#Jason Todd x You

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ꜱ ᴘ ɪ ᴅ ᴇ ʀ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How is your relationship with batfam in general?

Notes: Reader is a pervert. Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. Again another silly fic that should not be taken seriously. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

At 22, you were a far cry from the scrappy little thief Bruce and Dick had caught all those years ago. Sure, you were still crass, still brutally honest, and still had a penchant for letting your intrusive thoughts win, but now? Now you were hot.

Like, objectively hot. Your tight black spider suit left very little to the imagination, clinging to every curve and muscle as you swung through the city. And you loved every second of it. The attention? Oh, the attention was your lifeblood. You basked in it like a lizard in the sun.

Dick was still wearing those tight pants, wasn’t he? You couldn’t help but stare. I mean, seriously, the guy had a killer ass. You were supposed to be on a mission, but all you could think about was how the suit hugged his figure in ways that made you forget everything except your growing thoughts. You even compared your ass to his when he wasn’t looking—just to make sure you were still in the running for the Best Butt in Gotham.

“Hey, Grayson,” you called out, voice dripping with amusement. He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Nice ass.” You grinned, winking.

He blinked. “What?” He stopped walking and spun around, completely thrown off by your bluntness.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” you shrugged, taking a step forward and pretending to actually pay attention to the mission. His cheeks turned red, but you didn’t care. You were busy eyeing his backside like it was a prize you were about to claim.

You convinced Dick to teach you yoga, but it wasn’t for flexibility—it was so you could watch him stretch.

“Wow, Dick,” you said, laying on the mat and pretending to follow his moves. “You’re really… bendy.”

He flushed. “It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not,” you teased, snapping a quick photo of him in a compromising pose. “This one’s going on the Batfam group chat.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare!”

You were bleeding out. Your side was burning, your vision blurry, and yet you were having the time of your life. Why? Because Jason Todd—walking sex god and part-time vigilante—was carrying you in his arms like you were a damsel in distress.

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, sprinting through an alley as explosions sounded in the distance. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

You stared up at him, dazed but grinning. “You’re so pretty.”

“Y/N, stay awake,” Jason barked.

“I’m awake my angel,” you slurred. Your eyes drifted downward to his broad chest, the tight shirt doing little to hide the muscle underneath. You reached out, resting a hand on his pec. “You got...man boobs.”

Jason groaned. “You're hallucinating, stay awake please.”

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, leaning closer. And then—because you were you—you bit him.

Jason skidded to a stop, staring at you in disbelief. “Did you just—”

“I couldn’t help it,” you said, grinning despite the blood trickling down your chin. “They’re so biteable.”

You discovered Jason was ticklish purely by accident, and you never let him live it down. Anytime he annoyed you, you’d jab him in the ribs or poke his sides until he squirmed.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growled, swatting at your hands.

“You wish,” you said, chasing him around the room.

The rest of the Batfam watched in stunned silence as Jason “Red Hood” Todd ran from you like a child.

You declared the Batcave chair yours one day and refused to let anyone else sit in it.

“It’s my throne,” you said, lounging dramatically as the others stood around, glaring.

“Get up,” Jason said, crossing his arms.

“Make me,” you replied, sticking your tongue out.

He grabbed you, but instead of throwing you out, you ended up on his lap, smirking. “Guess this works too.”

Anytime you were in the middle of a Dick and Jason argument, you somehow always ended up physically between them. And, oh, you weren’t complaining.

“Move, Dickhead,” Jason growled, pushing into your right shoulder, his broad chest pressing into the side of your face.

“Not a chance, Hood,” Dick snapped, leaning in on your other side, his own muscular frame trapping you against Jason.

You? You just stood there, smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Ooh, I love this. It’s like being sandwiched between two very attractive brick walls.”

“What?!” they shouted in unison.

Jason shot Dick a death glare. “See what you did? You’re giving her ideas.”

“Me? You’re the one pressing into her like some kind of Neanderthal!”

You just smirked, leaning back into the tension. “Don’t mind me, boys. Please, continue. This is very entertaining.”

Dick was your favorite pillow, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime you were hanging out in the Batcave, you’d just casually rest your head on his shoulder or lean against his chest.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Very,” you replied, closing your eyes.

He smiled, wrapping an arm around you. “Good.”

You peeked up at him, grinning. “You know, you make a great pillow. Very firm, but also soft in the right places.”

Dick laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” you said, smirking.

Dick’s ass was basically your personal stress ball at this point. It didn’t matter if you were on a mission, in the Batcave, or just walking through Gotham—if the opportunity presented itself, you’d take it.

SMACK!

“Jesus, Y/N!” Dick would jump, spinning around, his cheeks flushed.

“What?” you’d say innocently, shrugging. “It’s just so perfect. You work hard for that, right? I’m just appreciating the effort.”

He’d sigh, rubbing his neck, but you knew he secretly loved it.

Jason’s chest was another favorite of yours, especially when he was shirtless (which, let’s face it, happened a lot). You’d walk up to him, your fingers twitching, and—pinch!

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jason would glare at you, rubbing the spot where you’d gotten him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” you’d say with a cheeky grin. “Just checking if these are real.”

He’d groan, shaking his head, but you’d catch the tiny smirk he tried to hide.

You loved teasing, and nothing was off-limits. During a mission, your suit "mysteriously" ripped—right in front of Jason and Dick.

“Oh no,” you said innocently, looking over your shoulder at the tear just below your back. “Guess I’ll have to fix this later.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

Dick looked away, flustered. “Maybe cover it up or something?”

“Why? You guys can’t handle a little skin?” You smirked, adjusting your suit to make it worse.

Jason grumbled, “I’m about to shoot that suit off you if you don’t stop playing.”

You had zero shame. Once, during a stakeout with Dick, you leaned over and kissed him right in the middle of his report to Bruce.

“Nightwing, report—” Bruce’s voice came over the comms, but you cut Dick off with your lips, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Y/N!” he protested, his face red as he tried to pull away. “Bruce can hear us!”

“So?” you replied, shrugging as you went in for another kiss.

The first time you met Superman, you were not prepared.

“Y/N, this is Clark Kent,” Bruce said, his tone clipped as ever. “He’s Superman.”

You blinked up at the man of steel, all 6’4” of farm-boy perfection, and immediately zeroed in on one thing: the bulge.

You weren’t subtle about it either. Your eyes widened slightly as you stared, your head tilting to the side like you were trying to calculate something.

Clark, oblivious, smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Bruce has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, still staring. “Damn, you’re packing. Your wife must be so lucky.”

The room went silent. Bruce closed his eyes, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clark cleared his throat, cheeks turning bright red.

“What—what does that mean?” Superman asked, clearly flustered.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, shrugging. “Just making an observation. By the way, you ever need help with Lois, let me know. I’m excellent at teamwork.”

Bruce groaned audibly in the background.

“Anyway,” he stammered, shifting awkwardly, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Damian and Jon.”

You didn’t hear a word he said.

Poor Tim. Sweet, awkward Tim. He didn’t deserve you, and yet you tormented him at every opportunity.

You were taller than him, which you used to your advantage constantly. One day, after a successful mission, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tight hug. Your boobs pressed against the back of his head, and you could feel him stiffen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Good boy,”

“Y/N,” he croaked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hmm?”

“Let go.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“LET GO!”

Tim was your little puppy, and you made sure he knew it. Anytime he looked stressed (which was, like, always), you’d grab him by the shoulders and pull him down onto your lap.

“Shhh,” you’d coo, stroking his hair while he sat there stiff as a board. “You’re working too hard, Timmy. Just relax.”

He’d blush furiously, stammering out a protest, but you’d silence him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy,” you’d whisper, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re doing great.”

Poor Tim would be a mess, his face redder than Jason’s helmet, but you didn’t care. It was adorable.

Jason walked in once and nearly gagged. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

When you first met Damian, you were charmed. Not by his skill, or his intellect, or his reputation as the Demon’s Son. No, you were charmed because he looked like an angry little bird.

He’d just finished beating the crap out of Tim in the training room when you walked in.

“Who is this?” Damian demanded, glaring at you.

You clasped your hands together, grinning. “Aww, you’re so cute!”

Damian bristled. “I am not cute! I am an assassin!”

You squealed, bouncing on your heels. “Look at him! He’s like a tiny murder pigeon!”

Tim, still lying on the mat, muttered, “Please kill me.”

“So adorable,” you said, holding your hands together in a “squee” motion, jumping up and down like a fangirl. “I didn’t know you were so mad! Look at you, little angry pookie!”

Damian, of course, was not impressed. “Shut up, woman.”

But you? You couldn’t stop giggling. “You’re, like, a pocket-sized villain. So cute.”

Since then, you’d taken to treating Damian like a literal baby. You’d sit him on your lap, spoon-feed him during meals, and ruffle his hair at every opportunity.

Damian was your baby, no matter how much he tried to argue otherwise. You gave him the most attention—whether it was ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, or straight-up kissing him on the forehead during missions.

“Y/N, cease this nonsense!” he’d shout, trying to push you away.

“Aw, but you’re so cute,” you’d tease, holding his face in your hands.

Damian would glare, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. You knew he secretly loved it, especially when you called him your “adorable angry bird.”

Jon Kent adored you. But when he let it slip in front of Damian?

“Y/N is… well, she’s amazing,” Jon had said shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Damian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

“Uh, nothing!” Jon backpedaled, but Damian was already chasing him across the Batcave, sword in hand.

“YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE?!” Damian yelled as Jon flew for his life.

Bruce wasn’t immune to your antics either. You’d long since dropped the “old man” or “Bruce” in favor of something much more fun: “Daddy.”

“Good work tonight, Y/N,” Bruce said one evening, his tone professional.

You leaned against the Batcomputer, smirking. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Bruce froze, his eye twitching slightly.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You always been my suger daddy, it's only make sense if I call you daddy.”

He walked away without another word.

You made it your life mission to annoy Bruce whenever possible. During one of his infamous brooding sessions in the Batcave, you casually walked up to him, poked his nose, and said, “Boop.”

He froze, slowly turning to glare at you. “Don’t.”

“Boop,” you repeated, doing it again.

Dick and Tim were in hysterics in the background, and Jason muttered, “She’s got a death wish.”

Bruce, exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I not surprised?”

It started as a joke. You stole one of Bruce’s button-up shirts and wore it around the Manor. Now it was a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s annoyance.

“That’s mine,” he’d say.

“Yup, and it’s comfy,” you’d reply, lounging on the couch.

Once, during a mission debrief, you leaned on the table and purred, “What’s the plan, Daddy?”

Jason choked on his drink, Dick coughed awkwardly, and Tim turned bright red.

Bruce didn’t even look up. “I will ground you.”

“Kinky,” you replied with a grin.

You had a thing for flirting with dangerous villains, and the Batfam hated it.

“I could totally take Deathstroke,” you said once after a fight.

“He tried to kill you!” Jason snapped.

“Yeah, but did you see the way he looked at me? Sparks, I tell you. Also who said I was talking about fighting?”

“She’s insane,” Damian muttered, but you just shrugged.

During a fight with the Joker, you’d stopped mid-battle to tilt your head and give him an appraising look.

“Y’know,” you said, webbing one of his henchmen to the wall. “You’d be kinda hot if you didn’t look like a corpse. Ever thought about skincare?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Dick had yelled, dodging a swing from Harley Quinn.

“SHUT UP!” you shot back. “I CAN FIX HIM!”

Despite all the chaos and teasing, there’s a hidden, vulnerable side to you that craves attention—not just the kind that’s lustful, but the caring kind.

After a long night of missions, you’ll often crash in the Batcave. The family can be in the middle of an intense discussion or debriefing, but you’ll barge in, throw yourself onto Tim, and use his lap as a pillow.

Jason will grumble and say something about you “acting like a child,” but then you'll casually climb onto his back, burrowing your face into his shoulder as you cling to him.

Of course, Bruce just looks away like he’s done with all of you, but deep down, he knows that if he even tried to stop it, the whole family would turn on him. You're the glue holding them all together.

Main Headcanon

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[ebodebo]

Dinner, Dinner!

—jason misses your anniversary dinner, but makes it up to you…MDNI

"Would you like to browse our dessert menu, madam?" The waiter asks in a thick French accent as he stretches his arm out to pour your second glass of wine.

Your brain is fogged as your fingers fiddle with the stem of the glass as you swirl the crimson liquid around, splashing all sides of the glass. 

"Madam?" The waiter repeats. You hadn't even realized you hadn't answered his previous question. You flick your eyes to his.

"I…um—sorry, can you repeat the question?" Your mind is clouded with a storm of fury and hurt. Jason, your boyfriend, had forgotten your anniversary dinner, leaving you to endure the sympathetic glances of strangers as they noticed the empty seat across from you.

"Of course, madam. I asked if you would like to see the dessert menu," the waiter repeats, his voice a distant echo. You turn your head to the empty seat in front of you, the thought of enduring the restaurant's atmosphere a daunting prospect. 

"Could I just have the cremé brûlée?" You finally ask, your eyes still fixed on the empty seat, your voice trembling slightly. "In a to-go box, please."

It was the first dessert you and Jason shared at this very restaurant, three years ago today. 

"Of course," the waiter said curtly, turning slightly before you raised your voice.

"And, um, could you take the other wine glass?" You awkwardly ask. He simply nods again, carefully placing the stem between his index and middle fingers upside down before turning away to tend to another table.

You should just leave.

It was clear he wasn't coming.

A light smile etched into your face as the waiter set the to-go box with the fancy dessert. You carefully reached into your purse, steadily gripping your wallet to pay. The waiters brought his hands up, shaking his head side-to-side.

"Please. No payment is necessary, madam. Enjoy the dessert," he says kindly. You sniffle, a stray tear falling down your face. You nod gently, issuing a strained, 'Thank you.'

He curtly nods, turning to go back into the kitchen. You gather your things, including the dessert, and move to walk out of the front door.

Upon stepping outside, you are met with the cold Gotham air. Your dress even sways in the wind as you walk, and your heels clank against the pavement. 

The walk home wasn't too long, maybe six minutes or so, but God, did it feel like an eternity. All you could think about was how hurt and disappointed you were and what you would say to Jason when you inevitably saw him.

