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hadesrise · 6 days ago

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murder for you, baby !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➾ a justifiable serial killer on the loose, and jason finds himself being enamoured by him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ jason todd x dbd!ghostface!male reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ nsfw content, serial killer themes, dead dove do not eat, sexual arousal in response to violence or torture, murder, blood, deaths, gore, foul language, bottom!jason, top!reader, reader’s physique is described as tall and broad ( the slasher build ), possessiveness, choking, praise kink, blood kink, knife play ( reader carving his initials on jason ), toxic!reader ( ? ), sorta toxic relationship but also not, unprotected sex, love-making, pet names, overstimulation, dumbification, degradation if you squint, lil’ bit of manipulation, creampie, doggy style, mating press, biting, marking, oral ( r. receiving ), voice kink ( ? )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ➾ not me coming back with halloween themed fic after halloween days have passed lol. i’m alive, y’all !! hope you enjoy this one that took a fucking month to write 😭

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ; this post may contain disturbing contents that may not be suitable for every reader — a reader discretion is advised. MINORS DNI.

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

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dontbesoweirdkira · 17 days ago

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Just thinking about how both platonic! yan! Dick and Jason have a habit of laying on top of their batsis and crushing her.

just look at how guilty they are....

Masterlist

Requests: open

Dick is a menace. He's a full sized golden retriever who thinks he's still a puppy. When he jumps or lays on you to try to be all affectionate...he forgets that he weighs close to if not over two hundred pounds.

No matter how often you tell him he's way too big to do this, he doesn't care.

He just loves engulfing you in these full body hugs and cannot help himself. It's cute though, if you try not to think about your lungs collapsing on itself. He acts innocent by nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck,,,,but it's a ploy to then attack you with tickles which leads to play fighting.

I mean it's his brotherly duty to be as annoying as possible. Sometimes he just likes the fact hes stronger than you and can hold you down this easily. Rookie mistake to announce you need to use the bathroom or get ready for something when you're chilling on the couch. He will trap you until the last possible second.

As much as you complain and cry, don't mind it too much. It's nice to be apart of a real family like this and Dick is trying to show his love by playing.

Jason on the other hand is just kind of clueless about the fact he's crushing you. You're sitting on the couch and Jason comes home after a long night and sees a perfect napping spot..

You don't really want to tell him that he's wayyy too big to just plop down on you like that because it's nice that he's feeling safe enough to just do these things now.

He also is like a big dog. He does that big huff and occasional twitching in his sleep. lol

Sometimes you'll also fall asleep right with him because he's basically a human weighted blanket. You'll eventually wake to him looking up at you. It's subtle but there's a soft smile there. He's happy you feel safe too.

I like to think he desperately wants to be held sometimes but he doesn't know that he needs it or even how to ask so he just does it. You naturally wrap your arms around and rest them on him anyways. He's like a little kid when he does this. It heals something inside of him. His cold un-dead body, finally feeling an ounce of fuzzy warmth.

Do you think sometimes Jason will pull a snack or something out of his pocket. Like he lays on you but then pulls out a jolly rancher as an offering. lol. One moment he's sleeping and the next you can feel him munching on something crunchy.

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siddyyyyyyyy · 22 days ago

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By the Fireplace

BRUCE WAYNE X READER

MDNI wc: 1.2K summary: Finally snapping the sexual tension between you and your best friend. warnings: alcohol comsumption, dry humping a/n: It's not perfect but it's also nearing midnight so i don't care. Enjoy!!

It‘s been a relaxing evening so far, hanging out with your long time best friend in his lounge by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, and some deep talk. Bruce will never openly admit it, but he feels like you are the only one who understands him. While being slightly drunk, it‘s easier to relax and shut his mind off. Especially sitting beside you on the comfortable couch; he wants to stay like that forever.

The shared comfortable silence almost makes him fall asleep, but his mind can‘t seem to find complete peace beside you. Even when his head is leaning against the top of your head, he can‘t seem to fully relax yet.

You feel almost the same. You do feel relaxed, safe even, but something keeps stirring inside of you when you are so close to him. Ignoring it and taking another sip of your drink, you watch the fireplace crackle contentedly in front of you.

Bruce sighs out beside you, indicating his tiredness after talking about everything and nothing for hours.

»Want a refill?«

He leans off of you for the first time in probably half an hour and reaches for the whiskey bottle by the coffee table. You shrug and sit up more, letting him fill your glass with the dark liquid.

