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jason todd x spy!reader
summary: a world class spy and a vigilante have been married for five or six years, only to see their marriage come crashing down when their double lives are revealed
contains: swearing, violence, mentions of weapons, reader is a hit woman/spy, inspired by the 2005 movie "mr & mrs smith"
word count: 3.8k
a/n: genesis (my jason todd f1 au) chapter out soon
Five or six years ago…
The day you met Jason Todd was one you’d never forget.
You’d been hired to take out a secret service agent who’d fled to Barcelona. Police were closing in on you and you needed a cover story fast. Choosing the first young eligible bachelor you could find, you made your way over to him confidently, saying a silent prayer that he did not smell the gunpowder on your blouse. He was tall, taller than you even in heels, and he had the kind of build that could make a woman weak in the knees. Or maybe that was just the ligament you tore last week running from a bombing. You wrapped a hand around his bicep and smiled devilishly at the police officer, who just scoffed and walked away.
Jason was on his first ever vacation and wanted nothing to do with vigilantism for the next week. He wanted to get away from that life and away from that crowd. But…he was still human. So when a beautiful woman ran up to him, pretending to be his partner while the police interrogated her, all he could do was nod along dumbly. She had a mischievous look in her eye, something that screamed danger and excitement, but comfort at the same time. Jason was almost reminded of Selina Kyle, Catwoman, but he hoped this woman aired more on the legal side of things than the aforementioned.
Once the police had left, you turned to Jason to apologize and hopefully find yourself on the next flight out of the country, but he just looked at you with a stupid smile that made your heart flutter. He bought you a drink, told you how beautiful you were one too many times, and one thing led to another and you woke up in his hotel room.
You couldn’t say you regretted it though, because that week you spent together in Barcelona was the best of your life. Your mission was a success, you had gotten laid, and had an extremely attractive man following you around like a lost puppy.
You weren’t surprised when he proposed three months later.
It wasn’t like you to rush into things, but he seemed like a really great guy, okay? Plus, your agency had just announced your transfer to Gotham and it wouldn’t hurt to have a cover story. You’d play the perfect wife, oblivious and innocent, praying that if you stayed out of his business he’d stay out of yours. You never asked why he came home at four in the morning and you never mentioned the limp. In return, he never looked too closely into how often you went on “business trips” or why your cell phone changed models each month.
The two of you were living your best lives, willfully ignorant of each other.
Present day…
The morning started off like any other.
Jason was fast asleep when you got up. You showered, made breakfast, put a few things in the safe behind the freezer he didn’t know about, and took your laundry out of the dryer. Your boss had called you in earlier than normal, so you had left for work already by the time Jason woke up. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to live like this, existing in a shared space rather than living together in a home. Jason eventually made his way to the manor, having been called in about a drug smuggling operation that was supposed to happen tonight. He knew it was major, otherwise Bruce would’ve handled it himself without the help of the team.
Jason was just about to text you that he wasn’t going to make it for dinner when he got that exact message from you. It was convenient for him, so why should he read into it?
Ten hours later, you were laid flat on your stomach atop a building, staring through the lens of a sniper rifle. Next to you lay your laptop, feeding you live coverage from the security cameras inside the warehouse. According to your boss, at 8pm sharp a kingpin you’d identified as Samara Fray was going to make a very rare public appearance. She’d been linked to hundreds of assaults and deaths over the last year and had made a fortune smuggling drugs to and from countries. But more importantly, she had information about your organization and she was now working for the enemy. It should’ve been a quick, clean kill, but a family of bats was about to make your life ten times more difficult.
Jason, on the other hand, was stuck living by Batman’s “no kill rule” for this mission. He was stationed on a rooftop just barely out of your line of sight. Dick sat next to him, talking away while they awaited Bruce’s signal. When it came, they sprung into action, vaulting over a fence and breaking the chain lock on the door. Shouting rang from inside as Jason kicked the door down, coming face to face with the woman he was after.
You watched with a scowl as Red Hood fought your target, and you really tried your best to wait for a clear shot, but you were never really known for your patience. Pulling the trigger, you swore as you missed and nipped the shoulder of the vigilante who looked around frantically trying to spot his shooter. You looked back at your security cam footage and saw Samara running towards a van near the river. Gunfire still echoed from the warehouse as you turned your focus back towards your scope and locked back on to Samara. Taking another shot, you watched her yelp out in pain, but you’d still missed any vital organs. She ducked into a van which you already could tell would be bulletproof and you watched in dismay as your target fled the scene.
