#tauriawritessmut

[ladytauria]

Trick or treat!!!!

💖, @bi-bats

<333 thank u!

hmmm

okay, pulling this one out of the stray!tim au outline~! so like. this scene could end up heavily changed, lmao. but i hope it gets the ~vibe~ of the fic across :D

Stray isn’t sure how they got here.

One minute, he and Hood are arguing—fighting—over his use of excessive force, and the next, he’s got Hood pinned to the ground, all of the fight leaving him as Stray slots their mouths together.

It’s a bad idea.

He knows it’s a bad idea.

Hood’s dangerous. He climbed his way to the top of Gotham’s underworld in the span of just a handful of months; establishing himself as a kingpin to rival Black Mask. He’s terrifying in his ruthless efficiency, and if ever decides to turn on Stray—well. Stray doesn’t plan on going down without a fight, but he’s not confident about his chances.

It’s terrifying.

Even more so because, if there’s one thing Stray prides himself on, it’s his network. There’s not a lot going on in Gotham that he doesn’t know about. In information trading, he comes second only to Oracle. But despite his best efforts, Hood remains a mystery. He’s dangerous. Working with him is bad enough. Fucking him, or being fucked by him? Almost certainly a step too far.

Curiosity kills cats, and in this life, satisfaction won’t be enough to bring him back.

He can’t bring himself to care. Not with Hood solid and warm beneath him, mouth opening to his tongue. The moan Stray gets is deep and throaty, sending heat straight to his groin.

Stray takes his time, licking into Hood’s mouth like he belongs there; like Hood belongs to him. He tastes the lingering echo of tobacco and smoke; traces of the tea blend Hood favors over coffee. Hood’s hands flex in Stray’s grip. It would take nothing, nothing at all for him to break it—push Stray away, flip their positions, whatever he wants to do. But he doesn’t. He lets Stray hold him down, and that—

It’s heady. It’s power that goes straight to his head—or, maybe just his cock, which strains valiantly against his jockstrap.

He pulls back when his lungs make it clear he needs to breathe, dammit, and settles back into his haunches. He settles his hands on Hood’s chest; clawtips resting lightly on the red bat. Hood’s face is flushed and pink, lips swollen and slick. He’s just as breathless as Stray; and for a moment, they just—sit there. Staring at each other.

With the helmet gone, and only the domino mask in the way, Hood looks—familiar. Stray sees, for a moment, a cheeky smile and wild curls, and aches.

Don’t let yourself go down that road, he scolds. Robin—Jason—is gone, and he’s never coming back. There’s no need to break his own heart further.

[ladytauria]

trick or treat?

okay so you know the other day when i was gushing in the tags of ur jaytim collar post?

well.

i was digging around in my wip folder (bc i forget whats in there sometimes. many times.) and i found this, whose original inspiration i forget:

(edit: the beginning didn’t copy with the rest of it oops)

Jason knows Tim likes marking him up. It’s hard to miss, with the amount of mouth-shaped bruises he finds on his body the day after Tim fucks him. And it’s not like he minds. The opposite, really: it’s nice, to be claimed so obviously.

The thing is, bruises fade.

There’s one on his neck right now; an almost-invisible yellow-green. Tim’s finger presses into it, though there’s almost no pleasure-pain left for it to give. The weight of his palm on Jason’s neck, his head on Tim’s lap, almost makes up for it. Makes his brain buzz pleasantly around the edges, narrowing his world to the two of them, on Tim’s over-large couch.

He can almost forget he has to tell him he’s leaving. Roy has a job for them, and then they’re meeting up with Kori to go cause trouble in space for a bit. He’s going to be gone for at least a couple of months. When he does finally spill—

Tim will leave more bruises. They’ll be gone entirely too soon.

That’s probably what prompts him to say—

“You’re so possessive, I’m surprised you haven’t just collared me and called it done.”

Tim’s hand tightens around his neck. Not enough to restrict his airway, but enough he has trouble swallowing. He looks away from the laptop he’d been working at, case momentarily abandoned.

“You’d wear it?” His tone is mild. Idle. He sounds almost bored. It’s the eyes that give him away; dark and fathomless in a way that has Jason’s stomach clenching.

Jason swallows. Feels the weight of Tim’s palm. “Yeah.” His voice is cracked, throat suddenly Saharan dry. “I’d—I’d never take it off.”

Not tangible, visible proof that someone wanted him.

Tim’s voice lowers to a whisper when he says, “Never?” The mild tone is gone, now; replaced with something Jason doesn’t recognize. It lights him up, anyway; igniting something desperate in him. He plants his feet on a couch cushion. One hand falls to grip Tim’s pant leg; the other wraps around his wrist. Not to pull him away, but to keep him. Hold his hand in place, because Tim’s fingers on his neck feels like all that’s holding him together.

“Never,” he swears, no matter how bad of an idea it is. Red Hood doesn’t need to be caught wearing a collar.

Jason doesn’t care.

Tim hums, low in his chest. He looks away from Jason, leaving him feeling bereft. He whimpers, but the sound barely passes his lips before he hears the ‘click’ of Tim shutting his laptop. He leans over Jason, stomach brushing his face as he leans forward to put it on the coffee table, case abandoned.

Then he’s looking at Jason again, thumb stroking the side of his neck. “I bought you a collar ages ago,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d wear it. Thought you’d—you’d hate it.”

Jason had certainly said things to that effect in the past, he knows. He squeezes Tim’s wrist. “I don’t. I want it. I want it so bad—please, Tim.” He’s willing to beg on his knees, if Tim wants him to.

“It’s yours,” Tim promises, low and sweet. “And you’re mine.”

[ladytauria]

"You know, no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are." damitim 👀

<333 thank you for the prompt~

this was a fun one ;)

Tim crowds Damian against the wall. Damian lets him, chin tipping subtly to expose more of his throat. Tim bites him; just barely avoiding leaving a mark.

"You know," he says, lips still pressed against his skin, "no one would believe me if I told them how much of a tease you are."

A tremor shakes Damian's frame. "That is because it isn't true," he says; voice low but even. His lashes nearly kiss his cheeks as he looks down at Tim, green-blue eyes darkening.

"No?" Tim asks. He skims his teeth over Damian's pulse; relishing in the sharp intake of breath that gets him. "So it wasn't you making eyes at me across the ballroom all night?"

Damian's tongue darts out; wetting his lips. Tim wonders if the taste of champagne still lingers in his mouth. Barely restrains himself from stretching up to find out.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Timothy," he says. 'Timothy' comes out in the same cadence he uses for 'beloved.'

"Brat." Tim wraps his fist around Damian's tie, pulling him down and locking their mouths together. He tangles his other hand in his hair, tugging at the strands until Damian makes a noise that could only be described as a whimper.

The kiss is fierce; heated, all teeth and tongue. Damian's hands slip under the coat of his tux, fisting in the silk of his dress shirt. He tries, at first, to match Tim's punishing pace---but soon enough, he gives up, taking only what Tim gives him.

When Tim pulls away his lips are swollen and shining, chest heaving as he pants. His pupils have blown wide; face flushed. He looks halfway to debauched.

Tim intends to take him all the way there.

He tugs Damian's hair again, just to hear that sweet sound again. Damian gives it to him, eyes fluttering.

Then he lets go, loosening Damian's tie and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt with practiced ease.

If there is one thing Tim loves about Damian's growth spurt, it's that Tim is at the perfect height to suck marks beneath his collar. He leaves a trail of them. Damian stays quiet, despite the way he shudders and quakes. The only sound he makes are ragged breaths.

When Tim glances up at him, he sees that full lower lip trapped under his teeth.

He smirks, just a little. He so loves testing the baby bat's control. It's so much more fun now that the only blood comes from Damian's nails, raked down his back, or when teeth press a little too deep. (Not that Tim hasn't fantasized a time two, about all the fun they could have with a well-kept knife---but. Damian is still young, and there will be time for that later.)

He kisses the last mark; the tenderness of the gesture draws another whimper from Damian's throat.

He rises onto the balls of his feet, nipping Damian’s earlobe before whispering, “Hmm… I suppose a little teasing isn’t so bad after all, is it, Dami?”

“Beloved,” Damian breathes; turning his face to tuck his nose against the side of Tim’s head. “Please.”

Tim steps back, carefully disentangling Damian’s fingers from his shirt, only to thread them with his own. Damian looks thoroughly debauched now. He allows himself a smile, smug and pleased.

“Upstairs, darling. You can wait that long, can't you?" Tim loves to make it sound like he has a choice in the matter.

Damian shivers again; closing his eyes. His hands tighten around Tim's. For a moment, Tim thinks he might say 'no', or the one word that will call the whole thing off---

But he doesn't.

Instead his eyes open again, and he nods, a gentle dip of his chin. "Yes, beloved."

Damian says 'beloved' the same way others would say 'sir', or 'master.' Reverence wraps around the word; snaking between each syllable. Tim's toes curl, and his smile grows. He wonders if he looks as hungry as he feels.

He thinks, by the expression on Damian's face, he might.

"Let's not waste any more time, then," he says, and tugs Damian up the stairs.

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit (and please mind the tags) Chapter Wordcount: 4.9k

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as Jason is starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate...

i was going to wait longer to post this, but... i've been dying to share it, lmao, so i'm doing so as a birthday gift to myself <3

under the cut is a preview of the first chapter, as well as chapter content warnings. i hope you enjoy <3

CWs: underage prostitution, kidnapping, non-consensual touching, non-consensual medical exam, non-consensual pelvic exam, antiquated sexual education, degrading comments, humiliation, dehumanization, non-consensual photography, hurt no comfort, (it's coming, i promise)

tumblr is being rude and not letting me upload my divider image so take this purple text instead

Jason hasn’t stood on a street corner in over a year. He'd hoped, deep down, that he never would again. But...

Here he is, dolled up in a pair of tight shorts and a t-shirt, the combo doing nothing to protect him from the chill. Even mild as it is, the cold cuts straight through his skin.

A cigarette, unlit, dangles from his lips. He turns a lighter around and around in his palm, but doesn't light it yet.

Luckily for him—or maybe unluckily, not even an hour passes before a car sidles up to the curb. Jason's no expert, despite his brief stint at a chop shop, but he knows enough to know this one is nice. Not top of the line, exactly, but good. Shiny. Sleek. All black chrome and tinted windows, the engine purring like a content house cat before it cuts, the car rolling to a stop.

The tires would fetch a decent price. Too bad his guy is laying low, with the rest of the shop.

The man who steps out is tall, with broad shoulders and thick arms emphasized further by a leather jacket. He's bald. Despite the darkness of the hour, there are sunglasses perched on top of his head.

Jason’s grip gets a little tighter around the lighter. He forces it to loosen as he lights his cigarette. The flicker of warmth at his fingertips makes the rest of him feel folder in comparison. He takes a long, slow drag before letting the smoke pour from his nose. It dissipates in the night; the wispy cloud getting lost in Gotham's smog.

He envies it, a little.

The man's gait isn't quite a swagger. His steps are slow. Confident. The size of him is intimidating. His scent, when Jason catches it, doesn't help matters. It's thick with alpha musk, both natural and artificial. Under that is the sharp scent of burning wood. The part of Jason that's purely omega, that cares only about the safety of pack and getting fat with pups and milk, perks up. There's a low, steady heat in his blood, something that's been building for weeks now, that grows a little warmer.

Jason keeps his scent tucked tight.

The alpha leans against the wall next to him, pulling out his own smoke.

“Got a light?” he asks, casual as you please. Like they’re just two work buddies on break together.

“Yeah,” Jason says quietly.

The man doesn’t do much more than bend his head down, forcing Jason to rise onto the balls of his feet to light it. The alpha’s hand rests on his waist, above his hip, steadying him. Under his shirt, Jason’s skin crawls. He hates being touched almost as much as he craves it, these days.

The alpha blows the smoke out, into the night, and says, “Thanks,” thumb rubbing circles into Jason’s hip.

Jason lets himself shiver. Knows it’ll be interpreted as desire; not a reaction to the dread settling in his belly.

Last chance to back out, Todd, he tells himself.

He thinks about his squat. About his nest, if you can call it that; assembled from old paper and cardboard, and things he found in the very bottom of lost and found bins. About the thin blankets, the creeping cold.

About the way the absence of his pack bonds grows harder and harder to bear with each passing day; the empty spaces aching like phantom limbs.

He won’t survive a heat on his own. Even assuming no one finds him, or that the difficult-to-reach location keeps him safe… He just. He won’t. Not with what he has.