Your brain tried to conjure all the reasons he didn't show.

Did he forget, or did he purposefully not come?

Now, you knew it couldn't be the latter, Jason wasn't a dick. 

He was just an idiot. 

Your thoughts continued as you stuck your key in the lock and carefully twisted it to unlock your front door, pushing it open quickly.

You set your purse down on a table next to the door, glancing at a framed photo of you and Jason happily eating ice cream on Jason's birthday last year.

You felt sick.

You quickly flick your attention away as your eyes begin to well with hot tears, easing your way into the kitchen. You stand on the cold tile for a minute before getting a sudden inspiration rush.

You didn't want to think about him any longer tonight. You'd prepare a hot tea, watch a movie, or perhaps even read a good book. 

Yes. That sounded like a fine plan.

As you were steeping the leaves in hot water, a knock on the front door pulled your attention away. You left the bag to steep and returned to the door. Pulling the door open, you were met with Red Hood—aka your boyfriend, Jason—gripping a bouquet of fresh flowers.

You're tempted to slam the door in his pretty face, but you don't—not yet, anyway.

"I'm an asshole," he says, his voice distorted from his modulator. 

The sight was ridiculous; if you weren't so pissed, you'd laugh.

He realizes the absurdity of the situation. "God damn, fuckin' helmet," he irritably gruffs, ripping off his helmet. Your eyes widen, your mouth hanging open. 

Anyone could simply walk by and figure out who the highly sought-after vigilante was.

"Jason, you can't just—get inside!" You grip his arm, dragging him inside the confines of your home—an action you immediately regret. 

"Fuck, baby," he begins. "I'm—I'm so sorry," his tone is sincere as he anxiously drags his hands through his hair. 

"I looked like an idiot, Jason," you breathe out, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he brought. 

Hell, it wasn't their fault Jason was stupid. 

"I know—" he says, following you into your kitchen as you fill a vase with water for the flowers.

"A fucking idiot," you snap, setting the flowers gently into the water. You reach for a pair of scissors. "I requested an extra wine glass when I sat down, and I had to be the one to tell him to take it away," you angrily say, snipping some of the leaves off.

"Baby, I'm really, really sorry. I got caught up with—"

"Where were you?" You set the scissors down, turning to look at him.

"Dick needed some help scouting a potential crime circuit in Blüdhaven," he sighs. "He told me it wouldn't take long. Should've known better," he wipes his hand over his face, hissing at the contact.

Your eyes sweep over his face, taking note of the fresh cuts and bruises that now taint his face. Fresh blood prickled from some; others were caked in layers of it.

"Are you hurt?" You ask, concern lacing your words.

He raises a brow. "Don't worry about me, Sweetheart. I'll be alright. I'm more concerned about you," he admits honestly. 

"You're bleeding," you observe, wincing at the sight.

"Just a hair," he lightly smiles. "I'm okay."

Sure, you were pissed at your boyfriend, but you wouldn't let him be in agony like he was. 

He was bleeding, for God's sake.

"Let me clean them up," you simply say.

"No, no. I'm fine—" he began, shaking his head lightly.

"Please," you insist.

He huffs, then accepts defeat. He takes your hand stretched out and follows you to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you fumble through your medicine cabinet to gather band-aids and Neosporin. 

"I hope it's okay. I, um, only have these band-aids," you awkwardly say, holding up a box with a familiar blue hero on the cover. 

"Baby, why do you have Nightwing band-aides?" He questions skeptically.

"Dick brought them to white elephant last year, and I got stuck with them," you lightly laugh. "He's a horrible gift-giver."

Jason laughs. "Promise to remind me to take them off before I leave. He cannot see me with these on. He'd have a damn field day," he grumbles as you laugh. 

"I promise I'll remind you," you affirm, pulling a small step ladder in front of him so you could sit before carefully squirting a bit of the ointment out onto your pointer finger and pressing it to each of Jason's cuts.

He barely winces or whines as you continue the action, delicately tending to each cut. His eyes wander to yours, focusing heavily with determination on what you are doing, even sticking your tongue out to concentrate. 

"I don't deserve this," he heaves as you open some band-aids.

"What? To have ten Nightwing band-aides on you all at once?" You laugh, carefully laying each of the band-aids over the cuts.

He snickers. "That and you taking care of me."

You pull back slightly. "What?"

"I ruined our anniversary tonight. I left you alone in that restaurant and, look at you, still taking care of me," he exasperates. "I don't deserve you."

You frown. "Don't say that. I mean, ya, it was shitty, but just because you did something shitty one time or even twice doesn't make you undeserving of my love, Jason," you gently say, fingers moving to caress his jaw on their own volition. 

He leans into your hand. "I just don't want to lose you. I love you."

Jason and you have exchanged hundreds, if not thousands, of "I love yous" throughout your relationship, but this one felt different. 

It felt more like a sacred prayer spilling from his lips—a tender plea from the depths of his soul. It felt all that much more divine.

You found yourself leaning to kiss his lips, your hands moving to thread through his hair. His lips instantly moved with yours, and his hand gripped your cheek.

It was a tender kiss—an 'I'm sorry,' wrapped in an 'It's okay.'

As the seconds passed, the kiss became more fervent—urgent. You even slipped off the step ladder and moved onto Jason's lap. He welcomed you with open arms, encasing you tightly with each of his hands on your hips as you straddled him.

Your hands glided through his hair messily and eagerly as his hands massaged the fat of your hips. You let out a whine that Jason catches as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You find yourself rocking against him, desperate for friction. He groans, gripping your thighs tightly as he stands with you, guiding you towards your bedroom.

Never once did your lips disconnect.

He gently lays you on the bed as he hastily sheds his boots, armored jacket, gloves, and pants. Your breathing is labored as you follow suit, gingerly slipping off your simple black dress and kicking off your heels, revealing your matching red bra and pantie set you had worn.

Jason stands in front of you in nothing but his boxers, eyes soaking you in.

"What?" You question nervously, feeling self-conscious with his eyes so focused on you. 

"Did you—did you wear that for me?" He asks lazily.

Your lips quip. "Duh. Who else?" You giggle. "You like it?"

He lets out a dry laugh, moving to hover over your body, sticking his arm out to stabilize himself so as not to crush you. "I think I need to take a closer look," he cheekily says, moving his mouth closer to the strap of the bra, taking it between his teeth, pulling a little, then flicking it back. You let out a small whine, feeling the fabric snap back on your skin.

"Sure is sturdy," he observes, fingers coming to slip it down your shoulder. "And a nice color," he murmurs into your shoulder, sending goosebumps down your arm.

"Ya?" You idly question as his lips skim your collarbone.

"Mhm. It's very nice, Baby," he mumbles into your skin, fingers moving to skim the band of your panties. "And these," he begins. "Don't even get me started." He lightly nips your skin with his teeth, eliciting another whine. 

His fingers slip under the band, pulling them down so they sit around your lower thighs. "Ah, there she is," he coos, cupping your dripping cunt with his hand.

"Jason," you moan, pushing yourself into his hand more.

"What, Baby?" His words were low and dragged out, almost breathy.

"I—I need more," you groan, hand moving to rest on his hand on you, encouraging more movement from him. 

"I'll do you one better," he takes his hand away, making you frown, though he moves to slip his boxers down, showcasing his erect cock. 

He strokes himself once before guiding himself into your entrance, leaning down to kiss your temple lightly as he pushes himself inside your cunt. You hiss at the contact, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He groans as one of his hands comes to grip behind your neck, and the other moves to lift your leg up slightly so he can grip your thigh, giving a better angle as he moves at a consistent pace.

A desperate mewl escapes your mouth as his pace fastens. Jason's hand has moved to rest on your breast in your bra as he throws his head back, groaning and spewing curses.

You sit up slightly, gripping his neck, pulling him down to your lips. He kisses you roughly, even sucking your bottom lip in the process. You bring your leg up to wrap around his torso, pushing him even more deeply; he groans as his hand slides to grip the hinge of your leg.

"Jay, I'm gonna—" You begin breathlessly.

"I know, Baby. I know," he purrs into your mouth. "Feel so good."

You grip his neck tighter, lips pressing into his shakily, as you feel yourself tighten around him. All you have had to do was moan his name into his mouth to have him following suit, even moving one hand to grip the sheets beneath as he comes.

You're both gasping for air. Jason eases himself out of you and plops beside you, pulling you close so your face rests on his chest.

"As far as orgasms go, that one was great," you pant, fingers moving to trace the lines between Jason's abs.

"Ya? Do I get a golden star?" He tuts, fingers playing with your hair.

"Sorry, Babe. I only give golden stars for extra credit," you jest, looking up at him.

"Extra credit, you say?" He asks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "I think I can do that." He lifts up abruptly, getting off the bed.

"What're you—" You begin to question before he's tugging you towards him by your ankles, planting his face in between your legs.

"Jay!" You shriek, though make no effort to move as his tongue lapses at your sensitive clit.

"I really want that golden star," he mumbles into you.

a/n: finally finished this fic that has been haunting my drafts for months upon months ( ͡ಥ ͜ʖ ͡ಥ)

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[zahura]

"You don't have a contingency plan for me?" You frowned.

Jason looked up at you in surprise as everyone else fell into shocked silence.

You took a deep breath in through your nose. Slowly and measuredly, you asked "You don't have. A contingency plan. For me?."

"You're not part of the action, darling." Jason faltered.

"I am the lady of your life. You have a contingency plan for everyone else. But not me."

Roy side-eyed you like he was trying to untangle your brain through force of will, but you ignored him. He didn't understand, he was pissant only a minute ago about his best friend "betraying" him with a contingency plan. He got a contingency plan. Everyone here, all these people close to Jason got contingency plans, but not you.

"Habibti…" Jason sighed.

"Yes?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Habibti? I could disable you in a fight, even at your strongest. So God forbid you were brainwashed, I could easily incapacitate you! I’d just find you, and tie you up or something."

The other eyebrow shot up this time to a cacophony of snorts by your audience as your cheeks flushed.

"But like! In a nice way!” Jason struggled.

"In a nice way?" You slowly asked. Roy was grinning ear-to-ear, now.

"Yes? I would... use the rope to… make bow ties." Jason was trying. Not succeeding but he was obviously trying.

Jason caught Roy's grin and frowned. Not. Helping.

"You know, unlike Roy, who I’d have hogtied in the back of a truck. You'd be sitting pretty in the front. My passenger princess."

At this point, everyone else’s anger had dissipated and they were all amusedly watching Jason try to talk his way out of this one. Jason noticed.

"I'd drop Roy on the floor somewhere and tuck you under some nice fluffy sheets. I'd even give you hot chocolate."

Nice try. "I'm lactose intolerant."

Muffled squaks and guffaws bounced off the walls, and Jason shot Roy a glare that might kill him, but you weren't letting Jason off that easily. Not after he failed to come up with a single contingency plan for you. Trained or not, actual strength was irrelevant here. Did he not worry about you?

"Fine! Lactose-free, then, but the point is, I would take care of you if you were sick."

Your gaze softened. Jason continued, "I would stop at nothing to make you better. And happy."

Finally, you smiled.

Softly, he continued, "So… how about this for a contingency plan: I would find some cure, give it you, take the ropes off of you... if you wanted-”

Roy snorted and you both turned and shot him a look.

"You wouldn’t un-hogtie Harper off your apartment floor too soon, would you?"

"Not at this rate."

The joke that the bats see their contingency plans as a form of love is super fucking funny, don't get me wrong but honestly they probably do see it as that cause they just forget to say the second part out loud.

"after I've taken you down, obviously I'd find whatever made you like this and then find the cure."

They come from gotham where mind altering substances are basically everywhere. One of the most profound ways a gothamite could say 'i care about you' is admitting to having a plan to disarm/capture you in the case you go off the deep end, so that they could then get you a cure.

Unfortunately for the bats, no one else thinks like that cause what the actual fucks guys

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 1

Summary: After his death you left everything behind. You're still Bruce daughter but no longer a part of family. You had a new life and everything was fine, until the day someone left a box outside your door...

Warning: Physically violence/Choking.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked as she kissed him lightly on the lips.

“I’ll be fine,” she said smiling.

He searched her face for a moment before nodding, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back late.”

As Daniel left, she closed the door behind him and exhaled, her chest tightening. She shook it off, slipping out of her shoes and heading straight for the shower. Maybe hot water would ease the tension coiled in her spine.

The steam filled the small bathroom quickly, clinging to the mirror and fogging the glass. She stepped under the stream, letting the water rush over her skin. It was almost too hot, but she relished the way it scalded, burning away the nerves she carried like an old scar.

She hummed softly, a melody that she didn’t recognize but felt familiar all the same. Her thoughts wandered as the water cascaded over her, but something pulled her back.

A sound.

She froze, water streaming down her face. She strained her ears, her breath catching in her throat.

Nothing.

It was probably nothing. The pipes, maybe. This building wasn’t new, and the plumbing always made strange noises. She shook her head, laughing softly at her paranoia, and returned to her shower.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

She felt it then—the distinct sensation of being watched. Her fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She counted slowly in her head, telling herself she was imagining it, that she was safe. Safe.

The ringing of the doorbell shattered the silence.

She jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs. The water continued to pour over her, but the incessant ringing pulled her focus. It didn’t stop.

“Seriously?” she muttered, cutting the water off and grabbing a towel. Wrapping it hastily around herself, she stormed out of the bathroom, her wet feet slapping against the tile floor.

The ringing continued, grating against her nerves.

“Alright, alright!” she yelled, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. She grabbed the towel, wrapped it tightly around herself, irritation bubbling to the surface. The ringing didn’t stop. Again. Again. Over and over, like whoever was behind the door had nothing better to do than torment her.

“Coming!” she yelled, stomping toward the door, her wet feet leaving angry prints on the hardwood.

No one was there.

Just a box.

She blinked, her gaze dropping to the large cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat. There was no note, no markings, nothing to indicate where it came from or who had sent it.

She sighed, irritation flickering through her. Probably Bruce, she thought, stepping forward and dragging the box inside. She left it by the coffee table, her focus already back on her shower. The towel was damp against her skin, and all she wanted was to feel clean and warm again.