A voice crackled through your earpiece. It was your boss informing you to forget Samara and to take the shot on Red Hood and any other vigilante in the area. There was enough prize money on the three of them to make up for your failed attempt at the drug lord. So adjusting your position, you focused on Red Hood. He stood at the center of a pile of bodies, all unconscious and bruised, shouting aggressively to Nightwing. You took another shot, watching the vigilantes duck for cover.
Letting out another exasperated grunt, you shook your head trying to regain your focus. You followed the three men as they made a swift escape, each of them looking just as frustrated as you were at the failed mission. You continued to watch as they scaled a fire escape up to a nearby rooftop and just as you were about to take your shot on Red Hood, one that this time you wouldn’t miss, he pulled off his helmet.
Through the lens of your rifle, you stared at your husband Jason Todd as he pulled the bullet you had shot at him out of his armor.
Scrambling, you quickly packed up your things and left the rooftop, desperate to get home before your partner did. With an order to take out Red Hood, the same man you had been married to for years, you had to ensure you’d be home before he was to prepare.
Jason stared at the bullet in disbelief. He had shot a lot of rounds in his life and he knew just about every bullet type by heart. So you can imagine his shock when he found that he had been shot with the same one of a kind ammunition only he carried. It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together, he was the son of a world class detective after all.
When he arrived home, he was slightly unnerved by just how quiet everything was. He rounded the corner to the kitchen quickly, searching for you. Your car was parked in the driveway next to his motorcycle like always, and Jason knew that you were home.
“Honey?” he called out, bringing a hand to the gun on his hip. “Where are you at, sweetheart?”
For several moments, there was nothing but silence. Just as Jason was about to enter your bedroom, the smell of gasoline stopped him. Turning around, he met your eyes.
“Hey, baby,” you smiled, gun pointed at the crease in his brow. “Whatcha doing home so early?”
“Could ask you the same thing,” Jason said slowly, pulling his own weapon from its holster. “You wanna put that down, doll? Or are we gonna have a problem?”
“Nothing but a little domestic dispute,” you muttered before firing two shots at your husband.
Jason ducked behind the counter, cocking his gun and taking a shot at the window next to you. You turned and ran for the front door, only to fall when he grabbed your ankle to stop you. You kicked him harshly in the head, grabbing a shard of glass and lodging it into the hand wrapped around your leg.
“FUCK!” he yelled, releasing his grip. “Sweetheart, let’s just talk about this.”
“What’s there to talk about, you psycho!” you shouted back, grabbing a lighter from the counter and continuing your sprint to the front door. You reached to turn the handle only to be stopped by a bullet piercing through the wooden frame.
“I can’t let you go, doll, you know that.” Jason approached you, gun still aimed at your head. “So what are you, CIA? FBI? Private investigation?”
Sliding a hand to the lighter in your pocket, you answered him with a smile. “I don’t work for the government, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Then why are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?”
“Oh it’s nothing personal, baby,” you said sincerely. “Just following orders.”
You threw the lighter on the ground, sparking the gasoline trail you had left before Jason arrived home. While your kitchen went up in flames, you took your chance to slip out the front door and make a dash for your car, ignoring the gun shots behind you.
Shaking off any sense of regret from setting your house (and husband) on fire, you jumped into your car and sped down the street. You didn’t make it far before Jason’s own bike pulled up beside you, a gun in his hand. He shot through your window, narrowly missing your head as the bullet pierced through the driver’s side window. Ducking your head, you aggressively yanked the wheel towards Jason, ramming the side of your car into his bike and making him jump off. But Jason shot out your tires and you cursed yourself for forgetting to get bulletproof ones. You could see Jason approaching you in your rear view mirror and you hastily reached to load the gun you kept in your glove compartment.
His clothes were slightly charred and Jason looked angrier than you had ever seen him. He reached into the car to grab you, but you shot at his shoulder once again, causing him to curse and stutter backwards in pain. You climbed out of the passenger side and sprinted as far as you could, dialing your friend’s number at the same time.
