slightlysaltysometimes - Tumblr blog

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Note

PLEASE give me t4t ftm jason todd x reader!! i need to rub my pussy against his post patrol 😭😭��️‼️

pleasantly surprised by how many people wanted this, but in any case, here you go <3

synopsis: Jason comes back and you help him unwind

notes: NFSW MDNI, both male and female terms are used to describe genitalia

tags: oral sex, fingering, brief penetration, banter, established relationship, wc: 2.7k words

this one fought me in the editing process, but i hope you enjoy anyway

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

The chatter from the TV became a soft blur in the sounds of the city below—it was well past 3AM but you could still hear the cars and life, crawling below your open window.

You’d stopped paying attention to the plot and the characters ages ago, content in just watching the pretty colours and actors flash across the screen, with no real sense of direction. They didn’t matter anymore, not as Jason trudged into the apartment with a massive sigh.

“Tough patrol?”

You craned your neck over the side of the sofa, giving him a soft smile as he loomed by your window, helmet in hand. He looked up at you, frustration and exhaustion coiled tight in his frame, shoulders tensed like he was still ready for a fight.

“Fucking dumbasses can’t follow simple fucking directions.”

“Tell me about it,” you said, with an understanding nod as you watched him dump his gear onto your kitchen table.

“One simple fucking direction,” he growled, slammed his gun down, undoubtedly denting the already beaten wood. “How fucking hard is it to understand ‘don’t go in alone’?”

You hummed as you moved to kneel on the sofa, watching him move around your apartment; it was always fascinating watching him exist in your space, like he was always meant to be there, a hole you hadn’t even known had been there filled by his presence.

It was comforting—maybe a little bit terrifying if you thought about it too much, but still comforting.

“Did everybody get out okay?” you asked as you watched him pull off his gloves.

“Everybody’s fine,” he said, shucked his jacket off, draped it across one of your chairs. You watched him shed layer after layer, an undeniable and everlasting warmth enveloping your heart as you sat and admired.

A couple of months ago, you’d never have imagined you’d watch him strip his armour meticulously—you’d have never imagined being trusted enough to be shown the cracks and soft spots in his armour, the latches and weak points.

But Jason undressed in front of you like it was the most comfortable thing in the world.

You couldn’t love him more for it.

“Timbit’s a little scuffed up but he’ll live,” he continued.

“And you?”

“Fine.”

His claim seemed to have some validity to it—in the low light and stripped down to his undershirt, you could see bruises that were blooming an ugly purple and old scrapes; but nothing from tonight.

He kicked off his boots, dropping his socks into them.

“So nothing went horribly wrong?”

He shook his head, white wisps of hair falling in front of his face, curling the slightest bit. His footsteps were heavy as he walked over to you, and slumped onto the sofa with all the grace and care of a walrus.

“So what’s the matter?” you asked softly as you left the sofa to stand between his spread legs, gently cupping his face. You brushed your thumb under his eye, watched as some of the tension slowly bled out of his frame and he leaned into your touch.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, tilting his head just enough to kiss your palm then your wrist. “Just… missed you.”

You huffed softly as you sank onto his lap, straddling his thigh, letting your hand fall from his face, smiling a little when he followed your touch.

“You missed me?”

“Are you gonna be a little shit about it?”

“No clue what you mean,” you smiled, trailing your fingers along his thighs before they caught on the buckle of his holster. You were quick to loosen the straps and pull them off—you were almost sad to see them go; they accentuated his thighs so nicely.

But you wanted access.

“Babe,” he whispered—his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“That’s me,” you smiled teasingly, leaning in just a little closer. His belt fell open with a click.

“Shit- wait-“

“I’m waiting.”

He bit his lip as he looked up at you, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find the words to say. You waited patiently, playing with the hem of his shirt, occasionally dipping under, brushing your fingers along his happy trail.

“Yes?”

“I-“ You pulled his fly down.

“Speak up.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, “I’ll get over myself.”

“And if I really want to?”

You pressed your lips to his, a poor distraction to finish undoing his trousers.

“Talk to me,” you said, scratching blunt nails just above the elastic waistband of his boxers.

“Keep going,” he answered as he sank into the sofa.

He bit his lip to stifle a moan and watched as your hand disappeared down the front of his trousers to cup his bare mound.

“Oh fuck.” His voice was soft, breathy—he was already falling apart at the seems in your hand and you’d barely even begun.

“No jockstrap today, huh?”

“Couldn’t be asked,” he grunted as he bucked slightly into your hand, rubbing his t-dick against the heel of your palm.

“Adventurous.”

“It would literally just get in the way.”

You snorted as you pulled your hand back and slipped off his lap and down onto the floor between his knees.

“You sure that was the only reason?”

“Yeah- mmph…”

You nuzzled his crotch, flicking your gaze up to his flustered face then back at your work.

“Yeah?” you smirked as you leaned your weight a little more against him. He cupped your face, petting the apple of your cheek.

“Taking your fucking time there.”

Your face fell immediately as you rolled your eyes, “Shut the fuck up-“

“Make me.” You glared up at him as soon as he said it, his smug ass grinning in return.

“Take off your shirt,” you said, waiting for him to take it off before you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his trousers, “Lift your hips.”

You pulled his trousers and boxers down as he complied, finally divesting him fully, and spread his legs further apart so you could see your prize.

His cunt sat there as a prized possession, and his clit, grown and swollen, throbbed softly in anticipation.

“Why are you so big?” you said softly as you stroked his dick, thumbing it softly as you watched it swell further under your touch. “I didn’t grow that big.”

“Choke on it,” he answered teasingly to which you only chuckled.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait, I’m kidding- Oh fuck,” his hands held you down instinctively and pushing you closer when you wrapped your lips around his fat clit and sucked.

You licked it softly, teasingly before delving back in to suck his soul from his dick, burying your nose in his curls.

You hummed and watched in delight as a shiver racked up his spine, leaving him panting and whining.

He pushed his hips closer, chasing your mouth, as he tried his best not to suffocate you.

“Please,” he gasped, looking down with wide, pleading eyes. “That’s- dude!”

You gave him a shit eating grin as you pulled away, stopping dead in your tracks before he could reach the slightest bit of satisfaction.

You used the collar of your t-shirt to wipe your face clean of Jason’s excitement before shrugging it over your head.

“You’re such a fucking dick.”

“You love me for it,” you said gleefully as you drop the shirt in favour of pressing your fingers to his cunt, pushing his folds apart as you trailed fingertips around his opening, teasing, watching his hole flutter.