By the time she was out of the shower, dressed in an old sweatshirt and leggings, she’d nearly forgotten about the box. She made a cup of tea, settling onto the couch with the remote, flipping through channels.

Everything was dull. Every show, every movie. Nothing held her attention. Her gaze drifted to the box.

It sat there, innocuous yet somehow foreboding.

She hesitated before setting her tea down and kneeling in front of it. The tape peeled away easily, the cardboard flaps opening to reveal its contents.

Her breath caught.

The first thing she saw was the Batgirl suit.

Her old suit, neatly folded, its colors dimmed by time and wear. Beneath it were other items: a small photograph, trinkets she hadn’t seen in years.

She reached for the photo first.

It was a picture of her and Jason. He was grinning, his arm slung around her shoulders, while she was caught mid-laugh. The memory hit her like a wave. She’d teased him relentlessly that day about his messy hair, and he’d retaliated by messing up hers until they were both in a fit of laughter.

"You look like you just rolled out of bed Jaybird," she said with a smirk, poking fun at him.

Jason rolled his eyes but grinned back. "Says the girl who hasn’t combed her hair in days."

She laughed, flipping her own hair over her shoulder dramatically. And just like that, they’d been caught in a moment of unguarded joy.

Jason, ruffled her hair, making it even messier than before. “There. Now you look like me!” he teased.

She gasped in mock horror, instantly reaching up to fix her hair. “What did you do?”

Her fingers trembled as she set the photo down and reached for the next item. A bracelet he’d made for her—clumsy knots of red and green string. She’d worn it for months until it fell apart.

“You like it?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Of course I do,” she’d replied, smiling softly as she accepted the bracelet. It was clumsy, but in that moment, it felt like the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.

Then came a note in her handwriting. She remembered writing it, a quick scribble of encouragement before a patrol.

“You’ve got this, Jaybird. Show them what you’re made of.”

“You okay?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft, a rare crack in his usual persona.

She hadn’t answered right away. Instead, she had sat beside him in silence. The hurt from the night before clung to her like a second skin. She hadn’t expected him to do anything—she didn’t need pity. But then, he did something she would never forget.

Without a word, Jason had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. It wasn’t some grand gesture, nothing theatrical. Just a simple, genuine hug. His cheek had rested against her hair, and for the briefest moment, she let herself feel weak. She let the tears threaten to spill.

“I’m here,” he had whispered, and his voice had been steady, warm. “We’ll get through it. Together.”

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She clutched the note tightly, her chest heaving with silent sobs. The weight of everything she’d buried, everything she’d run from, came crashing down.

She remembered the good moments, the times Jason had made her laugh until her stomach hurt. The way he’d always looked at her, like she was the only person who mattered. The trust in his eyes when she’d told him they could make Bruce proud together.

She wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

Her gaze drifted back to the box. Something else was in there. Something heavier. She hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for it.

It was a crowbar.

Bloodstained.

Her breath hitched, and the air seemed to leave the room. She dropped it, scrambling backward, her heart racing.

The shadows in the room seemed to shift, and for the first time, she felt utterly alone.

The phone was cool against her ear as she sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the opened box on the floor. Bruce answered on the second ring, his voice as steady and deep as she remembered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bruce," she said softly. Her voice cracked despite her best effort to sound normal.

"Y/N." Relief washed over his tone, and she could almost see him leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I didn’t think you’d call back so soon."

She smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’ve been meaning to. Just... been busy."

There was a pause, the kind that stretched uncomfortably long. Bruce, for all his control, didn’t handle emotional conversations well.

"How’s the family?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Bruce seemed to relax at the shift in focus. "They’re doing well. Dick had taken over Blüdhaven. Tim’s been working on a new case—too much, if you ask me. And Barbara’s focused on her tech projects."

"And Alfred?"

"Still the same. Still trying to make me take a day off. But he missed you. Everyone does." There was a faint smile in his voice now. "How about you? How’s university?"

"It’s good," she replied, twirling a strand of her damp hair. "They say I'm good, if I continue like that I will be a certified doctor."

"I’m proud of you," Bruce said quietly.

Her throat tightened at the sincerity in his words. "Thanks," she murmured. "And Daniel’s great. He’s... he’s good to me."

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, and she could hear the faint hum of the Batcave in the background.

"You’ve built a good life for yourself," he said finally. "But Gotham will always be your home, Y/N. You’ll always have a place here. You’ll always be my daughter."

Her smile faded, and she bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. "I can’t come back, Bruce," she said, her voice trembling. "Not after what I did."

"Y/N..." His voice softened in a way that was rare for him. "It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you both."

She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. "I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. Jason—" Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard.

"Jason wouldn’t want you to carry this guilt," Bruce said firmly. "Neither do I. You didn’t fail him, Y/N. I did."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. She looked at the box on the floor again, her gaze locking onto the crowbar.

"Bruce," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "That box you sent—"

"What box?"

Her stomach dropped. "The one with my Batgirl suit. And... other things." She hesitated, her voice growing unsteady. "There was a crowbar in it, Bruce. It was bloodstained."

"I didn’t send you anything," Bruce said, his tone sharp now. "Y/N, what are you talking about?"

Her heart began to race. "You’re telling me you didn’t send it? You don’t know about the box?"

"No. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The sound of glass shattering made her jump, and her head snapped toward the kitchen.

"Y/N?" Bruce’s voice was urgent, but she barely heard him.

"Something broke," she said, her voice distant. "I’ll call you back."

"Wait—"

She ended the call, her hand trembling as she set the phone down. Her gaze flicked to the crowbar lying on her desk.

Swallowing her fear, she grabbed it, the cold metal heavy in her hand. Slowly, she moved toward the kitchen, her bare feet silent against the floor.

The house was eerily quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards under her weight. She tightened her grip on the crowbar, her pulse hammering in her ears.

When she reached the kitchen, she hesitated, her breath hitching as she peeked around the corner.

The window was open, a chilly breeze fluttering the curtains.

Her eyes darted to the broken mug on the floor and the small, furry figure perched on the counter.

A cat jumped down from the counter, its fur bristling as it hissed at her before darting out the open window.

She exhaled shakily, her knees threatening to give out. She lowered the crowbar, leaning against the counter as her heartbeat gradually slowed.

“Just a cat,” she muttered to herself. “Just a stupid cat.”

But the feeling didn’t leave her.

The sensation of being watched lingered, a prickling at the back of her neck. She glanced around the room again, her grip on the crowbar tightening.

“Stop it,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re just imagining things.”

She turned back to the box in the living room. Her mind raced with possibilities. If Bruce hadn’t sent it, then who had?

Joker?

No. It had been years. He had no reason to come after her now. But the thought nagged at her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

She glanced at the crowbar again, her stomach twisting. She needed to talk to Bruce.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t over.

She felt it before she saw it. The impact of something heavy hitting her, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her vision was distorted, the world around her a wash of blurry shapes and smears. Everything was red—vivid, suffocating red that stained her mind and her skin, pressing down on her like an iron weight.

She was screaming, but the sound wasn’t hers.

She couldn’t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating, and she gasped for it, but it was as if her lungs couldn’t fill. Something—someone—was there, near her. She could hear him, his voice rising above.

His voice.

It was faint at first, but then it became clearer, cutting through the disarray.

“Don’t… don’t… please!”

Jason...

His voice, strained and desperate, barely reaching her through the fog in her mind.

“Please, please don’t... Don’t do this!”

She tried to focus, to clear the haze in her head. But it was so hard. What’s happening? Everything felt so wrong. Was he crying? Was he... begging?

Wait.

Why was he begging? Why was he crying?

His voice broke, and it stabbed her like a knife. Don’t cry, she thought, almost absently. Don’t cry, Jason. It’s not your fault.

He didn’t want her to be hurt.

Her chest tightened at the thought, and her vision flared with red-hot pain.

Why are you crying, Jason?

His voice broke through again, desperate, louder this time.

“Y/N!”

Her pulse stuttered at the sound of her name, raw with agony. She wanted to reach out, but her hands wouldn’t move. The world spun faster, and she couldn’t stop it. The walls around her were closing in.

She tried to focus on him—on his voice—but everything was blurring again. Why was he crying? Why was he… Why was he yelling?

It’s my fault, she thought desperately. I’m the one who did this. I ruined everything.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, everything went still.

She gasped for breath, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her chest constricted, and she tried to scream again, but the world around her was just too far away. The red haze thickened.

And then, everything went black.

She awoke with a start, gasping as though she had been submerged underwater. Her body trembled violently, drenched in sweat, her chest heaving for air.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

What was that?

She sat up in bed, her eyes wide as she tried to steady her breath. She hadn’t had a nightmare like that in so long. She thought she was done with them. But that voice… Jason’s voice, still echoing in her ears. The sound of his crying. The desperation. The guilt.

A soft ringing broke through her daze. The doorbell.

It was raining outside, the soft patter of the storm barely reaching her through the walls.

She stood slowly, wiping the sweat from her brow as she grabbed the crowbar from beside her bed. There was something about the ringing that set her nerves on edge. Something... wrong.

She moved cautiously down the stairs, every step creaking beneath her. Her hand gripped the crowbar tightly, knuckles white. She stopped at the door, staring at the peephole, but saw nothing—just the darkness of the storm.

She swallowed hard and turned the handle, swinging the door open.

Empty.

Her breath escaped in a shaky laugh as she shook her head. She was being paranoid.

Just a mistake. Just the wind. Or maybe a neighbor…

She laughed at herself again, weakly. How stupid could she be?

She started to close the door, her hand gripping the handle, when a sudden force slammed into her.

Her breath was crushed out of her as a hand gripped her throat, yanking her backward with brutal force. The crowbar fell from her hand, clattering uselessly to the floor as she was slammed against the door with such force that the wood shook.

She couldn’t breathe. Her hands flew to her neck, scratching, clawing at the hand that was squeezing the life out of her.

Everything was a blur, her vision fading in and out. But there were two eyes—two wild, unhinged eyes—staring at her through a mask of red. A twisted, maniacal grin was visible beneath the blood-streaked fabric. She gasped, her lungs screaming for air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free. She was weightless now, her feet no longer touching the floor as the pressure on her throat intensified.

She kicked out, her feet uselessly struggling to find purchase. Her vision began to dim, a ringing in her ears drowning out the world. Everything was spinning. The edges of her vision were dissolving into darkness.

Is this how it ends?

Her throat tightened, her eyes burning with the effort of holding onto consciousness.

Is this it?

Her thoughts flickered. The coldness of the hand around her neck, the darkness closing in, everything felt too heavy, too wrong. She had no strength left. Her muscles screamed in protest, but they didn’t obey.

Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her sight. Her lungs burned with every desperate, ragged breath.

And then, the grip released.

She crumpled to the floor, gasping for air as her vision swam and her chest heaved.

Through the haze, she looked up, but everything was dark, save for the faint outline of a figure standing above her. She could barely make out the shape of a face, the contours of a body, but there was one thing she saw clearly.

Two eyes.

Green.

Tears filled those eyes, glistening in the dim light, staring at her with an intensity she couldn’t understand.

They were familiar.

But she couldn’t place them.

She blinked, but everything was slipping away.

Her mind was going blank, her body growing colder by the second. The last thing she saw was the figure, the two green eyes... and then, everything went dark again.

Part 2.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[jjenthusee]

Like Him

Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: What hurts more? The initial burn or what comes after?

A/N: IM BAAAACK and to celebrate i wanted to give u some soul ripping angst as i get back into writing again :D every time i write about AK jason i always think of my pooks @heavysighing-dreamyeyes 💐💐 i hope you all enjoyyyy

Tags: hurt/no comfort, ANGSTTT, warnings: description of injuries, scars

Word Count: 1.2k

Every step was agony. You felt every pull, every pinch, every tense muscle screaming at you to stop.

But you couldn’t risk it.

“Jason, please. Stop walking away from me.”

It was ironic. You are pleading with him to stop moving and to stop emotionally pushing you away. Now he was ignoring you completely.

You were locked away by his goons, tied to a chair for hours while your legs numbed, taking hit after hit to your face that had you dizzy and bruised.

You thought you completely lost it when your long dead friend reappeared to you as the crazed man taking over Gotham City.

It wouldn’t hurt to laugh hysterically after all that was revealed in the last two hours, but pain was keeping you awake and in reality.

You tried to walk behind him, stumbling and irritating the deep ache in your right leg.

Due to your injuries, speed wasn’t an option. Momentum was the real reason why you were still able to practically drag your leg forward. Feeling every streak of sweat prickle down your forehead, sticking your hair to your neck.

You tried to straighten your back, feeling your bones crack as you weakly adjusted to standing upright fully again.

“Look at me.” You spoke with as much precision as you could command your voice to. Trying to pair a steady voice to a feeble stance.

You felt yourself shake from the last remaining strength in your arms and legs as you continued to push a one-sided conversation with Jason.

It was jarring to think you were trying to talk to the Arkham Knight, the one person that was single handedly creating one of the worst nights in Gotham City you’ve had to endure. But you were also talking to your best friend, your boyish childhood savior turned trusted ally. It was a twisted struggle on how to reach out to him, trying to figure out who you were reaching out to.

“Jason—“

“Don’t call me that!” He yelled, the anger reddening his face as he turned his head to you. The visible “J” scarring his face turned to face you directly.

This was the Arkham Knight, the one commanding such a distasteful voice as he peered down at you. Embracing the military grade armor coating his skin.

The scarred skin surrounding the letter was appearing pinker the longer his rage was lingering.

“I am—not your enemy.” You hunched forward, choking rather than breathing in as you spoke while simultaneously trying to balance some of your weight off your weak leg. It hurt like hell as you clenched your jaw to the pain.

“You sound so much like him. I can’t stand to listen to you.” Jason turned his back to you, pacing forward. No visible scar catching your eyes.

“I am not Bruce.” You spit out, feeling blood mix in with the saliva in your mouth.

“‘Course not! But I’m going to fix what he’s done and if you are going to stand in my way, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to interrupt me ever again!” He turned so fast, you blinked as the “J” barely flashed before you, but you only saw his clear, spotless cheek, the side with no scar.