You had been staying with Selina Kyle for the better half of a week while you tried to figure out how to kill your husband. Selina refused to get directly involved, but she managed to give you a bit of advice. She’d been in an on again off again relationship with Bruce Wayne since before you could remember, and she knew leading a double life wasn’t easy. But it wasn’t like Jason was a cop, and he wasn’t nearly as prudish as Bruce (her words, not yours). You still had to kill him though, or at least that’s what you told yourself.
Attempting to take out Jason on his home turf was stupid and you weren’t going to pretend otherwise. But you didn’t have much of a choice. He hadn’t shown his face and once your boss had caught on to the fact that you were married to Red Hood, you were given a 48hr deadline to confirm the kill or it was your head on the chopping block. You were now down to 16 hours. The Wayne Mansion was far larger than you remembered from the few times you’d been since you married Jason. You’d tried earlier to hack their security feed, but whoever set it up was far better than you’d imagined and hacking it was hopeless. You would have to go in blind.
Jason watched you approach the mansion on the security cameras from over Tim’s shoulder. Just about every family member was gathered here today, knowing that you’d be coming to kill him. However, Bruce had refused to get involved and banned the rest of his kids from engaging as well, so everyone was merely here for entertainment purposes. Jason was actually kind of glad they’d be left out of this. He knew his family wouldn’t kill you and neither would he, but there was no saying you would show them the same mercy.
When you kicked down the door to the mansion, you called out Jason’s name, desperate to get this over with and be on your way. As you searched each room for the man, you couldn’t help but start to second guess whether or not you could really kill him. There was a reason you had married him after all, it wasn’t like you hated the guy. But he was your mission and as far as you were aware, you were his.
“Hey sweetheart,” Jason said from behind you. Whipping around you fired a shot at the first moving object you saw, which ended up being just a bat. Down in the cave below, the rest of the family was watching in shock and horror at just how fast you had tried to kill him. Dick made some joke about a psychotic sister in law and Stephanie tried not to think about all the secrets you two had whispered in face masks and under shared blankets.
“Come out Jay, stop being a pussy!” you yelled down the hall, trying to find where he had gone.
“Promise you won’t shoot me?” he asked.
You scoffed, but agreed anyway, placing your gun back at your side. Jason walked out with his hands up and you fought every urge in your body to kiss him shoot him.
“How long have you been doing the costume gig?” you asked, gesturing to the bulletproof armor he was wearing.You were wearing a vest of your own, but something about Jason’s eyes told you he wasn’t planning on killing you.
“Since I was thirteen. Died for a bit and came back though,” he said carefully.
“Shame.”
Jason laughed at your reply, inching closer to you.
“I don’t want to hurt you, doll, and I don’t think you want to hurt me either.” He was so close you could touch him now, and per your training, your eyes flicked around for anything within arms reach to smack him with. It was more a reflex than genuine want at this point, but you had a mission to complete.
“Who says I don’t want to hurt you?” You backed up, now leaning against a table and inching your fingers towards a flower pot.
“Five years of marriage, hopefully.” Jason’s eyes flickered towards your hand.
“Six.”
“What?” His face contorted in confusion.
“We’ve been married six years.” You said casually.
“Are you sure?”
You rolled your eyes, now really wanting to hit him. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay fine, six years of marriage,” Jason said sarcastically before adding “Don’t hit me with that flower pot, angel.”
You grinned. “You always were great at reading my mind.”
Raising your arm to smash the vase on his head, he knocked it away and grabbed you in a headlock, a few ceramic shards piercing your skin. Jason took the gun from your hip and threw it across the floor.
“Can’t hurt me anymore, can you sweetheart?”
Jason instantly regretted his choice of wording when you stabbed him with a knife you had hidden in your boot. It didn’t seem to do much damage though, even though you caught a gap in his armor, and Jason was still able to throw you against a wall and reach for his own gun.
“Don’t make me do this, baby.” Jason looked genuinely sorry and something in your heart wavered for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.
Jason stared at you for a moment before swearing and putting his gun down. Blood was slowly seeping from his wound and as much as he had tried not to maim you, there were a few cuts and bruises present on your own body.
“Who do you work for?” He asked after a moment, walking up to your body crumpled on the floor.
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” you attempted a joke but the ringing in your head made it sound weak.
“Yeah, you made that much clear,” Jason said while looking at you fondly. You were silent until he repeated the question again, this time with more urgency.