It was mesmerising, watching him struggle and quiver, hole dampening by the second as you parted lips and explored him but never stretched him open.

You pressed soft kisses to the inside of his thighs, biting and suckling occasionally, letting your gaze flicker up to him every time he moaned or whimpered.

Eventually, you took pity.

“Ah, f- uck, baby,” Jason groaned lowly as you sunk your finger past his folds and into his pussy. You grinned when you heard the soft squelch as you pulled out and pushed back in.

You sat up on your knees, passing your clean hand behind his neck to tug him down, closer to you.

“Good?” you asked, tilting your head just enough so your lips could brush against his—you caught his top lip between yours, kissing him softly before you finally pulled away, just enough to hear his response.

“More,” he pleaded softly, rolling his hips in time with your movements—a second finger slipped in easily, his body stretching and accommodating to your intrusion.

“Better?”

“No, I want to feel you, damn it,” he grunted, exasperated, already urging you back up onto the sofa. “Need your fucking cunt on mine, yesterday.”

You chuckled, standing so you could take your sweatpants off and soon you were being pulled back down into his lap. He shifted so you were both sideways on the couch, warm hands splayed across your back, holding you close to him.

“Eager?” you teased—Jason crashed his lips against yours before you could even think to continue. You felt his hand on your chin, felt him cup your jaw softly before he was opening your mouth and pushing his tongue past pliant lips, licking the remnants of his essence from you.

Your cunt dampened under his attention, and you were left subconsciously grinding against his thigh. He pulled away a little and reached forward, fingers that were once holding your face slipping between damp folds.

“I love that pussy so fucking much,” he whispered as you moaned, rolling your hips against his hand. “You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Look who’s fucking talking,” you gasped. He leaned in again, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, and tugged softly—leaving you moaning and embarrassingly desperate, as you wrapped your arms around his neck to drag yourself closer.

He released you to kiss you properly, smiling softly against your lips—his hand left your pussy to slot one of his leg above yours.

When you finally parted, he leaned back enough to rest against the armrest and let your bodies fit together.

You slipped down before you could steady yourself, accidentally brushing your cunt against his.

You muffled a sound behind your hand but leaned back all the same, rocking your hips against his.

“Shit,” you gasped as you dragged your dick against his, gaze flicking up to his face, just in time to see his eyes roll back a little—Jason groaned, fingers digging into your ass, bring you back down, bucking his hips up so his cunt could meet yours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and he looked down between your two bodies, watched your swollen clits bump against each other, teasing each other. “Fuck, so good.”

You held onto his thigh as he brought you back down repeated, grinding into your hips—you brushed your fingers against the scars on his skin, admiring his form in front of you, how his chest rose and fell from his laboured breathing, the faint surgery scars silver in the dim light.

“You’re so fucking handsome,” you panted as you began to grind down harder. You whined a little louder, something almost sounding like his name or a prayer.

Wet lips rubbed against each other, glistening in the dim lighting, soft, lewd sounds punctuating your breathing.

“You’re so warm,” he said softly, hands slipping and shifting just enough to start bringing you down at a steadier, more eager pace. “Just like that, just like fuck-“

You slipped up, shifting his leg off you, just enough to slip his dick past your soft folds, leaving you both moaning and panting hard.

It was an amazing fucking day when you figured out Jason had grown long enough to push his cock into you and you’d be damned if you didn’t take advantage of that.

You moved again, pressing your hands against his chest.

“You’re so big,” you groaned as you felt him just barely restraining himself front rutting against you. “You feel that? Feel so good stretching me open.”

“Babe,” he groaned, voice strained as his grip on you tightened, “So good. So fucking good, I-“

You felt his whole body twitch and tremble before he was coming, dick throbbing and cunt drenched.

You pulled away enough for him to slip out of you but still rubbing your pussies together.

“Good?” you smiled cheekily, panted and worked up. You were so entranced by the sight of his orgasm you’d almost forgotten your own.

But as Jason’s eyes found you, you knew he hadn’t.

“It’s okay,” you said softly as he sat up to place a hand behind your neck, the other already finding your clit between your bodies.

“I want to,” he promised in a low voice, lips brushing ever so slightly against yours. “Let me. Please? Let me make you cum all over my face.”

You moaned, just the thought of his face between your legs enough to reignite the spark.

“Yeah,” you swallowed, looking up to meet gorgeous glass green eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

Jason immediately guided you down onto your back—you let him move you however he wished, more focused on the way his biceps shifted as he gripped your thighs and pushed them out.

He moved down to your throbbing cunt, soft, open kisses down your ribs and tummy on the way.

“So fucking hot,” you heard him mumble under your breath. You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a little flustered but unable to stop smiling as his gaze flicked up to you. “Something funny, handsome?”

“No,” you smiled as you shook your head.

He just hummed, laying a last kiss at the end of your happy trail before nosing your dick softly.

“Jay-“

He slipped your cock into his mouth, moaning around it softly, holding your hips firm against his face.

He looked up ready to come again from the taste of you alone, eagerly devouring everything you had to offer.

Your hands flew to his hair, gasping softly as you rocked against his face, looking down at him so comfortably buried between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his only purpose in life.

As if he’d found true passion in your body.

You groaned loudly, tugging on inky strands, unsure if you were pushing into or pulling away from his touch.

“Shit,” you gasped, “Good boy. Just like that. Keep doing that.”

He whimpered at the sound of your voice, the gentleness and honesty of your praise. He pushed closed to your cunt, licking up your slit, suckling on your dick.

It coiled in your belly, and you cried out behind muffled lips, eyes rolling as you practically smothered him, thighs clamping around his head.

He whined loudly, happily, growing just a tad bit more eager as he drew you closer and closer to the edge.

Until you finally came, moaning his name.

He lapped at your cunt as you came all over his face, drenching his mouth and jaw in your ecstasy.

Your legs were shivering as you finally came down—Jason slowed a little when he felt your legs release him but didn’t stop until you began to nudge him away.

He pulled away a little, enough that his mouth was no longer on but still lying between your legs.

“Feel better?” you smiled as you wiped your thumb across his cheek, collecting some of yourself from his skin. You felt his full attention on you as you brought your thumb up to your lips, tasting yourself.

“Yeah,” he swallowed as he panted, smiling up at you softly. “So much better.”

He reached down, pulling your shirt off the floor to wipe his face.