“You don’t mean that.” You exhaled, calmly closing your eyes as you held your side, careful to not press against your bruised ribs. Talking was already irritating them enough.

“What do you know?! You. Don’t. Know. Me. So, stop pretending like you do!”

“You know that’s not true. Ugh—“ You fell to your knee, unable to catch your fall as you banged it into the steel floor. Pain throbbed down to your foot. “It just sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.” You groaned out, stubbornly not backing down. You may have been on the floor, but you felt higher than Jason was.

“I have nothing to prove, especially not to you.” Jason was ready to pull his opened helmet down, hoping to mask away his face, but it only looked like he was running away.

“Then why am I still not tied to the chair stained with my blood?! Why bother to untie me?” You yelled from your sprawled position, much too vulnerable, but you were heavily pressuring and facing the armored man with enough artillery to take your life away with a simple trigger.

“‘Cause you are useless to me.” Jason started to walk away again. No longer interested in your angry yells.

“It’s ‘cause I mean something to you, Jason!”

“Shut up!” Jason turned and pounded his feet to the ground as he ran back to you. He pulled out his handgun, directly aiming the sight onto you, the end of the barrel covering your entire left eye.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the endless abyss of what became of the Arkham Knight.

Watching his finger itch at the possibility of pressing further and making a choice he could never come back from.

But you saw it.

The look in his eyes.

You met his gaze directly as your eyes relaxed. Glancing at the visible side of Jason’s face with whatever sight you had left in your right eye. The deep “J” also in view. Burning your pupil as you stared up at him but never looking away.

“I never stopped asking Bruce what happened.” You gravely explained, each word ripping into your throat, croaking out every painful word as you watched his face contort the longer you spoke. “Every fucking day, I couldn’t believe that he never found you. I’ve hated Bruce everyday for it. I miss you, Jason.”

The pistol shook. You didn’t know if it was from your eyes watering or from his own emotions, but you leaned forward.

Your back hunched from the painful posture you endured while tied up. Pushing the ache aside, you pressed the muzzle of the gun on your face, your skin sensitive to how hot the barrel was from firing many rounds throughout the night.

The pain seared around your eye, burning into the skin underneath your bottom lashes and eyebrow.

If Jason was scarred, you also wanted to physically burn this night onto your skin.

“Don’t leave. I need you, Jason.” You cried. “You deserve to live. I want to help you live.”

The pain on your face stopped, leaving a burn behind. It pricked your skin relentlessly.

The salty tears burned even more.

As you melted into the floor, your legs hurting, your eye hurting, Jason let the weight of his handgun pull his hand down to his side. Gazing down to you as he watched the gash on your face form.

His stomach twisted severely. He wanted to puke at the brand he made. The same one he gave him.

You may have pushed your face into the muzzle, but Jason held it. He held every gravely second it was pressed into your undamaged, unmarked skin.

Everything he was not.

He reached out his armored hand, extending his fingers to almost touch the swollen skin, but as you hiccuped in a breath to get any air into your lungs, he pulled his hand away. Like he would be burned back.

Jason crouched down to you, getting his face closer to yours, so you could hear him loud and clear.

“Now we’re both mangled.” Jason whispered, watching every twitch of your face as his words split your heart. Feeling his own scar burn as he traced yours with his eyes before he lifted himself back to his full height to walk away. To finish what he started and to ruthlessly leave you ruined by his own words and not your injuries. “Never come back. I never want to see you again.”

[guilty-pleasures21]

Black cat Jason Todd x white cat Reader anyone? 🤭

OH MY GOD I GOT A REQUEST I COULD POSSIBLY USE THIS IDEA FOR!!!

[thargelalia]

see you in hell, baby

jason todd x fem!reader

Dick naively expects Jason to help him stay in your good graces as the MVP brother-in-law

-> 1.4k words

-> fluff, poor attempt at humor

-> warnings: none, the dynamic duo being dorks together perhaps?

please, reblog if you like or the author will cry

There's nothing better than to enjoy the vast collection of classics at the Wayne Manor library on a rare peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Or is it?

“Jaybird, hey!” Dick greets his younger brother, a little more excited than usual, as he saunters into the library. “Have you.. uhh, is my BFF around?” 

He’s scanning around the place like you could emerge from behind the couches or bookshelves at any given moment. Judging by his tone, Jason can already tell Dick wants something, choosing to ignore him, too immersed in his current book. 

Dick looks left and right to the hallway before closing the doors, and joining Jason on the leather couch. The latter finally acknowledged his older brother to get this over with, so he can leave and Jason can read in peace. 

“She went to the bathroom.. why?” Jason says, narrowing his eyes inquisitively at Dick’s fidgeting. A fake smile plastered on his face, sweat bidding on the temple. He’s obviously worried about something. “You’re being weirder than usual.. Got your pants stuffed with itching powder again?”

His lips twitch upwards a little at the memory. 

“No, I— please, don’t ever remind me of that day.” Dick winces, rubbing on his thigh to soothe an imaginary itch. Steph really goes all in on April Fool’s Day.

He clears his throat. “So, uh.. maybe, just maybe… I might’ve accidentally scratched that Beatles record sis-in-law lent to me last week.”

Jason exhales, contemplating whether he should ease Dick’s mind or not. While you were very careful and protective of your vinyl record collection, depending on which one that got damaged – and the extent of it – you might get a little upset, but let it go without much trouble. 

Not before an hour lecture to the culprit about taking better care of other people’s stuff, of course. 

“As long as it’s not Sergeant Pepper’s, you’ll be fine.” Jason shrugs, then chuckles to himself a little as he opens his book again. “Perhaps a kick or two to your shins.”

The silence that follows is pregnant with guilt. Jason can almost smell it in the air at the way his brother blanches next to him. 

“Fuck. Don’t tell me—”

“It was an accident!”

“Dick, you insane?! It was a gift from her grandmother!” Jason chastises, smacking the book shut with a hard thud. “You damaged an original copy from the seventies, you fucking idiot!”

Dick slides down on the couch, a pout taking over his lips. “I know!” 

“Can’t believe she let you borrow it.” Jason huffs, crossing his arms while shaking his head indignantly.

Dick has his hands on his head, about ready to rip his hair out.

“I know! What do I do now??”

“Well… for starters,” Jason begins dead serious, leaning towards Dick, who straightens his posture, desperate to hear a solution, “when was the last time you updated your last will and testament?”

“Shit.” Dick falls into the cushions, a desolated sigh leaving the depths of his soul. “Not helping, man.”

“Maybe Bruce can recycle my gravestone,” Jason continues, tapping his chin in fake thought, “what about an epitaph? Sure you’ve got some ideas.”

As always, any comment remotely related to his death has all the bats squirming or tensing like they’ve been poked by Catwoman’s sharp claws – which most of them have, in fact. They tend to feel uneasy whenever Jason makes his grim jokes. 

And perhaps that’s exactly why he does it. 

“Please, don’t talk like that,” Dick says softly, furrowing his eyebrows. Then, he changes his demeanor completely. “And yes, I do. Here lies Gotham’s hottest piece of ass. S.I.P.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look, lifting his eyebrow. “S.I.P?”

His brother smiles as if he was dying to be asked that. “Sashay in peace.”

“Hope you make a safe passage, disco queen.” Jason deadpans. “Make sure to head straight to heaven, though. Don’t wanna put up with your glittery ass in hell, too.” 

Dick seems to suddenly remember why he was there in the first place. He grabs his younger brother by the shoulders, and shakes. “This is serious, Jaybird! What now? I’ll lose my ‘favorite brother-in-law’ privileges!”

Jason kisses his teeth in annoyance, immediately releasing himself from Dick’s grasp, and pushing on his chest with zero delicacy. “You never had those.” 

Anyone other than Dick — and Bruce — would’ve splattered themselves on the cushions at being on the receiving end of Jason’s hard shove, but his older brother only tilts back, and recovers his posture like a roly-poly toy, in an impressive display of sheer core strength.

“Yes, I did. I do. Remember her last seminar? She only had one other seat aside from yours, and she chose to invite me.” He points at himself, sounding smug. “And what about the wine she got me from her trip to France? Or the tequila from Mexico, huh?”

“The others aren’t old enough to drink.” Jason points out, groaning as he massages his temples. This conversation is getting tiresome. Baby, where are you? He thinks in exasperation. Dealing with his family outside patrol is easier when you’re right next to him.

Dick freezes, his index finger lifted in the air. 

He lowers it, closing his mouth. 

Then, he raises it again, attempting to hide his wounded pride. 

“That’s not the point! The point is—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Jason cuts him off, waving impatiently before he adds dryly, “too late for that, though. Replacement joined her Public Health research group last month. She’s invited him to dinner at our place twice now, unfortunately.”  

There’s a shocked gasp. 

“Not to mention the little demon asking her for help with his school projects, even though everyone knows he’s damn well capable of handling himself.”

An even bigger gasp leaves Dick’s lips, this time followed by a dramatic hand to his chest.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking stop?”

“I need to amp up my game. Urgently.”

“Good luck with that. Not sure you can—”

Jason’s interrupted by the sound of the doors opening. The scowl on his face immediately dissolves into a relieved look at your return. Meanwhile, his brother appears as if he’s staring at a ghost.

You smile, tipping your head up. “Hey, Dick! What’s up?”

“Heeey, bestie!” He shoots up from the couch, sounding extremely unnatural as he glances at the watch on his wrist. “I–um.. Damn! I gotta pick up Babs at her friend’s house now. See you guys later!”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, he breezes past you and out the doors like he’s suddenly been possessed by Wally West.

“What was that?” You turn from the door to your boyfriend, giving him a puzzled look.

Jason contemplates for a brief moment whether he should tell the truth or not. More out of concern over you, as he’d hate to upset you, than over Dick’s sake obviously. But if you found out later that he knew about this fuckup, he’d join his brother’s body in the graveyard. And Jason is very much enjoying his second chance at life right now.

“Dick ruined your Sergeant Pepper’s record.” Just as predicted, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for snitching on his older brother. Jason wishes he’d broken the news in a better way, but he let his eagerness for throwing Dick under the bus override his judgment.

Much to his surprise, you don’t show any expressive reaction aside from the slight purse of your lips. 

“You’re talking about the scratch?” You ask simply, joining him on the burgundy couch as he opens an arm to envelop you in a half embrace.

He tilts his head to rest against yours. “You’ve seen it already?”

“It was there before he got it. Probably happened during my last move out.”

“Oh. Oh.” 

“Poor Dick. I told him my grandma loved that record… He must be feeling like trash.” A sigh escapes your lips as you lean against Jason’s chest. “You should probably tell him when he comes back.”

“Baby, I’m not telling anything.” Jason laughs wickedly, taking your hand in his large one and bringing it up to his lips. The tender kiss offers a stark contrast against the disapproval in his tone. “Serves him right for not being watchful enough.”

“You’re so evil, Jace.” You tilt your head up, so he can see the playful glint in your eyes. “There’s no place for you in heaven, you know that, right?” 

Jason eyes you in disbelief. “Are you planning on telling him?” 

The pressing of your lips together is already enough to answer him – a futile attempt to conceal a mischievous smile. 

“That’s what I thought.” He pulls you to sit sideways on his thighs, arms tightening around your waist as he leans in to kiss your neck. Lips lingering there as his voice lowers in a way that makes you shiver when he says, “guess we’ll both be sharing Satan's throne as you sit on my lap in hell, baby.” 

A/N: I wanna be Jason's boo, and Dick's bestie so bad y'all!!

Remember to reblog, and let me know your thoughts if you liked. It helps me stay motivated to post on here <33

divider is from here

[stargrltara]

Kinda Outa Luck II

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song "Kinda Outa Luck by lana del rey. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩. Reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman, she works in a club, and on the low she's gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage.Oh, did i mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT 2 PT 3 ?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, it’s quite long im sorry, mentions of clubs, tying up, begging, mentions of sexual natures and strippers, slapping, unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, some fluff and angst, enemies with benefits??

a/n: guys this is part 2!! wow this is longgggg long. it was originally meant to be all in 1 part but i couldn’t be arsed and thought it would b easier like this xoxo. and sorry for the wait i’m so unbothered bye

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“ before i get bad

i gotta get drunk

so get over here

pour me a cold one „

Sliding on your skimpy, silver dress, you began to contemplate which hairstyle you desired for tonight’s shift. The sequins reflected a soft hue against the moonlit sky and the rain trickled down the windows softly. Brushing through your locks, light specs of gold and white stardust lingered on your fingertips as remains from doing your makeup not too long ago.

As you arrived to the Iceburg Lounge at roughly 9PM, you immediately strutted past the countless amount of people. Aromas of cheap and expensive cologne covered your nostrils like a blanket while you shoved your way past and behind the bar, eager to make yourself a drink before getting started tonight.

Pouring a shot of tequila through the glass, taking an easy swig and tapping it back onto the cool slate; a content sigh escaped your lips.

After a few hours of working, cleaning tables and serving drinks, a man walks up to you. His attire classy, a black suit along with a silver tie. His hair slicked back, sophisticated. “ The Penguin wants you in his office. “ The man grumbled sternly. Nodding, you hesitatingly set the bottle of vodka down and walked towards the Penguins office.

Thoughts corrupted your mind into a clueless haze. Of course, you were his favourite worker, but why did he randomly want to see you at this time? Sheepishly, you knocked on the door before intertwining and fiddling with the nails of your thumbs, sighing under your breath and waiting for what felt like an enternity under the gates of Penguins Office doors.

Finally, a muscular sihlouette opened the door before you. Taking in the unwelcoming sight, your brows curved into a disconnected frown after you noticed the scarlett steel layered on the mans face; orbs painted in a bleached clad. You refrained from widening your eyes too much from the illusion displayed upon you, blinking rapidly as you believed your eyes discieved you; attempting to hide the sceptism through your aurburn soul.

Does he know who you are? And all of a sudden you felt as if you weren't the bravest seductress in Gotham, instead, a neusiating ember arose from the heart of your chest, catching fire to your limbs and your delicate spirit. Suffocated with undervalue and engulfed under the weight of the Red Hood, he moved out of the way for another man to stand infront of him.