Some of the men who have picked Jason up like to make small talk. Even flirt a little, like… Like it’s something real, and not a sick perversion. This guy doesn’t. “How much’re ya askin’, kid?” He’s still rubbing Jason’s hip.

“Depends on what you want,” Jason says back. He licks his lips, and then looks up at the man through his lashes as he takes another puff, hoping the move comes off as sensual, and not stupid. “My mouth…” Jason shrugs, exhaling smoke. “Fifty. But…” He leans back, tipping his head back, exposing a little of his throat.

The alpha watches with interest; greed in his gaze.

Jason keeps tight control of his scent—but he loosens it now. The milky scent of his puphood is an undertone now; slowly being overpowered by a more adult, omega scent. It’s thick and sweet, with just a hint of spice. The lure of impending heat floats between them.

The alpha’s grip tightens on his hip. His breath has caught in his chest.

Jason stubs the cigarette out on the wall and lets it fall from his fingers. It pains him to waste one like that—but it was only ever a prop to start with. He presses against the alpha’s side, wrapping his arms around the barrel of his chest, head tipped back. “If you want to make a proper omega outta me… I think a thousand is fair. Don’t you?”

God. He wants to ask for more. Heats are usually around three days. Alphas… Alphas may not be able to match an omega’s stamina in that time, but there are no shortage of other ways for them to touch him. To violate him. But he’s pushing it already, asking for a thousand. He’s a crime alley street whore, not a pretty little O with a silver spoon in his mouth and gold on his throat.

The alpha’s hand slips to Jason’s lower back, just above the swell of his ass. It— It’s a fight not to let revulsion sour his scent, his expression. His skin crawls. His stomach rolls.

“A thousand,” the man repeats, rolling the words in his mouth. Then his lips quirk up at one corner. “Yeah, kid. I think a thousand’s fair.” He stubs out his own cig before pulling out his wallet; a beat-up leather trifold.

Jason’s teeth catch on his lip. He watches him count one, two, three—five hundred dollar bills, folding them in half and offering them between two fingers.

“Half up front.”

He’s sure the alpha must be able to hear the way his heart thunders. If he does, though, he gives no indication. Jason takes the money, pushing it into the pocket of his shorts.

Then he lets himself be guided to the car. Just before Jason steps off the curb, the alpha grabs him, yanking him against his chest. His arm locks around Jason’s chest like a vice. Jason claws futilely at the arm around him. Though the alpha growls, scent sharp with pain, he doesn’t let go.

Jason twists. Kicks. “Let me go—“ He’s lost all control of his scent now; his terror is thick and sour in the night air.

The alpha covers his mouth—Jason takes his chance. He sinks his teeth into the meat of the alpha’s palm, clamping his jaw down as tightly as he can. Blood floods his mouth.

“Fucking bitch—“ The alpha snarls, dropping Jason.

Jason doesn’t think—he just runs, stumbling before righting himself.

Unfortunately, the universe has never been kind to Jason Todd, and she’s not about to start now. He’s not even sure what he trips on, only that one minute, he’s running, and the next—

He plummets.

He manages to avoid face planting, catching himself on his hands. Before he can push himself back up, though, the alpha reaches him—his boot slams into Jason’s side, knocking the breath from him.

The alpha kneels beside him, hand closing roughly around the back of Jason’s neck. He scruffs him roughly; thumb and middle finger pressing down on his scent glands, palm pushing at the back of his neck. Submission floods Jason’s veins. Unwillingly, he slumps into the concrete, all the fight leaving him.

He lets out a pup’s call—not for pack but for anyone. It’s small and helpless and immediately cut short by the alpha hauling him up and over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Tears pool in his eyes.

He’s not strong enough to resist it. Not strong enough to do anything but twitch as the alpha carries him into the car. He drops him in the trunk, securing his limbs with zip-ties, rendering Jason utterly immobile.

Baldie slams the trunk shut, trapping Jason in the dark.

[ladytauria]

i am soooo predictable but.... Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. for jaytim my beloved <33333

i combined this prompt with these two---or, well. this prompt from you and @waffleinator-inator <3

um. click under the cut for 3k of slow, tender jaytim body worship <3

this is. barely proofread. apologies for any mistakes ^^; pls don't be afraid to point out any typos <333 i will give this a more thorough edit tomorrow--probably. for now! enjoy <3

>> AO3 <<

Jason has a body made to be worshiped, in Tim’s opinion. How lucky he is to have him spread out on cotton sheets, naked as the day he was born, so utterly willing to let Tim have his way with him.

Tim starts at his feet. He cups his hand around one ankle, raising it in the air, pressing the softest of kisses to the sole. Tim isn’t particularly into feet, the way some people are—but he adores how sensitive they are. As if in testament, Jason jerks. Tim’s grip is firm, keeping him in place, but his toes curl.

“T-Tim,” he says, too tremulous to be properly chiding. Color blooms over his face, the loveliest shade of rose-red.

“Jason,” Tim replies, a little bit mocking, a little bit a reminder. He decides how this is going to go. Just to really let it sink in, he kisses again; this time with a hint of tongue. The bitten off noise he gets is delightful. His mouth curls.

He kisses Jason’s ankle next; lingering over the jut of it. He angles his neck to kiss the tendon, his achilles heel, before lifting the leg higher so he can trail a string of kisses up Jason’s calf.

Both of them are scarred all over—a hazard of the job. Tim gets grafts put on anything too obvious; anything else can be simply explained away by both the treacherous nature of Gotham City and his own athletic pursuits. Jason has not had the same luxury. Nor does Tim think he would take it if anyone offered it. Jason’s scars are part of him, whether he likes them or not, and he doesn’t let go of what belongs to him.

It’s a trait they share.

Jason doesn’t have many scars on his calves, though, and those that are there are faded. Tim pays extra attention to them anyway.

He doesn’t get another noise until he reaches the back of Jason’s knee—the skin there is thin and delicate, and he knows from experience that it’s one of Jason’s sensitive spots. He nuzzles first; relishing in Jason’s sharp intake of breath. Then he kisses with the slightest scrape of teeth. Jason makes a low, tremulous sound.

Tim glances up at him—he has an arm thrown over his face. His teeth dig into his lip, and his face and throat are both still painted red. His other hand fists the sheets.

Precious.

Tim repeats the process on the other leg—Jason trembles and twitches under the ministrations. Tim relishes each and every reaction. He loves how responsive Jason is. He reacts so beautifully to gentleness. It makes Tim want to keep him like this forever.

Tim skips over his thighs for now. Jason’s cock is still mostly soft. Tim can’t help the urge to plant a kiss on it, the flesh soft and hot under his lips. Jason makes a high, embarrassed sound, his flush darkening, spreading over his chest. Tim’s mouth twitches, unable to resist doing it again.

His firm grip on Jason’s thighs is all that keeps them from snapping shut; a second, higher noise escaping him at the same time. He looks up at Tim, eyes already wide and a little pleading.

It breaks Tim’s heart a little, how easily Jason folds under a bit of softness.

At the same time—it’s truly a pleasure to see him so sweet and vulnerable under him. “Ah-ah,” he scolds. “You’re mine right now. I want to enjoy you.”

Jason’s bottom lip is red and swollen, caught between his teeth again. His eyes are glossy. “Y-yes sir,” he whispers, a tremor in his voice.

Tim rubs his thighs reassuringly. “Just lie back and  relax, sweetheart.”

Jason hesitates a moment. Tim waits for him to use his safe word, or otherwise indicate he’s too overwhelmed to continue, but—then he settles back down again.

As soon as he’s relaxed again, Tim slides his hands up to Jason’s hips. He nuzzles his belly, before kissing down the trail of hair leading to his groin. Tim trails more kisses over his pelvic bone, nibbling a little at his love handles, and the pouch of fat over his groin. He lavishes his stretch marks with attention, too; following their paths with his tongue, tasting the salt of his skin.

Jason’s breaths come faster now; bitten off moans and gasps getting stuck in his throat. Tim hates how quiet he is—well. That’s not quite true. He wouldn’t mind if Jason was quiet naturally. What he hates is the way Jason suppresses all noise; like he’s afraid of letting on just how good he’s feeling.

That’s alright, though. Tim has time, and plenty of patience. He can coax those pretty sounds out of him.

He makes sure to pay special attention to the places on Jason’s sides where he’s most sensitive, delighting in the way he squirms. Then, finally, he goes back to Jason’s stomach, where the bottom of his Y-incision starts, and follows it up to Jason’s chest, kissing to each end, and then back to the middle again.

Jason’s breaths sound wetter now—Tim rubs his sides reassuringly, glancing up at him just as a quick check-in. Jason smiles tremulously; a sheen of tears over his eyes. Tim smiles back at him and nuzzles his collarbone.

He cups Jason’s chest in his hands; the relaxed muscle of his pecs not that different from a pair of tits. Jason arches into his hands when he squeezes, sighing sweetly. Tim tweaks his nipples with his thumbs; the buds already hard and pointed despite the heater warming the bedroom.

As much as Tim wants to suck one into his mouth, he decides the circuitous path is the better one. He follows the defined line of his pectorals with his lips and tongue—cups and squeezes them again so he can bite them.

Jason is panting now—his hands coming to rest on Tim’s ribs, the breadth of them almost spanning his whole ribcage. It’s insanely hot. He can feel his cock filling out more, the arousal in his gut starting to burn hotter, more insistent.

Tim takes one of his nipples in his mouth. He sucks, swirling his tongue around the bud—the low groan he gets in response reverberates through Jason’s chest. Tim suckles at it for a bit before gentling his mouth, licking at the skin a few times before scraping it with his teeth.

The whimper Jason makes is loud and unrestrained in the silence—followed quickly by the slap of skin on skin when he covers his mouth, cheeks blazing scarlet.

Tim immediately slides up, taking Jason’s wrist in his hand. He pulls his hand from his mouth, pressing a brief kiss to his palm before kissing his cheek as well. Then he nuzzles him too, mouth against his jaw as he whispers, “Let me hear you, baby. I want to know I’m making you feel good.” He pauses. “You deserve to feel good.”

Another, quieter whimper. Jason squeezes his eyes shut—moisture gathers in the corner of his eyes.

Tim hums, lingering there, giving Jason time to compose himself. Eventually his eyes open again. He blinks quickly to dispel the tears, and then says softly, “I— I’ll try, sir.”

Tim smiles at him, kissing his nose. “Good boy. Thank you.”

That makes him close his eyes again, a shiver rocking his body. Tim gives him another second, and then returns to Jason’s chest. He follows the same path around the other pec; gives his right nipple the same attention as his left.

Jason does well at first, soft sighs and sounds escaping him. But the first higher, louder noise he makes startles him, his mouth immediately clamping shut again.

He opens it again as Tim trails kisses over his shoulders. He sits back so he can kiss down his arm;  over his bicep, the inner part of his elbow, down his forearm, his wrists. He kisses his palms, and each fingertip.

Back up again—down the other. Tears trickle down Jason’s cheeks now; his breaths hitching softly. He’s so pretty when he cries. Tim admits he gets a little eager, going back over his shoulders, his neck, not lingering as long as he means to. (Though he does, at least, remember to spend a little extra time on his throat scar.) 

At his face again, Tim rubs noses with him before kissing the tears away; licking the salt from his lips. “You’re doing so well for me, darling,” he murmurs. As much as he wants to lay the praise on thick, he doesn’t dare—not yet. Instead he kisses his chin, jaw, and cheeks. He nuzzles their noses again, kisses the corners of his mouth, over his eyelids, and the center of his forehead. He kisses back down his nose and ends at his mouth, kissing Jason deep and sweet.

Jason utterly melts beneath him. His mouth opens easily to Tim’s tongue. It’s Tim’s mouth that muffles his moan this time, but otherwise, there’s nothing restrained about it.

It’s music.

Makes Tim linger a little longer, just to hear more of them. And Jason gives them to him, his hands spasming on Tim’s skin.

When he pulls away, a line of spit connects them. It breaks when Tim pecks him again, and then slides down his body. Jason’s cock bumps his stomach on the way down—no longer soft but half-hard. Tim rubs his cheek against it when he passes it, returning to Jason’s thighs.

Fuck.

Jason’s thighs are glorious. Strong, muscular, easily capable of crushing a man’s skull. Dusted with fine hair, shimmering with stretch marks, and textured with a few ridged scars. Tim explores all of it with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

Jason tries—Tim can tell he does. But he keeps muffling himself, automatically biting his lip and clenching his jaw when he thinks he’s going to be too loud.

Tim finishes with his thighs. He nuzzled the base of his cock, cupping his balls in one hand and squeezing. That gets him a breathy sound, his thighs trembling. Tim kisses up his shaft, all the way to the flared mushroom head at the top. He rubs his cheeks against it; precome smearing sticky on his skin.