“Seriously?”

“First thing I found,” he said with a shit eating grin before tossing it back onto the floor. “Besides, you also wiped your face on it.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his head against your stomach. You huffed softly, running your fingers through his soft hair, almost as an apology for nearly pulling his hair out.

“It’s my t-shirt,” you said, scratching his scalp, in a way that made him curl into your touch.

“No it’s not,” he snorted “It’s mine.”

You glanced down and lo and behold, he was right.

“So it is.”

“Thief.”

“Shut up. You love it when I wear your shit.”

“You’re still a thief,” he smiled up at you, before leaning down to kiss your hip. “Love you.”

“Yeah, I guess I love you too.”

“That’s gross.”

“Shut the actual fuck up.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

I have nothing to say for myself :3

requests are closed but my current projects list and masterlist are up on my blog <3

315 notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Text

late nights | jason todd

cw; body worship, groping, nursing fetish, fixations (sensory, oral) clingy! jason, missionary, raw sex, breeding, teasing, nastyyyyyy sex, tit sucking, perv jason, mdni

synopsis: jason has a thing for tits. and milk.

main masterlist taglist

jason has a dazed expression on his face. you'd been listening to him recount his day as you lay in your shared bed together, while he lays on you, but he's gone quiet. his head is lifted from your chest just enough to stare very intently at the smooth expanse of your cleavage.

he doesn't even pretend to be subtle, just blinks slowly, like he's half-awake. you coo softly, petting his soft black hair to keep him present, even as his gaze remains locked on your breasts. "you okay, jay?" you murmur, smiling gently.

jason doesn't look away. " 'm fine," he mutters, voice low and soft due to the sleepy tone he always gets when he's this close to you and feels safe. "just thinkin'. "

"mm." you hum in response. "right, you're thinking." you keep carding your fingers through his short hair, having an idea what's on his mind. "bout your tits." he says flatly, not even a trace of shame in his voice. "can’t focus at all when they're like this."

he squishes your tits together in his huge hands so they push up together and look even plumper and perkier. "all soft 'n squished up like this," he mumbles, staring at how you gasp and twitch under him when he squeezes you. "you're just layin' there. expectin' me to have anything else goin' on in my head?"

you pant a little, trying to act normal when you get so sensitive from the slightest touch he leaves on you. "you- mnh!- were mid sentence, jay!"

jason grunts and lowers his head again so his mouth slots over your sternum and then travels lower down to kiss at your cleavage, hands curling around your soft tank top to tug down and expose your tits. "doesn't matter. wasn't important."

jason doesn't even try to hide it anymore. once he's got his face buried in your tits, it's over. he's not budging. big, solid body draped over yours, one arm curled under you, the other hand warm and rough where it settles under your shirt. He palms one gently, holding your tit in his huge hand and brushing his thumb over the soft curve like he's trying to memorize the weight, the shape.

"so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs under his breath like he forgot you could hear him. you squirm a little, breath catching, and he sees your chest rising, soft little noises slipping past your lips that you didn't mean to make. he lifts his head again, eyes flitting up to yours. something shifts in his expression like he discovered something new. "that make you whine?" he says, almost to himself. "just that?"

you blink down at him, flustered. "n-no..."

jason huffs a breath through his nose, not believing you for a second, and presses his palm in a little firmer, thumb flicking, causing you to whimper loudly once more, and he reaches to grip your other breast, fondling them in his hands experimentally. he groans softly and dips his head again, nuzzling you. "could touch you all fuckin' day," he mumbles against your skin.

jason's mouth is hot where it meets the swell of your breasts, plush lips trailing slow, claiming kisses over your skin. he takes his time, nosing along the curve reverently. "softest fuckin' thing I've ever felt," he mumbles, dragging his tongue over the underside. His hand keeps palming you, thumb lazily swiping over your nipple. "you got no idea what you do to me like this."

you squirm and gnaw on your lip to muffle your sounds, hips shifting under him like they've got a mind of their own. "jay," you moan weakly, hands tugging at the soft strands of his hair.

" 'm right here, baby," he says, too calm for how hard he's breathing, too fond for the way his hands continue to squeeze greedily. "you need somethin'?" he watches your throat bob as you swallow, sees your fingers clench around his hair. "want more of your mouth, jason," you plead softly.

jason lets out the most obscene groan, and then he's on you again, mouth hot and wet, tongue swirling around one peak while his hand covers the other, teasing, coaxing every reaction out of you. you gasp, arching into his mouth before you can help it. "fuckin' hell," jason growls against your skin. "that's the sound i wanted."

breathless, you press your thighs together to try and get some friction between your legs, your body giving away how in heat you are each time you twitch or clutch him tighter. he switches sides without warning, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with a groan. The wet drag of his tongue makes you cry out again, louder this time.

his lips seal over your areola with a soft suck, but then he switches sides again, giving the other nipple the same slow, adoring treatment, wet, open-mouthed kisses that bring heat right to your pussy. his hands don't stop kneading your soft mounds.

you whimper his name again, so breathy and soft it makes him shudder, but jason's too far gone to respond. he can't believe he didn't worship your tits like this earlier. his mouth returns to your breast with purpose this time, need pulsing through every movement like a current under his skin.

he drags his heavy, thick tongue along your nipple again before wrapping his lips around you once more to greedily suckle and pull at you while he palms your other breast, heavy hand molding over soft flesh.

jason presses in harder, flattening his tongue before curling it again around the tip and sucking, suckling, so hot and slow you can feel the drool slipping from the corners of his mouth. he doesn't wipe it away. all he cares about is the feel and taste of you, but he still wants more. more of you. something seems to be missing. you can feel his desperation in the way he suckles harder, arms tightening around you and dragging you closer so your breast fills his mouth more completely.

jason's nose is buried against the warm swell of your chest, hips pressing against your soft, puffy pussy and rocking slowly and lazily, an unconscious act meant to alleviate some of the pressure built up in his hard cock. you glance down and see him like eyes closed, lashes low against his cheeks, mouth full and suckling, his hand greedily kneading the other breast like it'll coax something out.

your breathing picks up, soft whines leaving your mouth as you busy your hands with petting his short hair, eyes fluttering at the influx of pleasure. you hear faint groans coming from him while he humps you and sucks your tits a little too hard. "please..." you whisper, voice weak. he doesn't stop, messily dragging his mouth over your nipple, sealing his lips and sucking hard enough to make you cry out. "fuck, jay! ge-gentle, please!"