" Ah— finally, youre here ! " Penguin grinned at you as you lingered around his office while he communicated with the Red Hood. " So.. I.. Uh— Anything you need, sir?" Your voice shuddered, a hint of reluctance in your voice in front of the powerful image. You couldn’t help but dally your gaze every few minutes onto the rugged frame beside him. “Pour me a drink, will ‘ya? I know you make the best, honey. “ The New York accented man spoke, a wink left his eye before he carried on his conversation with Red Hood; never looking back at you.

Complying to his orders, you made your finest cocktail, which happened to be his favourite before handing it to him. A small nod in validation he gave you before going back to his conversation. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t eavesdropping. 3 words stood out to you. “Guns.” “Illegal.” “Shipment.” Your brow raised each time familiar word like those itched your ears, and all you wanted to do was to interfere with Penguins Illegal Gun Shipment. You were eager to hear more of this, hence the reason you were spending longer than needed to clean and put away the glasses.

You were also taking longer than usual because you were attempting to catch longer glances at Red Hood. He’s massive; his toned abs trapped beneath his suit. The back of his shoulders massive, you could tell by the way he sometimes clenches it. And his thighs? They’re plump, but they also look solid, like you’ll be crushed between them if you ever try to suck—

You were getting ahead of yourself, your mind corrupted with arousing thoughts between you and Red Hood. What was it? The way he grabbed your mouth to cover the sound of your voice, and the raspiness of his filling the misty atmosphere? Maybe it was how he trapped you underneath his body against the cold bricks, and the contrasting temperatures between the breeze and his body warmth.

God the things you would do just to taste that man. Just to pin him down, put him at your mercy for once; get him on his knees and beg. Though, you also wanted to beg. Beg for his erotic touch, electrifying against your skin and sparks clinging to your skin.

Maybe you were staring and dreaming for too long, lost in your daze before reality hit.

It was happening tonight. And there was no way you were going to miss it. You could sell those guns, you could make so much money.

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“ is it wrong wrong

that i think it’s kinda fun

when i hit you in the back of the head with a gun? „

You were ready, at the sight. Hopping out of your truck and inching closer to it. There was a lot of shipment men, and a lot of guards at the gates of the scene. And then something else caught your gaze. Red Hood. It’s fine, you’ll be in and out, like no one was ever here. You’ll be sly, like a serpent. He won’t even notice you.

Swiftly making your way past everyone, through the shadows, which sounds oddly familiar, you fall upon the specific gun crates which twinkle your vision. As one of the guards back is turned, you open the crate and take out 2 highly advanced guns, and bolted, grappling to a roof. Sighing in relief, you turned around, just to be greeted by the Red Hood, but he was clearly occupied with.. something.. arguing with one of the guards before the guard eventually gets fed up and struts of. Red hood just scoffs at the action.

You acted quickly, afraid he would take you down and turn you in. Hitting him in the back of the head with the gun, earning a small grunt, and for him to fall unconscious beneath you. Fuck. You couldn’t deny the shot of ecstasy that ran through you, the feeling of sinning but with a spec of thrill.

Your apartment was a few blocks down. Perhaps, you could carry him drag him to your truck, and then up the stairs to your apartment? You know, to avoid him from finding you and beating your ass.

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“ my daddies in the trunk

of his brand new truck „

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. What if he woke up in the trunk? After dragging him into your apartment and avoiding the weird stares from your neighbours, you locked the doors and tied him to your chair with a whip-like rope. Though, the situation was quite ironic since it’s usually him capturing and interrogating criminals like this, you couldn’t help but smirk eagerly to see his helpless reaction.

As he awoke, he glanced around, still in a haze from the sudden attack. “ You…” He muttered, a little muffled from his helmet, which you kept on as you planned to do something soon. A giggle escaped your mouth as you watched him glare up, avoiding the embarrassing position; small grunts leaving his mask as he struggled against the rope.

Red Hood let out a low guttural growl as he watched you stand so proudly, proud to have captured someone so much stronger than you; the sound of pain reverberating through his body. You aimed a gun at the base of his helmet, a threat but you both knew you’d never pull the trigger. A flash of surprise crossed his face. Despite the situation, he chuckled through the pain, clearly entertained by your resistance.

"That.. was a dirty move, doll face." He grunted, before you shook your head. “Stop—“ You order him, authority radiating off of you as you slowly inch closer, the gun still aimed at his head, and you place the metal right onto his helmet. “i’m talking now.”

He raised his hands up as much as he could in surrender, amusement still clear on his face under his mask. The supremacy in your voice and your unwavering stance had caught him off guard, and the sight of you prowling towards him with a gun in hand was more attractive than he cared to admit.

"Alright, alright." He said calmly, a smirk still on his lips. "I'm not speaking. Satisfied?" Even the way he man-spreaded was hot; it took everything in you to not pounce over onto him and suck the soul right out of him. Your cheeks fluttered a soft pink at the thought. He even noticed the way you were peering down at his crotch, and his thighs. Honestly, you didn’t really have much of a plan. You weren’t sure what to do with this tank at your mercy in the middle of your living room.

“I—“ You stammered, thinking of what to say. He just raised a brow at you, you’ve done this before but not to anyone like him. You could never take him in a fight, you could never try and overpower him even if you tried.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” His voice filled with snark and impatience. He had things to do, he was a busy man, and you were stalling him. “I said shut up.” You repeated sternly before preparing your finger on the trigger. You think of something quick, and in that time, your consciousness decides to untie him, the rope falling to the floor but he remained seated, glaring up at you waiting for your next command.

“Get.. Get on your knees. “ You spoke quick, reluctance and hesitation behind your vocals, and you licked your lips in anticipation. His smirk faltered briefly as you ordered him to get on his knees. The thought of actually submitting to you filled him with a mix of irritation and reluctant curiosity. There was something about you in this dominant state that he couldn't quite place, and it made him wonder what you were up to.

Slowly, he begrudgingly obliged, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his eyes still fixed on your face, studying your movements and your shy remarks. He knew you weren’t an amateur in this region, but he you both knew how he could easily pick you up and throw you against the wall if he wanted. You wouldn’t even realise a swift movement that he would do, as he could easily tackle you.

Your heart was beating out of your chest with anticipation. “Now..” Your voice trailed off slyly. “Take that pretty helmet off ‘f me.” He gritted his teeth as you shoved the gun against his skull. The feeling of the cold metal against his helmet sent a jolt through him, adding to the mixture of anger and mild attraction he was feeling. He knew he should be fighting back, but something about your commanding attitude was making him hesitate.

“Absolutely not.” He huffed, even now it was obvious that he had some sort of authority. You just sighed in annoyance, he was supposed to be fearful right now, except he barely even took this situation seriously. “I’m not asking, Red.” You spat through gritted teeth, warning him. His eyes narrowed as you bit your lip, an action that made him feel a mix of annoyance, and something else he couldn't quite place. He could feel himself getting riled up and it was only making things more complicated. He could also sense your impatience and the determination in your voice, but he stood firm on his refusal. “—and i’m not listening.” Stubborn.

You scoffed. “Jesus— i’ll just do it myself.” You mummer little nothings as you were pissed off, before inching closer, forgetting that his hands are free just behind his back as you kneel down enough to be alighed with his mask and you search for the way to take it off. “You seriously can’t be that bad under there, honey.” a soft whisper — Red Hood couldn't help but let out a low rumble of annoyance as you approached him, attempting to remove his mask. Your ignorance to the fact that his hands were free behind his back only added to his irritation, and ignited the burn in his eyes as you bent in front of him, feeling around for a way to undo the mask, he couldn’t help but revel in your naivety.

Unfortunately, he saw this as a chance. And with a swift power move, he tackled you to the rough of the ground, a loud gasp laced with pain left the pale of your lips. He straddled your body, pinning you down with his weight. His hands grabbed your wrists and held them firmly down above your head. His eyes darkened in anger as he stared down at you, breathing heavily. “Pretty things like you never learn." He growled so close to your ear that his breath was fanning onto your fair skin, an almost animalistic roar through his helmet as he was full of rage, and a slight hint of lust.

Soft groans of agony escaped you as you struggled and squirmed beneath him, weighing you down and ruining your chance to be free. Your body rubbed against his as you grunted. He let out a dry scoff as he felt your struggle beneath him. You were feisty and strong, but he was stronger and had been in this exact position plenty of times before. He tightened his grip on your wrists, pinning them harder against the ground as he leaned down closer to your face. “—What's wrong, doll? ..Not used to being the one on the bottom?” He teased, his voice low and raspy, and a little disoriented from his helmet.

“—you wouldn’t be able to handle me on top.” You muttered between sharp inhales as his weight on you took some air out of your lungs. You voice having a snarky edge but also a hint of a cunning tease to it as you narrowed your hazel eyes at him, lashes fluttering. He chuckled again, this time it was different. Your snarky comment making him more amused than annoyed, and ironically creating heat to pool in his stomach. He liked your fire, your determination to keep fighting, even when he had you completely immobilized beneath him.

“Is that so? ” He purred, his face only inches from yours. Despite your situation, your words had only fueled his desire to put you in your place even more. You just hummed at his words as you could barely form words of your own out of your mouth; your chest rising and falling from each hitch. He shifted his weight above you, trying to hide the raging hard-on you were giving him, and he just gazed at your stunned face.

And in that moment, you both felt it — the volt of electricity that ran down your body and through your ultraviolet veins. — Both of your bodies warmth and laced with lust and arousal. You gave into the feeling of need and desire as you melted beneath his touch as he ran a glove-clad hand down your abdomen, the buzz seeping through your latex suit and causing the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck to rise. His hand stopped right at your thigh, edging you onto feeling an ache, the ember igniting in your chest causing gasps to leave your mouth as you accepted the way he leaned in, inhaling your scent.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t realise the way he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom before tossing you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing onto your back as you waited. He turned the lights off, so all that lingered was the soft dim of the billboards and the lighting that struck down as rain trickles onto the glass of your windows.

He must’ve stripped after he turned off the lights because you felt a heavy sink in the bed when he laid on top of you, and the clank of his helmet onto your carpet. You ran your hands down his toned chest. Of course, he felt heavenly, you drew your fingertips and traced the way of each perfect muscle, but just as you were done, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand. He tightened his grip and you winced slightly, though that shot of pain wasn’t from your wrist but from how eager you were to fuck him.

“..I ain’t gonna play nice.” He warned, his real, ragged voice soaking into the air; you took the opportunity of his bare face to interlock your fingers into his locks, earning a small grunt in approval from him. “I’m used to fighting dirty.” You breathed before you pulled him up by his hair, and latched your lips onto his. He tasted different than you expected, sweet and his lips soft, although the hot kiss was aggressive and passionate, eating at eachother’s mouths. He deepened it, sliding his tongue against yours and a light moan flowed from your mouth to inside his, coating his tongue in your hot, shuddering breaths.

You pulled away, filling air into your lungs but just before you could prepare, he leaned in, cupping your chin with his free hand before he wrapped his lips around yours again, this time your teeth colliding and as he pulled away slowly, a string of saliva connected between each of your lips.

After moments of heavy making out, he traced small patterns on your suit, feeling for the zipper before zipping it down. You lifted your stomach up as he sat in between your opened legs, right in between your core as he stripped you bare. You remained in your lace bra and panties and it was unfortunate that he couldn’t see such a sight and you can’t see his true features.

It felt like heaven was having a bubble bath in your stomach as he planted small, open mouth kisses around your neck, each leaving a trail of his saliva. He licked a long stripe from your neck to your ear, nibbling on your delicate skin. “..you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to do this..” he muttered into your skin, gaining a soft moan in agreement, as you admit, you also wanted to do things to him.

His touch felt like it originated from Eden’s garden, his lips creeping down your stomach, sucking and licking at your flesh, knowing there’ll be marks by the morning; the vision sending a jolt down through your body. A sudden fire ignited in your veins and in your limbs, a shot of ecstasy. He could feel the way your body shook and jolted at each touch he laid upon your skin. It only fuelled him.

He reached at your panties, and he pulled it down slowly, slow enough that it made you grunt in impatience. “please..” a low whisper escaped from you, you didn’t even realise what you said, you were lost in the moment. “ patience, baby ” was all he spoke before he spread your thighs wider, his fingers gripping onto your flesh, marking his fingerprints and leaving a surprise for the morning. The scratching of your skin against your blankets filled the air along with the soft grumble of rain hitting against the glass.

A thick finger glided across your puffy folds and a hiss left your mouth in return. You were unethically wet; the slick noises painting the atmosphere. His now wet fingers slithered up your stomach, and through the bridge of your chest, coated in your arousal. He plunged them into your mouth and a “hmmgh..” left your lips.

You willingly allowed the intrusion, fluttering your eyes closed and sliding your tongue around the two thick digits. Cladding them in your saliva, you bobbed your head up and down on them. “ good girl.. yea— get ‘em nice ‘n wet ‘f me..” he trailed off, everything sounding a haze as you continued to suck on his fingers. He pulled them out and ran them up your folds again, before shoving them into your hole unexpectedly.

An erotic gasp echoed through your bedroom walls, and your aching hole squeezed around his fingers, trapping them as soft moans rumbled from the midst of your throat. He continued to plunge his fingers in and out of your pussy, the slick noises and your moans fuelling his admiration. “ love those noises you make..” he breathed into your ear before licking the burning flesh, his tongue tasting the electricity beneath your blood.

You felt yourself reaching your peak when he curled his fingers just right, a bolt of heat shooting out of your lungs. “ mm.. right there..! right there ! “ feeling so surreal, his thick digits fit inside of you like a puzzle; you moaned before he ripped his fingers out, not allowing you to have your release and your orgasm. All you wanted was to paint your bedsheets white, stain them with the mix of both of your juices, all you wanted was for him to have the hottest orgasm of your life. “ wha…?” you breathed when you felt him take his fingers out of you, you felt empty, and you found yourself craving more.

He brung himself up to your lips, so close you could feel his murky hair ticking your forehead, “ not yet, doll. not until you take my cock “ he grunted before he dragged you to the edge of the bed, earning a loud gasp and you to be very confused. He leaned down, and spat a string of saliva onto your folds; the wet sticking to your skin and charging your arousal.

