#Jason Todd x You

[porcelian]

Your hand moves lazily across Jason’s taut back, tracing circles over the muscles that coil like overstretched ropes, each slight movement sending waves of tension rippling through his form.

A persistent throb pulses at the base of Jason’s neck, radiating outward into his shoulders like an invisible weight, pressing down with every breath he takes. Your fingers gently untangle the knots, gliding upward from his spine to the sensitive curve of his neck.

“Why are we even doing this?” He mumbles into the pillow, his voice muffled by the fabric.

You hum above him, your palms moving with a practiced grace over his shoulders. “You need rest, baby—and this is the only way I can get you to listen.”

He snorts, his voice low. “So bossy.”

“Shush. Enjoy it,” you tease, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Jason melts under your touch, his body surrendering to the soothing rhythm of your hands. You work his muscles like a familiar melody, your palms spreading the oil across the expanse of his scarred back. The liquid flows like golden rivers, tracing the crooked contours of his body.

His eyelids flutter, heavy with the weight of sleep, as your fingers weave deeper into his back. The softness of your touch, the warmth of your palms, drapes over him like a gentle cocoon, lulling him toward a peace he hasn’t known in weeks.

Your fingers land on a knot in his back, and with a subtle pressure, it unravels—like a tightly wound coil snapping free. Jason exhales in a soft rush, the sound of relief music to your ears.

“You sound heavenly under me,” you murmur teasingly, your voice low as you hover near his ear.

“Shut up,” he groans, burying his flushed face into the ivory pillow, his embarrassment hidden beneath the soft fabric.

“Look who’s blushing. Do I make you nervous, baby?” You can’t hide the smirk in your voice, amusement dancing in every word.

In response, he swats your bare thigh.

“Hey!” You squeak, surprised, but then give in with a playful surrender. “M'kay, fine. No more teasing.”

Jason hums, a small, content sound, his hand reaching back to gently squeeze your thigh, a quiet reassurance.

“Wanna try a different oil next? Or maybe body butter?” You murmur, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin.

He doesn’t answer, and you pull your thoughts away from his warmth, noticing how deeply his features have softened as he drifts further into slumber.

He’s asleep. The realization brings a quiet smile to your lips, and you lean down to press a soft, chaste kiss to his forehead. Laying down beside him, you let the embrace of sleep pull you in as well, your mind quieting in the peace you’ve both found in this moment.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[mostly-imagines]

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more passion.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

[ahqkas]

Do you think you could a reverse of you "attractive things they do without realizing" with the bat boys?

♯ ATTRACTIVE THINGS YOU DO . . . that make them go crazy ! — part 1

— fem!reader, suggestive thoughts, mention of reader’s hair

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

BRUCE WAYNE

simply attending gala with him

the gala was in full swing, the soft hum of conversation and the tinkling of crystal glasses weaving through the grand hall. bruce wayne stood at the center of it all, the undisputed star of the evening, yet his focus wasn’t on the crowd. it was on you.

you stood beside him, your hand lightly wrapped around his forearm, a subtle yet intimate gesture that spoke things without saying a word. the way your fingers rested there, so effortlessly claiming him as yours, sent a warmth spreading through his chest—a feeling that, for once, wasn’t from the weight of responsibility or the burden of his double life. it was softer, lighter. it was you.

bruce’s sharp eyes, trained to assess every detail in a room, couldn’t help but linger on you. the dress you wore was nothing short of perfection—not that it could have been anything else. he had ensured it. every stitch, every line, every fold of fabric had been crafted with you in mind. he had selected the finest material, rich and smooth beneath the touch, ensuring it draped over your figure with the kind of elegance that turned heads the moment you stepped into a room.

the deep hue of the gown complemented his suit nicely, catching the light in subtle ways, as though it, too, was vying for his attention. the neckline framed your collarbones delicately, and the way the fabric hugged your form made it impossible for his mind not to wander to how well he knew every curve beneath. the gentle train swirled around your heels like liquid, moving with you in an almost hypnotic rhythm, every step making his heart beat just a little faster.

bruce had commissioned it specifically for you, worked with the designer himself to ensure it would fit you like a second skin—tailored to highlight everything he found most captivating about you. it wasn’t just vanity, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the way every person in the room couldn’t help but notice you. no, it was deeper than that. dressing you in the finest fabrics, wrapping you in elegance, was his way of saying what words often couldn’t: you’re extraordinary, and the world should know it.

to you, he wasn’t just bruce wayne, gotham’s elusive billionaire. he wasn’t the brooding vigilante who prowled the night. he was just . . . bruce. and in that moment, he felt more real, more whole, than he had in years.

he tilted his head slightly, glancing down at you, and his lips tugged into the faintest of smiles—a rare expression, softer than most would ever see. the subtle scent of your perfume reached him as you leaned closer to whisper something, your voice a low melody against the backdrop of the room. he didn’t even catch the words; he was too lost in the curve of your smile, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the warmth of your touch radiating through the fabric of his suit.

his thoughts betrayed him, wandering ahead to a quieter moment later, when the gala was over, and it was just the two of you again. but for now, he stood tall, the perfect host, his hand moving to cover yours on his arm. his thumb brushed against your knuckles, a silent gesture of affection and gratitude. he didn’t say it aloud—he didn’t need to—but he was thinking it with every fiber of his being: you’re the most beautiful thing in this room, and you don’t even know it.

seeing you work at his office

bruce leaned back in his leather chair, the polished desk between you serving as the only barrier to his unraveling thoughts. you stood on the other side, flipping through a file with the kind of focus that made his chest tighten, utterly oblivious to the effect you were having on him. the pencil skirt you wore hugged your hips in a way that felt almost sinful, every line and contour designed to torment him. the fabric clung just right, emphasizing the curve of your waist and the sway of your body each time you shifted. and then there was the blouse—white, crisp, and perfectly fitted, the faintest hint of skin peeking where the buttons strained against your figure. it was driving him to the edge.

the sharp click of your heels echoed softly as you moved around the room, your voice calm and professional as you recounted details of a recent meeting, flipping a page in the file without missing a beat. but bruce wasn’t listening. not really. his gaze followed the way your fingers smoothed the papers, delicate but deliberate, and his mind betrayed him. those same hands . . . what would they feel like tangled in his hair, tugging him closer? or splayed against his chest, nails dragging lightly as he pressed you against the wall?

he shifted in his seat, jaw tightening as he tried to force himself back to the present. but it was impossible. the way the soft material of your blouse tucked into that pencil skirt left just enough to the imagination while teasing at everything he wanted to do to you. his mind raced ahead, envisioning the fabric bunched around your hips, your voice losing its composed edge as he silenced every word with his lips

you glanced up at him suddenly, your eyes catching his, and for a moment, his composure faltered. his sharp blue gaze was darker now, focused entirely on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“are you almost finished?”

“just a few more minutes.”

his thoughts raced ahead, imagining the way your name would sound falling from his lips, low and rough, as he pulled you into his lap. how your soft gasps would fill the room, mingling with the shuffle of papers and the creak of leather as his control finally slipped. bruce’s mind was already plotting, already deciding just how many minutes he’d let you finish your work before he gave in.

DICK GRAYSON

the quiet hum of the city filtered through the slightly cracked window, the distant sounds of gotham settling into the night. dick sat cross-legged on the couch, his hair still damp from a quick shower after patrol, wearing a loose gray shirt and sweatpants. you were tucked into the corner of the couch, legs pulled up to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, your chin resting on your knees. there was something so effortlessly comfortable about the way you curled into yourself, the soft glow of the lamp painting your features in warm hues.

he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger, caught by the way the corners of your lips curved into a gentle smile as you listened to him recount something ridiculous wally had said earlier. it wasn’t just your smile, though it always had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs—it was the way your gaze stayed fixed on him, warm and attentive, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world right now.

“are you even listening?” he teased, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head to catch your gaze more fully.

you laughed softly, a sound that melted into the quiet of the room like it belonged there. “i am,” you insisted, shifting slightly to prop your chin higher on your knees, the movement drawing his attention to the curve of your bare shoulders beneath the oversized sweatshirt you were wearing—his sweatshirt, he realized with a pang of fondness.

