mxonigirimiya - Tumblr blog

mxonigirimiya · 4 months

Text

“santa, baby”

3,750+ words of jason todd spoiling his gf with sex and expensive promises for christmas.

contains: fem!reader (afab), spanish nicknames (latino!jason), fluff, praise, car sex, creampies, cursing, ‘prince of gotham’ era jason. probably typos since i wrote this in between shooting a film and preparing for a eight hour flight, literally based on a dream i had.

a smutty christmas standalone in a series of fics i’m cooking where jason falls in love with the reader who works at a bookstore.

please, please, please, if you like this re-blog with tags and comment, as my christmas gift. 🥺🥺🥺

the red and white lights that decorate gotham’s streets reflect against the paved concrete of its black and gray sidewalks. paved walkways that have been left moist and reflective from wet snow, which falls quickly and silently across the darkened city.

within a few hours it will pile up, leaving some gotham citizens to wake up in the morning with the childlike joy that comes from the seeing snow-covered hills across central park that fall under their boots with a satisfying crunch. the others, the grinches, the older folk, and the working men and women that find this weather to be of intense inconvenience, will meet the site with grumpy chagrin, inflamed with annoyance at the soon-to-be icy streets and the overabundance of outside staircases left to be salted and shoveled.

you’re one of the former.

you adore the snowfall. you adore the way the white and icy substance clumps onto the awning of your beloved bookstore, complemented by the the laughter of the children who would run by it. you love all things that bring the symbolism of christmas time to gotham. you love the holly and wreaths that are visible from peoples apartment windows, the mistletoe, the large christmas trees that decorate both the inside of lobbies and the outside of the city’s center, the televised parades and of course, the shining red white and green mixture of lights that fix themselves anywhere and everywhere.

they reflect in a pretty glow against the window of your sleek car. the colors mix gently with the frosty dewdrops that patter against the glass. your hand reaches against that very glass, leaving an imprint while your mind wanders to the wayne christmas gala that you are all too sure you’re about to be late to.

the outside air may have a wind chill below freezing, but the clean, leathery seats your body is folded against are all too warm - slowly becoming moistened with beads of sweat and spit and the slick from between your thighs.

whatever protests you’d originally sputtered out about being late have since devolved into a menagerie of giggles and light, breathy moans - sweet and pleasured little reactions as your clit gets kissed by a hard tip again and again in the back of the car. it’s parked secluded in the safety of the private parking lot of the iceberg lounge. when under the penguin, the space used to be constantly dark. it was only ever pierced by the cool glow of the moon or - on riskier nights - the bat-signal. but the moon is covered with snowy clouds tonight, batman is busy preparing to entertain guests as his alter-ego, and the iceberg lounge is under new management.

‘management’ that decided the place could do with a bit more christmas light - a management who is all too happy to see your skin lit up in the faded emerald and scarlet that leaks in from outside the warm vehicle, while his large hands make themselves known, squeezing against your shaking thighs.

“jason-” you pant out, although the sound is almost completely drowned out by the light pat-pat-pat of his dripping tip being slapped against your pretty, quivering bud. his fingers were still wet from prepping you, and they take gentle care not to stretch or rip the expensive dress you’re in.

not that he couldn’t buy you a new one if they did.

in terms of expensive clothes, he hasn’t even bothered to pull off his boxers or black slacks all the way, only pushing them down enough to reveal the hard length that’s desperately prodding against your welcoming slit.

one of your hands slides down against the window while the other combs its fingers against the black fabric of his suit jacket, careful to avoid messing with the slicked black curls of his hair. the white swoosh of a curl in front picks up some of the bright color from outside as it mats to his forehead from sweat.

“alfred - ah -“ you start, only cut off by a brief and throaty noise when he sinks in just a little further. “alfred is going to kill us for being late.”

your concerned remark is met with nothing more than a smirk spreading itself across his handsome face, only broken when he exhales with relief and pleasure, rocking inch after inch into your incredibly warm walls.

“nah. he’ll kill me - he knows you’re the good one who always wants to be on time, babygirl.” his larger hand, with knuckles that are slightly bruised from constant altercations with criminals large and small, strokes the side of your face. he traces your red painted mouth. his smirk only grows when your lips press to leave a little kiss-stain on the pad of his thumb as his hips swerve, sinking himself further in.

jason lets out a breath of a laugh that transitions into a grunt as he continues.