His movements are slightly disoriented, but he manages to get all the liquid into your glass, and then get more for himself. With a low hum, Bruce sips on his drink, eventually leaning back on the couch. His once perfectly put together appearance became more dishevelled, some strands of hair sticking out in different directions while his tie is resting somewhere in the room; long forgotten.

You also take another quick sip, already used to the bitterness and set it aside for now.

»So… I think it‘s time to go, isn‘t it?«

The time on your phone shows that it‘s well past one am, but Bruce thinks otherwise. A small whine leaves him, completely uncharacteristic normally, but very on point in his drunken state.

»C‘mon, you‘ve only been here for what… two hours?«

He sways on his spot as he leans up and turns to face you fully.

It‘s not exactly true, you‘ve been in his living room for six hours by now, talking nonsense with each other. Gossiping, mostly.

But with your intoxicated brains it‘s hard to tell anymore. So, logically, you sigh out and give in. How could you resist your best of bestest friend anyway?

»A few more minutes, then...«

And that‘s how easily you can make him smile again. It‘s crooked and his eyes are mostly unfocused, but he is satisfied with your easy compliance. And tonight, he seems to be bolder with his actions.

»C‘mere… please,« sighing out, he opens his arms and almost tackles you down with his hug, »such a good friend.« He mumbles against your shoulder, basically squeezing you tight with his arms. If it wouldn‘t been the alcohol, you would‘ve pushed him away by now and pretend to find the physical affection cringe. Not that he does it a lot, only rarely when he is sure you are both absolutely alone.

A second after, you hug him back and sigh out in relaxation. You both melt together into one not too long after, refusing to let go of the other while basking in the comfort.

»I‘m definitely sleeping here tonight.«

You are not sure if you refer to his arms or couch, not caring at this point. He takes your words seriously and squeezes you lightly, almost making your breath hitch.

»Mhm… damn right, you will.«

His voice drops lower, getting into a low whisper as he keeps you close to his chest, refusing to let go of the comfort and sweet scent of you.

Even though you didn‘t mean your words at first, you find yourself quickly accepting the fact that this night will be spend here. Hell, you wouldn‘t mind falling asleep right now like this.

A small groan leaves him and he finds himself nuzzling into your neck, searching for more warmth and most importantly your scent. He needs to make sure you are actually still there and not just a silly imagination he came up with.

Following his actions, you wrap you arms tighter around his neck, shifting to press closer. Your clouded brain can‘t help it, neither does his own and soon enough, your limbs are tangled with the other in a more chaotic way. Thanks to Bruce‘s master-brain, he finds a more comfortable position and lets you straddle his lap.

Finally seated, you both relax and simply enjoy the presence of the other. You don‘t know what changed exactly, but in the next minute he is all over you.

Hands groping gently at your curves and fats, lips tracing your skin down your neck and shoulder. Your shirt seems to be in the way, but he is also too lazy to tug it off just yet.

Your brain catches up on what‘s happening and by the time he already started, you can‘t just stop. Acting by logic and pure desire, you give into the act and tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his head around a little.

Soon, the room fills his soft grunts and your heavy breathing. His hips desperatly jerk up and try to get friction, but it‘s harder in this position when his chest is pressed against yours and you are also pressed completely against him. Deciding you have enough of the friction that‘s barely even there, you lean him back into the back rest and do it your own way.

Hips grinding and sliding against his crotch earns a groan from both of you. The new friction feels more intense and delicious, soon getting breathless from it. His hands settle on your thighs and the small of your back, guiding you in a steady rythm.

Due to the effect of the alcohol, it‘s actually more sloppy than anything, but you both couldn‘t care less. It‘s sloppy, messy, hungry, whatever; you both need this.

Your heavy breaths turn into small whimpers, getting him riled even more than he already is. And then it happens, the final knot snapping without warning. You never came so fast before, maybe it‘s your intoxicated brain, maybe it‘s just Bruce alone, but it feels heavenly either way.

Your hips stutter and thighs shake on either side of him, and for a moment he stills too. A primal groan leaves him before he grabs onto your hips and continues, the pace faster and rougher. His brain immediately went to mush the second he realised what happened.

»Oh, yeah— s‘ good f‘ me… just like that, a little longer,« Bruce mutters under his breath, sucking new marks against the exposed skin of your neck and suddenly drags your hips painfully slow against him, trying to draw out as many needy sounds from you and milk out as many possible aftershocks from you at the same time.