“good,” he said, his voice softer now, his lips curving into an easy smile. but he didn’t pick up where he left off. instead, he found himself studying the little things: the way your hair framed your face, the way your eyes glimmered with quiet amusement, the small, almost unconscious sway of your head as you rested against your knees.

“don’t stop,” you murmured, your smile widening.

dick chuckled, shaking his head. “i wasn’t sure if my story could compete with . . . well, you,” he said, his tone light but tinged with the kind of sincerity that always made your chest tighten.

“flatterer,” you teased, but the way your cheeks warmed didn’t escape him.

when you arch your back in a chair

he had only meant to grab a drink and check in with you, but the second he entered the room and saw you sitting at the table, all coherent thought vanished. he froze in place, his gaze drawn to you like a moth to a flame. you were leaning forward in your chair, your elbows braced on the table and your back arched just slightly as you studied whatever had your focus. it was innocent—completely unintentional—but to him, it was anything but.

the way your shirt clung to your frame as you bent forward made his mouth go dry, the curve of your back teasing him in ways that had his imagination running wild. his eyes lingered on the dip of your waist, the way the soft fabric stretched just enough over your hips, and he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering further—thinking about how easy it would be to step behind you, trail his hands down that arch, and pull you closer.

dick swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away, but it was hopeless. his gaze snapped back to you as if on instinct, and this time, it wasn’t just the curve of your back that had his attention. it was the way your body moved, every subtle shift of your weight making his thoughts spiral deeper. he could almost feel the press of your skin against his palms, the heat of you beneath his hands as he tipped you just slightly further forward . . .

jesus, get it together, grayson, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair and trying to clear his head. but the damage was done, and now every inch of him was on edge, his pulse thrumming in his ears. it wasn’t fair how effortlessly you drove him crazy—how just existing could send his thoughts careening into territory that made him shift uncomfortably in place.

you glanced up suddenly, breaking him out of his haze. “hey, you good?” you asked, your brows furrowing slightly in concern.

the sound of your voice jolted him back to reality, though his heart was still racing. “fine,” he managed, his voice just a little rougher than usual. he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite the heat simmering beneath his skin.

but you weren’t convinced. there was a hint of amusement in your eyes as you leaned back slightly in your chair, giving him that knowing smile that always made his knees weak. “you sure?”

dick’s jaw clenched as you shifted again, his gaze flickering down to the curve of your waist before he caught himself. stop it. stop it right now. but then you tilted your head, and that damn teasing glint in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.

he took a step forward, bracing a hand on the table as he leaned down, his face suddenly inches from yours. his voice was low, rough, almost a growl. “you’re making it really hard to concentrate, you know that?”

JASON TODD

adjusting your skirt

jason had been leaning against the doorway, half distracted by his own thoughts, when the sight of you adjusting your skirt snapped his attention to full focus. you were standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the waistband and wiggling it higher on your hips, a casual, innocent motion meant to get the fit just right. but to him, it was anything but casual. his eyes locked on you, darkening as he watched the way the fabric shifted, sliding up the curve of your thighs with each subtle movement.

jesus christ, he thought, jaw tightening as he tried to tear his gaze away. he failed. the small adjustment—the roll of your hips, the way your hands smoothed the material over your figure—felt like it was designed to torment him. he muttered a quiet curse under his breath, barely audible but enough to let his frustration escape.

that little motion shouldn’t have had this kind of hold over him, but it did. the way you moved, so natural and effortless, made his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. his fingers twitched at his sides as he imagined stepping behind you, sliding his hands over yours to help—not that you needed it, but damn if he wouldn’t enjoy it anyway.

you turned slightly and caught his reflection in the mirror, green eyes shooting up to meet yours as if he hadn’t been blatantly staring. “everything okay, jay?”

jason cleared his throat. “yeah,” he said, though his voice was rougher than usual, betraying him. he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning heavier into the doorway, his tongue darting across his bottom lip as his gaze flicked down again. “just . . . keep doing what you’re doing.”

you have him a look—equal parts amused and curious—but went back to adjusting the skirt, smoothing it out once more. jason bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay put instead of crossing the room, grabbing your hips, and showing you exactly what that little movement of yours did to him.

this woman’s gonna be the death of me, he thought, his pulse hammering as he pushed off the doorway, muttering another curse under his breath. he needed to walk away before he did something reckless—something that would guarantee you wouldn’t be leaving that room anytime soon.

when you rant to him

jason leaned back on the couch, arms draped lazily over the backrest, but his focus was anything but casual. his eyes were locked on you as you paced the room, hands gesturing wildly while you went off on a rant about something that had you fired up. he couldn’t even remember how the conversation started—it didn’t matter. what mattered was the light in your eyes, the way your whole face animated with every word, and the fire in your voice as you got lost in your thoughts.

there was something magnetic about the way you threw yourself into it, like the world disappeared except for the thing you were so passionate about. it didn’t even matter if he understood half of what you were saying—though he was trying, really, he was—but he couldn’t look away from you long enough to focus on the details. he was too caught up in the way your brows furrowed slightly when you were deep in thought, or the way your lips curved when you hit on a point you knew was good.

and that voice. it was captivating, filled with conviction and energy, a side of you that came alive when you cared about something. jason’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched you, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

every now and then, you’d glance at him to make sure he was keeping up, and he’d give a small nod, biting back the urge to say something dumb like, i’m not paying attention to your words, but i’m hanging on every second of you. instead, he’d murmur a quiet “yeah,” or “makes sense,” just to keep you talking.

but, damn, the way your whole body moved when you were this invested—it sent his mind places. there was a certain confidence in it, an unintentional sway in your steps as you walked back and forth, your gestures strong but graceful. it drove him crazy in the best way, made him want to grab you mid-rant, pull you onto his lap, and kiss you senseless just to see if that fire would transfer to him.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍

[maj-b-s]

Bruce: I don't trust your partner!

Jason: Huh!? and why not old man?

Bruce: See *calls Y/n*

Y/n: Bruce What do I owe you for calling me?

Bruce: Is Jason there?

Y/n: Yes, why do you ask? And no, you can't talk to him, he's in the shower.

*Bruce Turn off*

Jason: Fuc-, but this is called fidelity, it's logical that my partner would cover for me!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Jason Todd and Kisses

Short Headcanons

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, he's a Serial Hand Kisser. It's as soothing for him as it is you. Fingers entwined, knuckles to lips, just sharing warmth

Your pulses are one of his favorite spots to kiss. The one on your wrist. The one on your throat. The beat of your life against him makes his eyes dilate, his breath hitch and calm settle in his bones

There's lots of kisses when you cuddle, kisses to the crown of your head, your temple, your cheek. But he really likes trailing kisses down your sternum so he can lay his head on your stomach

He peppers your face with kisses in the morning, especially if you don’t get to see him before he leaves for patrol. He'll wake you up by nuzzling your nose and marking a lazy path down your jaw

He loves any kind of kiss you give him, gentle, and slow, short and sweet, and the ones that leave him panting and asking for more

He has a special place in his heart for kisses that are all tongues and teeth. The ones that are borderline desperate and frantic with fingers fisted in clothes

Yes, you've tried the Spiderman kiss. Yes, he liked it

Hickeys! You're both going to have them, usually in easy to hide spots, but sometimes he can't resist leaving one or two on your throat or collarbones

(Or behind your ear, one you can't see and one he fails to point out to you before you leave the apartment)

His heart melts a little when you kiss his cheek after he does something sweet. Kisses of affirmation make his knees weak and his head fuzzy

But really, his go-to is cradling your face and kissing you long enough to steal the air from your lungs. He devours the way it makes eyes to starry with adoration before he wraps his arms around your waist to draw you closer

[gay-dorito-dust]

We NEEED Batfam with a s/o who is the kindest person to ever walk in Gotham City. I’m talking they have no bad bone in their bodies and ALWAYS see’s the good in other people.

Dick found you to be refreshing.

He found your pension for helping others, even the scummiest of individuals, into a better future. However he has seen how people could take advantage of a person unlike themselves out of greed, envy for their willpower to keep believing when they’ve all but given up, and anger that they still smile even when the situation is against them.

