when men roll up their sleeves and show their slutty little forearms i wither away like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

the boy is mine (MDNI!)

aka professional eater jason todd (warnings: smut, edging, period sex, mentions of vaginal sex, lots of pussy eating, not proofread)

———

jason todd is a munch. he eats you like a man possessed, he quite literally cannot get enough. you taste so good, so sweet, and it kills him every time, getting to swirl is tongue around your swollen cunt. “god, ma, your pussy was made for me.” he’ll say, his voice muffled between your legs. and god, he’s good at it. he has spent countless orgasms learning what makes you feel good, what makes your thighs shake and squeeze around his head, what makes you yell those pretty little moans the loudest.

he has to prep you before sex every night, that’s just a fact. he knows you would just about split in half if you tried to take his cock without an orgasm and a half making you nice and wet for him. the pleasure of eating you out is for him just as much as it is for you. getting to nibble and suck on your sloppy wet cunt makes his cock go hard faster than anything else. he’s careful to extend the moment as long as possible, swirling his tongue around your fold, sucking your clit until he’s made you a dumb, moaning mess. he pulls back right as you’re about to cum, a cruelty that makes you whimper out a soft “jay, please.” your desperate little whines make him even hornier, and he makes sure to make you beg a few more times before letting you finish all over his face.

he especially loves it when you’re on your period, he insists you taste even better. you were embarrassed at first, even tried to tell him to wait until the week was up, but that just wouldn’t do. “sweetheart,” he would say, the thought of waiting for you too heavy a burden to bare, “you’re suffering bad enough. let me make you feel good.”

you couldn’t refuse that, and true to his word, he made pure ecstasy course through you, orgasm after orgasm. so now, when you’re on your period, he loses himself in your pussy, making you cum countless times until your forget your name. he doesn’t pull away, not when you pull his hair, not when you beg for him to stop, not when your little cunt squeezes so tightly around his face he can’t breathe. no, he’ll only lean back, his face dripping with an addicting mixture of your slick and blood, when he’s satisfied.

———

first smut on the blog… like and subscribe for more

a nasty perv who licks up the side of your neck while literally trapping you under his body weight to fuck you deeper… bodies sheening and practically glued together, heavy pants between curses under his breath about how nasty you are for letting him ruin you

did not know yall liked this that much.

Woah.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Jay."

You murmured to him. He had a panic attack after a nightmare and panted softly in your arms. Everything was overwhelming, but your calming voice was guiding him back to reality.

The nightmare was bad enough to wake him up on his own instead of staying trapped until you wake him. He couldn't get enough air in his lungs. What's wrong with him? Why are you still putting up with him? You wake up every time he has nightmares, yet you comfort him the entire time.

"There's so much wrong with me, pipsqueak."

He says the nickname with so much love it melted your heart. You showered him in kisses while saying,

"You do what you have to do to survive."

He shuddered. He's a bad man in his mind. He has too much blood on his hands. Even if they were criminals, he still thinks he's a bad man. He felt tainted. He whispered,

"How can you love me when you know what I've done?"

He needed to know how you could even stand looking at him. You were so sweet and kind. You warmly said,

"I can love you because I know you."

He looked at you in confusion. Of course you know him. You wouldn't be sleeping in his bed with him if you were a stranger. You softly explain,

"I know you break into bakeries at night to get me my favourite pastry, but leave money on the counter so you don't feel like a complete jerk. I know you love my cheesy romance books despite pretending you don't. I know you love cooking for me so I can eat the leftovers and remember you."

Jason grumbled. He's always been a man who thinks actions speak infinitely louder than words. Anything is worth it for you. You continued with a smile,

"I know you love my lame jokes. You love to cuddle, and you replay romance scenes with me when you read a story you particularly enjoyed."

Jason hid his face in your hair. The big bad Red Hood was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, and you loved him for it.

You kissed the top of his head. He was nestled in your side comfortably with his large frame curled to make it easier to cuddle. He placed his head on top of your chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He needed to be reassured that you were here and alive.

You let him listen to your heartbeat while you played with his hair the way he liked it. You smiled as you said,

"I love your smile, and I don't care one bit about the blood on your hands. You are protecting the ones you love in the only way you think will work. I know you pretend to dislike your family, and you'll fake gag around their significant others, but your romantic heart soars when you see couples being in love."