The way he does it is enough to draw a second orgasm out of you, but your body simply gives out. A few final trembles and jerks, then you slump limp onto him.

Sighing out deeply, he caresses over your back and settles back comfortably with you. Your brain shuts off at the same time and are on the brink of falling asleep until he speaks up, voice low and dangerous.

»That‘s not all, doll… gonna stay the whole night, aren‘t ya?«

←MASTERLIST

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innammoratta · 1 year ago

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Bruce Wayne x Reader: Incorrect Quotes - 2

Y/N: "Thank you for walking me back."

Bruce: "My pleasure."

Y/N: *sees shadow inside her house and pauses* "I think someone's inside the house.."

Bruce: *creeps over to porch silently. Looks at Y/N and points to his eyes with two fingers then points at the rooftop, forming a plan.*

Y/N: *confused* "You want me to stab you in the eyes on the rooftop?"

#psych quotes #not mine #psych the movie #shawn spencer #henry spencer #incorrect quotes #gotham #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman #bruce wayne #dc x reader #dc oneshots #funny #dc x you #gotham x you #gotham x reader

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crybaby-magic · 3 months ago

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Clark Kent

✮ oneshots

✮ drabbles

✮fanfics

✮headcanons

✮mini series

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #superman #dc x reader #dc oneshots #drabble

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zyhkoo · 2 months ago

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☆ everything i know about love

dick grayson and jason todd x fem!reader (separate)

they drunkenly propose

a/n: i was inspired by this fic my friend showed me, i hope you guys like this one!

Jason todd

Jason never understood the fuss about marriage. Just a piece of jewelry and some vows, and you're suddenly yoked to someone for life. No thanks. He had more important things to worry about than tying the knot. Besides, he enjoyed his freedom far too much to be tied down like that.

Why commit to one person when the world is full of interesting people to meet and adventures to be had? Jason preferred to live life on his own terms, without the constraints of a ring on his finger.

His secret identity as Red Hood only added to the list of reasons why marriage didn't fit into Jason's plans. His life was dangerous and unpredictable, and he couldn't risk the safety of a loved one by involving them in his shadowy world. Plus, balancing a marriage and a secret life as a crime-fighter would be nearly impossible. It was better for everyone involved if Jason continued his nocturnal escapades alone.

Surprisingly enough, Jason found himself softening his stance while dating you. It wasn’t like he suddenly became a relationship enthusiast overnight, but he couldn’t deny the subtle change in his perspective.

Though marriage still seemed like a far-off possibility, Jason realized that a fulfilling relationship didn't necessarily require a ring. He was content with the way things were, cherishing the connection he had with you and the moments they shared. The idea of a wedding might still make him a bit nervous, but he knew what mattered most was the happiness you shared in the present.

As the buzz about your relationship grew, the questions about when you were getting married started to come up more frequently. Your friends would throw subtle hints during conversations, or nosy family members would outright ask, expecting a firm timeline. Jason felt the pressure, too. The constant reminders of marriage were like a nagging voice in the back of his mind, pushing him to make a decision he wasn’t ready for. The pressure was mounting, but Jason stubbornly held onto his reservations.

Then, it hit him. Wedding fever.

The last wedding the two of you attended was your best friend’s. You couldn't believe it when you accidentally caught the bouquet at your best friend's wedding. It was just a silly tradition, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought. Little did you know, the effect of the bouquet would hit someone unexpected: Jason.

Suddenly, the mere touch of that bouquet ignited a strange fervor within him. A fever for the idea of marriage, something he had vehemently opposed in the past. Jason watched as your friends and family playfully teased you about catching the bouquet, but his mind was elsewhere. He stood there, dumbfounded, as if the sight of you with that bouquet had somehow changed everything.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and newfound desire. How could a simple bouquet have such an impact on him? He was the guy who never wanted to get married, and now he was practically salivating at the thought. What was happening to him?

When he had too much to drink, you dragged him back to the hotel room.

You gently pulled Jason into the hotel room, his body leaning heavily against yours as the alcohol dulled his senses. You decided to undress him so he'd be more comfortable, unbuttoning his polo shirt while his breath tickled your neck. But as you reached the last button, Jason suddenly leaned forward and pressed a desperate, hungry kiss against your lips.

You were caught off guard by his sudden move, but you couldn't resist the passion behind the kiss. You returned his kiss, your lips responding tenderly and gently meeting him. As he pulled away, your heart skipped a beat as Jason looked into your eyes, his words slurred but his gaze steady. "Marry me," he said.