“An underground spy organization focused on the collection and redistribution of government intel. I’m sort of the cleanup department.”
Jason nodded at you to continue.
“That drug op the other night, Fray had gotten involved with a rival agency and I was called in to take her out. That was until you and your freakish friends showed up– I guess I should say freakish family. Anyways, you fucked up my mission and I was redirected to kill you. And now that my boss knows I’m married to Red Hood, either you die or I do.”
“Your boss knows my identity?”
“Mhm,” you glanced at the red helmet a few feet away. He hadn’t ever bothered to put it on, you two were way past disguises. “So if I don’t kill you, she will and then she’ll kill me.”
“Baby, we can handle her, but you gotta work with me,” Jason pleaded.
“What do you mean…?” you asked apprehensively.
“My wife’s in danger, I’m not just going to let her die.” He rolled his eyes teasingly.
You stared at him in disbelief. “Jason, just a day ago you were trying to kill me yourself.”
“Well, things change,” he laughed nervously. “I still love you, that never stopped, it was just…self defense?”
“Oh, bullshit,” you smiled.
“Okay, maybe it was a bit intentional but I was never going to really kill you!”
Looking at Jason, you realized that he was telling the truth. Red Hood was an expert marksman, you’d seen enough clips of him online to know he never missed. Yet conveniently, every shot your spouse had fired at you had missed you by inches. And in truth, some subconscious part of you wasn’t going for the kill either. You and Jason may not have had the most passionate of relationships, especially in recent years, but you did love him.
You looked up at Jason through clouded eyes. He had always been painstakingly beautiful, with gorgeous, soft, curly hair and eyes that seemed to change between blue and green in the sun. Jason knelt down and pulled you slightly to the left, just out of range of the security cameras that littered the mansion halls. You didn’t think much of the gesture and neither did his family watching from the cave below, but Jason was a private man. He cradled your face gently in his calloused hands, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb before leaning in and kissing you. It was gentle before passionate, all that fire you had lost over the years being reignited in an instant.
When he pulled away, Jason stared into your eyes for several moments. Kissing you cheek, he whispered into your ear, “We’re going to get you out of this, I promise.”
You knew from the look in his eye that he meant it, wholeheartedly. He kissed you again once more before the two of you made the descent to the Batcave where you would (very awkwardly) begin to devise a plan to escape your agency. You and Jason had made some sort of silent agreement that you’d most likely have to kill your boss, but you couldn’t really mention that around Batman of all people. You knew your boss wouldn’t have revealed Jason’s identity yet, not without the right price, but it wouldn’t be long before she did. Once your final mission was over, you and Jason would have to flee Gotham now that you were both on the radar of nearly every intel agency in the state. Even though the family was still slightly upset about you trying to kill their brother, they all understood how difficult it is to live a double life. Bruce had arranged for you to have your dream house in a well protected area and Dick made you both promise to visit regularly. Damian looked almost proud of you for how close you got to murdering Jason.
Five or six months later…
You were sitting in your new living room, wrapped up in Jason’s arms as you watched the snow fall outside your window. You had asked Jason if he was going to miss Gotham and being a vigilante, and to your surprise he had said he wouldn’t. Jason had been fighting all his life, hopping from one kill to the next with so much blood on his hands he swore they stained his life red. But he was tired, and so were you.
Every now and then, you’d see him flinch at the sound of knocking or stare too intently at a knife while chopping vegetables. And he’d notice how you constantly surveyed your surroundings in public and the way you’d look for an underlying motive in every compliment told to you. But Jason loved you through all of it, as you did him. He loved the way you’d rant about the inaccuracies of spy movies the same way he’d criticize action blockbusters. He loved how you were as tough as you were gentle, able to adapt to whatever he needed. But most of all, he loved how you understood him without him needing to explain himself. You never pressed for him to speak because you already knew what he was thinking. When he’d wake up at night in a cold sweat, you’d already be there next to him with a glass of water and a soft look knowing that you’d awoken an hour before from your own ghosts.
Your new life wasn’t perfect, you were two tormented souls who had found refuge in each other. Jason had left Gotham behind and even though you were used to relocation, you had grown fond of the city. You had ditched your last names as well, renewing your vows and settling in under a new name.