jason anchors you still to restrict you from squirming away, trying to coax sweetness out of you with his mouth alone, face flushed, lips shiny, cheeks hollowing as he suckles hungrily. he hasn't even touched you anywhere else and you're already soaked. "still not enough," he rasps, dragging his tongue over the swollen tip of your nipple again. "wanna keep suckin' 'til you're leakin' for me."

you go still under him with surprise, even though you can't focus long because his tongue licks a broad stripe over the valley of your tits as he pays more attention to your other breast. "w-what do you mean, j-jase?"

he grunts. "you know what i mean. milk, wan' it warm from you. wanna feel it on my tongue."

his mouth returns to your nipple once more, tongue curling before he sucks deeply, clothed cock still rutting between your thighs. his hands squeeze around your breasts as if he can force something out of you just by willing it hard enough.

his hips rut against you, grinding between your spread thighs in lazy rough thrusts, not even inside you, but his cock is heavy and hard under the sweats he never got a chance to take off. you're soaked through your panties and you can feel the heat of his lower half against you, even through layers. "wanna put it in you," he mumbles, eyes dark and hooded.

he lifts his head just enough to look you in the eyes, like it physically hurts him to stop suckling at your tits. his mouth is wet and flushed. "i have to fuck you," he whispers, reverent, thumb brushing your spit-slick nipple. "right now, sweetheart."

you nod a little too fast, body already arching toward him. you don’t even try to pretend to play coy because jason knows how bad you want him. your panties are soaked through and your whole body is buzzing from how he touched you. "then take me," you murmur, breath hitching.

he groans, then he's dragging the covers down just enough to get to what he needs, your soft, leaky little cunt. his mouth finds your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, all sloppy, smearing kisses as his hands bunch your tank top higher until it's tangled under your arms and your tits are fully bare to the warm air of your bedroom.

he presses his forehead to yours, panting, making direct eye contact with you as he tugs his sweats and boxers off, heavy, fat cock slapping against his stomach with a wet sound. he grabs it in his marred fist, lining the dewy, flared tip up at your clothed hole before gently pulling the soaked cotton of your panties to the side so he can grind his cock at your entrance. "y'feel that?" he murmurs, hips rolling into the plush heat of your pussy, just barely, before drawing back. "so fuckin' hard for you it hurts."

"jay, no teasing please," you whine, voice gone needy as you move your arms so they're wrapped around his thick neck. "been wanting…"

"shh," he soothes, kissing the side of your mouth, then your chin. "I know, baby. I know." he coaxes you to calm down, but makes no move to sink inside you yet, still rubbing himself against your swollen folds, barely slipping the tip in. his eyes flit back to the way your breasts jiggle with each rock of his hips. "shit," he mutters, "this all from me suckin' your tits?"

you nod, biting your lip hard, and his eyes flutter. you spread your legs a little in an attempt to coax him to fuck you proper, pussy glistening under his gaze. his cock is leaking steadily now, creamy beads of pre-cum spreading at the tip.

jason fists his cock at the base, eyes returning to the swell of your tits as he lines himself up again. but still, he doesn't push in yet. he grips the base of his thick cock firmly in his hand to keep it positioned between your puffy pussy lips, eyes flicking between your face and tits. "look at you," he murmurs, voice condescending. "why're you squirmin' so much, hm baby? haven't even put it in you yet."

you whine loudly, hips moving upwards and rolling against his to get him to stop teasing, but it doesn't work. he slaps the head of his cock against your clit once, slow and deliberate, and your whole body jolts. "yeah, 's what I though." he grits, voice quiet and mean. he presses the tip inside you once more and rolls his hips just enough to make you mewl and squirm as the head of his cock spears into you. he watches your tits bounce every time you shift your body around, and

he reaches down to squeeze at the pillowy flesh again and tug your nipples. you gasp, arching up into him, and he groans deep in his throat. "please," you whisper, voice cracking from how badly you want it. “jay, please.”

he huffs at your insistence, but finally indulges you, pushing his huge, heavy cock past your hole and deep inside slowly, slowly, and then, when hes halfway in, he slams the rest in hard enough to make you jolt, his huge cock splitting you open and filling up your tummy. "oh fuuuuuuuuuuck," he groans loudly, head thrown back. " 's fuckin' tight, baby." you scream, hands clawing at his shoulders, thighs flying up around his waist, and your back arches as he stretches you out, causing your greedy pussy to ache and throb around him.

"don't move yet. 'm serious, lemme just..." he groans and shudders a little, feeling you clamp down around him. "lemme stay in you for a sec." you nod quickly, whining, and jason exhales slowly, resting his weight more fully on you. he drops his face to your chest again, kissing the swell of your breast.

he pulls out just enough to feel your walls drag along his length, then thrusts back in hard, and the sound it makes is obscene, wet and sloppy, your body bouncing against the mattress under the weight of him. you moan loud, head tipping back, and he snarls through his teeth, biting at your nipple now, just enough to sting. “yeah, you like that, you stupid little thing” he mutters. “you fuckin’ love when I’m rough with you, huh?”

your moans grow louder, and you nod, hands scrabbling to grab something, settling on his broad shoulders. your pussy clenches hard around him, and jason grunts, thrusting hard and sloppy inside you. " 's what i thought."

he keeps fucking into you, your tits bouncing so prettily with his force, but he's mostly holding them still with his body splayed on top of yours, his mouth locked on your tits yet again, hands having shifted to your waist. he drags you a little closer, grinding his hips forward in a lazy, heavy roll that encourages another sharp little moan from your lips. you arch up for him, back bowing and breasts pressing into his chest.

jason starts to fall into a rhythm, his cock sinking into you deeply, before he drags it back slow enough to let your walls grip and squeeze onto him, then he pushes all the way back in again, thick length splitting you open until your cunt is stretched to the edge of pain. your pussy's so wet and swollen, walls fluttering around the fullness of his shaft. "goddamn, baby," he grits out, voice rough in your ear as he watches your pussy stretch around him. "y'feel that? grippin' me like you don't wanna let go."

his chest stays pressed to yours, the heat of his skin sticky where it meets yours, but he doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even give you space to breathe properly. just fucks you deep, body heavy over yours, mouth attached to your tits like he can’t choose which he wants more. "mmh, jason its so good," you cry out way too loud, hands squeezing at his shoulders, your nails cutting into his skin.

your noises get higher and breathier, little whimpers tumbling out of you with every slow thrust, and jason just groans against your skin, lips wet where they drag over your nipple again. he tongues over it, gentle at first, then lets out a soft hiss when a little more slick coats your cunt from how deep he hits. "so swollen and pretty, baby. stuffed full'a my cock and still beggin' for more." his hand smooths over your tummy, pressing down just a little, eyes flicking to the slight bulge he can feel with every deep thrust. "right there, fuck... y'take me so good."

