can music save your mortal soul?!

Theres a easier way tho

I could take one for the team and get you pregnant

I'll be strong for you

It's hard rasing a kid on your own

To all of that, he'd simply replied, It's raising, then went right back to patrol like you hadn't just offered to impregnate him.

"Sweetheart, there's a send button," he replies with the patience of a saint. Gunshots erupt in the background and there's a curse thrown carelessly.

 You were attempting to send him the playlist you had made. It was a mix of songs perfectly curated to ones that reminded you of your best friend. There was a lot of dad music, a touch of heavy metal. You were tempted to throw in a love song, but dealing with the aftermath of doing so held you back.

"Don't sweetheart me, the fucking thing isn't loading now," you groan, tapping aggressively.

"You know, that doesn't make it go faster, right?" He grunts. There's a loud boom from his side.

"Says the guy who broke my TV because he thought hitting it would bring it back to life," you retort, squinting at your phone screen. You go to turn the brightness down.

 "'M still better at technology than you," he says, then shouts, "Robin, I said on my left!" 

You hear Robin's voice, but you can't make out the words. Something insulting, probably. 

"Little shit can't even listen to basic instructions."

"Me or Damian?" you ask without missing a beat.

"Both."

Once the playlist loads, you tap the send button without much thought. "Kay, I did it, listen to it now," you demand, lying back down on your bed.

"Sure thing, doll. Lemme just stop the Joker from turning Gotham into his playground."

"Gotham's already his playground," you mumble. 

For a while, you're quiet, listening as Jason occasionally shouts orders through the comms. It should be unsettling. The gunfire, the crashes, the constant danger he's in. Instead, it lulls you to sleep. He's here, breathing, and on call with you like he didn't want to part either.

"You done yet?"

"I'm putting it on. Happy now?" His hoarse voice brings you out of your thoughts. It's deeper than it was before. Nicer, too. 

You grin, sitting up as your blanket pools around your hips. "Only if you come over too." 

"Demanding little thing," he scoffed. But you know he's already on his way. 

A few minutes pass. You can hear the distant hum of his motorcycle through the comms.

Then he clears his throat. "Baby making music?"

Horror crashes over you. You snatch your phone off the bed so fast it almost slips from your hands. "Shit,' you whisper, frantically searching for what you sent. 

And lo and behold, it's that playlist, not the one you'd carefully curated for Jason. "Jay, I can explain—

"Fucked my way up to the top reminds you of me?" There's laughter in his voice now.

"No!"

"Guilty as sin?" He snorts.

"Oh my god, Jason, stop." Your hands are covering your warm face, phone lying on your bed. You're never living this down. 

He pauses. "There's a lot of Lana Del Rey,"

You swallow, your fingers curl around your blanket. "Well," you start quietly. "Don't get it twisted, you're pretty Lana Del Rey, but your dad? He embodies a Lana Del Rey song—

"Stop talkin' about Bruce like that," he groans.

"Your dad's hot." 

"You're trying to change the subject."

"Your older brother's also hot." You muster up the courage to add, "and don't call me that."

"Doll," His voice isn't teasing anymore. It's lower, like that comment about Dick took away all the humor.

"I've run out of age appropriate family members," you swallow. Except Jason. But you couldn't exactly say that. "Does Kate count? Bruce's exes? cause they're fine as hell too."

He grumbles under his breath. "Open the fucking window."

"You're here?" You freeze, voice coming out breathless.

The window snaps open with a sharp bang. The sound travels all the way to your room. You close your eyes. Why did it feel like you were in trouble?

The thump of boots echoes through the room. When it finally stops, you open your eyes to find Jason leaning against your doorframe, arms crossed in a way that makes his muscles more defined under the fabric. He’s taken off his helmet, his hair slightly damp, strands falling messily over his forehead.

And his eyes.

They’re on you, fierce and darker than what you're used to, like he’s a second away from hauling your ass straight to Arkham. It sends a pleasant feeling through you. 

You laugh nervously. "Heyyyy, you're not still mad about me finding your brother—what the fuck are you doing—

He stalks over to you until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to keep eye contact.

"You're acting weird," you tell him, trying to keep yourself still.

"That playlist—

"Was a random one I accidentally sent!" 

He tilts his head. “So. You wanna play me the right one now?"

He shifts, sliding onto the bed beside you, his shoulder bumping yours as he settles in. You grimace. No way he’s had time to shower, but you don’t move away. Not when he’s this close.

You give him one of your wired earbuds.

Your head bumps his when he puts his on. You bite back a smile at sharing earbuds with him.

You hit play on your phone, sneaking a glance at him, trying to read his reaction.

He’s already looking at you. Then he rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Can’t believe I remind you of a Radiohead song.”