More high, whimpery moans come from Jason. His body shakes. The musk of his arousal fills Tim’s nose, making his mouth water.

He kisses the head; probes the slit with his tongue. Jason yelps at that, biting it back too late, causing a squeaky sort of sound at the end Tim almost wants to coo at.

He doesn’t. There are more important things to focus on.

Like lavishing his whole cock with little kitten licks. Jason is squirming now; not trying to get away, but the pleasure is clearly getting to him.

Gorgeous.

Tim sucks Jason into his mouth. The taste of him is thick; the girth of him heavy on his tongue. It’s good. Better is the way Jason shouts, body curling up automatically; chest heaving as he pants harsh and rough.

He collapses back into the bed; fingers tangling loosely in Tim’s hair. Tim would smile if his mouth wasn’t full.

He bobs his head a few times—and then swallows him down, nose buried in the thatch of hair at the base. Jason’s whimper sounds strangled. Tim pays him little mind, devoting his attention entirely to Jason’s cock

Tim uses his hands to cup and squeeze Jason’s balls, occasionally dipping behind to press and rub at his perineum. He can feel Jason’s muscles jumping; the way his legs twitch, his chest heaves, his fingers tugging at Tim’s hair. But he doesn’t buck into Tim’s mouth or try to guide his head.

He lets Tim set the pace.

Such a sweet boy.

Still—Tim can tell that, through the pleasure, he’s getting frustrated with himself. It’s in the tension in his belly, the way some of his noises sound more pained than others, the way sometimes he huffs when he should be sighing instead.

Poor darling. Tim eases Jason’s cock from his mouth. He suckles at the bundle of nerves under the head, then trails kisses down the shaft, over his balls. He cups them in his hand, lifting them to expose his [taint]. The high, reedy noise Jason makes when he kisses there is quickly cut off—and followed by a frustrated breath.

Tim kisses again, then turns to nuzzle his thigh before pulling back.

Jason whines. There’s no pleasure in the sound. It’s all panic and fear, and Tim rushes to cup his face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks as he hushes him.

“Shh-hh, darling. I’m not upset,” he soothes. “You’re trying so hard for me, aren’t you?”

Jason blinks up at him. He looks so upset, his poor boy. 

Tim nuzzles him. “Don’t worry, baby. I know it’s hard. Let me help you.”

Jason makes a soft, inquisitive noise.

Tim smiles slyly as he lets go of Jason’s face. “Open up.”

Jason’s brow furrows, but his jaw drops obediently. Tim cups his jaw with one hand; his thumb sliding over Jason’s tongue, pressing down, forcing his mouth open.

Jason’s eyes go wide with realization. He can’t flush any darker, but Tim can see the embarrassment anyway. The way he leans into Tim’s hand, though, is distinctly thankful.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Tim tells him. He can’t not. Jason’s too damn pretty with his face all red and his mouth hanging open, drool already starting to collect on his bottom lip and spill down his chin. Tim wants. Besides—he can’t hold his mouth open and rim him too, so that’s off the table for now.

He can do that later.

With Jason’s help, Tim gets his knees hooked over Tim’s shoulders. There’s already a pillow supporting his hips, making it easy for him to reach under him and grip the plug he’d worked into him earlier. He pumps it a few times, grinning at the way Jason moans, before pulling it out and tossing it to the side.

He reaches for the lube. It’s a bit of a trick, getting it open one handed. He can’t exactly pour it onto his hand, either, so he just drizzles it right on his dick, flinching a little at the cold. He smears some on Jason’s hole, too, though he’s still fairly slick from the plug.

Jason shivers when he does, the tight ring of muscle fluttering under his touch. He makes a breathy noise, soft and sweet, his breath hot on Tim’s thumb.

It’s strangely erotic, keeping his finger in Jason’s mouth as he lines his cock up, slowly pushing inside. Jason’s body gives to him beautifully, swallowing his cock eagerly. The head slips into his rim with a soft ‘pop’—Tim’s hand moving from his dick to the back of Jason’s thigh.

“Nn—look at you,” Tim breathes. “So eager to be full, aren’t you, baby? Fuck. You fit me so well, like you were built for me. My gorgeous little cocksleeve.”

The sound he makes is beautiful, high and needy, a moan tinged with a whine. His eyes are wide and pleading when he looks at Tim. “Pl’s,” he says, around Tim’s finger.

Tim taps his jaw. “Ah-ah, darling. We don’t speak with our mouths full.”

His hips stutter at the noise that gets him. Tim grips his thigh tight enough to bruise, fighting the urge to snap his pelvis forward and bury himself to the root.

Slow. He’s going to take this slow.

Speed can come later.

For now he watches Jason’s face; each minute twitch of muscle. His eyes get more and more hazy, eyelids drooping. He pants in between moans and sighs. Drool drips down his chin, onto his neck and chest. He’s so fucking pretty.

Tim wants to eat him.

Jason’s body is a furnace. His walls flutter and clench around Tim’s cock; drawing him deeper, deeper. It’s both forever and no time and all before Tim is fully seated in him; his balls slapping Jason’s ass.

Jason’s got his head thrown back, now, the column of his throat pretty and exposed. Tim can’t resist leaning down, scraping his teeth over his adam’s apple before finding the spot where neck meets shoulder and sinking his teeth in.

He doesn’t draw blood, but he sure as hell leaves a bruise, worrying it with lips and teeth until he’s sure it will be a nice, lurid shade of purple by morning.

Jason’s moans, no longer stifled, are high and sweet. They’re softer than Tim might have expected. He adores them. He can’t help but kiss over Jason’s cheeks—smiling indulgently at the way Jason tips his face up to receive them.

He steadies his grip on Jason’s thigh. Rolls his hips, just to test—delights when Jason mewls, clenching tight-tight-tight around him in response. A fresh pair of tears roll down his cheeks, dripping into the puddle of drool on his neck.

Tim presses a little firmer on his tongue—and then he fucks him.

Not fast and punishing, although he knows Jason takes that beautifully, but slow and deep; rolling his hips in a way he knows will leave him a little sore tomorrow. It’s worth it for the way Jason responds. His cries are so beautiful—and each and every one of them is for Tim. Because of Tim.

All the praise he’d held back before tumbles from him now. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect. S-sound so pretty. Wanna keep you like this all the time, split open on my fingers, my cock. Nn—” Tim’s hips stutter as Jason clenches around him. His breath catches, too. “A-and— shit. You’re so— You’re gorgeous. J-just— All I wanna do is w-worship you.”

Jason’s cock is twitching. Precome drips onto his belly; pearly liquid beading on his hair, shining on his skin.

“U-unh.” Tim lifts his leg a little higher; angling his hips to thrust deeper, the head of his cock bumping right up against Jason’s prostate. Jason mewls again. His body is shaking. Tim can feel his own legs starting to tremble.

“F-f— Jason,” he gasps. “Baby. You’re so good for me. T-take me so well.”

He squeezes Jason’s thigh before letting go, slipping his hand under where their bodies meet. He waits until he bottoms out—and then he presses two fingers against Jason’s perineum.

Jason shouts. His hips buck, cock spasming as come paints his chest and belly. His walls clamp around Tim’s cock like a vice. Tim switches to short, shallow thrusts, fucking Jason through his orgasm. His own is close at hand—there’s a part of him that wants to pull out, stroke himself until he adds to the mess painting Jason’s body, but. He won’t. He’ll leave his claim deep inside Jason, the way he’s earned.

Jason loosens after a moment, but his walls are still spasming, like they’re milking Tim’s cock. It leaves him breathless.

“Nn— Jay— So beautiful,” Tim praises. Jason’s expression is one of utter bliss. Tim keeps fucking him—faster, now, using Jason’s body to chase his own pleasure. Jason makes encouraging noises beneath him; gripping Tim’s ass, pulling him forward, deeper, kneading the muscle with his fingers.

With that kind of attention, it doesn’t take long for Tim to spill, body bowing forward, Jason’s name on his lips.

His hips move shallowly, fucking Jason through the aftershocks. Come trickles out, onto the sheets—it makes Jason shiver, whine. Tim rubs his side soothingly, easing his legs off his shoulders and pulling out slowly. More come spills. The sight of his hole clenching just about does Tim in.

He swallows hard. Slips his thumb from Jason’s mouth. Jason whines at that too. So needy. Tim loves it.

“Shh-hh. I’m not going far, babe,” he reassures. He doesn’t, either; barely has the energy to shift over a few inches so he can collapse beside him. Jason snuggles into him immediately. Tim kisses his forehead, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“L’ve y’ too,” Jason mumbles, nuzzling into him.

Tim knows they can’t stay like that long. The mess will start to dry soon, and stick, and— He knows neither of them have any interest in waking up like that.

But for now… 

He closes his eyes and basks in the warmth of Jason beside him.

[ladytauria]

#3 from the sultry prompts w/ damitim pls <33

<33 thank you maya!!

this one just kinda spilled out~ i hope you like it!

Timothy's hands glide up Damian's sides; his shirt bunching, raising to expose the skin of his stomach. It makes him shiver, teeth digging into his lower lip.

"Damian," Timothy says, kiss-swollen lips wrapping around his name like a caress. He almost shivers again. "Do you trust me?"

Timothy looks up at him; the icy blue of his iris nearly eclipsed by his pupils, blown-wide with desire. It reminds him, distinctly, of the wide, unblinking stare of a feline about to pounce. His heart rate picks up speed; a rabbit-quick thrum against his rib cage.

He is the one straddling Timothy's thighs, and yet---he feels caught, trapped; the prey to Timothy's predator.

"Should I?" He means for the question to come out light, playful... but instead it comes out on a trembling exhale.

Timothy's mouth quirks. "You're the only one who can answer that, bitty bird." The childish nickname Richard adorned him with should set his teeth on edge, especially now, like this. It doesn't. "C'mon, Dami." Timothy leans up, soft lips press against the underside of his jaw. "Do you trust me?"

Damian shudders; the breathy noise that tumbles from his mouth makes his skin prickle, burn. There is only one answer he can give. "Yes."

The flash of Timothy's teeth when he smiles has Damian's abdominal muscles tighten. His heart pounds in his ears when hands grip his hips, tight enough to bruise. Timothy flips them; Damian's back hits the sheets, the air knocked from his lungs.

Timothy is a sharp, hungry thing over Damian and the creature inside of him, the thing woken by Timothy's touch, by the molten press of his kiss, demands that he submit to it. Demands he offer up his soft, vulnerable belly and allow himself to be devoured.

So---Damian does.

[ sultry prompt list ]

[ladytauria]

wip wednesday thursday

tagged by @thesandsofelsweyr <3 thank u sm!

no pressure tag -- @waffleinator-inator ; @this-was-a-terrible-idea ; @esfordays ; @kieran-granola ; & @felinemotif

sharing a snippet from the fic that's taken over my life recently, lmao. it's reverse robins, because... of course it is xD cw for aob, heat-related dubcon, and underage. no sex, but this is obviously the prelude ;)

Jason purrs a little louder. He feels—

Blissful.

Almost.

There’s still an ache between his thighs, a longing that’s not quite satisfied. He wants— He wants to be closer.

He shifts, leg wrapping firmer around the alpha. His hips shift, rubbing against Alpha’s hip and—

Sparks arc up his spine; a soft breath escaping him. It feels so good.

He wants more.

He shifts again, carefully, biting his lip when he feels it again. His breaths deepen. He swallows. His hips twitch minutely. The stimulation is slight, but it’s— He’s so sensitive.

Alpha’s fingers still in his hair. “Jason,” he says, cautiously.

Jason lets out a breathy noise in response. “Alpha.”

Alpha shudders—fingers tightening on Jason’s head before he slips them down, down, to Jason’s hip, forcing him to still. He whines. “Shh. You gotta stop, Jay.”

Jason whines again, louder. “Please.”

Alpha shudders again, his breath hitching. “You don’t— I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, puppy.”

He looks up at him, his vision a little blurry. “It hurts,” he pleads. “Alpha. Please.”

Alpha swears.

For a moment Jason tenses, panic rising. Then Alpha moves, throwing the blankets off and pinning Jason to the bed under him. His scent— His scent swells with… Need. Want.

Arousal.

Jason whimpers, even as his hips cant up in offering. Alpha leans down, gliding his nose over Jason’s cheek. “I’ll make it better,” he promises, and his voice is low and growly and—

Jason shudders with a breathy cry.