He couldn’t help but found your want to see Gotham be better admirable and how you’d wish to see the city better itself for the people that live inside it but Gotham was a city with no cure, nor wanted to be healed no matter how hard others have tried. This doesn’t mean Dick was apprehensive towards your dream, if anything he shared that vision with you as it was a dream he’d love to see com true one day.

‘You’re far too kind for a city like this sweetheart.’ Dick said once after he saw you give some kids from Crime Alley a generous amount of food and the money from your wallet/purse, smiling softly as you watched them run away with full stomachs and money in their tightly protected pockets.

You shrugged, looking at him with a soft glint in your eyes. ‘That might be true but that doesn’t mean I’m going to run away when the going gets tough or loose my way.’ You replied as you returned to his side, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing. Dick smiles as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing it before letting it drop between the two of you, feeling a lot lighter under your gaze as he found himself wanting to stay in this moment forever before Gotham soured even the most innocent of interactions you two shared.

‘Then I’ll gladly stand by your side and help you see this dream through, if you’re not giving up then I’m not giving up either, I promise you that.’ Dick vowed as he pulled you closer to him, kissing your temple, letting himself linger there as he embraced your warmth against Gotham’s bitter cold air that tried to separate you, for it knew that you two were a formidable force to be reckoned with. You sighed, leaning towards his touch and relishing how comforting it was.

‘I’d rather have no one else by my side than my dickie bird.’ You said softly as Dick pulled away to smile at you. ‘I just don’t want to see more kids suffer more than they’ve already have, whether it’d be by the hands of their parents or corrupt authority figures.’ You tell him as you looked back down the alleyway the kids ran down, smile wavering a little as you could only imagine the cruelty they suffered and at such a young age too. ‘They’ve already endured enough and they’re all the more braver for not letting it destroy their spirit.’ You add as you could only hope that those kids remember this small act of kindness and hold it to their chest well into their adulthood.

Dick looked at your fondly and found himself all the more amazed by you and your unending desire to see the better in people, fully believing that they can change whenever they felt ready to, even the most lost individuals can find their way back with the help of a guiding hand. People like you are what Gotham desperately needed to lead the city into a better and brighter future, you were able to find it within yourself to be kind and loving towards those that would spit at your shoes, letting them see that you weren’t so easily swayed to step away from someone in pain.

‘I’m sure they will,’ Dick reassured you by squeezing your hand, ‘it’s hard to forget an act as selfless and sincere as yours honey.’

‘Thank you Dick.’ You uttered softly as you cuddled yourself into his side, resting your head against his chest to listen to his calming heartbeat.

‘Just speaking the truth and from the heart.’ Dick responded as he kisses the top of your head, wanting nothing more than to make you happy just like you have been making him happy throughout your relationship. ‘This town will heal, it’ll be long, but it’ll heal in its own time.’ He adds as you both walked home to be greeted by your sweet baby Hayley.

Gotham will heal…just give it time and patience.

Damian found your kindness to be glaring.

It was a beacon for the weak to prey upon and your hope for Gotham was one that came from that, hope. Gotham was the city where hope and ideals for a better future came to rot and die and Damian couldn’t help but scoff a little because a person like you would never survive in this town, for the people of Gotham could smell your naivety from a mile away and hunt you down until you became like them.

Which was why Damian often found himself by your side and pointing his sword at the throats of those stupid enough to be enamoured by your bright, hopeful presence, even going so far as to cut them just to prove a point. ‘Back off cretin.’ He’d all but growl at them and watch as they scurry off like rats.

You’d look at him with the expression of an upset puppy as he sheathed his sword. ‘Damian.’ You groaned.

‘They’d only come back for more if you conceded to their whims my love.’ Damian replied calmly as he cupped your face between his hands, resting his head against yours to look deeply into your eyes. ‘And I do not intended for my beloved to be used by the miscreants that littler the street like discarded toys, bent out of use and lost all purpose but to kill the will of those that still believe.’ He could see the hurt and the disbelief in your eyes before the look of resilience took over your face as you smiled sweetly at him, taking his breath away.

‘Then I’ll keep believing for the people who can’t, won’t or have long since given up all hope that Gotham can be better than what they’re forced to believe as truth.’ You said and Damian couldn’t help but find your tenacity and determination to keep strong when all seems bleak and depressing admirable. However he couldn’t help but want to usher you away from the utter madness that he had seen with his bare eyes, keep you from ever seeing this town for what it truly was; chaos incarnate.

The town was constantly tearing itself apart and putting itself together again but by only using the worst parts of itself over and over again until it could do nothing but collapse in on itself, dragging everyone else down with it in the process, implicating a sense of darkness and despair that could leave even the most strong willed of people to wonder whether it was worth it and Damian didn’t wish for you to loose that light, nor hope for a better Gotham.

‘You are truly an enigma my treasure.’ Damian sighed as you kissed his cheeks, nose then lips quickly, making him smile softly as he closed his eyes to embrace your affection. ‘Stubborn yet sweet, kind yet headstrong, hopeful yet knowledgeable. That is the kind of person you are and I do not wish to see you falter to this city’s darkness, for a cage is not a place for a bird that is meant to be free from all restraints to it’s ability to fly.’ Damian murmurs as he kisses your forehead.

‘And I’m glad to have someone like you dami.’ You said happily as you admired his emerald eyes. ‘But I just wish for the betterment of the people here, doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?’ You then asked as your hopeful eyes twinkled like the stars above, bright and vibrant, so unlike the eyes of everyone that resided in Gotham which were dull, lost and angry.

‘Not everyone my love.’ Damian counters, ‘rehabilitation can only take them so far before they realise that they can abuse the help given to them with the hope they’d do better once out, while that might be the case for some but there are those who see an opportunity to take from the giving.’ You sighed, still smiling at him as you recognised that he was equally as stubborn in his own views, just as much as you were stubborn in yours.

‘That is true but I just can’t afford to give up, not when this city is crying out for help but only receiving bloodshed and corruption.’ You reached out and rubbed his arms soothingly. You were too kind to a town that reeked of blood and violence Damian deducted from your first meeting, having found it rather childish and naive, but now he saw this as something that should be valued and appreciated while it could and Damian internally vowed to keep this light within you alive and burning for as long as he could.

For you were his hope just as much as Gotham’s.

Jason finds you to be the purest and sweetest soul amongst the piss and shit that made up the rest of Gotham.

The light in the dark for many, but unfortunately that means that you’d also attract the attention of people whom Jason saw as people who’d take advantage of a soul like you.

So much so that he would rest his hand on your wait and pull you away when some suspicious looking man walked up to you, hands cupped together with a pathetic look upon his face as he pleaded with you, never once looking at him because the punk knew he couldn’t fool him with his character so he went for you instead like a coward.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ve got some money I can spare-‘ you said sweetly as you tried to reach for your wallet/purse.

‘No.’ Jason said as he stops you and glares at the man who looked back at him with a face that only confirmed what he had already assumed upon seeing him; he was taking advantage of you for his own benefit and was pissed that Jason was guarding you from his schemes. ‘He can scrap the shit off of the pavement and feed himself with it.’ Jason adds as he proceeded to pull you away from the man who only spat near his shoe and slunk away into the alleyway, waiting for someone else he could take advantage of.

‘Jason!’ You exclaimed, wanting to truly help the man in hopes he’d change his ways for a more productive one.

‘You can’t think you can heal everyone chipmunk, then they’ll think they are entitled to everything you have and will want to take every piece of you until there’s nothing left for them to benefit from, where they’ll leave your body to rot until they can find a new soul to dig their claws into.’ Jason replied firmly but the moment he saw your saddened look he sighed and tipped your chin up with his finger. ‘Hey,’ he began softy, ‘a soul like you is unique, precious as a jewel, and you shine too brightly that you’ve become a beacon for the worst this shit town has to offer but I’m not going to let them.’ He finished as he kissed your forehead.

‘I just can’t expect you to protect me all the time.’ You retorted as you held his face between your hands, caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner and smiling as he melted into your touch. ‘I can’t help who I am, I just want the best for everyone and I can’t help but hope that Gotham heals itself for the betterment of its people.’ Jason couldn’t help but look at you lovingly as he brought you in closer to him so that you were pressed against each other, the closeness was enough to calm his thoughts.