“Would you prefer Fucked My Way Up to the Top?”

masterlist

once again i’m not sure what i wrote

"I know you could peel this door like foil, baby," you gasped breathlessly, nails clawing into his cape while his thick thigh rides the soak-seam of your suit, sending sparks of pleasure through your clit. "G-get both of us out."

He answered with touch: large fingers capture your wrist with disarming gentleness, his thumb sweeping tenderly along your lifeline until the hefty slipped from your grasp and clinked forgotten between your feet.

Summer blue eyes, dark with storming desire, held your gaze.

"Not until you give it up," he rasped, palm skimming from waist to ass, grinding you harder onto the meat of his thigh.

The other finally drags with your zipper south, exposing the swell of your breasts. Rough fingertips brushed your stiff nipples, pinching lightly and drawing needy whimpers from your throat that ricochet off steel. "No more games, yeah?"

"Try harder, Big Blue," you teased back, arching into his touch with doubled enthusiasm. Your teeth nipped his jaw, tongue soothing the barely-there mark. "Isn’t playing cop to my robber a thrill?"

His groan answered for him, vibrating through your chest. One hand settles on your ass, squeezing, drawing you impossibly flush; fabric sparks against fabric, nipples pebbling as his cock twitches against your stomach. Zippers descended lower, belts clattered, all revealing flashes of tantalizing skin.

You quickly sank to your knees, tongue tracing the sculpted groove of his abs before freeing him with practiced flicks. He’s heavy, jerking when your mouth envelopes the crown. His head thuds back against the door; your name escapes from his throat like prayer while you hollowed your cheeks, stroking the thick length and savoring the shudder rolling down his frame.

"Good God— sweetheart—" The plea broke as you pulled off with a wet pop, licking a slow stripe up the underside.

"P-promise me you’ll behave,” he tried again. "Walk away clean otherwise," he panted hotly against your ear, fingers finally slipping between your slick folds to thrust two thick digits deep inside. "No more thefts."

"No, I can't promise that I won't do that," you moaned, words spilling out shakily as pleasure coiled tighter. "B-but I’ll make it— worth your while if — if you let me keep— playing bad, baby—"

Superman's control snapped once again.

His eager mouth claimed yours in a ruinous kiss, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with the blunt head of his cock, nudging and pushing into your dripping heat, and finally, finally, filled you.

"Kal—!" You clenched around him, lost in raw surrender.

All the while, the Lunar Tear lies ignored, winking with each crimson flash while you and you and Big Blue burn hotter, brighter than any jewel this vault could ever guard.

.

.

“hm!?” you jolted at the touch, glancing back, and relaxed immediately to see that it was just your jason, “oh, you! you startled me.” you shook your head, seeing the amused smile quirk up on his face at your distress, “i can't find the orange gums that i like. were you saying something?”

“i said it's fucking unbelievable.” he said bitterly, when you turned around fully and leaned against the shelf behind you. he moved closer to trap you between his arms, “my card declined. was getting a pack of cigarettes and apparently the policy here is i gotta pay first. this guy doesn't accept crumbled bills. and my card fucking declined.”

your hands snaked up to rest against his chest, or rather the leather of his jacket, “you and bruce having a row again?” not that it'd matter. jason didn't even use the trustfund set up by bruce for himself. if anything, he only ever utilized that money to help out casualties. usually children caught in the crossfire of crime .

“that's what i thought. his communication skills are otherworldly afterall. but no,” jason sighed, “i texted dick, turns out he had tim doing this april fools prank. not funny.”

you frowned, agreeing with him obviously, as you nodded your head. you, too, would crashout and get really angry if someone thought it was okay to fuck with your personal stuff, “he's knocking it off though, right?”

“not before 12 o’clock.” he answered, “tim set a timer or whatever. i don't care. i wouldn't care if it was you who did it. “ he added, “i just don't like that-” he trailed off, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

your hands immediately found home in his hair, soothingly running through the curls at the back of his head. “i know. i understand. you don't–” you murmured, "they're so childish when it comes to boundaries sometimes.”

he tilted his head and pressed his lips to the side of your neck before pulling away and standing to his full height again, towering over you by a couple inches.

your eyes widened as you looked past jason, checking for the third of the trio. roy harper. this friends with benefits thing was not a secret, you just didn't like the smug look roy got on his face whenever seeing you two get all sweet with physicality.

you liked kissing jason casually, just because. and he often did the same with you. you'd be deep in a gory tv show, wrapped up in your fluffiest self-crocheted blanket on the couch, and he'd walk by you, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. jason would get to your kitchen and heat himself up something to eat. he'd return to the living room, dropping beside you on the couch, watching you watch tv. and you'd open your mouth occasionally so that he could share his food with you. you had a habit of playfully biting on his fingers. he was very bite-able.