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hey guys so yk that thing ppl with nice hands do when they have to teach you how to do smth handsy so they have to put their hands over yours and reposition them and stuff
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Minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind.
Jason Todd is your ex-boyfriend. Kind of. You dated, yeah, sure. But it was in high school, years ago now. You had moved away before the school year had finished, and both of you agreed to remain friends, to keep in touch.
Life had different plans for both of you. The last time you had been in Gotham was for his funeral, so you think you deserve some leeway if you're staring at the man across the bar who looks just like him. Well, not exactly like him.
You're supposed to be celebrating your new job in Gotham, the apartment you've finally unpacked with your friends, but his eyes.
You could never forget the color of Jason Todd's eyes. Not when he was your first everything. Not when you know how his eyes would glint before he stole a kiss. How they would shine as he whispered sweet nothings and pretty promises.
(Okay, so maybe he was more to you than you're willing to admit. Maybe he wasn't just kind of your boyfriend.)
You'd probably be lost in thought over the color of his eyes for the rest of night, if his gaze didn't happen to meet yours.
Heat spreads across your face, and you duck your head. Shit. He caught you staring. The big, attractive man across the bar who has the eyes of your dead ex-boyfriend caught you staring.
That's fine. Mortifying, yes, but you quickly focus back on whatever your friends are talking about, trying to play it off.
You're finishing your drink, hoping he brushed you off, when a low voice cuts in, "Can I buy you another drink?"
Your eyes snap up to meet Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Your train of thought halts to a stop, he's ever prettier up close.
Before you've even managed to find your words, your friends are pushing you up and out of your seat, scrambling over each other to agree that he can absolutely buy you a drink.
He tilts his head a little at you, feet firmly planted against the ground as he waits for you to answer, "Is that a yes from you, doll?"
"I– yes. Thanks," You stumble out, and you might have gone a little weak in the knees at his grin.
He guides you over to the bar, and holds up two fingers as the bartender comes over. "Whiskey, and whatever they want."
You ask for a refill of your drink and sit beside him at the bar before introducing yourself.
He raises an eyebrow at you, "I'm Jason."
"My ex was named Jason," You blurt out, then wince. That's probably not what anyone wants to hear when they're introducing themselves. And it's definitely not what they want to hear while trying to pick someone up at a bar.
He hums thoughtfully, "I don't remember breaking up with you."
You blink at him, is that some kind of a pick-up line? "No, I meant, I really dated someone named Jason in high school."
He grins at you, "I know. I was there."
You frown a little, "Like in the same class?"
He laughs. It's a really pretty sound, if you weren't so confused, you would have swooned, "No, doll. Don't tell me you don't recognize me?"
Your gaze hardens, "If this is some kind of a joke–"
He says your name, effectively cutting you off, "It's me."
"He died," You murmur, so quiet it almost gets lost under the beat of the music.
He shrugs, and pushes your drink towards you as the bartender sets it down, "I got better."
"Prove it," You retort, fingers tapping the glass of your drink. You're this close to up and leaving. It makes your stomach churn, not knowing what game this man is playing.
He gives you a familiar, lopsided grin, "Prove that I got better?"
You scoff and go to stand up, but you waver at how he actually seems upset over it.
"Hey, hey, wait," he protests, holding out an arm to block you from leaving, "We had our first kiss in the back of Wayne Manor, in that old gazebo covered in vines. You asked me out because I was so obviously head over heels for ya, but I was too scared to ask. You said you'd wait for me when your family moved, and I said I'd wait for you too."
Your breath hitches at his rambling, it's–all of it is true. Memories you held close to your chest but never let yourself relive because of how much they hurt, the bittersweetness of it all. "Jason," You breathe out.
He relaxes, and smiles at you, "Yeah."
"How are you..." You trail off, taking in every inch of him. How much he's grown. How much he's changed.
He rubs the back of his neck, "It's, uh, a long story. It's not very nice either."
You nod slowly, "We don't have to talk about it."
He looks genuinely surprised, "We don't?"
"No, it's just good to, you know, see you," You tell him. It's the truth, whatever story he's carrying, whatever events brought him here, doesn't really matter right now. Not as long as he's alive and in front of you.
"It's good to see you too," Jason tells you, and you feel butterflies when he reaches over to touch your thigh, "Hey, am I really your ex?"
The absurdity of the question makes you want to laugh, "It has been a while since we talked, Jason."