"jason!"

your pussy clenches tighter around him as he shoves his cock in you deeply, your mouth open on a choked moan that makes jason throb inside you. he sucks at your nipple again like he's desperate for something to come out. he really believes he can pull it from you if he just stays latched on long enough, tongue flicking over the puffy bud before he pulls off with a wet pop, then goes right back in.

"keep thinkin' about you drippin' for me, baby. leakin' into my mouth." he rolls his hips deeper, grinding slow as his cock kisses your gummy womb. "wanna suck 'em til you're cryin'. i'll get you so full you start leakin' without me even touchin' you."

he uses his grip on your waist to fuck you in place, thrusts staying slow but deep, as he drags along every fluttering sweet spot inside you until you're shaking under him, and every time his hips slam forward, your tits bounce up into his mouth. "keep thinkin' about you pregnant, knockin' you up so your tits fill up. they'd be leakin' for me while i fuck you stupid." he fucks his cock into you with another slow, grinding thrust, dragging the fat head of his cock along your walls as your pussy pulses and shudders around him.

his hips rut into you faster, balls slapping heavily against your ass as your body bucks every time his cock pushes deeper. you can feel yourself falling apart, as he keeps sucking your chest and fucking you so deeply that it feels like he's trying to mold his shape into your pussy. he starts to lose his rhythm soon after, his hips stuttering, cock dragging harder through your soaked, pulsing cunt. the pressure in his hips shifts from controlled to reckless, wet slaps echoing louder around the room.

"you're squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, shit...this pussy's so wet, doll, you hear that?" he pounds into you harder and the sound your bodies make together is absolutely obscene, slick, messy and so icky, your pussy squelching wet around him. his cock batters your insides with every thrust, hitting deep, deep, deep until your thighs are shaking around him.

then his hand slips between you, and you cry out when he presses two fingers right to your swollen clit, already throbbing. he circles it fast. you sob for him, breath catching in your throat as your body starts to snap, your muscles tightening all at once around his cock, pleasure spiking so hot and sudden your legs seize up around his waist and your back arches. your cunt squeezes hard around him, as you cum, drenching his cock in another gush of slick.

jason groans, thrusting one more time as his cock twitches inside you, then he's spilling into you. hot cum floods your pussy in thick ropes, his hips jerking again as he fucks into you while he cums. one hand stays gripping your waist, while his other hand toys with and pinches your clit to overstimulate you through your orgasm.

he doesn't pull out, staying buried inside you as his cock pulses deep inside your guts as your walls flutter around him. cum leaks out of you as it overfloods your pussy, but it doesn't stop, his cock still rutting into you. his thumb gently rubs your clit, and he leans down to your face to kiss you deeply. "mmh... love you s'much baby," jason murmurs into your mouth.

jason todd taglist: @moonlight-dreamer04 @atanukileaf @tcddszn

1K notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Text

──── think i need someone older, just a little bit colder...

❤︎──── pairing: jason todd x older!reader.

❤︎──── summary: ❛❛there's nothing sweeter than you, his dad’s best friend.❞

warnings. +18. age gap. jason todd loves milfs. mommy kink. jason is whipped. switch!jason. headcanon. fem reader. reader is bruce's best friend. smut. reader is a mom. ©velvet-milk.

❤︎──── thinking about jason peter todd's weird fascination with you, his dad’s best friend and a legendary member of the justice league. you were a living myth, walking beside bruce wayne like an equal and, sometimes, more than one. he grew up watching you move through gotham like a storm disguised as a hero, sharp and untouchable. you fought side by side with his old man, but you never carried the same weight of darkness. oh, no. you smiled. you laughed. you stayed human.

❤︎──── and, even as soft and sweet as he remembers, you still the most capable person in every room you stepped into. even at those hollow, miserable galas, when the wayne manor stank of wealth and fake guests, you’d show up like sunlight cutting through stained glass. you never played politics. you never pretended. and when you noticed him, the teenager with a rough past trying too hard to be brave and mature, you didn’t condescend. you didn’t ignore him. you saw him.

❤︎──── you offered small things. advice, praise, quiet conversations in corners when no one else cared to ask how he was doing. things that shouldn’t have meant so much. but they did. they still do. you slowly became his ideal, his unreachable fantasy, long before he understood what that even meant. he looked for glimpses of you in every single girl he dated in his teenage years. and in his adult life too. but none of them were ever you.

❤︎──── they were too young. too unsure and insecure like young girls often are, still searching for who they were, while you had always seemed so certain, so fully formed, like you’d stepped out of some myth he was never meant to truly touch. he wanted that certainty. that power. that stability. he wanted your lovely hands and voice guiding him, praising him, touching him, telling him how good he was doing. god, he wanted you to use that same commanding tone that used to keep him focused in the field and now it just makes his dick throbb.

❤︎──── and even now, years later, after the grave, the pit, his death, he sees you and feels something raw twist in his gut. you look older, sexier, your cheekbones cut cleaner now, your gaze even steadier. he sees faint lines around your mouth when you laugh too hard, the way a few gray hairs peek through from stress, ones you sometimes try to hide with a bit of dye. he's twitching in his jeans just watching you walk across the damn room.

❤︎──── he wonders if you’ve noticed the way he looks at you now. he wonders what you’d say if you caught him staring like that, if you realized that the boy you once mentored, once patched up and encouraged, now wants to get on his knees for you. wants to bend you over and see if those laugh lines deepen when you scream his name because his cock feels just a little too good while bullying your cervix.

❤︎──── jason's gotten off to the thought of it more times than he’ll ever admit. your voice in his ear, soft and knowing, whispering, "that’s it, baby. just like that." you calling him a good boy while he falls apart on your tongue. he wants a chance to prove to you that he’s a grown man now, a man who can make you laugh, who can protect you, who can make you cum over and over until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess. nothing like the civilian loser you married years ago, the one you settled for.