“but you don’t focus on that, ma. you just focus that pretty little head on takin’ me nice and deep like always, yeah?”

a moan erupts from your throat; the pretty kind of sound that reverberates through the tight, cramped space that is the back of the expensive sports car.

jason, who grew up with barely enough food to constitute a quarter-filled pantry and hand-me-down clothes that often swallowed his scrawny form, never flattered himself to be materialistic. even having established himself as the red hood, a man with not only the most profitable nightclub in gotham, but a criminal empire at his disposal, he never found himself getting more than what he needed. enough armor and weapons to patrol the streets, enough groceries to keep himself fed for the upcoming week, and clothes that fit his huge frame well enough to keep him warm in the midst of the city’s beautiful and brutal winters. maybe a new book or two each weekend.

he was determined that everything he could spare would go to foundations for kids at risk of growing up like him. then, to the teachers and counselors that kept them educated and safe. then, to the volunteers that gave them housing and clothes and food.

but you? you - the shining light of his city, the one who provided books to foster those little minds with knowledge and escapism just like the librarians and bookstore owners of his youth did for him, the one who provides him so much pleasure as you squeeze and clamp down - with warm-toned skin, sweetly girlish moans, and a sensitivity to his touch? jason lives to spoil you with equal abundance. and an expensive car was only the start. it even occasionally came with a chauffeur when he felt like having you in his lap during a long drive. but for now, it’s just the two of you.

“shit, that’s it.” jason mumbles as his hips buck forward, meeting yours with each slow roll and engulfing his cock in slick. the heated and hardened skin is tickled by the fabric of your panties. so eager to be inside you upon his eyes drinking in the sight of your red and white dress, jason had only bothered to haphazardly pull your panties to the side when prepping your warm, pretty pussy on his fingers.

a low moan travels up through his chest as you grip him.

“that’s it, ma. fuck, doll, your grippin’ so tight. tell me, what do ya want for christmas huh, mami? you want a new dress after i make ya ruin this one?”

he chuckles but his offers only increase as you moan. jason loves the way your dimples show, cheeks warm with a flattered and pleasured smile every time he spoils you. he’ll never get enough of it.

“could get you a couple pretty new necklaces too, baby. diamonds or pearls, maybe a little golden ‘j’ on it? decorate this pretty throat…”

his large hand trails down from its place on your cheek to the sweet skin of your neck, giving the sides an experimental, barely-there squeeze. it’s incredible that his touch seems as soft as the hum of the christmas carols that stroll from the radio at the lowest setting, as subtle as the force with which the flurries outside drop to the ground. then, his thrusts turn more aggressive, reaching deeper and deeper and pulling more breathy noises from your voice as you look up at him. jason is a man who is able to kill with such efficiency that he’s sat as the first person to have controlled all of gotham’s organized crime in twenty years. he may not kill anymore now, but the strength and power to do so always simmers just beneath the surface of his being, and yet he treats you as if you’re made of porcelain.

“fuck. you like that, huh? like me makin’ it known that this you're my pretty little thing, bella?”

when you try to warble out a response, the pad of his finger lands on your tongue almost incidentally and without question you suck on it, eyes meeting the gaze of his jade colored ones with an all-encompassing sense of temptation.

sloppily, jason’s cock shifts in and out and his gruff voice spills out more - he wants to see his baby shake at just how much he can offer her.

“only mine - oh fuck. i’ll get ya anything then; you want earrings too, princesa? heels? more pretty red makeup? you know it’s my favorite color, ‘specially when it’s on you, pretty girl.” as if on cue, the christmas lights from outside switch to a more intense red, swamping you both in the beautiful shade.

“jay. jay, please - please.”

jason peter todd was trained by batman and as such, nothing much passes him by. he does not miss the sweet way your voice cracks, as your suck him in. he does not miss the wet, popping sound of your plush, kiss-bruised lips releasing his finger before you pleaded - still connected it by a pretty, thin string of translucent saliva.

“please what, baby?” he replies. even he’s surprised he can be coherent with you wrapped around him so tight. with how little space the car seat provides someone of his size and stature, you’re wrapped around his body like a vice. there is no space between the two of you anymore. any that could exist is filled with the sounds of quick breaths, rustling fabric, soft music, and wet pounding slaps. his deep voice cuts through it, hot against the shell of your ear.

“whatcha want, huh? what can jay give his angel? you want me to pull out and take you to the party so alfred and bruce won’t be mad, hm?”

you whine at even so much thought - cursing him out for the teasing, meager threat of pulling out.

“don’t you - hah - don’t you fucking dare.” you manage to protest with just a glint of sharpness in your otherwise needy eyes. it’s like you know he needs this too - needs to stake his claim inside of you before even so much as thinking of the expensive festivities that are soon to come. right now, the only thing that the prince of gotham needs to focus on is how you’re intentionally clamping down on his wide girth in a way that makes his breathing hitch and his hips buck.

