#{bye}

He doesn’t even pretend otherwise—because the moment he feels you reaching for him from behind, your hand barely brushing his lower abdomen, something in him snaps. That small touch, that quiet request, sends a dark, hungry heat rolling through him, and he leans over you like he’s already made up his mind.

And he doesn’t make it gentle.

“Look at you,” he mutters against your cheek, voice low and rough, like gravel sliding over heat. His arm tightens, wrapping around your face—flexing his bicep just because he knows what it does to you. “You get like this the second I touch you.”

You try to speak, but he shifts his pace— pounding into you slowly, deliberate—tilting your head back so your eyes meet his. Those red irises burn with that hungry, territorial look he only ever shows you.

He smirks.

“Yeaaaah, baby” he says, thumb brushing your jaw, “that’s the face I want.”

His other hand braces your waist with a possessive pressure that makes your breath stutter. He holds you there—completely, effortlessly—like he wants you to feel just how easily he can control the moment.

“Tell me,” he says, leaning in, “you want it rough tonight, don’t you?”

Sukuna doesn’t wait for an answer as he began his movements again—this time though, they weren’t considerate or gentle.

Your back arches under him as you near closer to your release, and he presses you down with an easy strength that makes your pulse jump. The way he moves against you is light and somehow heavy at the same time—controlled, dominating—each shift of his hips sending heat spiraling through your stomach.

“There it is,” he says. “My favorite reaction.”

And you couldn’t wish for anything more.

stupid awkward boys who don't know where to put their hands when we make out

shy boys who cover their mouth in an attempt to muffle their moans.

Master list || pls follow :3 | ac: @/ciricearts

You met Jason Todd in the most unremarkable way possible.

It was a rainy Tuesday night in Gotham. You were working the late shift at the campus library, trying to stretch your last twenty dollars until payday while drowning in tuition bills, rent, and the crushing weight of being a full time student with no safety net. Your laptop had died mid essay. The charger cord had finally given up.

You were on the verge of tears at the checkout desk when a tall, broad shouldered guy in a worn leather jacket and a red hoodie underneath it, dropped a brand new charger in front of you.

“Here,” he said gruffly, green eyes flicking away like he was embarrassed. “Looked like you needed it.”

You blinked up at him. He was handsome in a rough, dangerous kind of way - white streak in his hair, scars on his knuckles, the kind of presence that made people move aside on the sidewalk.

“I can’t accept this,” you said, even as your fingers itched to grab it.

He shrugged. “Already bought it. Keep it or I’ll toss it.”

That was the start.

He kept showing up. Quietly. Leaving coffee on your usual table with a sticky note that just said “dont pass out on ur notes again.” Paying for your textbooks when the register glitched and your card was declined. One day your landlord called to say rent had been covered for the next six months. Anonymous.

You cornered him in the library parking lot one night, rain pouring down, heart racing.

“Why are you doing this?” You demanded. “We barely know each other.”

Jason leaned against his motorcycle, arms crossed, looking everywhere but at you. “Because i can. And because you work too damn hard to be scraping by like this.”

You stared at him. “So youre just.. paying for everything. Rent. Tuition. Groceries. Like you’re some kind of-“

“Don’t.” He cut in sharply. “Don’t say it.”

But you were already thinking it. ‘Sugar Daddy’.

The term felt cheap and wrong for what he was doing, but the power imbalance was there. He had money. You didnt. And he kept giving.

You started letting him. Because it was easier. Because he never asked for anything in return. Because when he looked at you, it wasn’t with expectation - it was with something softer. Something that made your stomach flutter.

Months passed.

He paid your rent without asking. Covered your tuition balance when you mentioned it in passing. Bought you a new laptop when yours finally decided to die. Took you to quiet dinners at places you could never afford. Walked you home every night like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You fell for him somewhere between the third paid bill and the first time he let you fall asleep on his chest during a movie night at his apartment.

One evening you were curled up on his couch in his oversized hoodie, laptop on your knees, finishing an essay. Jason was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled amazing. You glanced at the latest bank notification - another ‘anonymous’ deposit that had covered your upcoming books and fees.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed softly.