Here he was, the man who had once been so skeptical about marriage, proposing to you in the midst of a drunken stupor. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, you were absolutely baffled. You stammered, trying to find the right words to say. “What?” you muttered.

"I said, marry me," he repeated as he gripped your wrist. “M’ serious," he insisted, as if trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.

You couldn't help but stand there with your mouth open, in disbelief at the words that were coming out of his mouth. This was the same man who had been adamantly against the idea of marriage just a few hours ago, and now he was drunkenly proposing to you! Jason's lips grazed against your fingers, his breath warm and words slurred but still filled with a sweet intensity. "Come on," he muttered, clinging to your hand. "Just say yes."

You could feel the nerves in your voice as you struggled to find the right words. "Wow, uh...I'd love to say yes, but maybe we should call it a day first. Let's talk about it in the morning, okay?"

Jason's eyes softened as he looked at you, his drunken state making it difficult for him to comprehend your words. But he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "In the morning," he repeated, his voice slurring. "But m’ serious, I do want to marry you." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I know you're serious," you said softly, gently stroking his hair. "We'll talk about it in the morning, when you're sober, okay?"

Dick Grayson

It all began with a simple birthday surprise from Dick– a beautiful white cake that bore an uncanny resemblance to a wedding dress. Unintentionally, it planted the seed of wedding fever in Dick's mind. Slowly, the realization dawned upon him, sparking a subtle yet determined desire to make his love for you official.

Dick found himself wrestling with how to broach the subject. While you had occasionally mentioned a future together, marriage had never explicitly entered the picture in your conversations. He pondered how to bring up the idea without catching you off guard.

Late one night, after an evening of bonding with his siblings over a few drinks, Dick returned to the cozy abode he shared with you. In his grip, he clutched a single daisy, its delicate white petals gently swayed with each movement. As he stepped inside, he revealed a paper ring resting on his palm, its simplicity belying the depth of emotion he wanted to convey.

You looked down at the paper ring in Dick's hand with puzzlement in your eyes. "What is this?" you asked. His heart thumped in his chest as he saw your confused eyes. He took a step closer, the petals of the flower trailing across your skin. A gentle smile played on his lips as he slurred, “It’s a ring, f’ course.”

He held the ring up, offering it to you. “I want to…” he trails his words. “You want to..?” you continued his sentence. He looks into your eyes, the paper ring still offered in his hand. He’s taking in the sight of you, wearing nothing more than a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old t-shirts, with your hair messy on your head.

“I… I want to marry you,” he says quietly.

You replied quickly, “Sure.” you said casually. A hint of surprise flickered in Dick's eyes. He had braced himself for a range of potential reactions, but this one had caught him off guard. Dick's mouth hung open for a moment, and for a split second he was at a loss for words. "Sure?" he repeated, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and a touch of confusion. He looked at you in slight surprise, his mind processing the unexpected simplicity of your response.

“Yeah,” you replied as you held his hand. “Let’s get married.”

His mind raced, trying to process the unexpected simplicity of your response. He’d been expecting a little bit more discussion, maybe even some tears, yet here you were, casually agreeing to his impromptu proposal. He stared down at you, a mix of surprise and elation flooding his expression. He looked at your hand holding his thumb running against the back of your hand.

“Just like that?” he chuckled, a bit breathlessly. You only smiled softly, “Why wouldn’t I marry someone like you?” you told him. “Let’s get you to bed, you’re gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.”

He looked down at the paper ring on his hand, then back at you. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he took your hand in his, and placed the ring upon your finger. “Now it’s official,” he chuckled, looking down at the simple paper ring on your finger.

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anitalenia · 4 months ago

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

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manicpixievixen · 2 months ago

Text

Open arms

Jason todd x gn!reader one-shot

Warnings: None really, the reader is still referred to as smaller than Jason and wearing a 'small pajama set', but other than that, it can be read as any gender.

Summary: Another one of Redhoods visits to your place, and he was always welcome. You give Jason a little talk about what you are to each other.

Wc: 2.1k masterlist

Jason had been stopping by your apartment for so long you could barely pinpoint the day it'd started. Like clockwork at increasingly late hours of the night, he would climb in through a purposefully open window and make his way inside. Sometimes getting caught in the drapes and hoping you hadn't noticed him clumsily swatting them away like a cat with its claw stuck in the window screen.