most days, you went out for runs right before dawn. you liked the cinematicness of it. how you could pretend to run from the cops or villains alike, even though there was no one outside. mostly it helped you regulate your anxiety. the adrenaline was addictive. and those runs always ended with you knocking on jason's apartment door. the door would open almost immediately. like he knew you were on your way.

him only in his boxers. taking you into his arms and into his bed. your legs wrapping around his hips, as he'd hastily close the door behind you. making sure it's locked safely. before taking you both into his bedroom.

most of these encounters ended with grinds of his hips into yours, dragging out sounds of excruciating pleasure from the both of you. sometimes with you on your back, as he'd stare down at your face with feverish want. you'd take his jaw into your hands and kiss him senseless. his cock greedily buried in your cunt, desperate to please you.

sometimes it was you on top of him, slow grinds of your hips down onto his cock eventually turning into the most erratic thing ever. jason always looked a little too wrecked then, he was pretty sure god was a woman and that woman was you. he'd take mouthfuls of your breasts, gasping at the flutter of your inner walls around his cock, and completely fucking gone for the moans and praises that left your mouth. he saw fucking stars whenever you grasped his throat.

sometimes, he'd pound into you relentlessly with your face smushed into the mattress, ass up, hands scrambling to hold for something, anything, as every thrust made your spine arch.

and then there was jason’s favorite. making out with your pussy. he'd drag orgasms after orgasms out of you until you were overstimulated and practically incoherent with your face buried in his pillow, telling him you can't again, and he'd tease you sweetly and dedicate his all into making you come again. he knew you loved it whenever he spat on you or spanked your cunt, so the smug bastard always withheld them til the end.

the days your brain was far too awake regardless of too little sleep, you loved having jason's cock in your mouth. sucking him off and letting him take control until you were all dumb and sleepy. the tip of his cock brushing your lips before he'd slip in, your pussy throbbing against the vibrator you'd be sitting on. your chin and chest coated with drool and precum, as jason would thrust into you lazily.

and then sometimes, jason would bring you to his bed, and you'd murmur in his ear that you didn't want sex this time. you just missed him, so you came here. he'd kiss your forehead and set you down against the pillows. he'd help you out of your running clothes down to your underwear, and let one of his shirts swallow you instead. settling in the bed with you, he'd hold you in his arms, into the clingiest of hugs ever. he'd once playfully said his friendship came with the benefits of spooning.

so, yes, roy harper knew about the situation. of course he did. he was jason’s roommate. he had to hear you practically every early morning for hours. well, more jason than you actually. but roy was convinced you two were oblivious idiots in love, reducing your world-class romance into just sex.

because roy saw you arrive at a group hang out once in jason's wonder woman tshirt. he'd seen how giddy jason had appeared over it. his hand immediately slipping into the back pocket of your jeans. he'd leaned down and murmured something in your ear. you'd rolled your eyes, one of the most formidable women suddenly so shy, as you'd buried your face against his arm. you were both smiling like hah! people in love!!

jason always held your hand whenever you guys were out together. no matter where. specially in crowds. whenever you or jason would catch roy's side eye, ya'll would defend the behavior saying holding hands couldn't be more intimate than sex, so it wasn't a big deal. if one would ask for roy harper's opinion on that, roy had only one thing to say : lies, nasty nasty lies!

jason had your coffee order memorized. he brought you flowers occasionally because it was disrespectful to not bring the woman he was with flowers; you deserved to feel appreciated and cherished. most nights he had dinner at your place before patrol because he liked your company.

he shared almost everything about himself with you because not being transparent with you about a mission once had made him sick to his stomach, he'd begged roy to shoot his guts out. roy had simply called you over. the moment you guys were together, jason started rambling and having a panic attack, and you cradled his head against your neck, shushing him and reassuring him with such gentleness that roy again knew, ha! these morons were in love!!

every time jason was forced to attend a wayne gala, you attended them with him as his date. you had a photo album in your totebag, filled with polaroids of jason. roy had asked about it once, you'd shrugged and said jason was your favorite person in the world and you liked capturing him. whenever jason read a book on his living room couch, you'd end up half on top of him. your arm across his stomach and head on his chest. jason never got annoyed by it, he seemed to crave it actually. you were his emotional support pillow practically, given the catastrophic topics he liked reading about. he'd hold the book with one hand, and hold you carefully with his other arm. you always looked really content just being in his arms. roy was genuinely sick of all these fuckery getting called 'just friends', because respectfully where was his hugs, and cuddles and wonder woman tshirt and flowers and gossip and polaroids. christ! you'd even crocheted a hello kitty stuffed toy that resembled red hood!!

roy had even once walked in on you telling jason about your insecurities, and him so so gently lifting you onto his lap. he spoke so softly, so lovingly, his eyes filled with so much empathy for you, as though you feeling down hurt him physically, it was fucking diabolical.