Alpha grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over Jason’s head and arms, tossing it, baring Jason’s breasts. Jason’s arms twitch to cover them, but Alpha has both of his wrists pinned in one hand.

His wrists are so small it’s nothing, the alpha’s hand swallowing them whole.

Alpha yanks his pajama bottoms and underwear down together. Jason gasps at the sudden rush of air, the freedom for his trapped cock. Slick trickles down his thighs, and he finds himself helping to kick the clothes off of him without thinking, leaving him fully exposed under the alpha.

Alpha rakes his eyes over him. Jason shivers under his gaze, lip caught between his teeth again. His vision blurs; eyes glassy with tears.

“P-please… please be gentle, Alpha,” he whispers, his voice tinier than he’s ever heard it before. 

That makes Alpha look him in the face again—his expression softening, losing some of its hunger. He leans down, kissing his forehead, thumb stroking over his wrists. “I promise,” he murmurs, soft and gentle and sweet. “I’m going to take good care of you, little omega.”

Jason shivers, a tear rolling down his face.

Alpha kisses it away. Then, he trails more soft kisses down Jason’s face, until he reaches his mouth. Jason’s lips part in anticipation, watching the alpha with wide eyes.

Breath ghosts over his mouth and then… Alpha captures his lips in a kiss.

Jason—

Jason’s never been kissed before.

It’s…

Alpha kisses him slowly. Tenderly. His lips are soft against Jason’s, sliding over his mouth like a caress. Jason melts back into the mattress, arms twitching. He wants to wrap his arms around the alpha, pull him down against him.

Alpha’s grip holds firm, but he does lower himself, until they’re chest to chest, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing against Jason’s tits. It— They’re sensitive, and even that slight friction is enough to make him moan into Alpha’s mouth.

He feels Alpha’s lips twitch, and then a tongue swipes over his lip before he draws it into his mouth, sucking on it. Jason’s hands flex. He moans again, twitching, seeking more, more, more.

Alpha doesn’t give it to him,

Instead, he nips Jason’s lip. When Jason gasps—Alpha plunges his tongue in Jason’s mouth, licking into him like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

Jason shudders, head to toe, moaning under the onslaught.

It’s—

He feels helpless; trapped under the Alpha’s lean, muscular body; held in place by his strong, steady grip; devoured by his mouth.

It—

That should scare him. And it does, a little. A lot. He doesn’t… He’s never felt like this before, in all of his fifteen years of life. His body feels strange, and new, and out of his control.

But.

It feels good, too, and Alpha… Alpha clearly knows what he’s doing. 

[ladytauria]

JAYTIM OMEGAVERSE MATING RUN??!? TELL ME EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW PLEASE!!!

!!!

It’s a fic I started writing… a bit ago, but I’ve decided to try finishing it for Omega Jason Todd Week <3

-

Mating season happens once/twice a year. Heat & rut cycles still happen as normal, but they aren’t as intense as they are during mating season.

Alphas who have caught a compatible scent (or sometimes betas & omegas) become more or less completely instinct driven; hunting down the object of their affection for a chase. To refuse the chase, the pursued party just has to… not run. Some alphas accept that gracefully, some don’t.

Jason is pretty sure no one will ever want to chase him. His scent has been wrong ever since the Pit—smelling like decaying fruit and smoke. He bundles up in a safehouse with plenty of distractions and some headphones, intent on spending another mating season alone.

Tim knows he’s caught Jason’s scent—and that he wants. It was easy enough to deal with during his first mating season, after he came of age, since he was halfway around the world at the time. This time, though… both of them are in Gotham. He knows Jason isn’t interested in him or mating in general, given the way he talks about the season, so he sets himself up in his den with some traps to keep him inside. After all, he’ll be so deep in his instincts those should be beyond him, right?

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately ;) ),Tim is both clever and stubborn. He makes it out and to Jason.

Jason is so startled by Tim’s sudden appearance, by the hunger in his eyes, that he ends up backing up (‘running’) totally on accident. Otherwise he wouldn’t have started the chase.

Really.

He’s not pleased to actually be wanted, or that it’s Tim doing the wanting. Not at all.

[ladytauria]

Could I have number 47 for the pairing Jaytim, please? If not, have a wonderful day!

@deepwithintheabyss

i hope smut is okay <3

bodyguard au, with jason being involved with the martha wayne foundation & tim working as his bodyguard. is tim a vigilante undercover? is being a bodyguard his actual job? is this a no capes au? reverse robins? alternate canon, where jason didn't die? i dunno, this is just what came out when i started writing ^^;

anyway! i hope you enjoy <3

edit: some sentence structure things i didn't pick up on before. funny the things you notice after you hit post <3

“No one needs to know,” Tim murmurs, breath ghosting over the shell of Jason’s ear. The resulting shiver rolls down his spine to his toes, where they curl in his shoes.

“I thought— I thought you were supposed to be keeping me out of trouble,” Jason manages, in a voice that stays mostly even, and only a little breathy. He doesn’t pull away from Tim, though; not even when those long, clever fingers start untucking Jason’s shirt.

“I’m supposed to be keeping you out of danger,” Tim corrects. “A little trouble is good for you, now and then.” His hands are hot on Jason’s hips, walking him backwards.

Jason doesn’t resist. “You’re a bad influence,” he accuses. “I— I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Dad had in mind, when he hired you.” His knees hit his office chair. He sits.

"Maybe not," Tim says—and sinks to his knees. Jason is scarcely able to breathe. Like he can tell, Tim smiles up at him; something almost predatory in the curve of his mouth. "Call it a bonus, just for you." He pops the button on Jason's slacks.

Jason’s face is hot. The office is hardly the place for this—especially not when Jason has a meeting in an hour. But… It doesn’t even cross his mind to refuse. Not when Tim is looking at him like he wants to devour him. “S-sweet of you,” he manages.

“I’m a real gentleman,” Tim agrees, lips quirking. He eases Jason out of his slacks and boxers. Cool air brushes his dick, already flushed and half-hard, making Jason shudder—a whine following when Tim’s eyes darken, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jason’s thighs are trembling. 

Ice blue eyes dart up to meet his as Tim begins to roll up his sleeves. “Lock the doors, Jay,” he says. “We wouldn’t want anyone coming in and seeing you like this, would we?”

The noise Jason makes is strangled. His cock twitches. He has to be red down to his neck, at least. He fumbles for the button on his desk, hitting it clumsily.

Tim doesn’t tease—verbally, at least. Instead, he wraps his hand around Jason's cock; bending his head to lap at the head like a kitten

The sight of him is one of the hottest things Jason's ever seen. His breaths turn shallow; fingers digging into the armrests.

Tim looks up at him—meeting his gaze with his mouth on Jason’s cock. He almost whimpers. “I love the way you taste,” Tim murmurs. There’s nothing Jason can do to stop the shudder that rolls through him, nor the way his teeth sink into his lip.

Fuck. The things Tim does to him.

Tim skims his lips and tongue over Jason’s cock, lavishing it with attention while Jason does his best not to squirm. It’s hard. Tim knows exactly how to drive him wild, and exploits that knowledge ruthlessly, leaving Jason putty in his hands.

Tim hums, pleased as Jason's cock finishes hardening. He kisses the underside, just above his thumb—and then drags his tongue up to the head, drawing a stuttery moan from Jason. The chair creaks under his grip. Tim glances up at him, lust-dark eyes glittering with amusement. Then he closes his lips around the head of Jason’s cock and sucks.

“A-ah!” Jason throws his head back. “F-fuck, Tim,” he whines. Arousal thrums in his veins. 

Tim swirls his tongue and bobs his head, taking more of Jason in his mouth. His hand moves in short jerks, squeezing and slackening like the fluttering of walls around him.

Jason throws his head back, forearm braced over his mouth to muffle the way he moans, embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

Tim keeps going; enveloping more and more of him with the wet heat of his mouth. Jason can’t help but move, now, little twists of his hips that make the chair squeak beneath him. His breaths come in sharp, rough pants now; broken only by small hitched moans and whimpers. He tangles his hand in Tim's hair, silk strands winding around his fingers. Tim makes soft noises of his own; appreciative hums that make Jason's toes curl.

Finally, his mouth meets his fist, both of them working in tandem; sending wave after wave of pleasure rolling through Jason's veins.

Then—Tim lets go of him, and swallows Jason’s cock.

Only the steady hands on his hips keep him from bucking up into Tim's mouth. His mind is spinning; brain leaking out of his ears—or maybe just his dick. Tim's throat works; the muscles squeezing Jason's cock. He moans, low and deep, pressing his arm harder against his face.

Eventually, Tim has to pull off, panting a little as he goes back to those little kitten licks—coupled now with gentle sucks to the most prominent veins, and the underside of his glans. He works a hand into Jason's boxers, palming his balls and giving them a light squeeze.

Jason whimpers. “T-Tim—”

Just as Jason gets used to the feeling of Tim's lips and tongue, Tim swallows him down again. This time, he does— something with his tongue or the muscles in his throat that has Jason seeing stars. His belly is tight. His skin tingles. He feels a hair's breadth from exploding.

Two fingers press on his perineum as Tim swallows around him.

Jason lets out a strangled cry. "C-close," he manages, hand tightening in Tim's hair.

Tim hums, making Jason's toes curl. Then he eases off until Jason's cock is resting on his tongue. He tightens his lips and sucks, pressing on Jason's perineum at the same time.

Jason shoves two knuckles in his mouth, biting hard to strangle his shout. His thighs clamp tight around Tim, hips jerking upward; stopped only by the hand still holding him down. Tim works him through the orgasm with lips and tongue; the gentleness bliss up until it isn’t, until everything is too much.

He pushes weakly at Tim's shoulder, and Tim goes. A little bit of come dribbles out of his mouth. Jason whimpers when Tim’s tongue flicks out, catching it before it can fall off of his chin and stain his well-fitted suit.

Tim settles back onto his heels, looking pleased—with himself, but also with Jason, which has his stomach doing flips. "There we go," Tim rasps. He tucks Jason back into his slacks with exceeding gentleness, and fixes his fly before rising to his feet. "C'mon. You'll be more comfortable on the couch," he says, offering Jason his hand.

It takes Jason a second to muster the energy to move, but when he does, he lets Tim pull him to his feet and then to the sofa Jason keeps in his office. It’s mostly for Dick and Steph, both of whom like to drop in on him and hang out—and sometimes nap, in Dick’s case. But—sometimes Jason uses it too, like now, with Tim sitting down and pulling Jason after him, adjusting until Jason is lying against his chest, legs curled up beside him.

He’d grabbed Jason’s thermos on the way over. He opens it, the scent of one of Jason's favorite tea blends filling the air. Tim takes a drink, humming appreciatively before offering it to Jason. Sometimes Jason forgets Tim likes tea—though he thinks he can be forgiven, the way the man mainlines coffee.

“I didn’t, um— What about you?” Jason asks, when he lowers the thermos from his mouth. Tim is still tenting his pants.

“Later,” Tim says, still hoarse but not as bad as before. He cards his fingers through Jason’s hair. “You should rest.”

Jason’s mouth twists, even as his body betrays him; slumping more fully against Tim’s warmth. “The meeting—”

“You’ve got time,” Tim cuts him off. “We can go over your notes together in a few.”

Jason huffs, but lets himself melt into Tim’s touch. “Bad influence,” he mutters, just to keep from going quietly.

“Best influence,” Tim counters, sounding amused. “You needed to relax.”

Jason makes a face. Tim’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. “Quiet, m’resting.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laugh he gets in response. Tim lets him have the last word. Jason is sure, somehow, he’ll find a way to be smug later, though. Tim’s annoying like that.

Too bad Jason likes him anyway.

-> AO3 <-

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 11k

After Jason experiences a moment of insecurity, Tim and he decide to take their relationship to the next step.

i've been wanting to write this sequel for over a year. it wasn't until i was talking to @deepwithintheabyss a few months ago that i finally figured out why it wasn't working <33

i got distracted by some other wips (including 'the sweetness of honey') but at long last <3 she's finished. i hope you guys enjoy!

Jason doesn’t know how he let Tim talk him into going dancing. Clubs aren’t really his scene, and honestly, he wouldn’t have expected them to be Tim’s either. He was wrong.

Tim had a standing date with Steph and Cass; the three of them would take the night off of patrol to dress up and go dancing instead. Tim calls it stress relief. Tonight, though, Steph and Cass are working an op together on the other side of town. So… Jason is here instead, in one of his tighter pairs of dark wash jeans, a nicer leather jacket than his usual, and a shirt he knew hugged his pecs just the right way. It’s not nearly as daring as Tim, who looks like sin in tight black short-shorts, fishnets up to his belly, and a crop top that ends just above his belly button.