You felt it, it was big. He filled you up so much, you could barely breathe after he aligned himself with your hole and rammed into it without mercy. Euphoric moans from you, and vicious growls and grunts from him arose from his chest, grumbling out of his throat. Tightening his grip on your waist and sliding it down to your thighs. Hearing a man like this was beautiful. His firm grip tightened, squeezing your skin as he felt himself get deeper and deeper, until he bottomed out. Your puffy hole taking him so nice as you felt him sink inside.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders to get a better angle as he thrusted in and out of you, the bulge from his fat cock inside of your stomach visible and his cock hitting places you never knew existed inside of you. Slamming and shooting arousal to form inside of your body.

Re-arranging your insides, he deepened and quickened his pace and your nails scratching at his shoulders and his back, leaving your mark. Your skin slapping against his pelvis and his right hand paved its way to your breast; fiddling with your bra to pull it down before he leaned in to suck and flick at your nipple. As he leaned down, his cock deepened inside of you and another sharp moan existed your throat. “ do ‘ya feel how deep I am inside ‘f you? “ he was so deep and abusing your tight core. he cooed into the skin of your breast, still lapping at the hardened bud and bringing his other hand up to wrap around your throat. You could only nod as you felt his grip around your neck tighten, the feeling was so euphoric. All you wanted was to be chocked by him, to have your airways cut off by this heaven-sent man.

“ f..fuck.. so— so close..” was all you could let out as the figure inside of you bullied himself around your guts. Between sharp breathes, you could hear that he was close. “—You gonna cum for me, baby? Do it. Cum on my cock, doll. “ His mushroom tip twitching inside of you and his teeth scraping onto your skin. That nickname has never sounded sexier as he emphasised how eager he is for you to release yourself on his shaft. He leaned up, to glare at you from below as he watched your face as you painted his cock white, spilling yourself on him soaking the sheets below as he lightly slapped your cheek before holding your chin to glance at him as you release your juices onto the girth of his cock. “ that’s it, baby..”

Your jaw slacked open as the filfiest moan escaped, this had to be your best orgasm as it hit you hard. Even leaving after shocks, your body was jolting, and your breaths have never felt heavier. He wasn’t far behind as he came right inside of you, water colouring your walls with his seed as he gazed at your face when thunder struck outside the windows, a light flare of your facial features on display. And you could quite make out his piercing emerald orbs, along with his coal hair.

A pornographic groan of pleasure exited his lips and his head fell onto your neck, laying lazy kisses and inhaling your raw scent. All you could do was trace your nails on his neck, drawing small circles and shapes as he lifted you up against the headboard, laying between your things and cherishing your chest and collarbones. The soft gesture was contrasting with how he acted a few seconds ago, ruining your hole, and also with his whole Red Hood persona. This was someone different.

Your fingers lingered on the back of his neck, and slowly slithered down to his broad shoulders and you feel where you left scratches and marks. A small giggle erupting from your throat. “ what’s so funny there, doll-face ? “ he sounded so worn out, and exhausted from how he let go all inside of you. “ oh..nothing, baby,” you chuckled as you played with his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and you could hear the soft almost purr like noises he was making, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “ you’re pretty hot.” you admit, earning an eyebrow raise from him. “ ..that so?” he breathed, unimpressed before he was tackled around, now he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him, pinning his arms beside his head by interlocking your fingers.

Normally, he would be annoyed at such a lack of dominance he holds. But he’s in such vulnerable state, coming down from his high so he just parts his lips, unable to form the snarky words he desired. “—uh oh.. cat caught your tongue?” you don’t know what has gotten into you, you could tell he was completely lost in the situation, but you were feeling more energetic and eager for a round 2. You were grinding bare skin on skin against his, stroking your clit against his lower stomach, right above his pelvis, and you could feel his dick getting hard beneath you. Snaking a long patch of your mixed juices, you leaned in to plant a warm kiss on his chest, and you traced a heart against his fragile skin.

His hips jolted lightly before a low murmur arose from his chest. “..you know how this’ll end baby.” you hummed in response. “ i could easily flip you over right now, and take you again. and again. and again. until your neighbours recognise every slap of our skin, and memorise our moans by heart. “ he growled, though it was low, it was powerful, and it was hot. You felt a not so foreign heat pool inside your stomach again, and it only encouraged you to keep going, to keep rilling him up again.

“..but you won’t.” you ordered before licking a stripe up from his neck to his throat. ironic. and a rugged moan departed from him, which made you ache to make him feel real good. You ached to do everything you imagined in Penguins office, to him. You lowered yourself, kissing above his belly button and tracing his abs with the wet of your tongue. You nestled between his thighs, pecking sweetly at his happy trail, short gasps from him.

It was surprising to know how hot it was to have so much dominance over a man like Red Hood, especially in a state like this. You continued down until you felt the hard base of his shaft, bringing your hand up to it and slowly rubbing it, and taking your lips to press a tiny kiss on the tip. “..stop playin’ games ‘w me “ he groans lightly when he feels the tease of your lips against his fragile tip; feeling impatient as you took your time to pleasure him.

He glared down at you, and although the scene was dark, he could slightly make out the way you both stared at each other before he nodded in approval. You wanted to take his whole dick into your mouth, but before that, you wanted to tease him a little. So, you took the base of his cock and stroked slow strokes before spitting down onto it, saliva rolling down and seeping into his cock and landing on his balls.

Your ears weren’t deceiving you when you heard soft moans and whimpers come out of him and you scoffed at how ironic this was, and how vulnerable he could be when getting his dick sucked; the warmth of your breath sending chills down his skin. Your hand played with the soft of his balls, massaging them as his head flew back, moulding into the pillows under him and you finally took his dick down your throat. He placed his hands upon your head, making a makeshift ponytail out of your hair before slamming your head down onto his cock and guiding you. Unable to beneath, your noise colliding with his pelvis and rough chokes left your mouth.

His cock was girthy, thick and long. Though you couldn’t properly see it, you could feel the single vein that ran along the side. He pulled your head back, landing a slap to your cheek and a tight grip on your chin while he allowed you to breathe; both of your sharp breathes ricocheted through the air. The pouring rain outside added to the chaotic harmony and you leaned down to lick a stripe along the vein of his bulging cock, earning sighs in pleasure.

Without warning, he shoved your head back down onto his cock and you bobbed your head up and down,feeling the bulge in your throat while his was chest rising and falling with each thrust of your lips. Your lips wrapped around it, sucking the soul out of his spirit as an ember of arousal burned through your eyes. Picking up the pace, you could tell he was close by the way he jolted and shuddered, stammering nothings into the room. “..that’s it— keep— keep goin’..” “jus’ take it, all ‘f it. “ whilst you choked on his girth; spit collecting at the side of your mouth and dripping onto his thighs.

You used your hands to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and he let you up for air before slamming you down again, and again, and again, until eventually the wire in him snapped and a pathetic whimper left him, you glared up, allowing him to see the mess he made inside of your mouth and on your face. All of his juices milked onto you, and you took your fingers to wipe yourself and your mouth before licking them clean with your tongue.

“..what was that about being on top, honey ?” you teased, referring to your comment earlier, and how he couldn’t handle you being on top, clearly from his pathetic moans he was unleashing when you sucked the spirit right out of him. “—Shut.. up..” he grumbled, attempting to assert but it came out shaken, the opposite of what he wanted. You chuckled in response and found yourself laying on him, and he was engulfed in your scent.

Your sweaty skins sticking together, but you sort of felt at peace. Resting your face into his neck, both of your eyes fluttered shut, and you wrapped your arms around his body, his around your waist, pulling you closer, trapping you in the erotic heat.

You two were only like this for a few minutes before he got up, leaving you on the bed glaring up at the figure who was putting his clothes back on. “ You leavin’? “ you asked in a huff, but he didn’t respond. “ Red..?”

“..yea. I think— I should go. ” his voice had a hint of reluctance as you heard the sound of clothes being put on, and his helmet shoved onto his head. “okay..” you nodded, sounding a little on edge by his sudden urge to leave, knowing you two were enemies and leaving you sitting on the bed and feeling a need to push the duvet up to cover yourself. you knew he was a busy man, but in this moment, you wanted nothing more than to hold him tight in your arms, listening to the soothing patterns of his breaths as you two fell asleep together. “.. i didn’t.. see your face if that’s what you’re worried about.” you called out as you could see the figure disappear into the shadow, opening the door and standing in the doorframe.

Your lips parted as you heard the thuds of his boots to your front door, and the slam of it closing. Shit.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

Part 3 ?? ☺️

[sanguineterrain]

hello! are requests open? 😅 i’d like to request for a drabble with a newlywed jason and yn if so!

sure thing! short and sweet <3 jason todd x gn!reader. newlywed fluff.

****

"Okay, toaster from Wade and Logan. Keep or give away?"

"Who the fuck are Wade and Logan?" Jason asks, upside down on the couch. His tie and suit jacket are gone, two buttons on his shirt undone.

"Dunno. I think Roy invited them."

Jason sighs. "Give away. Why did people give us so many toasters?"

You both look at the four toaster boxes in front of you.

"Maybe it's the fashionable thing to have toasters in every room," you say.

You put the fifth toaster in the pile. You didn't even have a toaster on the registry.

"We should give them their toasters back when they get married," Jason says.

"That would be extremely funny, and I'm always ready to commit to the bit."

"I know. 'S why I married you."

That makes you giddy. You look at the ring on your left hand.

"Dude, I can't believe you actually married me," you say.

"I can't believe you're calling me 'dude.' Did I marry a frat boy?"

You grin at Jason. "I love you, man."

"Ridiculous. Gimme my ring back."

"Nope!" You slide to the floor and sit criss-crossed in front of Jason. He folds his arms. You kiss him, mouths slotting oddly due to him being upside down.

You pull away. "No take-backsies."

"Curses!" Jason shakes his fist. "Beaten by the take-backsies rule once again."

You shrug. "I guess you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

"Guess so."

He rolls onto his side, so he's lying on the couch properly. He leans in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss with all your might. Jason tugs you up onto the couch so you're atop him. You sit up on your knees, straddling his stomach. You take his left hand.

"Dude, you look really hot in this wedding ring," you say.

"Not as hot as you, babe."

"Way hotter," you say and suck his neck. Jason holds you steady with a hand on the small of your back.

"Tryin' t'maul me? Thank God pictures are done." He doesn't push you away, not even a little.

"Marriage turns me on, broski. I love a man who'll enter a legal contract with me."

"You're a freak," Jason says. "I love you."

You sit up and grin. "I love you too, J.T. Morgan."

He pulls a face. "That's worse than broski."

"Is it, though?"

"It's actually the worst thing I've ever been called," Jason says, deadpan. "My first day as your husband and I'm already being bullied."

"I was bullying you way before you became my husband, J-dog."

"Now you're just saying anything."

"Fine." You lean in so close that your perception warps, and Jason's face looks like it's in a fish-eye camera. "How 'bout I call you pretty boy?"

"Hm." He shifts the way he does when he's getting flustered. "I'll allow it."

"Sweet boy? Angel? Honey bunches? Handsome? Love of my life?"

He clears his throat. "Any of those will do fine, yeah."

You grin and kiss his cheek, watching as Jason pulls that soft, shy smile. The same smile he gave you when you said "I do." You'll never forget it.

You snuggle into his chest. Jason wraps his arms around you, throwing a leg over yours.

"What about the gifts?" he asks.

You shrug. "They can wait. Right now, I'm spending quality time with my husband."

His arms tighten around you. "Now that's a name I'll definitely never get tired of being called."

[strangepoppy]

Aw, he is so cute 🥺

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes while Tim has sat atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges into the room, past them and onto the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

But it’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He secretly wouldn’t really mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stayed behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason keeps his head down as he blindly reaches for the spoon in his cereal and chucks it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[ahqkas]

♯ I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MY DAD . . . for teaching me everything he knows ( dick grayson & jason todd as dads ! )

— fem!reader as mom, fluff, not edited, based on this req.!!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

dick was always great with kids; his natural warmth, patience, and humor made him a magnet for them, even before he became a father. he often thought back to his days as robin, remembering how bruce wayne took him in and gave him stability, and he wanted to offer that same feeling ( and definitely more ) to his children.

when you two first talked about having kids, he was equal parts excited and nervous about it. dick worried about balancing family life with his vigilante responsibilities, but he couldn’t wait to start a family with you. he knew that no matter what, you’d face it together

your first child, a boy, inherits your husband’s bright energy and natural charisma. from the moment your son was born, dick was a hands-on dad. midnight feedings? no problem. diaper changes? a breeze ( well, almost ). he approached fatherhood the same way he approached everything else—with passion and a healthy dose of humor

he’s not just the dad who builds the coolest blanket forts or makes pancakes shaped like bats; he’s the dad who listens, encourages, and shows up, no matter how tired he might be after a long night of patrol. even when exhaustion clings to him like a second skin, his kids come first. if his son wants to show him the new drawing he made, dick will sit down and marvel at it as if it belongs in a gallery. if his daughter has a nightmare, he’s at her bedside in seconds, stroking her hair and whispering how she’s okay and nothing’s gonna hurt her while he’s here until she drifts back to sleep

he’s the dad who remembers every detail about his kids’ lives—their favorite bedtime stories, their least favorite vegetables, the songs that make them smile—and makes sure they feel seen and heard every single day. when he’s with them, he’s fully present, setting aside his worries about blüdhaven or the weight of his world. to them, he’s not nightwing; he’s just dad, their safe place, the person they know will always be there no matter what

he teaches your son how to ride a bike, holding the seat steady as those wobbly first attempts make an appearance. “you’ve got this!” dick encourages his son, jogging beside him. when the first scrape happens—knees meeting pavement in a blur of surprise and pain—he’s there in an instant, crouching down with the kind of gentle urgency only a dad can master

his strong arms wrap around his son in a hug that says, i’ve got you, even as tears well up in the young eyes. he’s quick with jokes to soothe the sting, brushing dirt and pebbles off tiny palms. “hey, you know what? you’re officially a biker now. all the pros have scars to prove it.”