“where'd roy go?” you asked, eyes meeting jason’s.

“uh, yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, “the girl he's been seeing? she called. her ex boyfriend broke into her apartment---fucking prick, i know---and she beat him up with her hockey stick-”

“hot.” you perked up and jason leaned down to brush his mouth against yours for a moment.

“yeah, so, she's pretty freaked out now cuz the creep passed out and isn't moving. roy’s gone to make sure he isn't dead, or if he is-” jason ominously shrugged, and you laughed, wrapping your arms around his middle and tipping your head back to look at his infuriatingly attractive face. you knew roy would make the body disappear if the man was dead. he was rather down bad for this woman. she seemed to know how to make a man walk like a dog, you loved that for the both of them, “they make an interesting pair, don't they?” jason shook his head, baffled.

you poked your tongue out goofily, nodding your head, and then leaned up to steal a quick kiss, “tell you what, find me my gums and i’ll get your cigarettes. nothing quite romantic like rotting teeth and fucked up lungs. we make an even more interesting pair, yes, we do-”

you were cut off when jason’s mouth met yours messily. you had to grip the back of his jacket, because gravity stopped entirely and your knees buckled. kissing jason todd was your favorite thing ever, as you met him with equal fervor. his thigh slid between your legs and you made a soft sound of approval. he pulled away, and took a quick look at your flushed face, committing it to memory. his cheeks were flushed too and he was grinning.

you rolled your eyes and dragged his face back to yours with the back of his head as you practically devoured him. you two could be obscene. it seemed less like just kissing and more like him trying to fuck your mouth with his.

eventually you two had to pull away, gasping for breath. and yet, not kissing him felt more claustrophobic than anything, “what—was—that—for?” you said between breaths.

jason shrugged, stepping back as you steadied on your feet, “just wanted to kiss my girl.”

you beamed up pathetically at him, butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach, “oh, i’m your girl now, am i?” you playfully asked.

“yes, ma’am, you are.” he said, with theatrical seriousness.

you reached up a hand to mess up his ruined hair even more. “hm,” you paused for the dramatics sake, "then you must build a shrine for me." you bossily declared.

"do i get to fuck you in front of it?" he asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"if you're good." you eyed him, "yes."

he nodded immediately, "oh, doll, i'll be so good."

NEXT/SEQUEL

it's so badly written. that's cuz i just rawdogged this under 3 hours?!? 4 at best?!? and it's 8 in the morning rn. my head hurts and im pretty sure i'm starting a fever. lmao. have fun. i hope it wasn't too ooc and repetitive. i tried proofreading twice but ive memory problems because of health issues, so :) and and forgive my attempt at smut, i'm an inexperienced fuck who's never written it before.

A walk through the garden had turned into sitting beneath a tree when you grew tired, sweat clinging to your skin. You don't know how Diana still looks as put together as she did before the walk. You've been trying to will your legs to keep up for the past 20 minutes. 

You pluck some flowers from the ground as you attempt to make a flower crown, a mix of reds and yellows. 

“Can you teach me how to fight one day?” you ask absentmindedly.

She hums. “If that is what you wish.”

You grin. “You’d say yes to anything, then.”

“That is not what I said, my love.”

You drop the makeshift crown and wrap your arms around her neck from behind.

“Finished already?” She tries to turn, curious to see what you’ve done.

“Nope.” You continue to hug her, your face burrowing into her hair, taking in her scent as if it'll bring you peace.

“Would you kill a pegasus for me?”

The sudden question makes her blink, unsure whether to reprimand you or laugh.

“Pegasus are beloved creatures…”

“I’m your beloved creature.”

“Yes, that is true.” A reluctant smile graces her lips. “However, I do not kill needlessly. You, of all people, know life is—”

“Precious,” you finish for her, your arms falling to your sides.

She hums, satisfied. Her hand finds yours. “Will a kiss not suffice?” She's facing you now, her legs folded neatly beneath her

Pulling your hand back, you look for the crown. “Hmm, I don’t know. Anyone can kiss me, but can they kill a mythical creature?”

“I can do more than kiss you,” she says casually, not taking the bait. Her eyes dart to you before focusing on the flowers in your hand.

“Oh?” You ask, raising a brow. You reach up to place the flower crown on her head. “Such as?”

Diana shifts closer, near enough that her knee brushes yours. “I could spar with you at dawn.”

You wrinkle your nose. “That sounds horrible.”

“You asked me to teach you to fight.”

“Yeah, but not at an ungodly hour.” You admire your poorly done crown. Definitely not a crown fit for a princess. 

But it's somehow perfect for your princess, you think, when her eyes find yours. 

Masterlist