WANNA RIDE STILES WHILE I WEAR HIS LACROSSE JERSEY MHM YEAH
WHYYYY WOULD U SAY THIS TO ME
just thinking abt like ... the way stiles would go absolutely feral. like he would go slightly insane. mouth open, lips still glistening from the messy kiss you'd shared with him a few moments prior, but his face has been frozen like this ever since he'd walked into his room to see you laid on his bed, wearing nothing but his lacrosse jersey, scrolling through your phone like it's the most casual thing that's ever happened.
the only thing that's changed is his eyes, consistently roaming over your body, flicking between your face which is scrunched up in pleasure, and your chest that he's forced out of the jersey, the material lifted up on one side, bunched over your shoulder. he's watching you through lidded eyes, similar to when he's tired, that same scrunch between his eyebrows, too.
his hands roam over your body, taking in as much as he can. calloused palms against the soft skin of your torso, running along your back, sliding down to your hips and around to press along your lower abdomen, making their way down to your cunt where he flattens his thumb along your clit, lifting the hood to gain better access.
he can't get enough, wanting more, wanting to do this again even when it's still happening in front of his face. he's trying to commit this to memory, he realizes when he's giving you possibly the hundredth full-body scan of the night. from your messy hair down to where you repeatedly sink yourself onto his cock.
his eyes get stuck there for a bit, not breaking away until he hears your breathless giggle.
"fillin' me up so well, stiles," you tell him, voice sounding pretty like it always does when you're like this.
the sweet sound of you – both your words and your cunt squelching around him – breaks him out of his stupor. he licks his lips, runs his thumbs along your skin, head spinning when you mewl as he rubs slow circles along your clit.
"yeah?" he asks you, even though he knows you're telling the truth, he can feel it. but he likes to see your almost pained nod, it fills his chest with pride, bolsters his ego. "feels good, honey?" another nod from you that makes him smile.
"'s that why you put that on? knew it would get you here?" his hands slide to your hips, his heels digging into the mattress as he slams up into you once, repeating the action at the sound you make. you don't answer him, it's not like you could, the breath taken from you just like the control was.
"hm? is that why you put my jersey on, laid in my bed in nothing else, waiting for me to get home." your hands press into his chest, fingers curling and your nails start to scratch at his skin. he takes a second, head tilting, eyes blinking innocently as he looks at you.
"that's kinda slutty, don't you think?''
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There's something deeply touching about Jason knowing he'll never be the kid Bruce saved again, but still maintaining some quirks, mannerisms, habits, pieces of young Jason Todd. They're small but cut deep.
Jason, when he allows himself to stay at the manor as a tiny indulgence, still acts like there's a barrier of lasers protecting Alfred's cookie jar, just so he and Dick would have an excuse to compare leaps.
He's still waiting for the lights to fall asleep so he could visit the library and get angry at Tim, or Bruce, or both, twins in audacity, for dig earing the pages they knew he'd read.
Of course Bruce finds him because he always looks for him, ridiculously fluffy pink robe that Selina bought him sagging on him.
He ignores the ball of sadness exploding in his stomach as he realizes Bruce is the one looking up at him now. It feels like a robbery, premeditated and calculated, " Jaylad, you have to nap."
" Bruce, I am a grown ass man, you cannot fucking tell me to NAP--"
There's an unspoken type of authority that surrounds gentle parents. Is Bruce a gentle parent? Well. He doesn’t need to hit Jason to get what he wants, that's for sure, " Excuse me?"
"...Just one more page?"
Bruce is also very weak for them, thought. "..Fine. don't tell Alfred."
When Dick proudly shows off his patrol record for the week, all preppy and shiny besides Bruce at the kitchen table, Jason hears it all the way from the couch.
Damian is a very sore loser when it comes to Mario Kart, he learned, " Todd! TODD! Come back here and taste DEFEAT! FIGHT ME LIKE A WOMAN, COWARD!"
" So yeah, 40 arrests are pretty good, I'd say,--"
" 40? That's adorable, I got 70. On a broken leg."
Bruce, suddenly spooked, turns to him, " You had your leg broken on patrol?!"
" A broken leg? Awwww. Killer Crock almost bit my face off, but hey. Nice of you to try."
"Waylon bit you?!"
" At least I'm not a COP!"
" YOU'RE STILL A COP?!"
" I'm working on it, okay?!"
But the biggest thing? Jason's so unflinchingly clingy on Bruce; When they first meet this 'Justice League' Batman joined, Jason requested to be there. A robin caricature, but he doesn't trust any of them.
Aside from Diana. Diana's always the exceptions.
" This is Superman, " Bruce may think that little blush goes unnoticed, but it certainly doesn't. " And this is my ba-- This is Red Hood. I trust him with my life."
Don't cry don't cry don't cry Jason chants in his head.
Superman extends his hand and a honey sunshine smile, " Red Hood?! Oh, I've heard so much about you. We have to work together sometime. Share stories about this one here."
He heard about the guy's X Ray vision. He hopes that if he does take a peek, he sees the sinister pull of grin on his lips, all teeth and no niceness, " I'm more of a hugger."
" Oh. Uh... Sure. I love hugs."
Jason makes sure to whisper, " He doesn't kill but I do," before pulling away. Then he turns to Bruce, going from standing at his full height to relaxing a little bit,
" I want bat burgers on the way."
Bruce hums and signals for him to lean down to get his head petted. Jason does. Even if he's embarassed.
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