It wasn’t nearly as daring as some of the stuff he’d worn undercover, but… It still made Tim look at him with dark eyes when they met up, so Jason figured it worked for him just fine.

Other than Tim’s single shot of whiskey at the start of the night, neither of them have had anything to drink. Jason wouldn’t have minded if Tim had, but—I don’t go out to drink, Tim had said. He’d come there to dance, and dance they have.

He can feel his shirt clinging to him by the time Tim finally drags him off the dancefloor and back to the bar. Tim orders them both water, and another shot of whiskey for himself; two fingers hooked in Jason’s belt loops.

He bends his head, lips brushing Tim’s ear. It makes the omega shiver. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He taps out ‘bathroom’ in morse code on Tim’s hip, just to make sure the message gets across.

Tim tilts his head back, the back of it brushing Jason’s shoulder. “Okay,” he says, though Jason has to read his lips rather than hear him. His fingers slip from Jason’s belt, and Jason, reluctantly, draws away.

When he returns, Tim is standing by their drinks, his shot already empty and one of the waters in his hand. He’s not alone.  With him is an alpha, tanned and blond and a little shorter than Dick, leaning in toward Tim like he’s flirting.

Jason—

It’s not the first time that Tim’s been hit on while they’re out. Won’t be the last, either. Jason isn’t normally bothered by it. He might get a little territorial—throw his arm around Tim’s shoulders, raise his brows like he’s daring them to keep trying, but. He knows what those alpha want—and it’s not Tim, no matter what they think. They want a sweet, submissive little thing, not an omega who wants to bring them to their knees, and is more than capable of doing it.

But this alpha—

There’s something about him that has Jason’s hackles raising.

It’s the subtle turn of his head; the way it exposes his neck without calling attention to it. The way his body seems to—fold, toward Tim’s. A subtle sort of submissiveness you usually see in omega flirting with alpha, not the other way around.

Combine that with the way he’s shorter, smaller than Jason, his muscles less defined, it—

His belly twists.

He takes a deep, centering breath, and approaches, careful not to rush. “Hey, baby,” he says, his smile only a little forced. “Thanks for watchin’ my drink.”

The way Tim brightens at the sight of him, all of his attention switching to Jason as if the other alpha isn’t even there… Jason is ashamed of the way it comforts him, the way it soothes the terrible thing coiling in his chest.

Tim passes him his water, and Jason kisses his temple when he takes it, settling his arm around Tim’s shoulders. He resists the urge to pull him into his side—to growl, bare his teeth. Tim won’t appreciate that kind of stupid alpha dominance shit, especially when he hasn’t shown a lick of interest back. Jason doesn't want to give him any reasons to be upset.

He can’t resist cutting a cool look at the alpha, though.

Tim presses up against Jason’s side all on his own. “Like I was saying,” Tim says, a wonderful note of satisfaction in his voice, “thanks, but no thanks. I’m with someone.”

The alpha looks Jason up and down, the slow drag of his gaze flaying Jason open. He looks at Tim again, one brow raised as if to ask, Seriously? This one? Aloud, he says, “Right, well.” He slides a napkin across the bar. “If that doesn’t work out—give me a call, won’t you?” With a wink, he slips back into the crowd.

Jason takes a sip of his water. His scent doesn’t shift, but he locks it down anyway; ignoring the way his chest feels tight. It’s not the first time someone has assessed him and found him wanting.

It doesn’t matter what that alpha thinks. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, except Tim.

But—

Jason can’t help but compare them, still. The confidence in his submission, the way it looked so easy, so automatic, without the fumbling Jason feels. How much less challenging it would be for Tim to move him around, the way he could overpower him without strain. He’d be a much easier sub than Jason. Prettier, too—he bets that alpha isn’t a gnarled mess of scars and blemishes. Doubts he’s carrying a minefield of trauma, either, bets Tim wouldn't have to worry so much about triggering him by accident.

The accent, or what Jason caught of it, was different, too; more Upper Gotham. It’d be less of a scandal, for Tim to be seen with him. Maybe not even a scandal at all, with how clean cut he looked.

No complicated history, either.

Just—

All-in-all easier and better suited for an omega like Tim than Jason is, or ever could have been.

Tim mutters something Jason doesn’t catch, though whatever it is doesn’t sound flattering. He takes the napkin with the alpha’s phone number and tears it to tiny little pieces. The sight makes Jason feel better—though only just. He’s still… unsettled.

Tim drains the rest of his water, and then steps closer into Jason’s space, turning so his front is pressed against him. His arms twine around Jason’s neck; fingers playing with the short curls at the base of his skull.

“Take me home,” he says, looking up at Jason, glossy lips shaping the words.

Jason doesn’t think anyone could resist an order like that. He leans down, capturing Tim’s mouth in a brief, warm kiss before taking another drink, and setting the rest of it down on the counter.

He keeps one hand on Tim’s back as they exit the club. “We don’t have to go home if you don’t want to,” he offers, when the din of music and the crowd has faded behind them. “We could hit up somewhere else.”

Tim only takes one night every few weeks to do this, to let go of his stress by dancing the night away. Jason doesn’t want that to be ruined for him.

Tim’s hand settles on his back, under his jacket. The warmth of it spreads through Jason’s core; the placement of it, right at the small of his back, makes his brain buzz a little, a pleasant sort of static that soothes the awful thing awoken in his chest and belly. “No, I’m done for the night.” He looks up at Jason, a coy sort of smile on his face. “I’d rather dance with you somewhere more… private.”

Jason shivers.

It’s—

It’s something he knows alpha do. That possessive urge after their mate has been hit on—dragging them back home and fucking them, reminding them of their claim.

Jason lets himself imagine it. Tim, throwing him down on his bed, turning him over, making him present. Working him open just enough to take him, to let him feel the burn and stretch of his cock, splitting him open. And then fucking him so hard he forgets everything but the shape and sound of Tim’s name.

It’s.

Hot.

Really hot.

Jason’s belly twists and squirms, hole clenching. Tim fucking him is showing up more and more in his fantasies—he wants ot know what it would feel like, for his omega to claim him so completely. So utterly. He’s not nearly brave enough to ask for that yet—and Tim hasn’t mentioned it either. It’s more likely that Tim will shove him down on the bed and ride him within an inch of his life, which… He’s absolutely not opposed. The opposite, actually; the idea, the mental image of it… It makes him salivate.

Or maybe he’ll want Jason to do the work; to rut into him, waiting to come until Tim has reached his peak at least once, maybe more.

He’s in for a good time, whatever Tim decides. Tim knows just how to take him apart; those long, slender fingers coaxing desperate noise after desperate noise from his throat.

“Sounds good,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

>> continue reading on ao3 <<

[ladytauria]

an age old remedy

Pairing: Talia al Ghul/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 5.9k

Content Warnings: Underage

There is an age old remedy for soothing stressed and anxious omegas—one Talia is more than willing to provide, if Jason is willing. Omega Jason Todd Week Day 2: Alpha knots keep omegas calm | Courting without realising | Jason is an unconventional omega - except for when it comes to babies | Unintentionally revealing clothing | Nesting self-care

the first of my fics for omega jason todd week <3

>> AO3 <<

When Jason bursts into frustrated, angry tears for the third time in as many hours, Talia knows something has to be done.

He makes no sound. If Talia were not looking at him, if she had not seen the tears well in his eyes before he dug the heels of his hands into them, she would not even know he was crying.

Her heart aches.

It is just the two of them, save for their personal guard. Damian had left for his lessons a little less than half an hour ago. Jason and Talia had remained seated at the dining table. She had finished her food some time ago, but had stayed at the table anyway, reading through reports while Jason continued to pick at his.

The way his plate has been shoved aside, the food on it only half eaten… it isn’t difficult to guess what has upset him this time.

Talia sets aside her reports. They will keep for a while yet. Jason’s pain will not—or, rather, should not. She has allowed it to go on long enough as it is.

She comes to stand by his chair, resting her hand between his shoulder blades. Jason flinches—and then leans into her hand. He has never turned from her touch, her comfort.

She can feel him shaking. “Come here, pet,” she murmurs as she draws him nearer, guiding his head to press against her stomach. His hands curl into the hem of her shirt.

“I’m sorry.” Jason’s voice cracks under the weight of his tears. “I’m—I’m trying, but I just—I can’t—”

Talia combs her fingers through his hair. “I know, pet.” The gentle voice she uses is one few have ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

Jason reels back. He looks at her with wide eyes. “For what? You… This isn’t your fault, T. You didn’t—you didn’t do anything.”

“That is precisely the problem, pet,” she says, cupping his face, catching his tears on her thumbs. “You have been suffering—and I have done nothing but stand by and allow it.”

Talia had believed that he had simply needed time.

She had been wrong.

She will not make the same mistake again.

“Talk to me, pet. Tell me what’s wrong so we might put an end to it, together.”

“I… I don’t...” He averts his eye, his lip caught between his teeth. His shoulders hunch toward his ears.

“Be honest.” The authority in her voice does not take away from its gentleness. “The only way you can upset me, pet, is by withholding something.”

Talia does not rush Jason into speaking. She strokes his cheeks with her thumbs—prepared to wait as long as it takes for him to gather his words.

After a few moments, Jason rewards her patience. “I don’t feel safe,” he confesses, so softly she almost doesn’t hear him. “I know— I know I am,” he hastens to add, tipping his head back again to look at her. She aches at the earnesty in his face. “But… no matter how hard I try… I just can’t… I can’t make myself believe it.”

She brushes a curl from his forehead.

Talia isn’t surprised. His bath in the Lazarus Pit restored to him his mind as it was before he died. Anything after was lost; only flickers of memory left behind. A blessing in many ways, perhaps, but it also means the peace that he found with her has vanished.

Talia has spent two weeks hoping that, perhaps, he would find peace again—that his instincts would remember what his mind did not.

A foolish hope. Talia should have fixed this before it got to this point. That she didn’t… A mistake. But one which can be fixed. There is an age-old remedy for soothing stressed and anxious omegas—one Talia is more than willing to provide, if Jason is willing.

“Do you trust me, Jason?”

Jason blinks at her. “With my life.”

His immediate honesty makes a smile tug at her mouth.

“Thank you,” she says, and then kneels beside his chair. Her hands settle on his thighs. “It is not your life I am asking for. Do you trust me?” she repeats.

Jason swallows. He looks down at her with wide eyes. His pupils eclipse his irises; only a thin corona of blue-green ringing them. “I…” He stops, wets his lips. And then he lays his hand over hers. “I trust you with everything, my lady. My life… m-my body, included.”

My lady. That’s new.

Talia likes it.

She leaves one hand on his thigh. The other cups his jaw, tugging him forward until she can place the briefest, chastest of kisses to his mouth. His breath hitches.“Then allow me to take care of you,” she whispers against his lips.

He shivers, pressing into her hand. “You… You’ve done nothin’ but take care of me, T,” he whispers. Guilt sours his scent. Talia wishes to cover it with her own—so she does, smoothing her wrist down his side.

“I am your alpha. It is my duty—my honor—to care for you. If you need it, I will provide—happily, gladly. You will allow me to do so.”

It is both order and question; her tone tilting ever so slightly at the end.

A flush steals over Jason’s face, a breadth away from her favorite shade of pink. “Yes, my lady.”

Acceptance and answer both.

“Good.” She kisses him again—briefly, fleetingly, smiling when he chases her—and her hands slip from her skin as she rises to her feet. “Come with me to my den, pet.”