The memory of how this routine started was almost blurry in your head. It was so normal now, expected even. You'd known Jason separately from redhood for a while. One night, he couldn’t be bothered to go home and change just to keep his alter ego in hiding. You'd freaked out at the supposed stranger in your house before he took off the mask. And then it just kept happening.

Tonight was no different. In fact, if he hadn't shown up, you would've been concerned considering his recent consistency.

He grumbled some obscenities at the curtains that had gotten caught around him once again with the help of a gust of wind from the open window. Then once he'd escaped he stared down at the welcome mat you'd placed under the window, an amused sigh escaping from under the deep red helmet that's so often hiding his face.

He guessed maybe you'd gotten tired of his boots dirtying the floor when he visited, but not tired of him.

He limped ever so slightly as he left his boots behind on the little mat you'd layed out, moving towards the couch and shedding his helmet and gloves once he got there. They were supposed to protect him, but his bloodied knuckles said otherwise. Later, it would make you question just how overboard he could get on anger alone. You'd supposed it wasn't quite a problem in your circumstance, Jason almost made too much of an effort to be gentle on your part. He settled into the couch, not feeling too ashamed to be the occasional freeloader.

You emerged from your bedroom, having heard him curse a couple of times on his way in. “You need somethin’?” You asked quietly, entering with a blanket still wrapped around you. Formal greetings were long gone between the two of you.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded. “Food.” His tone is tired. He's happy to see your face, the first friendly one in a while. He wonders if eventually he might poison your sweet attitude towards him, just by being around you, like maybe you might realize he's horrible and broken and not so apologetic for his actions as red hood.

"Please?" You ask, wrapping your blanket tighter around you as you look at his pale blue eyes for a response. He smiles at your encouragement, muttering a quiet but gruff ‘please’

You left him to settle down, returning with a plate for him. Nothing special at this hour, a sandwich would do. "Thanks." He spoke, taking the plate from your hands and practically shoving half of the sandwich in his mouth, from what you could observe he hadn't eaten all day.

"No one's gonna take it from you Jay." he'd forgotten how long he'd been waiting to hear that nickname again.

Jason freezes, he mumbles something unintelligible with a full mouth, finally swallowing and clearing his throat before replying. "Yeah, well. You never know in this city."

You'd been settled beside him, picking up his red hood helmet and inspecting it. As he ate his food, you slipped it on yourself. At first, he was going to ask you to take it off, and he still might. But you looked oddly cute with it, accompanied by a small pajama set.

He visibly looked you up and down, placing the plate down on the coffee table. His usual frown had softened slightly along with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Cute.” He finally mumbles, quiet as his eyes wander before meeting your own again.

"Really?" You ask, sort of encouraging, as if to tell him,'say that again.' He rolled his eyes at that, but his softened frown turned into a smirk pretty quickly. He shifted on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. His larger frame easily engulfed your smaller one as he held you.

One of his hands slowly traced the curve of your hip, sneaking under the hem of your sleep shorts just a little bit. “Yeah, really.” his eyes showed he meant it.

You reached both hands up to pull the helmet off, messing up your hair a little when you did so. “Things fucking uncomfortable.” You discarded it on the opposite side of the couch, enjoying your spot in his lap.

His hand moved to your hair, attempting to untangle a few pieces, pushing them away from your face. It eventually turned into a gentle caress of your cheek. “you looked cute though.” He teased, holding your hips gently and helping you straddle his lap, legs on either side of his thighs.

"What are you doing Jason?" You hadn't asked it like you were oblivious to his intentions or innocent. Just a sort of reality check, you'd been teetering on the edge of friends with benefits for a while. You were okay with letting him come and wind down and feel safe. You wanted him to be okay, but it was going to be rough if you only ever saw him during these times. Especially if you started really seeing each other.

He slung an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you in place on his lap. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He said above a soft whisper, but he couldn't possibly put your current situation into words. There wasn't ever going to be a good answer for what you had or would have with him.

"Blurring the lines?" You'd offered, even though you were absentmindedly doing the same, picking up his hand and running your fingers over his bruised and bloody knuckles.

He watched as your smaller hand held his own, his rough and battered knuckles meeting your soft skin. The contrast sent something through him, something he needed to feel more often. “maybe.” He mumbled in response. He'd tried to pull his hand away slowly. The feeling was nice, but something deeply rooted in his chest made him cringe at the way you were so soft on him, like he didn't need that treatment.

You'd noticed, telling him not to, by bringing that same hand up to your lips and leaving a soft kiss on each knuckle, your eyes not leaving his.