“What’s funny?” He asked, wiping his hands on a towel as he came over.

You looked up at him, grinning. “You. My very generous sugar daddy.”

The words were teasing. Playful. You expected him to smirk, maybe make a dirty joke.

Instead, Jason froze.

His face went carefully blank, then darkened. He set the towel down harder than necessary.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, voice low and tight.

You blinked, smile fading. “Jay, i was joking—“

“Im not your sugar daddy.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a short line in front of the couch. “Im not paying for your shit because I- I want something from you. Im not some rich asshole buying company. I just… i wanted you to like me. That’s all. I saw how hard you were working, how stressed you were, and i had the money. So i used it because i liked you. Because i wanted you to see me as someone who could take care of you. Not a transaction.”

Your heart twisted.

He stopped pacing, shoulders tense, looking anywhere but at you.

“I know it looks bad,” he muttered. “Rich guy throwing money at the broke student. But it wasn’t like that for me. It was never about buying you. I just… wanted to make your life easier. Wanted to see you smile without worrying about bills. Wanted you to have one less thing to carry.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something in your chest.

You set the laptop aside and stood, crossing to him. You took his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Jason,” you said softly. “I know. I’ve always known it wasn’t like that. You’ve never asked for anything. You’ve never made me feel like i owe you. You just.. take care of me. And i let you because i trust you. And i like you too. A lot.”

His shoulders sagged. He leaned into your touch, green eyes searching yours.

“Im not good at this,” he admitted quietly. “The whole.. feelings thing. I saw you struggling and i had the means, so i fixed it. But hearing you call me some.. ‘sugar daddy’.. it feels cheap. Like thats all i am to you.”

“You’re not.” You whispered, rising onto your toes to kiss him. It was soft at first, reassuring. Then deeper, warmer, full of all the unspoken things between you. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, thumbs stroking your sides through your shirt.

When you pulled back, you rest your forehead against his.

“You’re Jason,” you said. “The guy who remembers I like my coffee with two sugars. The guy who shows up with groceries when I’m buried in exams. The guy who makes me feel safe and wanted without ever asking for anything in return. I don’t care about the money. I care about you.”

He let out a shaky breath, arms wrapping fully around you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “So keep spoiling me if you want. But know that I’m here because I like you. Not because of the money.”

Jason held you tighter, burying his face in your neck. “Good. Because I’m not stopping. I like taking care of you. Makes me feel… useful. Like I’m doing something right.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You are. You’re doing everything right.”

He kissed you again - slower this time, savoring. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, palms warm against your bare skin, stroking up your back in slow, soothing motions. The touch was comforting, grounding, with just a hint of heat in the way his fingers pressed into your waist.

“You’re wearing my hoodie again,” he murmured against your lips, smiling. “Looks better on you.”

“It smells like you,” you replied, nuzzling closer. “Makes studying easier.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Then keep it. Keep all of it. The money, the gifts, the apartment I’m going to get you closer to campus if you want. As long as you keep looking at me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m more than the money.”

You kissed him again, soft and lingering. “You are. You’re my Jason. That’s more than enough.”

He held you like that for a long time - arms around you, chin on your head, the city humming far below. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by quiet contentment.

Later, when you were curled up on the couch together watching a movie, Jason’s hand resting possessively on your hip under the blanket, he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I love you,” he said quietly, like the words were still new and precious. “Not because I pay for things. Just… because you’re you.”

You smiled, turning to kiss him properly. “I love you too. Sugar daddy or not.”

He groaned, but there was a laugh in it. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.” You grinned, nipping at his lower lip. “But I’ll only say it when we’re alone. And only because it makes you all huffy and cute.”

He rolled his eyes, but pulled you closer, kissing you again — deeper this time, slower, full of promise.

“Brat,” he muttered fondly against your mouth.

“Your brat.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “Mine.”

The money was nice. The gifts were nicer.

But the way Jason Todd looked at you — like you were the only thing in his world that wasn’t broken — was the best part of all.