it doesn’t matter if he’s running on just a few hours of sleep or if his legs are sore from the night before. he’ll stay on that sidewalk all afternoon if it means helping his son find the courage to get back on the bike

when your daughter is born, it’s as if a new light ignites in dick’s heart, one that’s softer and warmer than anything he’s ever felt before. from the moment he holds her—tiny, delicate, and swaddled in pastel pink—he’s utterly smitten by the baby. his breath catches in his throat as her little fingers curl instinctively around one of his. it’s the smallest thing, but to him, it’s everything. he gazes at her with an awe that rivals the first time he stood under a gotham sunrise after a long patrol as robin

every little thing she does—every yawn, every sleepy coo, even the way she scrunches her nose—melts him completely. he’s the first to volunteer for late-night feedings, cradling her against his chest while whispering soft lullabies. “it’s okay, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if the sound of it alone could shield her from the world

she’s the spitting image of you, but she’s got dick’s sense of curiosity and mischief. as she grows, it’s clear she’s a daddy’s girl through and through. dick spoils her with affection, often carrying her on his shoulders or letting her “style” his hair, even if it means showing up to patrol with hair ties

she’s the one who always convinces him to stay for “just one more bedtime story,” and dick can never say no to those puppy eyes. he does all the voices, acting out scenes with a dramatic flair that leaves her giggling uncontrollably

family movie nights are a regular occurrence. dick lets the kids pick the movie, even if it means sitting through the same animated film for the fifth time. he doesn’t mind—he’s just happy to have everyone snuggled up together

. . . JASON TODD !

jason never thought he’d be a dad. gotham wasn’t kind to kids, and in his darker moments, he felt like it had swallowed the boy he used to be whole. he worried his own traumas—nights spent cold and hungry on the streets, the ache of betrayal, the sting of abandonment—might cast shadows over the kind of father he’d want to be. how could he teach love and trust when his world had been built on survival and second chances?

the thought of holding a child, so small and fragile, scared him more than any villain ever could. what if he didn’t have it in him to be the kind of dad they deserved? what if his sharp edges cut too deep, or worse, he failed to protect them from the city that had failed him? jason had spent so long fighting his way through life that the idea of creating a safe, warm space for someone else felt like trying to plant flowers in a wasteland. and yet, the thought of building something good—something untouchable by gotham’s darkness—stirred a longing in him he couldn’t ignore.

when you told him you were pregnant with your first child, he was stunned silent for a solid minute. then came the slight tremble in his hands as he cradled your face and whispered, “we’re really doing this?” you swore you saw tears in his eyes, though he’d deny it later

he threw himself into preparing for fatherhood. between patrols, you’d catch him reading baby books, jotting down notes in that same serious way he planned missions. ( “what the hell is a diaper genie, baby? is it a genie for diapers, or does it genie them away?” )

when your first daughter was born, jason held her for the first time with an awe. he whispered promises to her, things like, “you’ll never go through what i did,” and “i’m gonna give you the world, princess.”

jason’s daughters own him. his rough, serious ide of personality melts into a puddle of mush when they so much as giggle at him. one pouty face, and he’s done for

when they’re little, he becomes a human jungle gym. they’ll climb all over him, pull on his hair, and stick stickers all over his face while he sits patiently, letting them “decorate” him. ( “you’re turning me into a unicorn, huh? cool. just don’t let your mom take pictures—too late? figures.” )

as they grow, he keeps a close eye on everything, from their friends to the neighborhoods they walk through. he’s not overbearing but has serious dad-radar. if they so much as mention a creepy guy or a mean teacher, he’s all, “do i need to handle this? no? you sure? okay, but say the word.”

by age eight, they’ve both mastered basic self-defense, thanks to “daddy’s fun time karate sessions.” he makes it a game—lots of laughter and encouragement—but underneath it, he’s deadly serious

when they’re older, he teaches them how to change a tire, handle their own money, and, much to your exasperation, how to throw a punch. ( “jason, they don’t need to know how to disarm a grown man at ten years old!” “baby, it’s gotham. yes, they do.” )

he’s the kind of dad who makes pancake breakfasts on weekends, complete with smiley faces and way too much syrup

on father’s day, his daughters surprise him with handmade cards every year. jason’s tough demeanor cracks every time he reads their scrawled messages: “daddy, you’re my hero.”

and jason as a father to teenage girls? lord, help us all.

when his eldest goes on her first date, he plays it cool—for all of two seconds. he grills the poor kid with subtle threats hidden behind a charming smile. ( “so, you like my daughter? good. treat her right, or you’ll have a real bad night. understand?” )

you have to remind him not to tail them when they go out. “jason, they’ll know you’re following them.” “i’ll stay a block behind. they’ll never see me.”

but despite his overprotectiveness, he’s their anchor during tough times. when they experience their first heartbreaks, he is there with hugs, ice cream, and the kind of pep talks that make them laugh through their tears. “anyone who doesn’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth crying over. you’re the todd girl. we don’t settle for less.”

deep down, jason worries about failing them. he knows what it’s like to lose everything, and the thought of his girls experiencing even a fraction of that makes his stomach churn

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Unsatisfied ♤

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A lil self-indulgent Jason drabble to get back into writing this cutie <3

NSFW under the cut.

《Content》: PiV, toys, implied usage of antidepressants, Jason being a sweetheart and boyfie of the year 💋

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The room was filled with the sounds of sex, the air thick, hanging over your naked bodies like a suffocating fog.

You were grabbing at the sheets, your face scrunched up in pleasure while moans and mewsl of ecstasy tumbled from your lips. Jason was grinding his hips against yours, dragging his cock in and out of you, leaving a him-shaped hole.

Every vein and ridge rubbed against your velveteen walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your bead while your lover was panting above you, his arm straining while he continued to hold a buzzing vibrator to your clit.

He groaned, his head thrown back, sweat dripping from his temples. His pink lower lip was caught between his pearly teeth.

"Fuck, you f-feel heavenly.." Jason moaned, a strangled sound as you clenched around him.

The pleasure melted your bones, leaving you pliant for him. It felt like your brain was oozing out of your ears, your eyes glazed over with a distant look glistening within them.

He noticed, leaning over you to gently tap your cheek.

"You with me, baby?" He panted, not stopping the movement of his hips.

Your eyes were half-lidded as you nodded at him.

"Yeah.." you said quietly, sinking into the mattress at the pure euphoria boiling in your veins.

"Good.." He breathed, planting one of his big hands on the soft fat of your tummy, your chub spilling through his fingers.

The sight made him groan while he used it as new found leverage to pull you back onto his cock. The toy was still relentlessly buzzing on your bundle of nerves, a moan getting getting caught in your throat when Jason turned it up a setting.

"Are you gonna come for me, princess?" He asked lowly, attaching his mouth to your pulse point.

"Mhm!" You nodded, the all too familiar prickling of your orgasm crawling up every nerve in all your limbs.

The feeling bundled in your core, and you melted into Jason's embrace, waiting for the high to strike you like lightning.

But it never happened. All of a sudden, the sensation faded in an instant, like a bubble that was popped.

All your limbs felt like now was heavy, the coil building up in the pits of your belly gone. There was nothing as you desperately tried to clutch at every bit of pleasure that remained.

The buzzing of the vibrator dulled, and you were left with a deep itch that couldn't be scratched.

"No, no, no, no..." You whined in frustration, tears stinging in your eyes as you threw an arm over your face in hopes of hiding your shame.

"Those fucking pills.." you snarled.

Jason stopped immediately. A deep crease of worry between his brows as he turned off the toy and pulled out of you, no regard for his own satisfaction.

"What's wrong, baby? What happened?" He panted, gently rubbing his thumb along your side.

You stayed quiet, pressing your palms into your eyes with a defeated sigh that was closer to a sob.

"I can't-... I don't feel anything." You admitted quietly, frustrated with yourself.

"What do you mean?" He asked, sitting back on his haunches.

Your lip trembled as you rolled onto your side.

"It's all numb, I-... I can't feel anything. I was so close and then... it just went away." You explained, your voice cracking.

Jason's eyes widened slightly.

"You mean your-"

"Yes!"

You cut him off with a sniffle, embarrassment burning in your cheeks.

Your face was hidden in the blanket, so all you could hear was shuffling, but soon enough, you were pulled into his gentle embrace, held tightly to his chest.

"It's okay. Stuff like that happens sometimes." He spoke softly, a hand rubbing up and down your back in a comforting manner.

"I know... it's just so annoying and frustrating." You replied quietly, wiping at your teary eyes.

"My clit goes numb and the high just fizzles out... I'm always left unsatisfied."

Jason hummed, stroking over your hair with care. Like so many times before, your body had failed you.

"I'm sorry. I ruined the whole thing and-"

the words got stuck in your throat and fresh tears managed to blurr your vision.

Your hand reached between the both of you, searching for his slick cock so at least one of you could walk away from this with some gratification. He quickly caught your wrist and tucked it to his chest.

"Don't even think about it." He said firmly, a sincere look in his teal eyes.

"But-"

"Shush. I don't wanna hear it. You didn't ruin anything, okay, sweetheart? Look at me."

His voice turned soft, and all you could do was meet his gaze. His hand gently cupped your cheek, the rough, calloused pad of his thumb stroking over the soft skin of your face.

"You did nothing wrong, you hear me? Nothing." He stated.

You nodded slightly, nuzzling into his palm.

"We can just lay here. I'll hold you for as long as you need."

"But what about-"

"Shhh, Shh. I don't need anything but you in my arms, doll." Jason muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

With a sigh, you let your eyes fall shut and snuggle into the warmth radiating off his body.

It was a much needed break with lots of sincere and mumbled reassurances from Jason before he broke the peaceful silence.

"D'you wanna try again?" He asked gently, quietly, with a small smile.

You returned a smile and nodded.

"I do."

You watched as his smile morphed into a wide grin.

"Let's try something else, yeah? Come on, sit on my face, pretty girl."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Aka my love-hate relationship with my antidepressants <3

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @arkhamknightscxnt @allysunny @hellonheels-x @gaozorous-rex-blog

Lmk if you wanna be added! (Jason Todd, Dick Grayson and Bale!Bruce Wayne)

[aninnai]

this was so hot but so sweet at the same time i love it

Keep It Down

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…

Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(

Word count: 1k

======

It was all quiet pants and silent tears. 

The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening. 

You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce… 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started. 

He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin. 

Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth. 

As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine. 

“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter. 

Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..” 

Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve… 

Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.

Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down. 

Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…

You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again. 

Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears. 

“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own. 

“As if, you were loud as hell.”

“Shut up…”

[l0vergirls]

imagine being arkham knight!jason todd's signifcant other and getting special treatment during the longest night of your life.

being the first person he found before everything, laying down his plans to you, insisting you see what he's planning on doing, before giving you two choices: stay with him, or leave the city.

he tries to hide the sigh of relief he lets out after you choose to stay with him. you, who saw the intensity of what's to come, chose to stay with him.

"i'm not losing you again," you said, and he sure as hell wasn't about to lose you either.

above looking for the batman, his men were told to always make sure you hadn't a scratch on you, or the consequences would be dire. the very few who chose to speak up against it weren't heard from for the rest of the night.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 2

Summary: He didn't expect to see someone like you. It was annoying at first, you were annoying. But he don't know when it start to change. Maybe this feeling was there since the day you smiled at him for the first time...

Warning: Teenagers in love ig?

Notes: This part is Jason's memories. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Wayne Manor was too much. Too big, too clean, too quiet. Jason hated it. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself as he followed Bruce through the front doors.

It wasn’t just the size of the place that bothered him. It was everything. The warmth that lingered in the air, like someone actually lived here instead of just passing through. The way the walls didn’t feel like they were pressing in on him, like they used to in the cramped, crumbling apartment he used to call home.

Jason’s fists clenched inside his jacket pockets as he stepped further inside, his boots scuffing against the polished floor. He didn’t belong here.

He kept his head down, unwilling to meet Bruce’s eyes. This was temporary. A rich guy playing charity case with some kid from Crime Alley—nothing more. Jason wasn’t about to let himself get comfortable.

Then he saw her.

She was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her elbows resting on her knees, like she’d been waiting. Her head tilted slightly when she noticed him, and then she smiled.

It wasn’t the kind of smile Jason was used to. Not the fake ones people forced because they had to. This one was different. It was warm, reaching her eyes in a way that made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably.

“This is Jason,” Bruce said, his voice calm and steady as he rested a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “He’ll be staying with us.”

Jason stiffened under Bruce’s touch, his eyes flicking back to her. She stood, her movements light and unhurried, and walked toward him. Not too fast, not too slow. Just enough to make him feel like she wasn’t trying to crowd him.

When she stopped, she was close enough for Jason to see the brightness in her eyes. She looked at him like she actually saw him—not the kid from the streets, not the screw-up. Just… him.

“Hi, Jason,” she said, her voice soft and easy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jason stared at her outstretched hand. He didn’t move.

Why was she looking at him like that? Like she meant it? No one ever did that. No one ever meant it.

He almost turned away, almost muttered something rude just to get her to stop looking at him like that. Sweet, kind people like her—they never stuck around. They never meant it.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t pull her hand away. She just stood there, waiting, her head tilting slightly as if she were trying to figure him out.

Jason’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like her. Or maybe he didn’t like the way she made him feel, like she’d cracked open a part of him he’d long since buried.

But he didn’t want to seem rude either—not when she was just standing there, smiling at him like he was worth something. So, reluctantly, he reached out and shook her hand.

Her hand was soft. Warm. It felt strange against his, like it didn’t belong to the same world he came from.

“You’re going to love it here,” she said, her voice sure and steady.

Jason wanted to scoff, to tell her she didn’t know anything about him or what he’d been through. But when he looked at her, at the way her eyes shone like she truly believed what she was saying, the words caught in his throat.

“Yeah. Sure,” he muttered, pulling his hand back quickly.

She didn’t seem bothered by his tone. If anything, her smile grew wider. It was disarming in a way Jason hated—because it made him want to believe her.

“I’ll show him around!” she said, glancing back at Bruce before looking at Jason again.

Jason almost protested. He didn’t need a tour, and he definitely didn’t need her looking at him like that—like he wasn’t just another lost cause. But when she turned back to him, her eyes still warm, still full of something Jason didn’t recognize, he found himself hesitating.

“Come on,” she said, motioning for him to follow her.