Jason swallowed hard at the continued soft feeling. There was a hint of something vulnerable in the usually stoic expression he wore. His lips parted slightly, trying to let out words that were caught in his throat, leaving an almost whimper in their place. He allowed his eyes to close for a second, his other hand gently exploring your thigh.

"Jay," you said quietly, as you dropped his hand and picked up the other, repeating the same actions. "You can come in here every night and blur the lines until there isn't any," you whispered, "but you better make some time to be something other than a visitor.” Jason's eyes moved with your lips as you spoke, tensing up underneath your warm body, his hand twitching at your careful touch. He swallowed again, his gaze continued to follow your lips, then back to your eyes.

His voice was a bit hoarse as he spoke. “I will.” His hands continued to rub up and down your thighs. You pushed yourself off of him. He'd almost let out a whine at the sudden lack of contact.

“go shower.” You mumbled, pressing your lips to his cheek. He sighed, reluctantly getting up.

“Bossy.” He mumbled in response, heading towards the bathroom, already pulling his shirt up as you relished in the sight of his muscular back. It was adorned in a couple of faded scars. You liked to trace your fingers over them in the darkness of your room.

"This is my house." You justified, beginning to walk back to your bedroom. You knew he would find you there when he was finished. He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see it.

"Then maybe you should show some hospitality." He teased, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of the running water.

The hot water was no match for your soft touch, but it still felt soothing to his sore muscles. His mind, however, was still somewhat occupied with your earlier words, going back to the feeling of your lips against his knuckles and your weight on his lap, and how your thighs felt resting against his own.

He left the washroom with a pair of sweats on and his hair sending water droplets down his toned chest. Jason paused outside the bedroom door, his hand hovering over the handle for a brief moment before he slowly opened it. He could see your figure laying on the bed, still awake, a lamp casting the most flattering warm light across your skin.

You lifted the blanket up, patting the spot beside you. Most times, he would sleep on the couch or leave before morning. Because of course, the odd relationship between you two was complicated. Sure, he'd spent a few nights on and off in your room, only in times where the city streets had been truly horrible to him. But you'd offered… He took a few slow steps forward, approaching the bed and joining you under the covers, accepting your invitation.

"Much better." You told him, running a hand through his damp hair, you'd always loved the bleached streak amongst the dark waves. He let out a barely audible grumble, shivering involuntarily at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. Jason shifted, turning to properly face you. One of his hands returning to his favourite spot on your hip.

"You gonna come over some time that isn't some odd hour of the night?" You asked, continuing the talk from earlier. "Maybe not leave before morning?”

Jason's grip on your hip tightened at the question, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before he looked at you again. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he thought, shifting forward and resting against the crook of your neck, his lips gently pressing against your skin. "Maybe." He mumbled against your neck, almost as if to hide his face while his other hand continued tracing your body.

"I'm serious, Jay." You said, all but ignoring his hand grasping underneath your shirt."If this is all it's gonna be, it's not gonna be anything for much longer.”

His body shivered at those words, and he pushed himself farther into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. He understood what you meant, and yet, admitting he did would make things so much more complicated. He liked the way you were with him now. He didn't need to change that. "I know." His words a whisper against the skin of your neck, his hand continuing to roam under the loose cotton of your sleep top.

"Next time I see you, better not be twelve at night in that goddamned mask." You said, holding onto his wrist, stopping his hand under your shirt so he would look at you.

He stilled again, letting you stop him. The beauty of your dynamic was the way he could rip his arm away in one action if he wanted to, but he would let you hold him down like this. He took in a sharp breath before sighing, lifting his head from your shoulder. His eyes met yours for the tenth time tonight. His blue stare held a guilty expression. "I'll try." He mumbled.

"You will." You agreed, dropping his wrist.

His eyes stayed locked onto yours, his expression still a mix of guilt and something foreign. He swallowed hard. "Promise." He whispered, his voice still hoarse. You nodded in acknowledgment at him, less serious now that the two of you had that talk.

His shoulders slumped, letting the tension of the discussion go. Easing upon seeing your approving nod. He very gently pulled your figure closer to him, muscular arms making contact with the small of your back. He rested his head on top of your own, burying his nose in your hair, taking in a now very recognizable scent.

It was his choice now, to return as Jason again. No red hood in sight. Through the door this time and not the window. You hadn't seen his old self in a long while. He knew either way he'd be welcomed with open arms, it was just a matter of what you were to each other.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #dc titans #dcu #fanfic #oneshot

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