You were too good to be true in Jason’s eyes and would far better in a city far, far away from Gotham in hopes that the poisonous town doesn’t seep into you, but you were not only kind but far too stubborn to do such a thing; especially when there was people to help and Jason couldn’t help but find beauty in your will to do right by the people, even the ones that he didn’t think were worth the tireless effort of saving but that was the kind of person you were and he loved you all the more for being true to yourself.

‘I’m not asking you to change. I could never ask you to stop being who you are because it’s people like you that Gotham needs most, not violence or hateful comments, just someone who genuinely wants to help for the sake of bettering a community who don’t have the resources to help themselves and be a guiding hand for the hopeless.’ Jason kisses you on the lips. ‘That’s the person I fell for, an absolute angel.’ He finishes as he cradled you even further against his chest as he felt you cling onto him.

You were far too sweet for a sour town like Gotham but Jason was going to be with you no matter what, an angel like you needs someone like him who can protect you from the corrupt and the evil that lurks beneath the surface, or shows their face proudly in a town where hope comes to die. Jason will protect his light, his angel, his cheeky little chipmunk who often steals his hoodies when they missed him for you were worth more than he’d ever let this putrid city know. He’ll protect what is his and wage war on those who seek to hurt his hope for Gotham.

[debonairprincesposts]

well hello! what do you think about jason’s tits (those that he does not assume that are very big titties)?

Well my dear reader! I think that his tiddies don’t get enough attention. Like- imagine this:

Jason and you are just chillin’ on the couch and you wanna lay your head on a soft surface of sorts. And what do you know! His tiddies are just within reach. So, you just plop your head on there and pretend that you don’t know what your actions are doing to him. You can hear his heartbeat speeding up (he told you once before how sensitive his chest is and you just happen to put your head extremely close to his nipple. So your cheek is just moving his shirt where it lays as it just barely grazes his skin and it’s making him shudder and squirm in his seat. You smirk to yourself at his reaction).

Another time is when you feel kinda stressed and wanna just squeeze something. So, you just come up from behind him while he’s minding his business in the kitchen, and just casually cup his pecs and start squeezing and massaging them and playing with his nipples from over his shirt, twisting, pulling, and pinching while he subtly (it’s not subtle to you at all, you can read him like an open book) shakes and lets out little gasps where he stands and starts to lean against the counter for support as if to will himself to not completely submit to you and let you take him right then and there on the kitchen floor.

It’s gotten to the point where every time he spots you in the vicinity, he prepares himself and expects you to just come up from behind him and start your assault on his tits. (he doesn’t hate it, he’d just like a warning when it happens)

Every time you compliment him on having such plush, soft tits while teasing him, he quietly whines saying that they’re not tits or something (it doesn’t take long to convince him otherwise.)

I think it would go something like this:

“Look at how wonderful these are,” you say as you squish them together. You’re sat atop his lap as he lays back on the couch, shirt off. “I could play with these all day. Such pretty tits, don’t you agree, Jason?”

His breaths come out in soft gasps as you continue to twist and pinch at his chest.

“Not tits,” he gasps out while lightly shaking his head, “They’re not.” He’s tightly gripping onto your waist as you unhurriedly grind atop his groin which causes a soft mewl to escape his lips.

You grin at his reaction and grab one of his hands and place it on one of his tiddies and squeeze.

“Yeah, they are.” You say as you use your other hand to guide his chin to make him glance down. “Look at them, Jay. Aren’t they pretty?”

His face is red at he looks down at his chest, his breath catches in his throat as he takes a proper look, full of hickies and bright red bite marks from your previous ministrations. Your grinding isn’t helping at all. He might come in his pants if you keep that up. He moans as you keep up with your actions. Curious if you could get him to cum from just touching his chest and light pressure on his groin.

A reedy sound brings you back to the present (the color on his chest from your attention was distracting.) Lost in your thoughts from admiring your work. He looks mesmerizing. Eyes dilated so much that you can barely spot the teal of his irises, his eyes appearing almost completely black. His face is practically the color of his helmet, it’s almost impressive. Shudders leave his body as he completely sinks back onto the couch.

You use the hand that grasping his chin to point it to the side as you lean in to leave more bruises on his neck, your grinding unfaltering. His moans increase in volume as you bite and suck on his sweet spot right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

The hand that’s on your waist twitches, his mouth opens in a silent moan as he gasps loudly while throwing his head back on the back of the couch as he gives a full body shiver, cum staining the inside of his pants.

You stop your actions as you take a minute to admire the fucked out look on his face.

You lean your face close his ear as you say, “Think your tits are pretty now, Jay?”

He shivers from the air brushing against his ear. He nods with a quiet whine, sounding out an almost inaudible “uh-huh”, unable to get any more words out.

You grin in victory, “There you go.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

I think I went over board. It was only supposed to be a few sentences long.

Didn’t even know I could write like that.

Anyway! Hope that answers your question!

[lxvvie]

You and your never-ending quest to make Jason Todd blush.

And it's working, gorgeous. Christ, it's working.

If it isn't the gifts you spring up on him out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, it's the compliments. He's every kind of pretty, hot, gorgeous, stunning, everything that lets him know he's the most beautiful thing you've ever laid your eyes on, and fuck if his cheeks aren't flaming hot.

And if it isn't either one of those, it's the way you remind Jason that he's better than he thinks he is and while he may not be the quintessential paragon of virtue, he's what the city needs, and you can't imagine a world without him. That and he makes some good ass coffee in the morning.

Gee, thanks, baby.

But what really gets Jason is the way you look at him, the way you see past the scars and tough exterior and he can't help but wonder if he looks as lovestruck as you do whenever he sees you because he feels it—feels you—with every fiber of his being.

And then you surprised him with flowers one day—"I saw them and they reminded me of you, Jaybear."

And not only is his entire face on fire, but he's a puddle of fuckin' goo.

He'd be a fuckin' liar if he said they didn't, either.

[elixirina]

# in my prime — jason todd x fem!reader

synopsis — jason gets awoken with a little surprise.

warnings — none just tooth rotting fluff

notes — was just thinking about jason’s white streak so yk

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

the early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow that gently woke you. you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside the window and the sound of jason’s steady breathing beside you. he was still asleep, his face peaceful and relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world. the way he slept so soundly always made you smile. it was a rare thing, something he didn’t often let himself have—peace.

you turned your head slightly, your gaze falling on him. his dark hair, always messy, was sprawled across the pillow in a way that made him look like he belonged in people's sexiest man alive. but there was something more that caught your attention today—something different, something you couldn’t ignore.

near the front of his hairline, you noticed a small streak of white running through his otherwise jet-black hair. it was subtle but striking. you blinked, sure you were imagining it. maybe it was just the light. but no, there it was—clear as day, like it had always been there.

your heart did something funny in your chest, a fluttering sensation that you couldn’t quite explain. the streak was so... unexpected. it was small, but in that moment, it seemed to transform him. there was something beautiful about it, something raw and real. it wasn’t like any hair dye or accidental bleach job, and it definitely wasn't a grey hair—it felt like it was a part of him. maybe it was a mark of everything he’d been through, a silent reminder of the battles he’d fought, both internal and external.

and you found it... well, you found it perfect. you couldn’t help but love it.

you leaned in closer to get a better look, your fingers hovering just above his hair. you wanted to reach out and touch it, but you knew that would be an invasion of his space. so instead, you just let yourself admire it, that little streak of white against his dark hair, wondering where it had come from. it made him seem so much more... human.

suddenly, jason groaned, his body shifting as he stretched out beneath the covers. his eyes fluttered open, blurry with sleep, and the grogginess in his voice made you chuckle. “mornin’, baby.”

you grinned, the teasing glint in your eyes barely contained. “good morning, silver fox.” you couldn’t resist the nickname now that you had the perfect ammunition. a snicker escaped your mouth, despite your best efforts to stop it.

his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, trying to focus through the haze of sleep. “what? what’re you laughing at?” he muttered, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. "what did you do?"

you couldn’t hold it back anymore, your grin growing wider as you gestured to his hair. “i didn't—you might want to look in the mirror, old man.”

jason’s hand shot up immediately, fingers running through his hair as he tried to figure out what you were talking about. his eyes widened in confusion as they found the streak. “what the fuck?” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of panic and disbelief.

you bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter. his reaction was priceless—he was so caught off guard, and it was adorable. you leaned back into the pillow, watching him scramble to get out of bed and rush to the nearest mirror.