You do giggle when he actually pouts at you, "You said you'd come back to Gotham for me one day."
"I am back in Gotham," You point out, "Got an apartment here and everything."
Interest sparks in his eyes, "Yeah? You're staying around here?"
You hum noncommittally, "In Gotham at least."
It surprises you, how easy it is to slip back into a flowing conversation with him. You reminisce about your shared past, he asks you what you've been up to, how your life has been, and before you know it, your drinks are empty and the bar is informing you of it's last call.
"Can I walk you home," Jason asks, hovering at your side, "or call you a ride?"
Your friends had long since told you they were leaving, and you have the urge to make this night last a little longer. It may be selfish, to want to stay in sight of those eyes, but you let yourself be selfish, "Walk me home?"
The way his eyes sparkle tells you you made the right choice.
You really do mean for him just to walk you home. So you're not exactly sure how you ended up making out with your ex-boyfriend in a dirty alley way.
It makes your head spin, how his hands dig into your waist to tug you closer. How he chases your mouth every time you pull back to suck in a breath.
It's desperate, needy, and you want to keep your fingers curled into the cool leather of his jacket forever. Jason crowds your space, backing you towards the wall, he trails kisses down your jaw, occasionally nipping at your skin to leave pretty, bruised marks.
"Wait–" You start, digging your heels into the ground.
He pauses, and pulls back, "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to–"
"No!" You practically shout, not wanting him to misunderstand, "it's just– the wall is dirty," You finish weakly.
He blinks, then grins at you, "Is that all you're worried about, doll? Just the wall?"
You nod, sheepish as you fidget with the zipper of his jacket.
He hums thoughtfully and kisses the crown of your head, "I got something for ya," he murmurs, tugging off his leather jacket.
Before you can ask what he's doing, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, and guides your arms through the sleeves, "There, better?"
"Better," You echo, much more willing to let him push you against the wall, to let him suck your pulse and press his hands under your clothes. The leather is soft, smells like him, and the bricks behind you don't even register as he presses against you.
You're both eager, both grasping at fabric and skin. Your eyes light up, when as you're licking a stripe up his neck, Jason tilts his head back and moans.
It's a noise you want to hear again, and when you take his ear between your teeth, you're rewarded with another sweet sound.
Neither of you waste any time to push aside the clothes you're wearing. Half-dressed and panting, you fumble with his belt in the empty alley. He doesn't hesitate to hike your leg over his hip, pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw.
"You're sure about this," Jason asks, lips hovering over the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.
"Yeah," You breathe out, tangling a hand in his hair to steady yourself, "Are you?"
"Never been more sure of anything," he says firmly, and bites down on your skin as if to seal his words as fact.
He's hungry, as he captures your mouth with another passionate kiss, and you're just as desperate and wanting. Desire pools in your gut as you grind your hips into his, voice pitching into a whine, "Please?"
The neediness in your eyes when you look up at him nearly makes his knees buckle, "Fuck, yes, doll. Whatever you want."
He's not one to make you ask again, and shamelessly presses a finger to your cunt. "Look at you," he breathes out, slowly pumping one finger in and out, gathering your wetness, "You're dripping."
You don't bother choking back the whine that escapes your lungs, only grab his hair tighter when he adds a second finger, carefully working you open for him.
His eyes, your breath catches, when his eyes seem to darken, coveting every reaction you have, every expression that flits across your face.
"Feels good, doll'" he coaxes, scissoring his fingers. When all you manage is a hazy nod, he grins and adds a third finger, curling them as he presses deeper, "C'mon, you can use your words."
"Jason, yeah, feels good," You answer, breathless and full of desire. You squirm, bucking your hips into his hand in an attempt to get him to move faster, "but I want you."
He hums thoughtfully, and presses the palm of his hand to your clit, grinding into the sensitive flesh. When your eyes flutter and your body clenches around him, he coos in approval.
"Good," he says fondly, pressing a kiss to your lips before slowly pulling his fingers away. You almost pout at the loss, but the sight of him lewdly licking off the remnants of you in his hand more than makes up for it.
Your jaw may have dropped, and you may have looked a little more dumbfounded than you're willing to admit, but any embarrassment turns to excitement when he lines his cock up to your weeping pussy.