Jason trailed behind her, his hands shoved back into his jacket pockets. He didn’t trust her, not yet. But there was something about the way she walked, the way she turned back to glance at him like she actually cared, that made him want to trust her.

And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Jason didn’t feel like he was completely alone.

Jason didn’t laugh. Not really. Not anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had—not since before his mom died, maybe even before that. Laughter felt like something from another life, a luxury reserved for people who didn’t have to scrape by every day just to survive.

But somehow, she managed to change that.

They were sitting in the den. Bruce had called it a “common area,” but Jason couldn’t help thinking of it as some kind of museum with its pristine furniture and towering shelves of books. He didn’t belong here, and he felt it with every fiber of his being.

She didn’t seem to notice, though. She’d plopped down on the carpet next to him with a grin, cross-legged like they were at some middle school hangout and not in a billionaire’s mansion. She’d been talking, her words bubbling out as she shared some ridiculous story about a squirrel that had stolen Alfred’s tea biscuits earlier that day.

At first, Jason barely listened. He was used to tuning people out, especially when they were as chipper as she was. But her voice had a way of pulling him in, light and warm.

“And then Alfred’s standing there with the broom,” she was saying, her eyes wide with faux dramatics, “like he’s about to duel the squirrel. I swear, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She mimicked Alfred’s stiff posture and the way he’d apparently shouted, “Out, you fiend!” at the tiny intruder. Her voice cracked at the end, and she doubled over laughing, her shoulders shaking with pure joy.

Jason couldn’t help it. The corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little at first, almost unnoticeable, but then her laugh hit him—a bright, contagious sound that echoed in the big, quiet room. Before he knew it, he let out a soft chuckle.

He tried to stop himself, but she noticed. Her head snapped up, and she gasped like she’d just discovered buried treasure.

“Was that a laugh?” she asked, pointing at him. “Did Jason Todd just laugh?”

Her mock-serious tone and exaggerated expression did something to him. The chuckle turned into a quiet laugh, and then it built—small and hesitant, like it wasn’t used to being there. She gasped again, clutching her chest like she was witnessing a miracle, and that was it.

Jason lost it.

He laughed harder than he had in years, his head tipping back as his chest heaved. It wasn’t a controlled laugh, either—it was wild, raw, and unfiltered. Tears pricked his eyes, and he tried to wipe them away, but every time he looked at her, still wide-eyed and grinning, it started all over again.

She didn’t even know what she’d done to make him laugh, which only made it funnier. She started laughing too, a little confused but clearly enjoying it.

“Jason!” she managed to get out between giggles. “What—what’s so funny?”

“I don’t even—” he tried, but the words were swallowed by another round of laughter.

Jason’s sides hurt, his cheeks ached, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the heavy weight he always carried. He felt… light.

When they finally calmed down, she was lying back on the carpet, staring at the ceiling with a big, goofy smile on her face. Jason was sitting up, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes, his breath still uneven.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Do what?” she asked, rolling onto her side to face him.

He didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t tell her what he was really thinking—that she’d made him feel human again, even if just for a moment. That her laughter had warmed something inside him he’d thought was frozen solid.

Instead, he smirked and said, “Make a complete idiot out of yourself.”

She gasped, pretending to be offended, and tossed a pillow at him. But he caught the twinkle in her eyes, the way her smile lingered even as she rolled her eyes at him.

Jason didn’t laugh often. But now, sitting there with her, he thought maybe it was okay to let himself feel something good every once in a while.

“C’mon, Jaybird,” she said, her voice low and mischievous. “We’re ditching Bruce tonight.”

Jason froze mid-step, glancing toward where Bruce had gone, his figure already disappearing into the darkness. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, tugging on his arm before leaping to the next rooftop. “Follow me!”

He didn’t know why he listened—maybe it was the way she said his name, like it was the only thing that mattered in that moment. Maybe it was the sheer audacity of ditching the Big Bad Bat himself. Or maybe it was just her.

Jason followed her, her laughter trailing behind her like music as she led him through Gotham’s skyline. They landed in a quiet corner of the city, far from the chaos, where a small ice cream cart sat under a flickering streetlight.

“Seriously?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed him a cone.

“Seriously,” she said, already taking a bite of hers. “Even vigilantes deserve ice cream.”

He rolled his eyes but took a bite anyway, the cold sweetness melting on his tongue. It was stupid, he thought, standing there in his Robin suit, eating ice cream like a kid. But when she smiled at him, all he could do was smile back.

They walked a little farther, finding a spot on a hill overlooking the city. Fireworks were bursting in the distance, painting the night sky with flashes of color. She plopped down on the grass, patting the spot beside her.

Jason sat, feeling oddly out of place in the quiet. His lips twitched into a small smile, and he glanced at her, unsure what to say. Her face was close, too close, and before he could think of something snarky to deflect, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes widened. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it.

He didn’t know what to do. She was so close, and her warmth seeped through his suit, chasing away the chill of the Gotham night. It wasn’t like she was heavy—she fit perfectly there, like she belonged.

Jason swallowed hard, staring at the fireworks as they burst in bright reds and golds. His mind was racing, but for once, the chaos in his head didn’t feel so loud.

He liked this. He liked her.

“You’re blushing,” she teased softly, her voice carrying a hint of laughter.

“Am not,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away.

She tilted her head, looking up at him. Even in the faint glow of the fireworks, her smile was radiant. “You know, you’ve got really pretty eyes, Jaybird.”

Jason’s heart stuttered. Pretty. No one had ever called him that. He didn’t know what to say, so he just smiled, the corners of his lips quirking up despite himself.

Her voice broke through his thoughts, soft and full of affection. “You’re smiling, Jaybird.”

Jason hadn’t even realized he was. He let out a quiet chuckle. “Guess I am.”

He looked back at the sky, the fireworks reflecting in his wide green eyes. They were beautiful, he thought, but not as beautiful as the girl leaning on his shoulder.

It was beautiful. It was warm. It was lovely.

Just like her.

For the first time in forever, Jason felt like he could just exist, no walls, no armor. Just a boy sitting under the stars, sharing a moment with someone who made the world feel a little less cruel.

And for that, he was grateful.

Jason’s knuckles ached as he drove his fist into yet another thug’s face. He could hear Bruce’s gruff voice somewhere behind him, barking orders like usual, but he wasn’t paying much attention. The adrenaline was too loud in his ears.

She was right beside him, quick and agile, taking down opponents with ease. Jason always marveled at how graceful she was in a fight—like it was a dance she’d perfected long ago.

But then, suddenly, she wasn’t there.

It happened so fast Jason didn’t even notice at first. He swung at another thug, but when he turned to check on her, she was gone.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Batgirl?” he called out, scanning the chaos around him. His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t care. “Where are you?”

Bruce was still fighting, his focus unbroken, but Jason couldn’t ignore the knot forming in his stomach. She wouldn’t just leave. She never left.

“Batgirl!” he shouted again, louder this time.

Nothing.

Panic surged through him as he darted between the scattered thugs, his eyes darting to every shadow, every corner. What if something had happened to her? What if she was hurt—or worse?

His chest tightened.

“Dammit, where are you?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the fight.

And then, out of nowhere, she appeared.

Jason froze, his breath catching in his throat as he looked up. She was descending from above, hanging upside down from a rope like some kind of acrobat. Her mask couldn’t hide the playful grin on her face.

“Looking for me, Jaybird?” she teased, her voice light and carefree, as if she hadn’t just given him a heart attack.

Before he could respond, she leaned down and kissed him.

Jason’s eyes widened, his brain short-circuiting as her lips pressed against his. It was quick and unexpected, and his face went red hot in an instant.

When she pulled back, she was still grinning. Jason, on the other hand, was a mess.

“What the—why—what were you thinking?” he stammered, his voice an awkward mix of anger and embarrassment. His cheeks burned, and he could feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears.

She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his heart race even faster. “Oh, calm down, Jaybird. It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?!” he spluttered, glaring at her through his blush. “You—you can’t just—”

He reached up to push her away gently, still too flustered to think straight. But as soon as his hand touched her shoulder, the rope snapped.

Jason’s heart dropped.

“Y/N!” he shouted, reaching for her, but she was already falling.

She hit the ground with a thud, and Jason was beside her in an instant, his hands hovering over her like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry! Dammit, I didn’t mean to—are you hurt?” he rambled, his voice filled with worry.

She winced but gave him a crooked smile. “I’m fine, Jaybird. Just bruised my pride a little.”

Before he could argue, she leaned up and kissed him again. This time, Jason didn’t freeze.

He kissed her back.

It was clumsy and hesitant, but it was real. Her lips were warm and soft, and for a moment, the chaos of the world around them faded away.

When she pulled back, she was smirking again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, did you like it?”

Jason groaned, his blush returning with full force. “Shut up,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at her.

But even as he helped her up, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. Bruce could handle everything else for now. Jason was exactly where he wanted to be.

The city stretched out before them, Gotham's endless sprawl of flickering lights and distant sirens. Jason liked it up here on the rooftops, where everything below felt a little less suffocating. The air was cooler, and the stars—hidden as they were by the smog—still seemed to fight to peek through.

She sat beside him, knees hugged to her chest, her mask discarded so she could feel the breeze. Jason was talking, half-joking about how one of the Joker’s goons had slipped on a banana peel during their last fight. His voice carried a rare lightness, a softness that only came out when they were alone like this.

“You should’ve seen his face,” Jason said with a grin. “It was like he’d just realized his whole life was one big punchline. Priceless.”

He chuckled to himself, but then he noticed she wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t even looking at the city. Her gaze was fixed on him, a soft smile tugging at her lips, her eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite place.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s with that look?”

Her smile faltered just a little, but the warmth in her eyes didn’t fade. She took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for something. “I love you.”

Jason froze.

Her words hung in the air, delicate and powerful all at once. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. His brain stalled, caught between disbelief and a rush of emotions he couldn’t quite name.

“I—” she stammered, her cheeks flushing as she looked away. “I didn’t mean to just—forget I said anything. That was stupid, I—”

Jason reached out and grabbed her hand, his grip firm but careful, stopping her mid-sentence. She looked back at him, her eyes wide and uncertain, and he turned toward her fully.

“We’re going to get married,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on hers.

Her mouth opened slightly, confusion flashing across her face. “W-What?”

“I said, we’re going to get married,” Jason repeated, dead serious. His jaw was set, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, she just stared at him, her lips parted in surprise. “Jason, that’s not—you can’t just say stuff like that—”

“You love me,” he interrupted, his voice softening, though his grip on her hand didn’t waver. “And I…” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “I love you too. So yeah. We’re getting married.”

She blinked at him, her face caught between disbelief and something he couldn’t quite name. And then, to his surprise, she laughed.

It started as a quiet chuckle but quickly grew into something brighter, freer, filling the cool night air. Jason couldn’t help it—he laughed too, the tension breaking as the sound bubbled up from his chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice still tinged with laughter.

“You’re the one who said it first,” Jason shot back, his lips quirking into a smirk.

She shook her head, her smile wide and unguarded as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “You scared the hell out of me for a second.”

“Good,” Jason said, though there was no edge to his words. His grip on her hand softened, and his thumb brushed against her knuckles almost absentmindedly.

As the laughter faded, the night grew quiet again. Jason glanced at her, taking in the way the moonlight softened her features, the way her hair caught the faint glow of the city lights.

In his heart, he made a silent promise.

He’d protect her, no matter what. Not because she needed it—she could hold her own better than anyone he knew—but because she deserved it. She deserved someone who’d fight for her, who’d stand by her no matter what Gotham threw their way.

Because he loved her.

And for once, Jason let himself feel that fully, without the usual fear or doubt creeping in.

“Hey,” she said, breaking the silence. “You’re staring at me now.”

Jason smirked, leaning back on his hands as he looked back out at the city. “Yeah? What about it?”

She smiled again, and this time, Jason felt it deep in his chest—a warmth that he knew he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.

She nudged him playfully, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Future Husband. Tell me this—would you ever kill for me?”

Jason’s expression softened. He didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course.”

She looked at him, her teasing grin slipping into something more thoughtful. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, his voice quieter now. “I’d do anything for you.”

Part 1. Part 3.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[isavulpix]

Jason Todd Headcanons

Teacher!Reader x Jason Todd

Hi! So I’m new at writing, but couldn’t sleep last night thinking about this so decided to write it down.

Warnings: My first language isn’t English so there will be errors, I haven’t read a comic beside the webtoon one so Jason may be a bit OOC sorry.

* Okay so y’all meet in Lian school, why? Well one day Roy couldn’t pick up Lian after school so he asked Jason to do him the favor and of course Jason said yes. It was the best chance to prove he was a much more fun uncle than Dick.

* But the plan didn’t go that well, he forgot he can’t ride a motorcycle with a little kid so he had to go get the Wayne SUV, making him late to pick up Lian from school.

• So there you where in your classroom with Lian waiting for Jason to pick her up. She tells you stories about her dad, and Jason while she colors and you grade some papers.

• The first thing he sees when he finally arrives is a adorable frowning Lian question him about his tardiness. How dare he pick her up late?

• While he says his sorry to Lian and tickles her tummy to make her laugh, he remembers about the other adult in the room and turns to you to apologize. As he does, he feels like the air has suddenly stop flowing in his lungs anymore because…WHO IS THIS GORGEOUS WOMAN SMILING AT HIM?

• After the hamster in his brain starts to run again he remembers that you are Lian teacher and quicky get himself together. He can’t be catch being shock about your beauty, but seriously. Why are you so pretty? Back when he was a kid his teachers where old ladies.

• You tell him he doesn’t have to apologize with a small smile on your face and his heart skips a beat. Why are you so nice? You should be angry or annoyed because he made you waste time, but you reassure him that even if he wasn’t late to pick up Lian you where gonna still be here grading papers and checking the classes for the next day.

• And Jason thinks wtf? Working after work hours? Teachers aren’t paid enough, he should make Tim hack into Gotham bank account and get the teacher a raise, but says his goodbyes along Lian who is still pouting a little and Jason sighs…

• Jason had to bribe Lian with ice cream so she will speak more about her pretty teacher…and doesn’t tell Roy about all this.