[ladytauria]

find the word game

tagged by @kieran-granola! thank you <333

i found all but one of these in 'the sweetness of honey' draft but i decided to check other wips too dfghk

cat (JayTim)

from an alternate draft of 'another night'

Jason enters the Nest looking like something the cat dragged in. He’s dripping wet, hair plastered to his head. A bruise blooms high on his cheek, a fresh cut mars the corner of his mouth. He’s limping slightly and his boots squelch with every step. He looks exhausted. Tim’s heart pangs in sympathy. “Rough night?” he asks, closing his tabs. His report will keep. Jason snorts. “You can say that again.” He drops his helmet on his workstation far rougher than normal before peeling off his gloves and tossing them down too. He kneels. His fingers shake as he undoes the laces of his boots, and he curses under his breath. Tim approaches. “Let me help,” he offers.

sleep (JayTim)

from the sequel to 'empty promises'

Then Jason swallows, and says, “You—uh. You asked about the job?” He almost takes it back—asks Jason how he’s been sleeping, instead; if he reaches for Tim in his sleep the same way Tim has been reaching for Jason. He almost tells him to forget the job, forget the argument. Just come home. Almost.

wet (JayTim)

from chapter 6 of 'the sweetness of honey'

Jason smooths the glob of cream over his skin. Tim shivers; his skin pebbling. Jason watches his nipples pucker, harden, wetting his lips before glancing at Tim’s face again, where Tim watches him through half-lidded eyes. Jason’s flush spreads. Down his neck, over his collarbones. His pussy throbs in time with his pulse—it’s tempting, so tempting, to grind down on Tim’s bulge. He doesn’t. Jason’s arousal isn’t important. What’s important is taking care of Tim, of caring for him even as half as well as he’s cared for Jason.

magic (JayTim)

from 'teenage fantasies side a' in which tim talks jason through one of the fantasies he had about robin ;) it's finished, but i'm waiting to post until i have side b, one of jason's teen fantasies, finished~

Jason can picture it. Being fifteen again, when Robin was losing its magic. When he looked around Gotham, seeing not the people they’d saved—but the one’s they hadn’t. The ones they failed. He’s fighting with Bruce more and more, questioning everything. Even school doesn’t offer an escape. And Dick—well. Dick is great, but busy. Distant. And always fighting with Bruce. He’s lonely. He doesn’t think he’d realized how much, then. And then— There’s Tim, looking at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, faintly awestruck and painfully earnest. In Jason’s mind, he’s not 12, 13 as he would have been, but 14. 15, even. Younger than him, but not young.

no-pressure tagging -> @thesandsofelsweyr ; @n1ightw1ng ; @deepwithintheabyss ; & @zeroducks-2

your words are -> glow, dusk, purple, and bright

[ladytauria]

ohohoho... In a hoarse whisper, “Fuck, you’re killing me here.” jaydick yeaaaaboiiii

iiii went a little overboard on this 😂it ended up over 7k, so i won't b posting the whole thing here, but have a preview ;)

(editing to add as a warning/heads up: jason is trans here, and i use both male (cock/dick for clit) and female (cunt) terms for his genitals <3)

>> six little deaths <<

“Fuck, little wing, you’re killing me here.” Dick’s hoarse whisper makes Jason smirk. He settles back against Dick’s chest, popping another kernel of popcorn in his mouth, making sure to wiggle his hips a little as he does.

The hot, hard length of Dick’s cock presses into Jason’s ass through his thin, cotton shorts. It makes a thrill rise in Jason’s belly, knowing he has such an effect on Dick.

Cook, suave, charming Dick. Everyone wants him. But—right now at least—he wants Jason.

The thrill is sweeter knowing Dick won’t do anything. Can’t, not with Bruce sitting in a recliner half a couch away.

He feels Dick’s slow, hissing breath. Smirks to himself, and then raises his fingers, sticking them in his mouth to clean the butter and salt from them.

Dick grips his hips tight enough to bruise.

Jason chances looking at him, fingers still in his mouth, and finds those normally electric blue eyes dark and stormy. His thighs clench.

Dick grabs his wrist. Jason doesn’t resist as Dick pulls his fingers from his mouth. The look on his face— Jason half expects him to kiss him, Bruce be damned. His pulse is a staccato beat in his chest.

Dick doesn’t kiss him. Instead, his lips brush Jason’s ear, and in a voice thick with promise, he whispers, “You’re going to pay for this later.”

Jason shudders, head to toe, skin going tight and prickly. Fuck, yes, please. Dick is always the perfect amount of mean—that’s half of why Jason likes working him up so much.

The other half is being at the center of his attention.

Jason rocks his hips, relishing in the shocked, almost pained gasp he gets. “I’m counting on it.”

Dick growls. Under the blanket, he grinds the heel of his palm over Jason’s groin, and Jason gasps before he can help himself, bucking up into that hand as sparks light up his veins.

“Boys.” Bruce’s deep, commanding voice makes Jason shudder again; red staining his cheeks. For half a moment, he thinks they’ve gotten caught, but then Bruce just says, “Don’t make me separate you. You can get through a movie without fighting.”

“Sorry, Bruce,” Dick says. He doesn’t sound very sorry at all. “We’ll be good.”

He splays his hand over Jason’s belly—a possessive, proprietary move that already has Jason trembling—and presses, a steady, even pressure that makes him want to squirm.

Conscious of Bruce’s attention though, he doesn’t. Instead, he just takes it; breaths getting faster, deeper, until he’s nearly panting. Dick’s hot length against his ass is starting to feel less funny and more taunting.

How much longer is left in the movie? Jason stopped paying attention somewhere around the first fifteen minutes. He tries to focus on it now, ignoring the way his underwear has grown sticky with his arousal. It’s hard to focus, but—based on the music, the snippets of dialogue… they’ve got to be getting close to the end, right?

Dick rubs his belly a little—Jason bites his lip to trap his moan. A little of it sneaks it out anyway, a soft, “Nnn,” that makes Dick shiver under him, and press a smile against Jason’s shoulder.

It would be an asshole move to excuse himself to the bathroom, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t like, touch himself or anything—it’s tempting, but. Dick can be kind of a sadist, and that’s fun, but he’s already in enough trouble for starting this shit in the first place. Getting himself off without Dick’s permission is just asking for worse, and Jason’s got stuff to do tomorrow.

But he would like to step away for a second. Just a second, so he can catch his breath and not give up the game before they’ve even gotten started. If he leaves, though, then all Dick will have is a blanket to protect his bulge from Bruce’s eye…

‘Course, that’ll be a problem either way, won’t it? They’ll have to get up and go to bed eventually, so. That would at least give Dick a chance to figure something out. So really Jason would be doing him a favor, right?

Right.

Jason squirms a little, and then says, “I gotta pee.”

“Do you want me to pause the movie?” Bruce asks.

“Um. No, I won’t be gone that long, and uh. I’ve seen this one before.” He hasn’t. Dick lets him go, although the brief look they exchange before Jason scampers out of the room tells him Dick is more than aware of Jason’s fib.

Jason’s little wink probably didn’t help matters, but. Oh well.

In the bathroom, Jason washes his face with cool water before sitting on the closed toilet and getting his phone out. He checks his email—some review bloggers he follows have posted new reviews, there’s an author newsletter, and oh! One of his favorite fic authors posted something new. He opens that to read later—tomorrow, probably, although it’s short enough…

No.

He’s already pushing. Don’t borrow trouble, Mama used to say, and while Jason may not follow her advice to the letter… he at least tries not to borrow more than he’s prepared to handle.

Jason clears the spam from his email, unsubscribes from some things he’s been meaning to for a while, and then stands, stretching. He splashes a little more water on his face—and turns, ready to go back, only to bump into a hard, warm chest.

It startled a squeak from him, all that color flooding back into his face.

“Hello, little wing,” Dick purrs, crowding him against the sink. “That was a neat little escape you made.”

Jason’s heart beats rabbit quick in his chest. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I had to piss. Didn’t figure you’d appreciate me going all over your lap, is all.”

Dick snorts. “You had to go get yourself off, you mean.”

“I didn’t get off!” Jason scowls. “I know better.”

Jason has to tilt his head back in order to meet his eyes. He can feel his knees trembling. The ache in his groin pulses, slow and steady like a heartbeat, the crotch of his underwear uncomfortably damp.

“Like you knew better than to start something in front of B?” Dick raises an eyebrow. “Y’know he lectured me about making you uncomfortable?”

Jason’s face burns. “I…” He draws up his chin. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such an asshole all the time, then.”

Dick scoffs. “See, and that’s why I don’t believe you.” He pats Jason’s cheek—the condescension in it makes Jason shudder. “That’s alright, little wing. I’ll just have to check.” He pinches Jason’s cheek, then, making him whimper, hole clenching both at the promise and the way Dick’s voice drops when he says it. It’s not quite Nightwing register, but it’s close, and—

Jason shudders again.

He wants.

“Take your shorts off, Jason,” Dick murmurs, and Jason hooks his thumbs in them without hesitation, letting them slip off of his hips and fall to his ankles.

“Good.” Dick pats his cheek again. “Turn around. Hands on the sink.”

Jason feels like he’s on fire. He turns slowly, spreading his legs until his thighs no longer touch. Dick guides him backwards, Jason shuffling his feet to keep from getting caught in his shorts. His crotch is soaked.

Dick traces the hem of his panties. “Would you look at these,” he purrs, snapping the band.

The back of Jason’s neck burns.

When he bought them, he’d thought it would be funny. Oh, ha-ha, a pair of panties designed to look like the bottom half of the Robin uniform. It’s less funny now.

Jason’s grip tightens on the edge of the sink as Dick pulls them down to bunch around his mid thigh. The bathroom air is cool against his slit, and he swears he can feel every droplet of slick gathered there. He bites his lip.

Mistake.

Dick spreads his folds—Jason bites so hard he tastes blood, feels it bead on his lip. Can’t help but look at himself in the mirror; the way his curls halo around in his head in perfect dishevelment, his face blotchy red, bottom lip fat and swollen.

He looks like a fucking slut.

“You’re so wet, little wing.” Dick’s tone is almost scolding.

Jason wants to cry. Jason wants to raise his hips in offering, rise onto his tip-toes and beg for Dick’s cock.

Stop being so fucking easy, he scolds himself. Can’t play too hard to get, either, but he also needs to stop damn-near creaming his pants any time Dick gets a little intense. Dick’s attention is heady. Addictive. Jason doesn’t want to give it up if he can help it, and that means keeping a careful balance.

Luckily, Jason is used to giving men people what they want.

He swallows down the urge. “Whose fucking fault is that?” he grits out, letting his eyes drop again; staring at the marbled sink instead.

Jason yelps when Dick swats him. It’s not hard, he’s taken worse, but the unexpectedness of it…  The threat of it… It makes him swallow.

“You know damn well whose fault it is,” Dick says, voice low and vaguely threatening. It makes Jason shiver, cunt fluttering. “But we’ll be talking about your behavior later. For now…” Dick probes a finger inside of him. Jason’s cunt welcomes it, swallowing him greedily. His middle finger finds Jason’s t-dick, stroking small circles around it.

Jason whines helplessly, legs quivering as he fights to stay still. He’s so— He’s so sensitive.

Dick teases him, giving him only the barest stimulation, moving so fucking slowly it’s almost agonizing. Jason is panting by the time he’s done, sweat beading at his temples. His fingers ache, knuckles white.

“Hm. Looks like you were telling the truth,” Dick says. He takes his hand away, and Jason can’t help the way he whimpers, meeting Dick’s eyes in the mirror.

There’s a thin sheen of tears in his own now; the sclera red. Dick looks unaffected—save for his eyes, crackling electric blue that cut Jason to the core.

“Clean yourself up, little wing,” he says, wiping his fingers on Jason’s thigh before patting Jason’s ass. “I told Bruce I’d check on you and apologize before going to bed. You should go say goodnight to him.”

>> continue reading <<

[ladytauria]

Hear me out: 92 and jaycest for the smut prompts

i heard you loud and clear nonny 😌

this... ended up being a monster of a fic (almost 6k) so i'm not posting the entirety of it here, lmao.

my original plan for this was to be a coda to cloves, smoke, and honey, but every time i sat down to write nothing came to me. so finally i started listing jay pairings while looking up selfcest prompts and—then something clicked and i ended up with this <3

in which hood!jay ends up in a universe where his alternate never died <3

i had a really good time with this one! i hope you enjoy <3

(note: i was picturing jay at about ~17 in this, and jason at least 22. however, no ages are stated; just that jay is going to college soon <3)

>> AO3 <<

Hood plants his hands on the desk, leaning against it, looking up at the monitors. Batman and Nightwing are still out. Spoiler and Robin’s curfews got called an hour ago. (Tim’s probably still sulking about it, but whatever. School’s important, no matter what the brat thinks.) Alfred retired when they did.

That leaves just Hood and Jay.

Hood… He showed up just shy of a month ago. Some asshole’s running around, opening portals to other dimensions, and Hood got caught in the crossfire. Stranded, until they can catch the guy.

He won’t show them his face. Won’t even walk around in just a domino! Instead, he’s always wearing that obnoxious red helmet.

It’s driving B crazy.

Even Tim, stalker extraordinaire, hasn’t been able to figure out Hood’s identity.

Or. If he has, the little gremlin isn’t sharing. Jason highly doubts he’d hide it, though. B and Dick are too wound up about it.

Jay… He can’t blame them. Hood’s scarily well-trained. Bruce tried putting him on lock down once and he just breezed right past the defenses as soon as they left. That’s when Dick had suggested they work together—mostly to keep an eye on Hood, which they all know Hood is aware of.