❤︎──── and jason would be so good to your kids, a patient, cool stepdad. and unlike your man, he’d be strong enough to protect them. he’d work hard to be a good role model. he imagines himself tying their little shoes, helping with homework he barely remembers, listening to them ramble about cartoons and school drama like it matters. jason would even sit through every terrible school play and every parent-teacher conference. all for you.

❤︎──── he thinks about your age constantly. not in a mocking way. but in a worshipful way. you’ve seen shit in your many years as a vigilant. fought gods and aliens. you don’t flinch from violence, don’t coddle him. you’re smarter than any woman, any girl, he’s ever met, tougher than most men he’s fought. you don’t need anyone, and that’s exactly why he wants to be the one you choose. the one you look at.

❤︎──── and if you ever let him close enough, he’d show you exactly what kind of man he’s become. what kind of man you helped shape. he’d thank you for every soft word and firm lesson with his mouth between your strong legs, making out with your sweet cunt, or with his cock buried deep inside, with his hands gripping your hips like you belong to him. he’d call you "ma’am" or "ma", soft and reverent in your ear, even as he pounded hard into you. he'd kiss every inch of your body, and made you feel like a giggling, breathless highschool girl all over again. you just had to give him a chance.

©velvet-milk. ⸺ thank you for reading!

546 notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Text

my humor might be broken cause I find this trend actually funny

91K notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Text

dad bod jason heheh

3K notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 8 days ago

Text

first pride🌈

6K notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 11 days ago

Text

WHEN LOVE MET WAR

Greek God AU | Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 2k synopsis: The goddess of love. The god of war. A love that even death couldn’t end. a/n: Still working through requests! Work’s been kicking my ass lately, and for some reason, my brain decided to spiral into a Greek mythology mood. A little different from my usual writing and sorry if it feels rushed.

On the marble steps of your rose-draped temple, you the goddess of love stood still as stone, watching the sun bleed across the sky. It set in streaks of gold and crimson��colours that once reminded you of warmth, of flushed cheeks and tangled limbs, of whispered promises spoken beneath starlight. Now, they only reminded you of blood. Of his blood.

Jason.

The name still ached when it crossed your thoughts, still clung to the edges of your immortal heart like the scent of a dying flower. Jason, the mortal born so beautiful even the gods were jealous. Jason, whose laugh rang like bells in your ears. Jason, who looked at you not with awe, but affection. Not like a deity, but a woman.

The two of you had danced in fields of lavender, lay beneath silken skies, whispered secrets into each other’s skin. you, divine and eternal. He, gloriously human. And though you both knew the tragedy of that pairing, you dared to hope. Dared to love. For he was promised by the head of the pantheon, Bruce the God of night and Justice that he would be ascended to godhood.

But mortals die. Even beautiful ones.

Before he could be ascended, he fell—brutally beaten and cut down by a jealous god who dared believe that, in his absence, you might turn your affections elsewhere—you wept until rivers rose and gardens withered. The earth mourned with you, the skies dulling to ash, as though the heavens themselves recognized the injustice of his death.

The other gods whispered that you’d gone mad. That you were foolish to mourn so deeply for a mortal man.

But none of them had known Jason like you had.

The centuries passed like mist—soft, aimless, unbearably hollow. No touch warmed your skin. No glance stirred your spirit. No heart called to your’s the way his once had.

And for that arrogant god who thought you so fickle, so shallow, as to discard the truest love you had ever known…You made him pay for his foolishness.

Death, you decided, was far too kind. Instead, you wanted him to suffer eternal torment and cursed him with a mania so strong he would never know peace. Never to know what the warmth of love would feel like yet forever aching for it, forcing him to search for it like a man in a desert parched for water.

He burned offerings at temples you never visited. Tore open his own chest seeking your favour. Begged the stars, the sea, the wind—to return what he had destroyed.

But love had turned its back on him.

Because he had defiled it.

His passion became prison. His desire, disease. And you watched from afar—silent, unblinking—as mania bloomed like a vine around his soul and slowly choking away the god he once was because compared to you, he was nothing. Seldom was a force stronger than love and he scorned the very embodiment of it.

No god dared to go against your punishment. The gods, in all their hubris, had all forgotten that love and war were not so different. Passion. Devotion. Ruin. Your soft beauty and lilting laughter had made them forget that beneath the silks and sweetness, you too were considered to be apart of the deities of war. Just as capable of wrath as you were of love. Your's was the battlefield of hearts, and you had long since learned that love—real love—was worth waging war over.

Yet, no amount of vengeance could fill the hole left in your heart, forcing centuries you grieved. Because even with your enemy broken, it did not bring him back.

Jason was gone.

Your temples faded into shadow. The world moved on, colder now, more empty. You wandered through centuries draped in sorrow, a goddess without purpose. Love came and went in mortals like tides against the shore—brief, fleeting, insubstantial.

Until one day, the earth rumbled with a new name.

The mortals whispered it in fear. One unlike the other gods. A scarred brute, they said, who neither sought glory nor revelled in carnage for sport. He did not charge into battle for honour or conquest. He moved like a storm driven only by rage and something darker—revenge.

They said he was mad. That vengeance had hollowed him out and filled the void with fury.

It was in the smoke-choked ruins of a battlefield—where the sky split with thunder and the ground ran slick with blood—that the gods gathered. They came not with swords drawn, but with questions. To see for themselves the new god born of vengeance and death. To witness if he would be friend or foe. To determine whether he was to be welcomed… or destroyed.

And then he stepped through the haze.

You staggered.

Your breath left you.

Because it was him.

Jason.

But not the Jason you had known—not the boy who pressed wildflowers into your hands or traced constellations across your bare skin with laughter in his eyes. That boy had been soft in the ways only mortals could be. He had lived with wonder in his heart and warmth in his touch.

That boy was gone.

Death had stripped him bare. It had carved the softness from his bones and replaced it with steel. It had turned his heart into something fiery and full of anger. Whatever mercy had once dwelled in him had long since been buried beneath the weight of pain.

He had been reborn in divine fire, not as the son of justice he was meant to become, but as something else entirely—something terrible, something untouchable. The boy you had loved was now a deity of war, the God of Death and Vengeance.

He hadn’t remembered his past at first. Not fully. Dreams came in shards—flashes of golden fields, of laughter and soft hands, of a voice that called his name with devotion. Yet, the sight of you brought forth more of the shattered remains of what life he once had lived.

You whispered his name, no louder than a breath, the one word filled with shock and reverence. The gods fell silent. None dared speak as you stepped forward—toward the once-mortal, the boy who had been your undoing, the man death had remade. You didn’t wait. Didn’t care what it meant or how he came to be.

