his breast pocket and, rather theatrically, lets the silver band fall into it, cushioned by the small handkerchief he had stuffed in there prior. (The square of fabric also, conveniently, hides two small pills.

Just in case.)

Your voice is, quite frankly, pathetic, whining out an “I guess” as you stand to your feet, coming nose to nose with him. Unable to help yourself, you rub your noses together, a whisper of a kunik. “It just—ugh!” You throw your hands up, stepping back and an arm’s length away—the perfect distance for Alhaitham to reach out for one of your hands once they come back down. “I don’t like sharing, ‘s all.”

“Don’t sound so pitiful,” Alhaitham murmurs cooly, yet he draws you back into him all the while. “You know the place better than me; otherwise, you’d be doing this.”

And, this?

This turns out to be your fiancé, hand in hand with another man as he serenades him with nothing but the delicate batter of his eyelashes, of the rich wine-scent washing over them both. Even from your perch on the balcony, you know that Alhaitham is not drunk—hardly so. He sips at the wine only when their target watches, and, even then, he lets it dribble back into the glass as he dumps it into the bushes, little by little, each time the man turns.

Over the crack of your earbuds, you can hear the way Alhaitham dips his voice low, the way he chuckles at the downright atrocious jokes that the man makes. (Although you know that his chuckles are forced and far different from how he truly laughs with you, it still pulls at your heart and makes jealousy burn behind that weak organ of yours.)

But so is the mission, and so you must endure—even as Alhaitham’s touch lingers, even as the man lays his lecherous eyes on your groom-to-be, even as the hand he places on Alhaitham’s hip begins to travel too far down, and Alhaitham lets it.

He has to let it.

He has to let it, and that is his cue to up the ante; and so he murmurs, all soft n’ sweet, so—so reminiscent of how he is with you, with only you, (faux-) submission buttering up his words all smooth. Leaning into the fingers dipping along the waist of his trousers, Alhaitham brushes his lips against the man’s cheeks and whispers, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

The microphone hidden in Alhaitham’s pocket catches the barely-there groan, and your sharp eyes—even through the binoculars—catch the way the man’s fly is distressed, taut. Hook, line, sinker: all there, all right in the man’s boner.

“I was thinking the same,” he slurs, hand dropping from Alhaitham’s ass to grab him by the hand (the same hand that strokes your cock, the same hand that digs into your shoulders with each thrust—

Down, boy.) “I know a place.”

And so, he leads Alhaitham down a long hall, glancing back often with heated eyes. Trained as he is, Alhaitham meets them all, and they pass the corner, out of your vision but loud still in your ears.

“This is it,” he says, the click of the door masked with a sigh.

“Yeah.” The shuffle of fabric. “We’re alone now.” To hear Alhaitham’s voice in such a manner is disorienting, and, really, the tone almost makes your own pants tight.

“You've been driving me mad,” the man murmurs. Then there's a wet smacking sound, and Alhaitham moans.

It’s not a true moan, you know, but it still pulls at you, makes jealousy boil in your gut. “Wait—” he whispers, breathless as a dame, and murmurs, “I got something that could make this better. Trust me?”

The rest comes in a blur, and your mind does its best to stay focused but to simultaneously blot out the man’s dirty remarks, the low groans and matching pleas of your fiancé. You hear the way Alhaitham pops the pills, hear their wet kiss, know that the pills slid from Alhaitham’s tongue into the man’s throat—know because Alhaitham never fails at a mission.

“W-wait—” the man stutters, his stumbling sounds echoing. “W-what—what did you do?”

Alhaitham says no other words, and such is your own cue to come in. You share nothing but glances as the two of you dispose of the man’s body; and as you bury him, you take care to stick the shovel in his crotch.

Take that.

“That was excessive,” Alhaitham murmurs, finally sighing and leaning into you for the first touch since the mission.

“He touched you—”

“He was supposed to: that was the plan, habibi.”

You scoff, but you brush a kiss against his cheek. “I know, I just—

He tilts his head into you, then, forces your lips to press into his. He smiles, wry, then murmurs, “You’re the only one for me.”

Grinning, falling into the game, you ask, “Oh?” with a heavy lilt in your accent. Alhaitham’s eyes go hazy, simply at that, and you dip your fingers into his breast pocket, your fingers flush against his quickening heartbeat. “Is that so?”