Jay’s pretty sure Dick meant to take the job. Hood and B… well, the way his hackles raise if Batman so much as glances in his direction… That’s a powder keg waiting to blow. Thing is, while Hood will tolerate Nightwing—mostly—the one he trusts the most is…

Jay.

It’s flattering.

And it’s kind of nice to be the one in charge of keeping an eye on Hood.

Jay is still a recent graduate of his Robin role, and it’s a struggle to be taken seriously as his own hero. He’s… looking forward to college, honestly. To either put vigilantism on the back burner or just set up somewhere new—he hasn’t decided yet. It’ll be nice, to leave and come back changed.

Anyway, but actually being trusted to run with Hood at night makes him feel… More like a part of the team. He knows Bruce will never trust him as much as he does Dick—and he’d like to say he’s made his peace with that, but he hasn’t—but at least he trusts him with something.

Jay just wishes he wasn’t so distracted. Even now, Jay’s not paying as much attention to what’s on the monitors so much as he is the way Hood’s tac pants pull taut over his ass and thighs. Which—fuck, those thighs. Firm and muscular and thick.

He choked a guy out with them earlier tonight. Jay’s blood had rushed south so fast he’d thought he was gonna pass out. It’d taken every trick he knew to will his erection down so he could keep working.

The arousal still sings in his blood—a quiet tune, but present all the same. Jay wets his lips, and then walks over to him. “That was some nice fightin’ tonight, Hood,” he says casually, drawing closer to Hood. “Bet you’re tired.  I wouldn’t mind givin’ ya a hand.” He trails his fingers over Hood’s forearm—doubts he feels it much, with his armor and jacket still in the way. “You could take a nice, hot shower, and then… I could give ya a massage. Work out some of that tension you’ve been carryin’.”

Hood is still. Jay’s not sure he’s breathing. “Kid,” he says—and then stops, hands flexing on the table. Jay waits for him to gather himself, or shake his head and tell him to get lost.

It’s not the first time he’s flirted with Hood. It was a joke at first. Hood was attractive, Jay recognized that from the start, but… Well. Jay had discovered a few years ago that flirting was a good way to throw people off of their game. (It also invited trouble, of course. The silent ‘I-told-you-so’ from Bruce after Mask started showing actual interest in him had been deafening. But mostly, it served Jason well, so he kept going it.) He hadn’t meant anything by it at first.

He does now.

Has since Hood shoved him up against a wall, bracketing him in with his body, one gloved hand pressed against his mouth. He’d hardly noticed the people passing them; senses too full of leather and steel and gunpowder. His cock had strained in his cup, a thousand times more uncomfortable than the brick at his back.

His attempts since have been utterly sincere.

Hood has never told him off. A few times, he’s even flirted back… before obviously stopping himself.

Jay persists.

“You don’t want this,” Hood says finally, turning his head to meet Jay’s eyes. The whites of his helmet are blank. They give nothing away. Neither does his voice, not with the modulator in the way. Even his body language is inscrutable.

“You don’t get to tell me that,” Jay tells him, his voice breathier than he means it to be. Anticipation thrums in his veins.

Hood lets go of the desk, standing up to his full height. Jay— Jay will be lucky to hit 5’7. More than likely, he’s going to be stuck at 5’5 for the rest of his life. Hood… Hood is taller than Bruce, beating him out by a single inch. Jay has to tip his head back to keep holding Hood’s gaze.

“You have… no idea who you’re talking to,” Hood says, and the modulator adds to the harshness of his tone.

Rather than turn Jay off, it makes him shiver before defiantly lifting his chin.

“Oh, fuck off. You wanna tell me you’re not interested? Fine, that’s fair. I’ll back off. You wanna tell me to stop? Fine. That’s fair. I stop. But you don’t get to tell me that I don’t want this. That I don’t want you.”

Jay steps closer. He already stripped out of his armor, leaving him in nothing but a form-fitting t-shirt and tight leggings. He ditched his cup, too, which means when he grinds his hips forward, there’s nothing to prevent Hood from feeling his erection as he plasters himself against Hood’s side, stretching onto his tip-toes. His lips brush where Hood’s ear would be, if not for the helmet.

“Let me show you how much I mean what I say,” he whispers.

Hood goes still again—but it’s the same kind of stillness that falls just before a storm. Jay holds his breath.

It’s knocked from him when Hood grabs him, broad hands gripping his waist and lifting him onto the desk—his ass just barely missing the keyboard.

Then, he reaches up; a low, mechanical hiss sending Jay’s heart into his throat. Hood tosses the helmet aside—Jay hears it hit the ground, roll, but he doesn’t bother to look where it lands. Instead, he watches Hood rip his domino off next, tossing that aside too, and then, finally—

Jay sees him.

He drinks him in ravenously. The scar, starring at his mouth and trailing up, up, to his temple, where it disappears into his hairline. His hair is dark, curly, wild and askew the same way Jay’s is after a patrol. There’s a shock of white in the front, where his bangs curl on his forehead, forming a heart shape.

Huh.

Jason’s do that too.

Their noses are similar, too; a little crooked, with a raised bump in the middle. They’ve both got full mouths, settled into a natural pout. A small scattering of freckles over their noses, including a darker one under the left eye.

A scar, mostly faded, over a brow.

Jay’s eyes go wide. “You’re—” Me, he doesn’t finish, the word sticking in his throat.

How many times had he tried to guess which of them Hood could be, if any of them at all? Himself had never crossed his mind, not once.

Hood… He wielded guns with brutal efficiency. None of Bruce’s security measures could contain him. When Nightwing challenged him to a spar, they’d been so close to evenly matched. He had the height, the bulk to match Bruce, and—

He was just…

Hood was dangerous, and lethal, and confident, and skilled, and big, and—

So very unlike Jay at all.

Yet… There he is. He has a few more scars, and his jaw is more defined, but— They have the same full cheeks, the ones that give him perpetual babyface. Especially with his long, dark lashes and full, pink lips.

Jay… is starting to see why people call him pretty.

“I told you,” Hood—Jason says harshly. It’s Jay’s first time hearing it without the modulator. His voice is low, gravelly. It makes his skin pebble.

Hood being Jason doesn’t make him want him less at all. He’s still the same ultra-competent badass that he was before, and—

Jay would like to get his hands on him right now, pretty please.

Jason doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Insecurity still runs deep, Jay guesses.

“Go on. It’s past time little birdies went back to their nests.”

Jay fists both hands in the collar of his jacket before Jason can take more than a single step. “Shut up,” he snaps—and then yanks him down into a fierce, hungry kiss.

Jason gasps into his mouth.

For one heart-stopping second, Jay thinks he’s going to be shoved away. Thinks Jason will look at him with disgust, humiliate him for even considering that Jason might want anything to do with him.

Jason doesn’t.

Instead, he steps forward, forcing Jay to tip his head back. There’s the rustle of fabric, and then—a hand, no longer gloved, tangles in his hair, pulling just-so in a way that makes Jay gasp, shiver, hips rocking forward, grinding his dick against the molded abs of Jason’s armor.

His moan is embarrassing, high enough that the bats rustle restlessly above them.

Jason presses the advantage, plunging his tongue in Jay’s mouth. It tastes of peppermint and cigarettes as Jason licks into him slow and deep, delving into every nook and crevice of Jay’s mouth.

Jay shudders; legs locking around Jason’s waist.

When Jason pulls away… Jay whines, trying to chase him. It’s the hand in his hair that stills him; fingers tightening, holding him in place.

“Please,” he begs.

Jason’s nostrils flare. Then… his gaze flickers around them, evaluating their surroundings.

“Not here,” he says finally.

Jay whimpers, embarrassingly high, when Jason lifts him; hands braced under his thighs, the curve of his ass.

And Jay— he may not be very tall, but he’s solid; all muscle and pockets of fat, a body honed through years of training.

Jason holds him like he weighs nothing at all.

Even when they climb the stairs, Jason taking them two-by-two, he doesn’t falter. Barely breathes any heavier, even when Jay gives into the urge to start sucking marks onto his neck.

He knows he’s affected. He can feel his pulse, hear the soft hitches in his breathing, but—

His steps never waver.

>> continue on ao3 <<

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 6.8k

Jason really should learn to watch his tongue around Tim.

finally. after over a year. this beast is done <3

Jason takes a drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat, two—then exhaling through his nose. His shoulders loosen, the nicotine doing wonders for his frayed nerves. The smoke joins the general haze of the Iceberg Lounge; the frosty interior and low lights making everything look almost dreamlike.

The night is starting to wind down. If it were up to Jason, they would have left hours ago. He knows his appearances at the Lounge are necessary if he wants people to keep following his rules, and that he gets decent intel from it, but—

Fuck, he just gets so tired.

At least Tim is here, tucked sweetly under Jason’s arm like he hasn’t spent most of the night being an absolute menace, making idle conversation with Jason’s lieutenants.

He has one last informant to meet with, and then they can get out of here and go home.

He snubs out his cigarette and takes a sip of his whiskey. He’s been nursing the same one most of the night, for appearances sake if nothing else. Tim squeezes his thigh under the table—more reassurance than teasing, though it definitely adds kindling to the smoldering flame in Jason’s belly.

Jason lowers his glass as he scans the room.

Finally.

His informant perches on a bar stool, waving at the bartender before looking over his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the swirls of smoke, and the informant dips his chin. Good. They haven’t been kept waiting all this time just for there to be nothing to hear.

Their eyes meet through the swirls of smoke, and the informant nods once; the barest dip of his chin. Good. Jason’s not sure what he would have done if he’d waited all this time, only for there to be nothing to hear.

He stands, ghosting gloved fingertips across Tim’s shoulders, straightening the strap of his dress—a slinky black number that emphasizes his hips and gives a tantalizing view of his fake tits. Jason has been resisting the urge to slip his hands, or his head, under it all night. “Hold on a minute, sweetheart. Daddy’s got some business to take care of.”

He nearly turns scarlet the moment the words leave his mouth. Why did he say that?

Tim doesn’t miss a beat, tilting his head back to peer at Jason through false lashes and sending another wave of jasmine perfume wafting under Jason’s nose. There’s a sharp, amused twinkle in his eyes. “It’s all work with you, Red,” he says, a pout on crimson lips. Jason wets his own unconsciously, stomach clenching. “When are we going to get to play?” Tim trails a long painted nail over Jason’s forearm, the slight scratch of it leaving behind a faint white line.

Jason swallows, as subtle as he can. The irony of Tim asking such a question is lost in the smoky tone of his voice. “Soon, baby,” he promises, voice rougher than he’d like. He can’t help but lean over and kiss him, right on that red-painted mouth. It’s not nearly enough. “Just let me take care of this, and then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Tim tells him—and it’s a little bit femme fatale, but mostly, it’s Tim himself speaking. His pink tongue darts out; wetting his lips like he needs one last taste of Jason.

Jason has to tear his eyes away, taking a fortifying drink of whiskey before passing his glass to Tim. “Finish that off for me, won’t you, baby?” He nods to his lieutenants, and then he’s off, still fighting the blush that threatens to take over his face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of all the things he could have said—

It’s all Tim’s fault. He’s been driving Jason crazy all night. Jason never should have complained about his nights at the lounge; then Tim wouldn’t have suggested this idea in the first place. But—well. Jason hadn’t seen how Tim playing as Hood’s arm candy could go wrong.

Big mistake.

He’d forgotten just how much effort Tim put into his undercover identities.

Or—

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Jason had been expecting Tim’s identity to cater to their audience. And in a way, it did. It was easy for them to dismiss him as a threat, association with Hood or no. The amount of conversations that had taken place right in front of him, as if he wasn’t even there, would be infuriating if it wasn’t playing right into their hands. But the appearance of the disguise…

That was tailored specifically to Jason.

Subtle makeup to soften his face; just enough padding to give him the illusion of curves. Small breasts, a black wig, just a bit longer than his natural hair—and jewelry to draw the eye from anything he couldn’t disguise. And—look, okay. Jason is biased. He thinks obsessive, 72 hours no sleep, wearing his rattiest clothes, caffeine-addled gremlin Tim is hot. This Tim? Dolled up in provocative outfits and sultry make-up? He’s a goner.

And Tim knows it. He walks a fine line, teasing just enough to work Jason up without also compromising his persona as Hood. It’s maddening… and hot as hell. Could anyone blame him, if maybe his brains were a bit addled? Or if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to turn the tables on Tim, even if just for a moment?

Jason doesn’t think so.