The gentle hand rubbing his scalp and your soothing heartbeat was luring him back to sleep. So what if he is a bit of a romantic. He can't help the way he feels.

"I know you read the books I recently read just so we can have a conversation about it."

Jason blushed. He thought he'd been sneakier about stealing books. He's read every book in your house during the two years he's been dating you.

He's a book thief, but he always returns the book and even organised the bookcase for you when you complained that you needed to organise it. You were looking for a book to give him, and it took a good fifteen minutes to find the book. You continued,

"I know you love when I lay on top of you because I feel like a weighted blanket, and you love when I hug you from behind to feel the height difference between us."

Jason yawned. You love this man with your whole heart. You don't care about Red Hood. You care about Jason Peter Todd, the love of your life. His large arms tightened around you before relaxing. He rolled you on top of him and kissed your forehead.

"I love you, pipsqueak."

You smiled at him and gave him a long kiss before softly replying,

"I love you too, hoodlum."

you were staring. very unabashedly so, too. just… oogling your boyfriend, watching as he lounged on your couch, his black shirt fitted around bulging arms, the hem riding up around his tummy to reveal that line of thick black hair that dipped below his plaid pants.

oh my god, those stupid plaid pants. they made you wonder what the hell the hype was about grey sweats, when those existed.

and it’s not like you had anything to be ashamed about, either. he was your boyfriend, all six foot something of him, for fucks sake. all the thick muscles, and short cropped hair, and scars, and fuck, those eyes. you could look if you damn well wanted to.

you’d tried very hard to convince yourself all morning that you were fine, and definitely not ovulating, and fine.

but in that moment, watching your boyfriend literally just sit there, eyes shut and head tipped back, this was not you. it was some evil entity, possessing you and in full swing. you were ready to jump him, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet.

your gaze kept dropping lower, toward those pecs, all soft and plush beneath the fabric of his tee, and you could feel yourself start to salivate.

it wasn’t even anything provocative either, but the sight of his tits in a black shirt, tight over the unflexed muscle, was driving you up a god damned wall.

you curled your legs up beneath you, arm perching you against the back of the couch, the other pressed between the low of your thighs to physically retrain yourself from grabbing him like a deranged person.

because, no matter what you did, it was almost impossible to stop imagining just throwing yourself at him, and doing some entirely unspeakable things. things you know you’d never do unless it was this god forsaken time of month.

“you good, ma?” Jason asked, finally breaking the tense silence, and drawing your attention away from his torso. he was staring back now, one brow raised quizzically, and his scared lip curled up in questioning.

“your eyes are dilatin’ and shit.”

yeah. you got up, wordlessly, and walked toward the kitchen.

jason todd puts flowers on his own grave.

it wa curiosity at first. after he'd spent a while at the league and mellowed out, formed a proper plan besides simply burning wayne manor to the ground, he wondered what his grave would say. they'd told him there had been a funeral, after all. probably closed casket, with an altered death certificate saying he'd died in a car crash or something. not like bruce could face the truth if it beat him with a crowbar.

beloved son? a generic lie.

loving brother? much the same.

something bitter rises in his throat as his feet hit worn, damp stone. the streets aren't familiar anymore.. even crime alley has changed - there must've been a turf war or something, because those goons following him most definitely aren't black mask's usual pick. then again, maybe old roman's changed, too.

he sighs in frustration when he meets a dead end. gone for just how many years and they brick up an entire street? ridiculous. he hears the telltale sign of weapons being drawn behind him before he turns around with his own.

gone but not forgotten? they'd moved on fine without him. everyone had.

he stashes their bodies behind some dumpsters and moves quick. he's not in much of a mood for a fight right now. he isn't in a mood to do much of anything; there's a strange sense of melancholy in his chest.

he makes it the rest of the way to gotham's main cemetery without another incident. it's relatively easy to find his place there. thomas and martha wayne have a large tree next to their joint grave, and he just assumed he'd be somewhere near them. he's a little surprised to see his headstone right on their left. that spot used to be saved for bruce.

tentatively, he reads the inscription.

jason todd.