“what the actual—?” jason muttered, pulling at the streak like he could just... remove it. “tell me this isn’t real. did you do this?”

you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore and let it burst out, echoing around the room as you sat up on the bed. “no! baby, i swear, i woke up and you were like that,” you teased, your voice thick with amusement. “and honestly? i think it looks good on you. very distinguished.”

jason’s head snapped around to look at you, his eyes wide. “good? angel, i look like—like—” he gestured to his hair wildly, eyes wide in disbelief. “i should be in a nursing home! no! i’m still in my prime!”

you bit your lip to stop your grin before collecting yourself. “you look like jason todd,” you said again, this time your voice softer, more earnest. “you’re allowed to look however you want. and right now? you look...” you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully as you stared at him. “you look perfect.”

jason froze for a moment, his fingers still tangled in his hair. you could see the gears turning in his head. the way you were looking at him—the soft way you always looked at him—was disarming. he felt it in his chest, that warmth that he never quite knew how to deal with.

he grumbled, not knowing what to say. “still not funny.” he took a deep breath, still trying to act like it wasn’t bothering him, even though the faintest trace of a smile was tugging at his lips. he walked back over to the bed, finding his place next to you once more.

he grumbled, not knowing what to say. “still not funny.” he took a deep breath, still trying to act like it wasn’t bothering him, even though the faintest trace of a smile was tugging at his lips. he walked back over to the bed, finding his place next to you once more.

you shrugged innocently, your grin unwavering. “maybe you’ll learn to love it. i’m pretty sure it’s a keeper.”

his voice softened as he tucked your head beneath his chin. “you think it looks good?”

you nodded, your hand resting on his chest. “i do. it’s... you, jason. just another layer to who you are.”

jason didn’t respond at first. instead, he just lay there, the two of you sharing a peaceful silence for a while. but when you looked up at him, you saw the warmth in his eyes, that softness that only ever came when he was around you.

“thanks, baby,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something vulnerable in it, something rare, and you realized it wasn’t just the streak that was making him feel this way—it was you, and the way you always saw him for everything he was.

“no problem, silver fox,” you teased again, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

jason rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that broke through. maybe the streak wasn’t so bad after all. and maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind looking distinguished for you.

[strangepoppy]

Never had a special St. Valentine's Day, but thank you for well wishes and Jason :3

Yes, I know it's hearing New Year, so what?

pov: you give him a valentine

Hope yall are having a great St Valentine's day! 💖

[zyhkoo]

🌼 daisy

fluff, f!civillian, pt 2 of this

( you are his only exception. )

Starting the next few days, there was.. a subtle shift in your relationship with Jason.

The small moments and gestures became more meaningful, a simple brush of hands or a glance held for too long. Jason knows he is absolutely doomed.

He would do things he would never do to his siblings. He would go out on cold nights to buy you the food you liked, just so he could see that little grateful smile on your face. He would let you convince him to try new films that he absolutely had no interest in, to see the way your eyes lit up as you talked about it.

One night, he went in your apartment window again. As he looked around and called your name, there was no answer. You were probably working late again he thought, so he shrugged and sat down on the couch.

His eyes flickered towards your door as he noticed the struggle of it fumbling to get open. He tensed immediately, his senses on high alert. Whoever was trying to open the door wasn't doing it quietly, that was for sure. He stood up, crossing the room quietly as he watched the door.

The struggle continued, the sound of the lock attempting to open echoed through the quiet apartment. Jason hovered just a few steps away from the door, his eyes darting from the doorknob to the small peep hole.

As the robber opened the door, he was met with a very menacing man with a red helmet. Jason didn't give the guy a chance to react. He lunged forward before the robber could even reach for his weapon, Jason had already disarmed him, pinning him against the wall.

The robber let out a cry of surprise and pain as Jason slammed him against the wall, his hands gripping tightly on the collar.

"You picked the wrong place, pal,"

The robber struggled against Jason's grip, his eyes wide and fearful as he found himself at the mercy of the Red Hood. "Please, man, I didn't—" he started to protest, but Jason cut him off with a harsh shove against the wall, shutting him up immediately.

"Shut up," Jason said, his voice hard. “Look, I will give you 30 seconds to get out of his apartment and if I still see you here you’re dead.”

The robber's eyes widened in terror as he trembled in fear. "Alright, alright! I'm going, man, I swear!" he stuttered out. Jason drops him on the ground as he watches the robber scurry away.

He looked to the side and realized you were there watching all along with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Good evening to you too.” you said.

"You're back," he said gruffly, his voice slightly quieter than usual. He took a step towards you, his eyes studying your expression.

“Did you really have to beat him up with your helmet on?”

"Yeah, I had to make sure he got the message," he replied, a bit amused. He approached you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You weren't supposed to see that."

He didn’t want you to see that ugly side of him— he was worried that you wouldn’t understand or if it would scare you away.

“I figured.” you replied “But, at least you kept my apartment safe.” you let out an amused huff as you walked to your door “You break into mine every night.”

"That's different," he rebutted. "I'm not a criminal, I'm just... checking up on you."

On a different night, he came in your window early again. He took a few steps into the room, his eyes scanning the surroundings. You were probably working late again, he thought.

Jason tensed slightly as he heard the door open, his instincts kicking in as he turned to see who was there. When he saw that it was you, he let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing fractionally. "You're back," he said.

You flashed him a warm smile “Hiii.” you chuckled. Jason saw as you stumbled a bit as you closed the door, he crossed the door towards you as he looked at you funny. “You good?”

“M’ kay.” you responded with a slur. Jason’s eyes narrowed as he picked up the slur in your voice, could you be drunk? His hand reached out to support you. "Are you drunk?" he asked as you hummed in response, “Mmmaybe.” you answered “I could be.”

Jason's eyes flicked over you, looking at your slightly dazed expression and your stumbling steps. He sighed, "You're definitely drunk," he grumbled, his hand still on your arm to steady you.

He gently guided you over to the couch, easing you down onto the cushions. "How much did you drink?" he asked, a bit annoyed. You extended out your arms, “This much..” he looks at you deadpanned, “Very precise.” he says dryly.

He ponders for a moment, should he take care of you? Or should he just put you to bed and leave? But then he looks at your dazed expression and thinks that you definitely need to be taken care of.

"What were you doing drinking so much?" he asked, his voice changing to a softer tone. You merely shrugged, “Co-workers invited me dunnoo..” he let out a small scoff, "You should know your limits.” he scolds.

You shrugged, “I drank a lot cause I know you’d take care of m’ anyway.” you said as you poked his shoulder. He exhaled slowly, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor even though he was secretly touched by your trust. "Yeah, well, don't make a habit of it,"

Jason got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboards, looking for a glass. As he poured water in the cup, he carried the glass of water back to the living room, finding you seated on the couch with a vacant look on your face.

"Drink this," he opened your palm and placed the glass in your hand. But your grip was a bit loose so Jason grabbed the glass before it dropped.

Jason sighs as he holds the glass up your lips. His other hand was on your shoulder, steady and grounding. "Sip slowly," he instructed. He held the glass steady as you drank, watching intently to ensure you didn’t choke or spill.

Once you were done, he slowly lowered the glass, his hand still laying on your shoulder.

He took a moment to study your face, checking to see if you were any less dazed than before. Your eyes were still slightly glassy, your movements a bit clumsy. You were still definitely drunk. He let out another sigh, his hand still on your shoulder. “You’re a mess,” you smiled, “Your mess.” you retorted.

Jason's eyes widened fractionally at your response, heat creeping up his neck. "You're not making this any easier," he grumbled. How are you not throwing up yet?

You took his face in your hands, “You’re a pretty handsome fella.” he swallowed, his voice gruff yet soft, "And you're very drunk, sweetheart."

“Mmm, you knoww.. I changed my favorite color into red for ya.” you said as you started to ramble. Jason raised an eyebrow, "Red?”

“Yah, cause ‘Red’ Hood.” What a weirdo.