You crossed the blood-soaked earth barefoot, unflinching. The ruin of war clung to your feet, but you moved as if drawn by fate, as if the threads of your soul had never stopped pulling toward his.

Your gaze devoured him, taking in the new divine version of him. Your hand lifted, trembling, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. He was taller now. Armoured. Broad-shouldered and blood-streaked, his golden skin was no longer unmarked—burns curled along one arm trailing up to his neck, a jagged scar traced up from cheek to brow, and his once-gentle mouth was a hard, unsmiling line. His eyes, once the soft shade of summer storms, now burned like steel in winter.

His jaw tightened beneath your touch.

Among the gathering of gods stood four figures, two of which who had once considered Jason as family.

At the forefront stood Bruce cloaked in shadows and silence. His face betrayed nothing, but the air around him felt taut, like a bow pulled too tight. He had not spoken since Jason stepped through the smoke. He only watched.

It was said Bruce had found Jason in the ruins of a battlefield long ago—an orphaned mortal with enough fire, he dared to steal the wheels of Bruce’s midnight chariot. It was this fire that made Bruce choose to raise him as his own bringing him to Olympus where he eventually met and fell in love with you.

Dick, Bruce’s eldest son, the god of light and duality, also once a mortal ascended to godhood stared at Jason with a gaze was bright with disbelief.

Beside him stood Tim, god of foresight and knowledge, lips pressed thin. His brilliant mind, always quick to calculate, struggled now to reconcile the impossible. His eyes flicked between Jason, you, Bruce, and Dick as if trying to read a history long before his time.

And then there was Damian, youngest and most volatile—god of wrath and beasts. His green eyes narrowed, not in malice, but suspicion. Like Tim, he had never truly known Jason. Not the boy with a crooked smile or the mortal brother with a quick temper and a quicker wit. Jason existed to him only in fragments—in stories passed down in whispers.

And the figure standing before him was no story.

This was the god who ravaged lands, who left cities smouldering in his wake, who painted rivers red with blood. The war-born storm whose fury bent steel and scattered armies.

Not one of them said a word. Because in that moment, they knew, only you would be able to reach him.

“I thought I’d lost you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over the jagged scar that marred his cheek like a bolt of lightning etched into flesh. “He took you from me.”

“He did,” Jason rasped, voice low and raw, torn from somewhere deep inside him. “That man you remember… he’s dead. I remember little of him—just flashes. But one thing has never left me…” His gaze darkened, steel-hard. “…I want the head of the god who killed me.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“He’s yours, if you want him,” you said, voice calm, almost casual in its finality. “Though I already ensured he would suffer eternally for the pain he caused you and I.”

Jason’s eyes slid past your shoulder, lingering on the looming figure of Bruce—the god of night and justice—his divine father. There was a flicker of something in Jason’s gaze, some buried expectation, as if Bruce might protest or claim otherwise.

But Bruce said nothing.

Only his jaw clenched, ever so slightly, as he looked away.

Jason’s focus returned to you. “You would give him to me so freely?”

“I would rip out his heart and place it in your hands if that is what you wished,” you answered without pause, your voice low, unshaking. “I would die for you. I would give you anything you desire.”

Something shifted behind his eyes. A storm, held back for centuries, calmed at the edge. Never would it be fully gone but something about your presence was stilling it. And in that moment, with war’s fire in his blood and your hand on his face, Jason realized one thing. He had been reborn not just by rage, not only by death—but by the echo of a love so powerful, it had called him back from the ashes.

His expression cracked. Just barely. A flicker of the man he had been.

“The man you once knew is gone,” he said quietly.

You lifted your chin, defiantly, beautifully. “Then I’ll love what rose in his place.”

His eyes flickered, but his tone remained cold. “I’m not gentle anymore,” he warned, voice darker now, coiled tight with the weight of all he’d become. “I don’t feel softness. I don’t remember how to be… that.”

“Then be war itself,” you said fiercely, “I’ll still love you.”

Because while you had loved him at his most radiant, this version, forged through pain and fury, was no less worthy. He was not the same—but neither were you. Love had never asked for perfection. Only truth.

His hands—bloodstained, trembling—rose slowly, hesitantly, as though he feared you were a mirage. He caught your wrists, holding them with reverence, with desperation. Then his forehead touched yours, and in that simple gesture, something ancient and sacred passed between you. Something that neither time nor death had managed to sever.

A goddess born of love.

A god reborn of war.

And in his arms, when he finally pulled you close, the goddess of love found her heart again—not in beauty, not in peace, but in ruin and rage, in the bloodied hands of war itself.

They had taken him from you once.

But not again.

You had crossed eternity to mourn him.

Now, you would cross it again to stand beside him.

Because whether mortal or divine, broken or whole, he was still yours.

And you were still his.

1K notes · View notes

slightlysaltysometimes · 11 days ago

Text

PAN-DEMONIUM

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

divider by: cafekitsune & omi-resources word count: 1.5k synopsis: When your boyfriend forgets to mention his dad is the Batman, things can escalate quickly. a/n: Instead of working, I found another idea that I dug up from the depths of my crack fic drafts, hope y'all had a laugh.

The apartment was quiet—eerily so, save for the low, comforting sizzle of eggs on the stovetop. It was a familiar sound in the late hours, part of a routine that had etched itself into your life since you found out about your boyfriend’s double identity. Midnight cravings were a constant in this place. Jason would drag himself in from patrol, bruised, half-dead, and starving, usually too tired to eat anything but dry cereal or a protein bar. Somewhere along the way, you’d started preempting his return, slipping out of bed before he could crash onto the couch and coaxing something warm onto a plate.

Tonight was no different. You stood at the stove, barefoot and comfortably wrapped in one of his worn shirts—black, soft, smelling faintly of gunpowder and his cologne. You hummed absently, the tune unrecognizable and slightly off-key, as you nudged the eggs with a spatula. The warmth from the burner was a pleasant contrast to the cool of the tiled floor beneath your feet.

And then you heard it.

A sound—barely audible, but wrong. Not the front door. Not the creak of a windowpane. But something. A shift of weight. The subtle scrape of a boot across hardwood.

You froze.

The spatula paused mid-motion. Your head tilted slightly, listening—straining. Jason always made noise when he came in. A thud of boots. A sarcastic remark. A muttered curse. Sometimes he’d whistle. Always something. And he never forgot to let you know it was him.