...

he shouldn't be surprised, really, what else did he expect? he wasn't in any of their lives for long, they barely knew him. he thought he knew them, he was wrong. they didn't care. the only thing they wanted to remember about him was his name, birth and death date, he doesn't doubt they would've had a blank headstone if they could, hell, maybe there wouldn't even have been a funeral if he hadn't existed in the public eye, he might as well have been buried in an unmarked, shallow grave next to that goddamn warehouse-

a drop of rain tears him out of his spiral.

...inhale...

...exhale.

maybe he'd hoped they cared.

that little boy who died that night deserved to have someone that cared.

...because that boy had cared so, so much.

come next morning, he's gotten himself a shitty apartment in crime alley and there's a small bouquet of flowers in his hand as he visits his grave for the second time. there's none already there, not even wilted ones. but as he crouches down to give himself what he believes to be the first flowers that boy has ever gotten, something in the grass glitters, catching his eye.

his first thought is a used needle, but as he looks a little closer, he realizes it's a little bracelet.

it's a little rusty and definitely made for a kid. the chain is cheap and a bit chunky. but the charm, a tiny, half heart meant to be a matching set to another bff bracelet, brings back a flood of memories.

he knew he'd forgotten a couple things when he'd come back. most of it was unimportant stuff. there's a jane austen book he doesn't recall reading? great, he gets to experience it for the first time again. his favorite color? well, he knows it's not green for sure, and that's really the only thing he needs to know. which floor his room was in the manor? he was never going to go back, anyway.

but how could he ever have forgotten you?

that tiny bracelet, tucked away from prying eyes and grubby hands in the taller grass near his headstone and meant for a boy he no longer was, said that someone had cared. enough to visit him. enough to leave something he would have wanted to take with him.

and maybe, just maybe, if he keeps coming back... he'll see you again one day.

so jason todd puts flowers on his own grave. every week, every day. same time, same place.

for that boy who had cared, and his friend who missed him.

and one day, a little while after his grand plan had gone to shit, there are flowers in his hand again. he doesn't get to place them on his grave, though. when he spots someone standing there - different clothes, different hair, but the same eyes that had been his first love all those years ago… it’s like seeing you for the first time all over again.

those flowers are for you now.

There's something about having his hands occupied that keeps Jason Todd steady. It's the distraction, the idle motion of his hands that often keeps him focused– from spiraling too far into his own mind.

He likes having something to do. Cleaning his guns, fixing his gear, even something as simple as tossing a ball, keeps his head clear.

It's the simple weight of having something held in his palms that grounds him against the world. And maybe that's why he never feels quite right on patrol unless there's a weapon in his hands

And, maybe that's why he can never get enough of touching you.

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

Glove

i am crazy about this man

Red Hood in Batman Ninja vs. Yakuza League

absolutely love wanting to do a lot of things and ending up not doing even one! yay

as someone who constantly bites their lip, i like the idea that whenever you subconsciously start rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, Jason takes note and uses his thumb to gently tug it free before going back to whatever he was doing before he noticed.

you're sat on the couch, hes in the kitchen making something to eat when he glances over and sees you biting at your lip hard enough to make the skin redden and split. you're distracted. on your phone or something, so he pads quietly across the room, tips your head up with his palm until you're focused entirely on him, and pulls it free using his thumb.

as soon as hes satisfied with the correction he goes back to the kitchen and carries on as normal. when he next glances over you're already watching him, a slightly wide, love-sick look in your eye.

and Jason? well, he does what he always does when you look at him like that.

he smiles.

you have all of the best ideas istg

YOU WRITE HIM SO PRECIOUS

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Words: 9k

Plot: It's your first time with Jason. You thought you knew what to expect—until he ruined you. (yep, I'm officially a whore, and my old crushes are coming back lmao)

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, praise, creampie, aftercare

It starts the second you're outside the bar. Jason's hand finds your waist, pulling you close like he can't bear the space between you any longer. His lips crash against yours—hungry, rough, possessive. You gasp into his mouth, and he takes full advantage, tongue sliding against yours as he walks you backward toward his bike.

You don't make it far. His hand—big, calloused—cups the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devours you. His other hand grips your ass, fingers digging in like he owns you already. He groans when you grind into him, hips meeting yours with a delicious friction that has you whining.

"Fuck," he mutters against your lips. "Can't wait to get you home."