A huff escaped from Jason's lips. "Is that so?" he asked, "You changed your favorite color to red because of me?"

“Uhuh.” you nodded. "That's…” he started, “That's sweet.” he simply responded. You frowned, “You sound unsure.”

Jason's expression falters. He didn't want you to think he wasn't sincerely pleased. "No, I am," he hastened to reassure you. He reached up, his hand gently cupping the one you had on his cheek. “I’m just surprised, that's all.”

You started to smile again, “Really?” your smile was infectious— even in your drunk state. “Really,” He nodded, Jason thought it was funny how you could barely hold a glass of water yet you could firmly hold his face.

“You got a strong grip, for someone so drunk,” he commented. “Cause if I let go… you might leave for t’ night.” you slurred. Jason's chest tightened at your words. He looked at you, his expression softening.

Well, of course he needed to leave every night. What if someone tracked him and it led to your place? Or who knows whatever people would break in and take you as a hostage.

He shook his head slightly. He had no intention of leaving, not in your current state. “Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he reassured, “I’ll stay.” your eyes bore into his, “You leave every night, I don’t like it.”

You were right, he did leave every night. It was a habit he had gotten used to. He sighed, “I’ll stay tonight, I promise.” He knew that he couldn’t tell you the reason why he had to leave each night. It was too dangerous, too risky. He had to maintain his cover, both for his and your safety.

But for now, he wanted to give you a little peace of mind.

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he repeated, “I’ll stay here with you.”

“Promise?” you said softly. He met your gaze, his eyes steady and sincere. He couldn’t look away, not when you were looking at him like that. “Promise,” he affirmed back.

You smiled as you closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. He tried to keep his cool, but your actions were affecting him more than he cared to admit. “I wanted t’ ask ya that for a while…” you confessed, “But m’ knew you’d say no.” you added as you slightly opened your eyes.

He couldn’t deny that you were right. He would have said no. He would have rejected you, made up some excuse. It was safer for both of you that way, or so he had convinced himself.

“I wanna cook ya food, patch up your wounds or.. or.. anything to make you stay.” you closed your eyes firmly, trying not to get your emotions ahead of you.

Jason could hear the longing in your voice and he felt the desperation as your hands shaked on his face. It was more than just wanting him to stay, it was begging him on some level.

But as he looked at you, your face pressed against his, your eyes tightly shut as if holding back more than just tears, he couldn't do it. “Look at me,” he requested.

The moment your eyes met his, Jason felt an odd tug at his heart. “What do you want, sweetheart?” your voice was shaky, “I—I want us.”

Looking at you, seeing the look in your eyes, he knew it was too late. His heart was already in your hands. “Okay,” he said, his voice a soft whisper, “Okay.” you looked at him confused, “Okay?”

"Yeah," he affirmed, "Okay as in... I want us too."

“You’re not agreein’ cause m’ drunk are ya?” you weren’t sure if he was just humoring you. He shook his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. "No, sweetheart. I'm not just saying it because you're drunk. I mean it."

He took the hands holding his face and placed it in his heart. He looked at you, “Can you feel that?” he asked, “That’s me. That’s my heart. It’s all yours.” as you felt the hard thumps on his chest your cheeks flushed.

“You get embarrassed too easily,” he playfully scoffs, “Just from touching my chest?”

“M’ not embarrassed..” you protested. “Sure.”

“Come on,” he pats your shoulder. “Let’s get you to bed.” He extracted your hands from his chest and rose to his feet. “Can you stand?” he asked, “Dunno..” you responded.

Jason sighed as he picked you up the couch, “Which room is yours?” he asked, looking down at you in his arms, “That one.” you pointed.

He pushed the door open with his bicep, and walked over to the bed and gently laid you down on the soft mattress. Once you were settled on the bed, Jason took a moment to remove your shoes, setting them down neatly on the floor.

Next, he took off your jacket, his fingers gently pulled the fabric and placed it on a chair beside the bed.

As he was about to pull the covers on you, you gripped his hand. “You said ya would stay tonight.” you reminded him. He sighed softly, “I said I would, didn’t I?” he reminded himself, “Right, scoot over.”

Jason settled himself on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he got comfortable. From the corner of his eye, Jason could feel your gaze on him. He could practically hear the thoughts in your head, the questions you wanted to ask.

He didn’t look at you, simply laying there, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “What?” he asked, you didn’t answer instead you held his arm— quietly seeking for his touch.

He turned onto his side, facing you. Then he gently moved his arm, pulling you to him. He wrapped his arm around you, letting you rest your head against his chest. He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back attempting to make you fall asleep.

In the morning, you felt an annoying ache in your head. Your throat was dry and your body felt sore, as you sat up you noticed a hand pressing your waist down.

Baffled, you looked to the side and saw Jason sleeping in your bed.

“….?”

Your mind struggled to process the situation, your thoughts a muddled mess. You must still be dreaming, or perhaps you were still drunk—there was no way Jason was actually in bed with you.

Yet, as you stared at him, the reality of the situation became more and more clear. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his face relaxed in sleep. This was real. You were a bit frustrated, rubbing your head as you tried to remember everything.

Jason’s eyes slowly opened as he felt you stirring next to him.

He lifted his head to look at you, seeing the confusion and frustration on your face. “Mornin’,” he yawned. “J—Jason.” you called his name, “If I did something stupid. I’m sorry.” you nervously chuckled, feeling a bit of guilt.

He looks at you for a moment, "You don't remember anything from last night, do you?" he asked. “..No, was it bad?” you asked. "Depends on your definition of bad," he responds.

He sat up in the bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you. "You were pretty drunk last night," he reminded you. “Oh, god. What did I do?”

He reached out and gently pats the back of your head “Settle down," he reassured you. "You didn’t do anything too crazy. You just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all."

"Do you want me to fill you in on what happened?"

“..would be nice, yeah.”

As he recalled the night, you flushed. Honestly, you wanted to jump off the window and never come back. You sighed as you buried your face in your hands, “I’m sorry.”

Jason reached out and gently pulled your hands away from your face. "Don’t be sorry," he said, "You didn’t do anything wrong. You just said what you felt, that’s all." He looked at you, his fingers still lightly wrapped around your wrists. "For the record, I thought it was sweet.” You scoffed, darting away from his gaze “Don’t say that.”

"And why not?” he questioned, “It’s true.”

"Do you really think I would reject you after you poured your heart out to me last night?" he huffs. “Huh?” you said, deadpanned.

He took a moment to choose his words carefully, his eyes locked on yours. "You want the truth?" he asked, his voice low but firm. He exhales, “Okay look, last night, when you said all that…” he said, "I was tempted to just brush it off.”

You nodded, “Yeah.” you muttered as you listened to him continue.

Jason continued, "But it’s just, you felt so real and I..." he trailed off for a moment, his thoughts churning behind his eyes. “It made me think... maybe I should be upfront too."

He paused for a bit, he was definitely not good with words. But this was for you, and he shouldn’t throw this opportunity.

“When you let me in your apartment while I was sitting injured on that snowy night… it was— I just couldn’t help but be infatuated. I hang around every night because.. you’re good company.” he confessed.

Your eyes soften, “Jason..” he then continues “I knew it was dangerous— for the both of us. To me, it was already dangerous that I was still visiting. But fuck, I just can’t help it because..” his eyes trail down.

“Because I think I'm falling for you,” he admitted. “And I hate it. It’s so damn stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t ignore the way I feel every time I land on your firescape and enter your window.”

He holds your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “In short, I love you. I want us.” You stared at him, stunned. You tried to find any trickery in his face, but there was none at all. “But— but what about you? You’re a vigilante, I’m just…”

"I know," he said, his voice rough. "And I know it's risky— for both of us. I can’t lead a double life, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you."

He sighed, his hands slipping down from your shoulders to take your hands in his own. "Look, I'm not good at this. I don't know how to do relationships, I'm not used to being open or whatever... But with you, it feels different. You make me want to try.”

“Are you.. are you sure?” you said as your hands slightly trembled in his grip.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly, his voice steady and unwavering. “I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but I know I want to try.” He lifted your hands, intertwining your fingers with his as he held them tightly. “You’re the only person that’s made me consider this,” he admits. “And I wouldn’t mind it.”