“coño - shit.” jason hisses through his teeth, a warm spurt of pre-cum dripping inside your gummy, heated walls. “shit, ma, was just jokin’. god - you want my cum that bad pretty girl?”

you don’t even answer, body rocking along with the car. you instinctively bare your teeth, sinking them into the skin of his neck. latched to his throat with your sweet form, engulfed in red light, draped in pure white and scarlet fabrics, writhing in pleasure at the darkness and solitude provided by the cold night - you’d make a convincing enough vampire but it’s not his blood that you’re thirsty for. you're desperate to muffle the overwhelmed sounds you’re making and it’s the only part of him that your mouth can reach besides his own, as it’s the only part not covered handsomely by his black and red suit.

“do you want a pretty tree for our apartment too? like that one out there?” he suggests lowly.

it’s a beautiful one; iridescent from the mixed lights with white collecting on its sappy branches of pine. it’s the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow. it fills the lot with a delicious scent of fresh pine and the sound of little ornaments twittering and tinkling together; both of which infiltrate the car whenever you’re not focused on the smell of his cologne, or the chanel fragrance he spoiled you with as an early christmas present, or the sounds of him rubbing his fat cock against the sweet spot that hides deep inside you - the wet bundle of nerves that he takes pride in being the only one to reach, to caress, and to pummel with his leaking tip.

jason’s grin is absolutely wicked, his green eyes looking supernatural when highlighted by the alternation of the viridian lights that seeps onto his freckled face from outside.

there is always something so irresistible to you when he’s like this. there is something rough and enticing about watching him bounce between red hood and jason. it’s downright intoxicating to know that you’re the only one who can see how he walks the line between the son who’s happy to see his family for christmas and the grumpy young man who hates the public spectacle of it all.

you’re the only one who can experience him as both the mob boss that wants to use his dirty money to be a philanthropist and the one that wants to spoil his angelic girl with a million expensive goodies. your body - with skin that is perfumed, heated and soft to the touch – is what keeps the score of him. him being a man so entranced by the beauty of his beloved that he wants to admire you from across the room and yet being a man who wants to keep fucking his hard cock balls-deep inside you.

and god, does it feel so fucking good. you moan at it, his words continuing as you pull away from the bruised circle you left on his neck and look up at him with hooded eyes.

“d’ya any more books, maybe? more rings and designer bags that’ll make those upper-crust showoffs we’re gonna see tonight get all blushy and jealous, hm, princesa?” jason, too used to the whispers and strange looks he’d always gotten at bruce’s galas, likes the idea of showing you off as an unattainable beauty.

you and him, willingly or not, serve the representatives of gotham’s working class amongst the old-school aristocrats, new-school company executives, celebrities, politicians and more than occasional gold diggers that make themselves known at bruce’s charity events just for a glance at the wayne family. it’s something jason had adjusted to by the age of 12 and then readjusted to even more post-death - which the only public knew as his ‘health crisis’.

they would always look down on him for his upbringing. he knows with full certainty that at least one person there would only ever see him as bruce’s charity case - the black sheep, the winner of the orphan lottery.

which is why it’s always so enticing to show that he’s the successful club owner with the prettiest girl in gotham on his arm and - at the moment - losing herself on his cock.

“do you want a view of all of gotham city, mami? the nicest penthouse in the city?” jason purrs, curls of white and black mixing against yours. “i can give ya that. tell me what you want, doll.”

jason uses what little leverage and space is available in this cramped, black car to lift up your hips - to slide in his dick at a deeper angle, to hear your moans reach a crescendo.

“to cum, papi - i want t’ cum just for you.” finally spills from your lips, just as slick, clear juices spill from your lower ones.

jason todd has always been defined as a strong young man, but for you, on a cold winter night, delaying his way to an overblown, if charitable, christmas party, he is oh-so-weak.

he can’t say no to such a sweet plea. he was never much one for denying you nor himself a good orgasm. jason’s never been one to edge you or ruin your climax - he would never, ever make you wait to cum. not because he’s giving, although he is. as a matter of fact, it is quite the opposite. he’s too selfish to ever deprive himself of the sight of his pretty girl writhing like a cat in heat under his weight.

your sweat-slicked skin, hidden under your still beautiful dress, shivers as his slow yet utterly precise thrusts continue. you give a high keen, as your fluttering core takes the wide-girthed length whole. your sensitive and hot cunt goes flush against jason’s hips. you gasp incoherently, eyes rolling practically to the back of your skull and your passage spasming along the thick shaft inside you.