“It is,” he replies, voice far too smooth for your liking. You lean down and mouth at his exposed throat, delighting in the rumble of a moan you feel against you. “Mm—”

You pull back far too soon, though, the ring successfully retrieved and held secure between your pointer and thumb. “I miss you being mine,” you murmur as you take his hand, slide on your wedding band.

His breath leaves him when you lay a soft kiss against his knuckles, the warm gold sinking into your lips, a comfortable reminder. “I’ve always been yours, ya hayati,” he shakily says; because for all that Alhaitham is a genius, a philosopher, he is simply a man—a man smitten by you.

“And I’m yours,” you promise against his lips. Your tongue slithers in, easy with the way his lips part just-so, and you taste bitter coffee mixed with a sort of sweet relief on your tastebuds. All the while, you take greedy handfuls of everything Alhaitham: his hips, his strong thighs, all the way to his bulging biceps and ending with a gentle squeeze around his throat. He swallows heavily beneath your palm before you slide away, letting your hands drop back to his thighs in order to squeeze the flesh there, too, even through his fancy-pant slacks.

Then: “Want me to show you how you're the only one for me?” you ask, knee bumping up between his legs. He groans, low and throaty, before he places his hands on your chest, lightly pushes you away.

“Not here.”

You grin. “Then lead the way, handsome.”

The walk home is difficult, to say the least. The adrenaline—the jealousy—of the mission still thrums through you, and it takes all your remaining willpower not to bend your fiancé over anything you pass: first a parked car, then the seats to your own truck. (Cut yourself some slack, though; you saw Alhaitham’s fuck me eyes staring at you the whole way home.)

And, of course: your own erection.

When you’re finally home, you throw open the door with a sigh of relief, a whine of, “I’m so hard,” before Alhaitham is trudging in right after you and gets pressed to the wall. Your knee slides right where it belongs, right between those thick, tantalizing thighs, grinding against his groin. He moans from his chest, rumbling through you where you’ve pressed yourself close, and his hands wrap themselves around your shoulders.

You think you can’t get any more desperate for him; and then he goes and whines your name, says, “I love you, only ever you,” and it’s over.

Crisp suit jacket, emerald tie, shirt—you tug it all off, quick, greedy, until he’s left right there in the foyer with only the stitches of his thin boxers on him. And, oh, what a sight that is: Alhaitham in nothing but his boxers with the seat soaked through. His inner thighs are shimmering, glimmering from his leaking pre-cum, and your cock throbs.

You groan. “I want you, Hayi,” you murmur, tonguing at his throat as you slide a hand down his front, down his happy trail. He shivers beneath your touch, presses his hips forward.

“Then have me.”

Oh, you will.

You fall to your knees, grinning up at him.

“Oh—oh—it’s—it’s too much—” He shoves his knuckles into his mouth, biting down harshly against his skin. You grin around your mouthful, cock heavy on your tongue and cunt loose on your fingers.

“Too much, is it?” you ask, the vibrations of the question making a wrecked lil’ cry fall from Alhaitham’s lips. The one leg he has hiked up on your shoulder trembles, and the leg he has keeping himself up threatens to fall. Your fingers—three of ‘em, all in to the knuckle—slide out of him in order to take hold of either hip, assuring you both that you got him. “You haven’t even cum yet, sweetheart.”

As you talk, as you steady him—his cock stays snug in your mouth, your lips wrapped tight around the throbbing head of it. He moans, groans, cries, sobs—it’s a symphony of something beautiful, something Alhaitham would never admit to creating.

(It’s beautiful, seeing the way Alhaitham lets go. This sight truly is just for you, and that fact makes your jealous heart calm.)

However, you do want an answer soon; so you let your spit gather around him, let him fall out of your mouth messily, let his slick coat your chin. You wipe none of it. “Well?” you goad him on, eager to hear what it is he wants.

“P-please,” he gasps, disheveled to hell and back with the hickeys to match. His body rolls within your hold, desperate to get your mouth back on him, desperate to finish all over your face.

But it seems, even naked, Alhaitham has a few tricks up his sleeve. He manages a broken, “Not yet,” that forces your emotions to stop.

Making an inquisitive lil' noise yourself, you gently take his quivering leg off your shoulder so you can stand up next to him and press him good n’ proper into the wall. (You almost slip on a sock when you do so.)