The ride to his apartment is a blur—his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles that make your pussy throb. The second you're inside, the door slams shut, and he's on you. His mouth finds yours again, teeth scraping your bottom lip before he bites just enough to make you moan. His hands slide under your thighs, and—fuck—he lifts you like you weigh nothing, pinning you against the door.

You gasp, legs wrapping around his waist, feeling how hard he is through his jeans. He rolls his hips, grinding against you, and you whimper, clutching at his jacket.

when jason biggest lover boy todd become a 'bad boy'? this man is a yearner. he knows everything from your favorite color to your preferred temperature. He makes your favorite food on your bad days and leaves you little notes about the things he loves about you (he does this even on the days that aren't bad, he just wants you to know that he loves you). even though he's in a stable relationship, he would still get shy and have butterflies in his stomach when he's around you because he thinks you're simply amazing and can't believe that out of all the people you chose him to love. He wakes up in the middle of the night, nightmares tormenting him, but this time it's not about his death, no, his nightmare now is seeing you leaving, because for Jason that's worse than death.

┊ ┊ •*. LOVE YOU LIKE A GOD

Synopsis: Your boyfriend deserves a little TLC and maybe some head?

Warnings: [NSFW MINORS DNI] [nuetral reader pretty sure] [blowjob/handjob?] [smut is gonna be less detailed this time around sorryyy] [overstimulation] [Smut but mainly fluff] [dry orgasm] [mentions of throat fucking]

w.c 1.7k

thinking about JASON TODD watching you get ready for the day.

part of his morning routine is watching you do yours. he’s lounging on your bed, mindlessly scrolling on his phone as he waits for you to get out of the shower, looking up curiously when he hears the water shut off.

a few seconds later, you’re stepping out of the bathroom, steam curling into the bedroom as you towel dry your hair.

jason watches you like it’s his day job. he’s got nowhere better else to be, nothing else to do except lay on your shared bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he watches you move through your routine.

you grab your moisturiser, lathering up with a scent that jason always finds delicious enough to eat (he’s probably going to bite you later).

when you’re satisfied with your dewy, hydrated skin, you pick out a couple of tops, considering them with just as much indecision as before. he tries not to laugh when you huff, arms sore from holding them both up against the mirror. eventually, like always, you turn to him and hold them up in question.

“black one,” he replies easily. he’d already chosen a favourite, but he likes it when you ask for his opinion.

you blow him a quick kiss and start dressing, before moving on to sit at your vanity.

he loves this bit, watching you apply every cream and serum with intense concentration. fuck knows what they’re all for, but he happily walks around for hours, holding the basket as you shop for them and he’ll happily sit and watch as you apply them.

you never rush the next part, applying droplets of foundation to your glowing skin and taking your time to blend it in. concealer is next, and then the coloured products.

when you’re applying the bronzer, you tilt your head and assess the angles of your cheekbones carefully and he finds himself mirroring you, enraptured.

blush comes next, swirling onto the apples of your cheek generously and giving you that soft flush of colour that he loves seeing on you. he makes a mental note to compliment that more.

sometimes you forgo eyeliner and jason himself a little disappointed. the way your brows furrow and your hand is steady as a rock as you swipe on the dark lines is like nothing he’s seen before. and considering his job, he’s often in high stress situations.

when you apply the mascara, making your lashes thick and dark, jason exhales as you blink at yourself in the mirror. your eyes might be his favourite feature of yours.

as soon as jason hears the familiar chime of different lipsticks clinking together in your drawer, he sits up slightly. just like everything else, he knows you’re going to struggle deciding on a shade.

after a whole minute of you uncapping and capping liner after lipstick after lip gloss, he finally gets up and leans down behind you, arms snaking around your waist. jason rest his chin on your shoulder and nods to your obscene collection of lip products.

“use the red one that you like,” he mumbles, voice muffled by your neck.

“you mean the red one that you like?” you shoot back at him, raising a brow in the mirror.

“semantics.”

you laugh, uncapping the product before dabbing it onto your lips. jason doesn’t even realise he’s staring so hard in the mirror until you turn around to look at him, cupping his face in your hands. “satisfied?” you ask, grinning.

he hums, distracted by your lips and he can’t help himself from sneaking a kiss. the colour is practically hypnotic on you, so you can’t really blame him for going in for another one. or two.

a/n; rip jason todd you would have loved clinique black honey and elf jam session