If Tim asks, Jason will tell him it was a slip of the tongue. He got too deep into the Hood headspace. Otherwise—they can just… forget about it. Pretend it never happened in the first place.

Yeah. That sounds good.

[ladytauria]

genuinely can't remember what ships i've sent you already but WHO CARES. “You’d sound so good begging for it.” for jaysteph wahooo

i love jaysteph so much <3

this... came out a little different from my usual, i think? i blame the song i was listening to at the time <3 (which is also where i took the title from, altho. there's another line in there i want to use at some point xD)

anyway!!

i hope you like this <3

>> AO3 <<

They’re kissing again.

It’s almost routine at this point. Whatever they’re doing—sparring, casework, studying, watching a movie, playing games—it’s never very long before they end up making out. Even when they’re apart, Jason finds himself thinking about her, and the next time he’ll get to see her again.

It’s—

They're not dating. Haven't really talked about anything yet, either, but there's something—

His nose is filled with the scent of her perfume—violets and vanilla. He tastes strawberry chapstick and grape soda. His hands are on her waist, her shirt rucking up beneath his palms. She’s got one hand in his curls, the other on his chest, palming his pec.

This time... she invited him to study in her bedroom. He thinks, maybe—

Her hand slips from his hair. He barely has time to mourn before she’s shoving him backwards. He bounces a little on the mattress—he hears one of the pillows fall to the floor as he takes a breath, quick and sharp. Steph grabs his wrists, pinning his hands on either side of his head as her knees bracket his hips.

Her hair falls to frame his face; the soft strands tickling his skin, making him shiver.

Jason’s tongue darts out; swiping over his bottom lip. She tracks it with dark eyes—he draws it back into his mouth, and Steph chases it, kissing him again.. Her tongue traces the seam of his lips; he opens to it, moaning when she pushes in, licking into him, over his tongue, his teeth, exploring every crevice of his mouth.

It’s—

Jason’s head spins, wrists flexing under her grip, his stomach jumping.

He can’t help but chase her when her tongue leaves his mouth. He feels Steph’s mouth twitch—she nips him. He shudders, gasping, and her teeth catch his lip, rolling it between them.

Jason whimpers.

Steph stills. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, lashes kissing her cheeks. “That was hot,” she breathes against his mouth. “Do it again.”

He—

He’s whimpering again before he even thinks about it.

Steph groans. She grinds down on him, her grip tightening on his wrists. He hopes— Somewhere in his mind, he hopes she leaves bruises.

A whine leaves him—a shaky, stuttery thing. He feels hot, hot, hot; the room suddenly burning, blazing.

“Fuck,” Steph swears. She kisses him again, hard and brief, pulling away to whisper. “Shit, baby. I bet you’d sound so good begging for it.”

“Please.” He’d been— He’d been hoping, maybe, that tonight they’d do something more than just kiss.

Steph shudders. “Fuck— Jason,” she says, the same desperation and want he feels plain in her voice. In the way she says his name. “If— Tell me. Tell me if you don’t want this,” she says, searching his face.

“Steph,” he says. “Stephanie— I want it. I want you. Please.”

She shudders again, and then her mouth crashes against his again. She squeezes his wrists again, like a warning, so when her hands slip down his arms, he leaves them there. She pulls his shirt up, skimming her fingers over his skin. It makes him shudder, shake.

Steph swallows his gasp as she palms both pecs in his hands, cupping and squeezing them. She nips his lip again; pulls back just enough to whisper, “Nn— Such pretty tits, honey.” Her thumbs swipe over his nipples. He shudders, sparks making his fingers tingle.

“S-sensitive,” he tells her. She groans. She slips down his body. Her lips wrap around one of his pecs—nipple and flesh engulfed in soft, wet heat. He throws his head back, groaning, arching up into her.

Her teeth scrape over his nipple right as she rakes her nails down his sides.

“A-ah—” His answering gasp is high and breathy.

His boxers are wet—he’s, he thinks it might be spreading into his jeans. He wants—

“Please.” He raises his hips, voice full of need.

Steph pulls off of his chest with a pop, swollen lips shining with spit. She cups him through his clothes, squeezing—the pressure is— His hands curl into fists, a breathy keen in his throat.

“Look at you,” she breathes. “Falling apart for me.” 

There’s no room left for to blush; Jason’s face is already flushed and hot with desire. He whimpers instead, and she flashes a grin at him before popping open the button on his jeans one-handed. The zipper comes down easy, and he lifts his hips so she can work his jeans down. That takes both hands; Steph sitting back on his haunches to pull them down his thighs. His boxers follow, caught in the denim, and then his cock springs free between them.

Steph’s nails are painted a pale shade of lilac—she trails the tip of one finger down Jason’s cock. He jerks, whines, wanting more than just a ghost of a touch. Steph glances up at him. There’s only a thin sliver of blue in her eyes now; the black of her pupils has swallowed the rest of the color. He can see himself in her eyes, the mess he’s become under her attention.

It’s—

“Needy looks good on you,” Steph tells him, right before she claims his mouth again; her fist wrapping around the base of his cock. His arms twitch—aching to grab her, pull her close. But he— He leaves them where she puts them, and— She smiles against his mouth, a silent approval that makes something in him quiver.

“Steph,” he says, against her lips. “Steph— I want. Can I— Let me see you. Please.”

Steph nips his lip, and then eases off of him. “Finish stripping,” she orders, while reaching for the hem of her own shirt.

Jason has never been so quick to follow an instruction before. He pulls his shirt off, tossing it in the vague direction of Steph’s closet. At his jeans—Jason pauses, snagging the condom he’d tucked away, just in case. He doesn’t look at Steph when he sets it on the nightstand.

Then he goes back to his jeans. It takes a little more to get them off, at least until he gets them off the thickest part of his thigh. After that, it’s nothing to kick them and his boxers to the floor.

His socks come off last.

Steph takes her top and jeans off first, leaving her in matching purple panties and bra. Jason’s fingers itch to take them off, but he keeps his hands to himself. Instead, he watches her as she reaches around behind herself, pushing her breasts together as she undoes the band. She shrugs her shoulders, the straps falling down her shoulders before she pulls it off and tosses it.

Then her thumbs hook in the panties, pulling them off first one leg, and then the other; leaving her as bare as he is.

She straddles him again—his hands go back to resting on either side of his head, palms up.

Steph smiles approvingly. “Good,” she praises softly, skimming a nail down the line of his throat. Jason shivers, a breathy noise escaping him. It’s just as much from the slight scratch of it as it is the gentle praise.

She settles down onto his thighs—he can feel the dewy heat of her. He— He wants.

“Steph,” he says, pleads. “I want— Can I taste you? Please?”

Her eyes widen, mouth parting briefly in surprise. Then she smiles; sunny and pleased. “With those manners? Hell yeah, baby.” She goes to slide off of him. His hands jerk, rising a few inches before he remembers himself. Then he shakes his head.

“I— Sit on my face,” he blurts.

Steph stills again. She— She hesitates at that. “Are you sure, honey?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Her eyes flicker over his face. Whatever she sees there seems to settle her, because rather than climb off of him, she climbs up him. “You can use your hands,” she says, as her thighs bracket his head.

Her scent—

It makes Jason’s mouth water. Thick, musky, a little sharp. Her folds glisten; her clit already poking out of its hood. He wraps his hands around her thighs—they’re soft under his hands, but he can feel the cords of muscle under the fat. The power hidden below the softness. He pulls her down, licking a hot line between her outer lips; moaning as the taste of her blooms on his tongue.

She groans, hips rocking a little.

Jason licks again—and again, before bringing his thumbs around to spread her open, allowing him to lick deeper. He runs the flat of his tongue over her twitching, fluttering hole and all the way up to the underside of her clit.

“A-ah— Jason—”

He swipes his tongue over her clit again before circling her hole a few times and probing inside. The muscles flutter and clench around it; Steph gasps, high and pretty, rocking down against him, smearing her wetness against his face.

Jason pumps his tongue in and out a few times, and then goes back to licking over her lips. He traces letters—feels her thighs clench and quiver around him, and then—

Steph laughs breathily. “Your name?”

Jason doesn’t grin, but the corners of his eyes crinkle when he looks up at her. Y-E-S, he spells.

Steph laughs again. One of her hands tangles in his hair—the other is still braced against the wall. “Do it again,” she demands—

Jason does. Steph’s hips work, rotating in slow circles over his mouth. Steph is vocal above him—every sound she makes spurs Jason further. When he finishes the N, he noses his way back up to her clit, wrapping his lips around it. He’s gentle—circling it with his tongue, gauging her sensitivity.

Then—he sucks.

Steph shouts, thighs clamping tight around his head, grinding down onto his face. He encourages it, pulls her down harder, until she’s fucking his face. Slick rolls down his chin, his neck; she’s making an utter mess of him, and he loves it, moaning into her.

Jason lets go of her clit, going back to her lips and hole—switching between them all until, finally, Steph’s hand tightens painfully in his hair, hand smacking on the wall, her whole body shaking as she comes.

He licks her through it, until she’s easing off of him, her chest heaving as she pants. She glistens with sweat, her skin pink and flushed. She grabs his face in her hands, pulling him up onto his elbows so she can kiss him hard and fierce, seemingly uncaring of her slick smeared all over him.

When she pulls back, a thread of spit connects them. She sweeps her thumbs over his cheeks. “Think you can be still while I ride you?”

Jason moans, high and needy. “Yes.”

She flashes a smile at him. “Good,” she purrs. “Hands above your head, Jay.” 

He raises them over his head, crossing them at the wrist. Steph hums her approval before kissing him briefly. She sits back on her haunches, snatching the condom from the bedside table. Jason groans as she rips it open with her teeth, trembling when she works it over his cock.

She grips the base of him—his hips twitch. It’s an effort to stay still, especially when she straddles him, lining the tip of his cock up with her entrance. She moves, back and forth, letting her slick smear on the latex.

Jason expects her to sink down slowly. Instead, she flashes him a brief smile; a quick flash of teeth and then—

Slams her hips down, burying him inside of her in one, quick thrust.

Both of them shout—Jason’s whole body jerks. He shakes with the effort to stay still, his breaths coming quick and sharp, chest heaving. He wishes he could feel the slickness of her, but— It’s enough to feel her molten heat, and the quiver of her muscles, the way she clenches around him like a vice.

Steph stays there for a moment, letting her breathing slow. She runs her hands up his sides, caressing his skin.

“Look at you,” she murmurs. “You look so good spread out in my bed, Jason.”

Jason moans breathily in response, wishing his tongue didn’t feel so thick and clumsy. He wants to tell her how gorgeous she is, how good she feels, how much Jason wants her, and likes her—

Steph smiles at him. Her hands splay on his chest, using him to support her weight when she bends down and kisses him. Her hair falls like a curtain around them, tickling over his arms, his cheeks. “If you keep looking at me like that,” she whispers, “I’m going to have no choice but to make you mine.” She bites his jaw this time; the sharp pain of it making him whimper.

“Please,” he says. “Pleasepleaseplease—”

She groans; a low, guttural sound that sinks straight to his core. Her nails bite into his skin—he twitches, another, higher whimper tumbling from his mouth. 

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She rises. Tosses her hair over her shoulders. Then, she grips onto his waist and starts to move.

The pace she sets is almost punishing. It drives every thought from his head; the only thing he can focus on the waves of pleasure crashing through his body. It drowns him. He can hear, faintly, the flood of noise coming from his mouth but it’s all distant, like his head is underwater.

He barely manages to stutter out a warning when his peak crests. “G-gonna—”

Steph rubs his sides. “Wanna feel you,” she demands—and he comes, muscles seizing, hips lifting, cock twitching as he spills inside of her.

“Fuck.” Steph swears, vehemently, above him. “You’re so fucking pretty, Jason—” She’s barely rising off of him now, focusing on gyrating her hips instead, rubbing her clit against his skin until, finally— She shudders, head to toe, everything draining from her as she comes a second time.

She slips off of him, collapsing down in the bed beside him. Jason sits up for a moment, just long enough to remove the condom, tying it off before dropping it in the bin. He lies down again after, and Steph doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his chest, one of her hands splaying over his stomach. Jason winds one arm around her shoulders, then settles his other hand over hers.

“Stay the night?” Steph whispers against his skin.

Jason exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

She hums. “We c’n— We c’n talk in the morning.” She turns her face more into his chest, and then whispers, “Meant what I said. Wanna— Wanna keep you.”

Jason shivers. He’s— He’s more than okay with that. “In the morning,” he says, his voice just as thick with fatigue as hers.

She makes a soft noise of agreement. “And a shower, in a minute.”

Yeah. That sounds pretty good too.