Once you're up and eye-to-eye, he doesn't leave you guessing for long. He clears his throat, his pupils still blown out and a ruddy blush still high on his cheeks, but: “I want you to fuck me,” he says.

“Right here?”

He nods. “I want you to fuck me,” he repeats, slow, patronizing (as if he's not the one begging for cock, as if he's not the one slick down his thighs), “right here.”

You grin. “Awful confident here, aren’t’cha?” you coo, slipping your cock out of your tight pants and boxers in a fluid movement. You're still fully clothed, and Alhaitham is wholly bare: the contrast makes another bead of pearly pre-cum slide down from your cockhead, one that you quickly smear across Alhaitham’s puffy labia.

His confident façade drops at the first press of your wet cock against him, your pre-cum frothing with his and making an absolute mess between his thighs.

“Where’d all that confidence go, hm?” You hum, sliding your cock back and forth to wet it with all his leaking slick. He whimpers at the way your cock catches on his, and you slowly moan at the knowledge that you're practically fucking your fiancé’s thighs right now.

“You act so tough, but you're so, so pliable on my cock, sweetheart,” you murmur, finally angling yourself properly. Alhaitham bares his throat at you—an invitation you simply cannot refuse—, and, with only another moan from yourself and a high whine from him, you’re sliding in, smooth, right to the hilt, mouthing at the thin skin of his neck.

“O-oh—”

Groaning, “You feel divine, Hayi,” you pant against the newest mark. You can't move, not yet, not when he’s clenching around you so perfectly, not when his slick is coating your balls, and especially not when he's fuckin’ mewling into the air. He’s making these high, reedy noises, so—so unlike his stoic self, and you fear having a premature orgasm when you lean out of his neck to look him in those cock-drunk, drooping eyes.

“Please,” he whispers, ruined—already broken, so soon. His cock throbs in time with his erratic heartbeat, and you swear that you can feel it against your pubic bone, against where it’s pressed to the base of your cock. “I got you, sweetheart.” You draw out once, slow, delighting in the punched out sound that is forced from his straining throat when you slide back in. He’s loose as anything, slick as can be, and he’s making the most gorgeous sounds with each gentle thrust. His back is pushed into the wall you fuck him against, and your one hand comes up to cradle the back of it lest he slam it against it.

Your fingers twine into the short stands, and you press into his cunt a fifth, tenth, twentieth time as you nose into his broad shoulder, nose digging into the pliant flesh. Already your orgasm builds in the base of your spine, a hot knot of pure magma that’s fueled with each grind, each beg and plea that falls from Alhaitham’s kiss-bitten lips.

“Fuck,” you groan, licking into his mouth with reckless abandon. The slickness of his mouth, of his cunt—it all sends you hurtling to your end. “‘m gonna cum—” you pause, though, thrusting in once, twice, thrice, before you pull out and splatter across his cunt, across his already sticky thighs.

“What—” Alhaitham cries out, though, words stuck on his tongue as you—while stilling reeling with the sweet shock of orgasm—the hand you kept on his hip slides to his front, gathering your spend on your fingertips and press it into the swell of his cock. “Mh—!”

“T-there you go—” your voice is shaky, but you’re hell-bent on getting your fiancé off; and you’re well practiced, it seems, as his body seizes and it only takes your three cum-covered fingers sliding in to the hilt, pressing against his swollen g-spot, for him to clamp up, for him to start creaming across your palm. “Good boy,” you murmur, working his stubby cock with your thumb. The mix of his cum and yours froths at his cockhead, and the texture is downright lewd. “Good boy, Hayi, my sweet boy.

“Feel good?”

He nods the best he can, head still in your gentle grip, before you release him. Your fingers slide out with an obscene squelch. Seeing your orgasms across your hand, feeling your own soft cock, Alhaitham’s tuckered-out body in your arms—it all fills you up with satisfaction.

That, and, of course, the ring that glints on his finger. He’s yours.

this is kinda rushed 'cos i just ,, really wanted to get something out. my bad, guys ! there is aftercare, i just didn't write it 'cos i felt that this was an ample 'nuff ending. this leads to cuddling in the bathtub<33

26 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#the only time this man isn't in charge is with me .#o(*￣︶￣*)o xoxo !#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #sub alhaitham #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #i write about alhaitham so much and my computer STILL puts a red squiggle under it . .#:///#dom reader #amab reader #top reader #x reader #it's been a bit. forgot the tags i use ngl .

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