Neither of you looks away as he pushes into you, inch by delicious inch. It turns you into a whimpering, groaning mess as you sigh out his name, eyes half lidded.
“Yeah, pretty,” He prompts, voice a low rumble as he watches you. He can't pick which sight he likes better, the way your eyes flutter, or the way you're greedily taking in everything he has to give.
He can’t help the smug smirk that spreads over his face when you mewl out his name, clearly delighted at the effect he has on you. “There you go, Doll. Let me hear you say my name again," He coos, trailing his free hand over your thigh to find your clit again.
You're eager to chant his name again when he starts to shallowly thrust between your legs. He moans when you clamp down around his dick, and it spurs him to move faster.
Jason groans deeply as he feels your body react, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushes into you again. You both breathe out a sigh of relief and ecstasy when you take him to the base of his cock.
"Good. Doing so good, doll," he mumbles, using all his self-control to hold the pressure against your cervix for a few moments, letting you adjust, before pulling back slightly.
You tug a little at his hair, it's addicting, how full he makes you feel, how desperate you are for more, "You can move, want you to move."
He hums, and seems more interested in moving his mouth along your jaw, biting and sucking his way down your neck to leave marks on your skin. Jason sucks a prominent bruise onto your freshly bitten skin until it’s pretty and bruised and all his.
You groan, and it only encourages him to drag his hand from your folds and pinch your nipple between his fingers.
"Jason," You protest, rolling your hips to try and entice him to finally move.
“Mhm. You like the sound of my name, pretty? You wanna keep saying it while I make you feel good?” He murmurs, his voice low and rough and breathless against your skin.
He starts to roll your nipple between his fingers, pinching and kneading the sensitive peak.
"Jason, move'" You whine, almost desperate. His eyes lock on your eyes, and you're completely lost to him.
His thumb gives your nipple one last swipe before he settles his hand between your thighs again, eyes raking over your face like he wants to memorize the expression of pleasure that’s taking over at the moment, "There you go, it sounds so perfect when you say my name like that."
His other hand squeezes your thigh affectionately, and before you can protest again, he pulls halfway out, savoring how you twitch around him. You cry out in pure pleasure when he thrusts back into your heat.
He swallows your cries with a kiss, and starts to pick up his pace, steady and relentless.
You can only tip your head back and moan, as you drag your nails along his scalp, panting and trembling under his grip.
“So goddamn good,” Jason mutters, pressing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. He starts to ramble your name, driving his cock against the spot that makes you gasp over and over.
He's relentless, all consuming and you almost miss it when he murmurs against your throat, "Not your ex now, am I?"
You curse, and shudder around him, clawing at his shoulder. It doesn't make his pace falter, if anything it drives him to push a little more, to move a little fast, to test your limits.
You feel his pleased smile form against your skin when you start to chant his name, breathless and needy and so, so close to the edge.
"There ya go, come for me, doll," he encourages, and when you do, when you soak his cock and sob his name, he fucks you through your climax.
He ruts into your fluttering hole until his own hips stutter, his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and he cums inside of you. He rides out both of your releases, fucking his spend back into you even as it starts to leak and drip down your thighs.
Jason presses his forehead to yours, going still against you, his eyes dart over your face as you both pant, sticky, sweaty, and messy. He grins at you when you blink at him with glassy eyes, "You look good like this. I could see it every day, and it still wouldn't be enough."
You're not exactly sure where he finds the energy to praise you, but it makes you tuck your face against his shoulder as you catch your breath.
He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Gonna take you home and run you a bath. Then, we're gonna cuddle till you fall asleep and I'll make you breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"
You whine softly when he pulls out of you, already mourning the feeling of him inside you, but you manage to nod.
True to his word, Jason carries you home and draws you a bath. You fall asleep with him curled around you, and when you wake up, the sound of him cooking breakfast makes its way to the bedroom.
And if you entice him to bend you over the counter before you eat, letting the food go cold, or suggest you show him just how well you fit in his lap, that's none one's business but yours.
It shouldn't surprise you, if you do encourage him to find out what you taste like on his tongue, that Jason never really leaves. Sooner rather than later, he'll make sure any use of the word 'ex' disappears from your lips.
read this last night while ao3 was down and oh my god i am still giggling after a re-read i am not normal about this whatsoever !!
the lines “he’ll make sure any use of the word ex disappears from your lips” and “i don’t remember breaking up with you.” are driving me insane the dialogue is so good i can’t do this rn !!
nobody understands me ( i can’t stop thinking abt jason’s thighs ) i’m an outsider a loner ( i can’t stop thinking about jason todd actually ) destined to be a outcast.