He takes a deep breath, saying his final words “I don’t care about the risks or the dangers right now. I just want you. If you’ll have me… I’m yours.”

You felt a lump in your throat as your heart beat out of your chest, “Okay.. okay, yes.”

Jason felt the tension in his chest ease as he heard your answer. "Okay," he repeated, "We're doing this, then." your eyes softened as you reached out for his cheek.

He reached up, gently taking your hand and holding it against his cheek. With your hand still against his cheek, he turned his head slightly, pressing a light kiss into your wrist.

“I love you.” you managed to crack out. He looked deeply into your eyes, “I love you too,” he said.

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed back, feeling your lips against his. As Jason pulled back ever so slightly, you could see the uncertainty clear in his eyes.

He looked at you for a moment, as if silently asking for reassurance, for your comfort and acceptance. Your eyes soften, “Are you afraid?” you asked. Jason took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours. “Pretty much..” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I'm.. scared of fucking up.”

You let out a soft huff, “I‘m scared too but..” you reached out and placed your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “But we’ll figure it out together,” you said, “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

“Yeah, okay,” he murmured, “Together. We’ll do it together.”

Overtime, Jason started to spend more nights at your place, no longer slipping out in the dead of night. The change was subtle at first, but he began to make your place more like his own. There were small signs of his presence— a jacket draped over a chair, a pair of extra gloves on the table, a stray strand of his dark hair left on the pillowcase.

Jason stumbled into your apartment well past midnight, looking haggard and tired after a long patrol. His suit was scuffed with dirt and small splatters of blood.

Yet, despite his exhaustion, there was a restless energy that seemed to hum beneath his skin. As he entered through the window, he saw you sleeping on the couch, phone laying on your chest.

You must’ve fallen asleep waiting for him again. He found it both touching yet frustrating, he didn’t want you to wait for him all the time— yet appreciated it.

He placed your phone on the coffee table and slowly scooped your frame in his arms, carrying you into your bedroom. He placed you carefully on the soft sheets and pulled the blanket over you before heading to the bathroom.

As Jason flicked on the bathroom light, the sudden brightness caused you to stir, your eyes creaking open and adjusting to the light. You groggily sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes as you tried to focus on the figure moving about inside the bathroom.

Through the crack in the door, you could see Jason in the bathroom, his reflection visible in the mirror. He was in the process of cleaning up, wiping away any dirt and blood from his patrol. The water in the sink was tinged crimson as he washed his hands, the evidence of his night's work disappearing down the drain.

After a few minutes, he emerges from the bathroom, his hair still with his new clothes. He stops in the doorway, his gaze falling on you. "You're up," he says, "Sorry If I woke you." You stretched and yawned, “It’s fine.” you replied as you placed your head on the pillows, your gaze never leaving his.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, "You need rest."

“I’ll sleep if you sleep.” you said. Jason's lips quirked at your response, “You're not gonna let me win this, are you?" With that, he slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The bed creaked slightly as he settled in, his body relaxing as he lay next to you. You wrapped your around his neck as you shifted closer to him, “How was work?” He reached an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace, your bodies flush against each other.

He let out a deep exhale, "It was... rough," he replied, ”Long night, lots of trouble. Same as usual.”

You hummed at his response, you could tell there was something off. “I’m guessing something happened?” he hated how you could read him so well.

Jason's grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns on the bare skin of your hip. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should share what was on his mind.

Finally, he sighed, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "It’s just, sometimes I get tired fighting.”

Your cheek rested on his hair as you listened, “How so?” you asked. "It’s like— it feels like it never ends," he murmured, his words muffled against your skin. "No matter how many bad guys I take down, there's always more.”

You hummed, “Well, the city will never change. But saving a life can still make a difference.”

Jason scoffs, “No it’s not.” he said, you could hear the irritation and frustration in his voice. He paused for a moment, his fingers still tracing patterns on your hip. "I risk my life every night, and for what? The city's just as messed up as it was the night before.”

“There's hope somehow, it's subtle but.. it’s there I guess.” you said. "Hope," Jason said, the word tasting bitter in his mouth.

He let out a heavy sigh, his body sagging a bit as the weight of his thoughts pressed down on him again. "It's just... hard to see it sometimes," he confessed, his voice gruff.

You pulled him closer in his chest, “I guess it does when you’ve seen too much.” Jason buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He mumbled against your skin, “Yeah.. I’ve seen a lot.”

You gently caressed his back, silently reassuring him. “You’re fine, at least for now.” you whispered. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his voice a soft murmur. “For now.”

The soft melody of the record player filled the room, as the two of you swayed on the floor and dim light from the lamps cast a cozy glow on the living room.

Jason held you close, his hand firmly on your waist while his other hand held your hand. His movements were steady as he led you in the slow dance. You were still a bit clumsy, having a hard time following his steps, “Are you sure I’m doing it right?” you furrowed your brows as your eyes drifted to his feet.

He gently squeezed the hand he was holding, pulling you a bit closer so you would look up at him. "You’re doing fine," he reassured, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Just follow my lead."

You sighed, looking back up at him, “Don’t ever make me attend those Wayne galas or whatever..” he can’t help but lightly huff, "Don’t worry," he assured you, steering you around a twirl. "Wayne galas are the last place I’d want to take you."

You chuckled, “Why? Not fun for you?” Jason shrugged slightly, "Those events are all about showmanship and pretending. I’d rather stay here with you."

You tried to hold back a chuckle, “Wow, the Red Hood can say such sweet words.”

Jason could feel a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. He liked to keep a tough image (most of the time) but secretly he loved being able to show you his softer side.

He mumbled something under his breath, refusing to meet your gaze. “What’d you say?” you teased as you tilted your head.

"I said— nevermind," he grumbled, he tried to cover up his embarrassment by acting like he was irritated. The record player then comes to a halt, you turn your head to the player and back at him, “Fun’s over.”

"Looks like it," he replied, reluctantly letting go of your hand. "Guess we should call it a night then." you held his wrist, “Or.. we can stand here for a while.” you suggested as you leaned on his chest.

Jason's arms circled around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo.

"Or that," he murmured, "I could stay like this for a while." Jason tilted his head, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head. You hummed as you let him kiss your face.

To him, you made everything so easy to forget. When he’s with you, it just goes away.

“You know it’s like 4 in the morning.” you pointed out. Jason hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of your back. He didn’t care about the time at all.

"You're going to be tired tomorrow," he murmured, "And who's fault is that?" you retorted, poking his chest with your finger. He scoffs, rolling his eyes "Yeah, alright," he conceded, "You got me there."

🌊 my last post got a lot of attention, thank you! heres pt. 2

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Minors and Blank Blogs DNI (~600 words)

Do I think Jason Todd would take out a gun during sex? No. Do I think AK!Jason Todd would? ... yes.

But I also think he'd ease you into it. I think there would be a 'reason'. I think you wouldn't even know that it's happening, that that's what it was, until the cold steel is pressed to your temple.

You could tell he had been angry today, wound tighter than usual. But he hadn't taken it out on you. (He never has. Never would dream of it) You have an idea of what he is, what he's capable of, it's just– you've never seen it for yourself.

Well, not until he had your knees over his shoulders while he rutted his cock into your twitching hole. He'd been distracting, driving you closer and closer to release with rhythmic strokes.

Your focus was entirely consumed by the necklace of bruises he seemed intent on biting across your throat and collarbones, that you'd hadn't noticed his hand pawing for the gun.

The firm pressure on your temple had nearly kept you from registering his low words in your ear, the nip to draw your attention from his slowing thrusts, "You tried to contact Barbara."

The lazy, but no less factual drawl of his voice snaps you from your blissful haze. But it's the click of the safety that makes your heart rate spike, "What?"

He tuts at you, dragging the barrel from your temple to under your jaw, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't watch what you're doing?"

You knew he was. At least a part of you did. But it felt wrong, to not try and tell her that Jason was back. That he's planning something you weren't privy to.

You open your mouth. Maybe it's to apologize. Maybe it's to beg him to put the safety on. Or maybe it's to ask him not to stop fucking you.

He shoves the gun between your lips instead, not letting whatever excuse you want to try spill from your tongue, "Don't, Doll. You do what I tell you, and you don't do anything else. Understood?"