“Jason?” you called, your voice a notch quieter than you’d intended. “Is that you?”

No answer.

Your stomach dropped. A cold ripple of dread slid down your spine.

You moved quickly but quietly, turning the burner off. The comforting sizzle of eggs faded into silence. The spatula was abandoned in favour of the frying pan—heavier, more solid in your grip. You adjusted your hold on it, stepping away from the stove and edging slowly toward the hallway.

The shadow at the end of the hall was thicker than it should’ve been—wrong somehow, dense and unnatural. You squinted into the dark, heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes struggled to adjust. The hallway had always been dim at night, but this… this was different. It almost looked like the darkness itself was shifting. You took a cautious step forward—and then froze.

He was just suddenly there.

A towering figure. The black cape flowed down his frame like oil, and his cowl obscured his face, two glowing white slits where his eyes should’ve been. He looked like something out of your nightmares.

You didn’t think. There was no time for logic or reason, only instinct.

With a half-scream, you swung the pan with everything you had.

CLANG.

The sound rang out like a bell, followed by a low, guttural grunt. The man staggered, head jerking to the side as one gloved hand came up to clutch where you’d struck him.

You stared, breathless, pan still raised like a weapon, frozen with adrenaline. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your mind spiralling—

And then the front door crashed open.

“What the fuck?!” Jason’s voice rang out, sharp and alarmed.

You spun around, the frying pan still trembling in your grip. “Jason!” you gasped, relief breaking through in a sudden tidal wave. “There’s a man—he—he broke in—I thought—I didn’t know what else to do—oh my god.”

Jason’s eyes flew past you, quickly scanning the scene—the eggs now dripping in gloppy streaks down the wall, the now-empty skillet in your hands, the looming figure still bent slightly forward, one hand pressed to his temple.

Jason blinked. His mouth opened. Then dropped.

“You hit Batman?!”

You blinked. Slowly turned back.

The man—Batman, the actual Batman—was slowly straightening up, gloved fingers rubbing his cowl covered temple where your frying pan had made contact. The cowl hadn’t even cracked. Not a single tear or dent. He just gave you the smallest, almost imperceptible tilt of his head, as if he were trying to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened.

He looked less furious and more…inconvenienced. A little surprised, maybe. You hoped to God he wasn’t concussed.

You dropped the pan like it had burned you, it fell to the floor with such a loud sound both Jason and the Bat flinched.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, stepping back as panic began to claw its way up your throat. “Oh my god.” You whirled on your boyfriend, wide-eyed and flushed with horror. “I just assaulted Batman. I attacked Batman. I’m going to jail. He’s going to disappear me. Jason, they’re going to find me in Arkham.”

“Jason!” you hissed, slapping his arm with a mixture of panic and outrage. “This is serious! I just committed a felony—with your damn midnight snack!”

Still snorting, Jason tried to compose himself but failed spectacularly. His shoulders were shaking, breath hitching with every suppressed laugh as he leaned against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

He still hadn’t told you. Not the part about who Batman really was. That his adopted father was the Dark Knight himself. That the rest of his so-called siblings also ran around Gotham in capes and masks, playing vigilante just like he did. As far as you knew, Jason was the only one with a flair for crime-fighting and danger. He’d conveniently left out the bat-shaped elephant in the room.

“He’s not gonna press charges, babe,” Jason wheezed, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. “Jesus. You hit the Bat over the head with a pan. With a pan!” He bent double again, laughing so hard he nearly choked. “Oh man—this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You glared at him like you might hurl the pan at him next, and your mortification only deepened when you turned back to Batman—your face pale as chalk.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted, hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t know it was you. You were in the dark and you didn’t say anything and you’re—well—you’re literally terrifying.”

Batman’s silence stretched long enough that you were genuinely debating whether you should throw yourself out the window when he finally spoke.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gravelly and deep. “You hit me.” He almost sounded surprised, perhaps even confused.

You flinched. “I—I didn’t know it was you! You were just standing there in the dark! You didn’t even say anything! I thought you were a burglar! What was I supposed to do—offer you eggs?”

Behind you, Jason was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to smother his laughter. He wasn’t succeeding.

The Bat didn’t move.

You swallowed thickly, muttering now more to yourself than anyone else. “I can’t believe I assaulted Batman. I’m going to prison. Or Arkham. Or wherever he takes people when they attack him with a frying pan.”

Finally, Batman exhaled, the sound sharp and slow through his nose. “You should’ve been more aware of your surroundings.”

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? You brokeinto our apartment!”

Jason, ever helpful, mumbled under his breath, “Technically true.”

You shot him a glare but turned your frustration back to the source of your near heart attack. “You crept in like some B-rated horror movie villain!” you snapped, the lingering fear in your chest giving way to indignation. “And you have the audacity to lecture me about being aware of my surroundings? At least I listened to my instincts when I heard you move!”

“And your first instinct,” he said flatly, “was to attack me with cookware?”

You met his gaze without flinching this time. “It was cast iron.”

There was a beat of silence—and then Jason lost it all over again. He doubled over, wheezing, his laughter echoing off the hallway walls.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face as if you could physically wipe away the humiliation. Your other arm remained wrapped around your ribs, like you were trying to hold together the shattered remains of your dignity. “Shut up, Jason,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palm. “This is so humiliating. I literally assaulted Batman.”

“I know!” Jason wheezed, nearly breathless with laughter. “It’s great. Literally the best day of my life.”

From behind you, the Dark Knight’s voice came again—low, grave, entirely too casual. “She’s got a strong swing.”

Jason turned toward him, still grinning like a lunatic. “You should see her when we play baseball.”

A long beat passed, silence settling again.

Then Batman looked directly at you, the white slits of his cowl narrowing slightly. “Next time,” he said evenly, “aim for the jaw. The cowl’s reinforced.”

You blinked. “Wait… what?”

But he was already gone, shadows swallowing the space where he’d stood.

You stared at the space he’d occupied, jaw slack. “I think I just made his criminal list.”

Jason came up behind you, arms wrapping snugly around your waist, still chuckling against the side of your neck. “Nah,” he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. “If anything, I think you impressed him.”

You threw your arms out in exasperation—nearly clocking him in the face with your flailing limbs.

He ducked with a laugh.

“Why else would he tell me to aim for the jaw?” you demanded. “He thinks we’re gonna fight again. He’s preparing me for our next encounter!”

Jason didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Want me to get a new pan?”

“Jason!”

2K notes · View notes