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Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone and art by @spidey-art 🖤
she’s finally finished!! this has been in the works for like nine months now, but i wanted only the best so she truly feels like my baby after all the time and work that went into it.
i wish i could have found a way to include more of the gotham/batfamily side of things in this since thats literally the premise, but honestly i have so many batman binds peter deserves a bind all to himself 🖤
this is one of my all time favorite fics ever and i knew as soon as i read it that i would have to make a bind worthy of it and i’m pretty happy with it! i actually scraped my entire original design that i came up with back in like january when the last chapter came out because i realized it just wasn’t the direction i wanted to go with it. so when i couldn’t find anything that really matched what i had in mind for the chapter number designs and headers i drew my own. please be kind, abstract goop is not my usual style lol
anyways! everyone should read this and check out @spidey-art ‘s art because it’s beautiful and they were so kind as to let me use it for this bind!!!
DO NOT BUY OR SELL FANFICTION! please respect fandom and the authors and learn bookbinding or ask a friend who binds! this was entirely handmade and not for sale!
cw ;; male masturbation, fantasizing, doggy style, breeding kink implied, body descriptions, cum descriptions (i tried 🤥), female masturbation mentioned for 2 secs, poorly proofread as always :) pls enjoy
think about best friend!dick grayson after a late-night facetime call. right after a soft ‘goodnight’ from you, voice low and groggy before hanging up and leaving him alone. his is raspy and sultry by a default, groans already slipping through his lips as he palms his bulge at the memory of your pretty tits pushed together while laying on your side that’s basically tattooed onto his brain. it’s one of those i’ll regret this moments for him, simply due to the guilt of perverting his best friend that he’ll feel later on. for now, though, just the fabric of his plaid pajamas getting tighter around his cock is enough to disregard it.
it sucks that he can’t see you for a while; sucks that instead of feeling your tight cunt milk him dry he’s gotta do it himself. he’s stuck with the vivid image of your body bent to his needs, going “oh- fuck,” when the back of his head thumps the headboard, dick twitching with your back arched and ass bouncing against his pelvis. it’s so lewd he swears you can be heard, pathetic and high pitched uhn, uhn, uhn’s into his pillows that’d only make him anchor his fingers under your tummy and pummel your pretty pussy harder.
his hand glides over the thick vein along the underside of his shaft and he shudders, hips meeting his strangling grip as precum dribbles from the tip. he adds a twist to his wrist and lets out a particularly drawn out moan, abs contracting as his bicep tenses at his efforts. his climax builds as his heavy balls tense and he forces himself to a slower stroke, drawing a metallic taste when his teeth bite into his lip. he can hear you begging him to keep going.
“shit. shit, baby,” dick’s adam’s apple bobs as he rolls his neck, free hand tugging wrinkles in the sheets. his bright idea of bringing himself to the edge is abandoned once his reality is drowned out; balls deep inside of you instead, getting you crying on his cock when he fucks you full. mmfuck, ‘s so good, dickie, please- you’re whining incoherently for him, eyes rolling as drool soils his pillowcases, left at his mercy while his long cock breaks you in. by now he’s palming your asscheeks like he’ll lose you, just as loud as you when he’s groaning for you to be a good friend and keep throwing it back onto him.
once his hips stutter, dick calls your name, peeling his eyelids open at the sign of overstimulation. he almost feels pathetic now, dealing with the sight of his cum splattered along his abdomen and dripping down his shaft with a few more long thrusts. he’s made a mess just for you, cum thick and warm against his skin—it’s a shame you won’t see it. a curse leaves his lips in defeat, thumb grazing his tip and bringing himself to a twitch once more.
inside, though- he needs to be inside of you and he craves it so much that he can’t bring himself to stop. matter of fact, he couldn’t stop—not once he realizes he’s still throbbing for your cunt. your best friend fucks his hand just wishing he could indulge in your pussy, pulling all those pretty noises outta you. those same pretty noises you’re muffling into your own pillow right now, aching for his dick to bruise your insides and fuck you stupid.
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