your slit is shivering, aching as it presses snug up against his balls, even leaking translucent white onto his boxers as they stay hugged to his thighs.

to a small degree, it’s a christmas miracle of some sort that his pants aren’t stained in any way. it’s one thing to show up to an event late and another to show up sloppily. jason is not a fan of his adoptive grandfather’s chiding under any circumstances but especially not during the holidays. alfred can understand tardiness from driving in the busy and rowdy traffic of a snowy gotham during the christmas season. however, jason (who always brags of being the old chap’s favorite grandson due to their years sharing a birthday, a love of books and a proficiency towards cooking) would never push his luck by showing up looking disheveled in any way shape or form.

plus - while he used to keep himself hidden during these occasions strolling through the empty rooms of the manor in only the most casual of clothes - nowadays jason likes to catch sight of the bright glow that envelops your eyes upon seeing him suited up in formal wear. the almost nervously sensual gaze you gave when you saw him in a tuxedo for the first time, realizing how he stands taller and broader than his whole family? it’s engraved in his mind forever.

in a way everything that he does tonight – from his promises to shower you with christmas gifts, to him bringing you along as the only thing he is guaranteed to enjoy about this gala, to his slow strokes as he helps you ride out the pleasure of your climax – it is all to impress you.

“that’s it, bella. fuck - jay’s here to give you everything you want. everythin’, babygirl. fuck - want my cum too?”

a jolt of pure lightning in the form of pleasure wracks through jason when your pretty nails pull at his hair. your beautiful lips – which are covered in that smudged, christmasy shade of red – glow under the warm, alternating lights. they shine with the wetness of spit and condensation, and curve ever-so-enticingly as you plead for it. since even the joking notion of him pulling out got you so tight and pissed off at him, jason shouldn’t be surprised at how desperate you are for it.

more than willing to give you everything you want his muscular back arches as his hips pump mindlessly, his orgasm hitting him like a fucking tsunami.

for minutes jason’s wide hips stay trembling, buckling every so often as he continues to empty all he has into your sweet, welcoming, practically weeping cunt. the sound of him eventually disconnecting, finally pulling away from the dripping warmth, is a small shclick.

“i got you, ma.” he whispers, stroking his fingers across your face. “fuck, babygirl… good thing i got towels huh?”

both of you let out absolutely breathless laughs as his large hands skid along the fabric of your dress, partially checking for drips or stains, and partially to massage away any numbness and soreness caused many the collision of your hips against his in the cramped space. just the feeling of his fingers pulling the thin, soaked fabric of your panties back into place while white slowly bubbles and trickles out of you - it could almost make him hard enough for round two, right here, right now.

but you don’t have right now, as much as he might want it. he fully disconnects from you, cleaning what he can and setting both of your clothes back into place until look mostly put together. then his arm is back around your shoulder - tattooed, muscular and full of a downright nonchalant strength as he pulls you into his lap.

“all clean, angel? didn’t ruin that pretty dress, did i?”

“i’m good, mi amor.” you promise with replenished breath and a mind that is no longer hazed with melting pleasure. “jus’ might be a little numb walking out of the car…”

“then i’ll just have to carry you. all the more excuse to show off my girl to those upper-class -”

jason’s lips graze your neck momentarily, voice cutting off and becoming a low groan once his green eyes catch a glimpse of the time on his gold wristwatch.

“shit… ready to make a fashionably late entrance to all the gala shit? al’s gonna kill us.”

“us? no,” you retort, all too ready to tease him by repeating his earlier words, “he’ll kill you. he knows i’m the good one who always wants to be on time.~”

jason sucks his teeth, rolls his pretty green eyes and chides with a quiet humor - “one of these days, i’m gonna kiss that smart mouth shut, mama.”

his fingers slip under your chin, guiding your lips closer to his as you continue to whisper in your humored tone, breath mingling with his.

“oh, yeah? is that gonna be before or after the - what was it - the new dress and heels?” your lips skid against his once.

“and the necklaces?” twice.

“and the penthouse with the pretty tree…” a third time and on and on as he pulls you in, delighting in the notion of spoiling you, while his eyes are filled with adoration.

“and more, babygirl.” the red hood promises you, his deep voice carrying nothing but the upmost honestly. “merry christmas, bella.”

“merry christmas, papi.”

taglist: @lynswinterwonderland @elusive-honeydew @tteokdoroki @reveluving @diorsbrando @thornsnvultures

#This is what I meant to reblog #but tumblr is a goober #same tags apply #kirb I love you #and your writing #and I come back to your stuff for inspiration event tho I haven't have the mental energy to write #even though I don't have the energy to write

853 notes · View notes