His voice never changes from that smooth, sleepy drawl. (It almost makes you relax, almost has you feeling safe)

You nod as best as you can around the unyielding metal, hating the way you clamp down on his cock when he punctuates his words with a harsh roll of his hips.

He hums at you, seemingly satisfied by the desperation that pricks at your eyes. "Good," he croons, pulling the gun from your mouth to watch the lines of spit that stretch from your mouth to the barrel, "You're being good, sweet thing. Just like you should be."

You nearly choke out a sob of relief when the safety clicks back on, and he drops the gun by your head, still within reach, but no longer a threat.

Jason presses closer to you, almost folding you in half to grind his cock deeper against your walls. His face borders on feral, as he studies the glaze in your eyes, "You wouldn't do that again, would you?"

The rapid shake of your head has him kissing your jaw tenderly, like a twisted apology for scaring you. "Just making sure, doll," he murmurs softly, as if you can't still taste the gun power in your throat.

He fucks you like it's settled, then. Makes you cum like there isn't a gun still resting by your head. And when the stars clear from your vision and he's collecting a towel from the bathroom, you can't help but grab the gun from where it rests against the sheets.

You don't have a plan, it's just instinct, to get rid of the danger it poses.

You don't know how you feel, as you unload the gun with shaky hands, when you find there were never any bullets at all.

[ihrthoney]

typing this laying in bed forcing myself to sleep but my brain wants to write so headcanon format it is.

thinking about ak!jason who has no idea that after his ‘death’ that you went insane looking for him. but you were no detective, you weren’t in the police field, you were just jason todd’s girlfriend.

but you damn well did everything you could, from begging bruce, to sneaking into offices, looking for nightwing, anything.

you taught yourself to use a gun to search places alone. jason would scold you for doing such a thing for him but you didn’t care, not when you knew he was alive.

you didn’t know.. but your gut feeling told you he was. a body was never found, nothing. you refused to believe it.

“you didn’t find anything? no pieces of his suit? no blood? nothing!?” you screamed and cried at batman, desperate, grieving.

“i’ve looked-“

“no! you didn’t! because if you did look everywhere you would’ve found something! all this technology and you still couldn’t track the location?”

“it’s not that simple.”

“right, because you aren’t the greatest detective in the world”

you tried to distract yourself with work but it was no use, not when you came home opening the spare bedroom door to your mess of a room. papers everywhere, maps, pictures, you would’ve seemed insane to any normal person.

you were exhausted, too many dreams of him in front of you but that’s all it was. dreams.

one night, you felt someone push your hair behind your ear. instantly, like jason taught you, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and went to slash at the intruder but the knife made a thud as it hit the floor.

a hand, gently, wraps around your wrist.

you blink your eyes awake, taking in the person in your home.

jason.

no. it’s another dream.

“you’ve gotta be quicker than that, sweetheart.”

you don’t speak, still taking in what’s going on. the light from the moon just barley shows his face.

“hey don’t cry baby, it’s okay.”

you back away, unable to take another hallucination.

“no.. this isn’t real. you can’t be here. i haven’t found you yet.”

“i’m right here, baby.”

shaking your head, you back into the corner of your bed, making yourself as small as you can.

“no, i have to find him. i have to find jason!”

“look at me, sweet girl.”

you can’t tear your face from your arms, so he softly pulls your face up with both hands, wiping your tears,

“i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere ever again.”

the closer he is, the more you notice the difference in his features.

the j on his face, the scars, but his eyes,

his sweet beautiful eyes still look at you with love.

“i’m so sorry.” you give in, real or not, you hug him.

he hates it, after everything he’s been through he can’t take the affection. but for you? for you he’d do anything.

so he lets you cry into him, squeezing him tight, even if he can’t be the jason you loved, he holds you all the same.

sobbing into his chest, “i tried so hard to find you”

“i know you did sweetheart, i saw the room. but it wasn’t your job to find me.”

“don’t say that, you’re the love of my life. i would rather die than stop looking.”

“you did good.”

“i didn’t. you still had to find me.”

“i’d climb out of my grave and crawl back home to you, i’ll always find you.”

“please don’t let this be a dream.”

“i’m right here.”

he holds you until the sun rises, rocking back and forth slightly. he’ll tell you about it all later, for now, he just wants you close.

edit: i will be making this into a fic later ;p

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

jason todd instagram hcs

basics

his account's private

he created it around the same time he first knew about you

yes, he did do it because he realized it's probably weird for him to not have any sort of social media

and then randomly posted 2 things so he looked interesting (the shirtless pic may or may not be intentional and obviously the books to show his intellectual side or whatever)

really really bad with social media and all of the naming stuff (i mean are we surprised)

followers + following

mostly his family, friends, and other vigilantes he's worked with

literally whooped with joy the day wonder woman requested to follow him and he would not shut up about it

only person he's following is you ofc (he has a burner account so he can follow people and make sure his brothers aren't doing stupid stuff but he won't admit it)

highlights

yes he does refer to you as his wife to anybody who will listen (and even if they don't he'll still try to anyways)

it's a lot of photos of you guys on dates, some candids of you, basically whenever he thinks you look pretty (all the time) and you let him post the photo

i don't really see him being particularly sappy with his words so he probably just writes like "with my girl" or "date night" or something simple like that

and then some like classic rock song in the bg

honestly idrk what nunya is, i just thought it'd be funny to use that pic for something

probably him hanging out with his friends or random funny stuff he sees

will beat up a guy and then be like "lol went to check this guy's id and his name is deadass buford"

dog is of course photos of your dog, dog!! you guys share custody of her and you would kill anybody for her

there are some photos of him and dog that you've taken

but a lot of them are of you and dog

he likes to go through his wife and dog highlights when he's away on missions and stuff like that (but also he definitely has folders with way more photos on his phone)

posts

he doesn't post that often

but when he does it's usually of you lmfao

definitely posted the third pic from the bottom up when you guys got together

you took the photos of him for him and convinced him to post his to his instagram for once

the book he's reading is actually one you recommended

you guys have a mini book club between the two of you (you guys just read and annotate books and then trade)

you got him the harley davidson jacket because you figured he should have different jackets when he's going out as red hood and as jason todd or else he's not gonna have a secret identity for very long

he's kind of obsessed with it

accidentally got some sort of theme going on? you think it's so funny because this man didn't even know that instagram themes were a thing

[ahqkas]

Hello! ^^

First, just wanna say your blog is amazing. Second, what kind of shenanigans do you think would ensue with the batboys having a hyper physically clingy S/O? Like their S/O would get so excited they're home and just tackle hug them before they make it past the door kind of clingy.

♯ FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE . . . ( the batboys ! )

— gn!reader, fluff

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

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce wayne, the ever-composed patriarch of the family, would at first have no idea how to handle such enthusiasm. his s/o being hyper-physically affectionate would probably throw him completely off-balance at first—not because he doesn’t enjoy the affection but because he’s not used to being greeted like that.

( the door creaks open as bruce steps inside the manor, still half-lost in the grim report alfred had handed him earlier. before he even sets his briefcase down, a blur barrels toward him, arms wide, a gleeful shout of his name ringing through the grand hall.

he braces himself instinctively like he’s about to be tackled by a rogue metahuman. “wait—” is all he manages before you collide with him, wrapping him in a bear hug strong enough to make his muscles tense. for a second, bruce freezes like a deer in headlights.

“miss me?” you grin, cheek pressed to his chest as you sway him back and forth like a tree in a storm.

bruce glances down, trying to maintain the stoic facade, but his lips twitch, betraying the barest hint of amusement. “you know, most people say hello first.”

alfred passes by with an arched brow and a muttered, “at least you don’t end up unconscious, master wayne.”

he sighs, exasperated but secretly endeared. he knows by now resistance is futile. one hand rests awkwardly on your back, the other fumbling to steady the files tucked under his arm. “you’re going to sprain something one day,” he murmurs, though there’s a faint warmth in his tone. )

the first time you tackle-hugged him after patrol, bruises and all, bruce immediately went into “are you hurt?” mode despite being the one who should be resting. “you can’t just launch yourself at me like that—you could get hurt,” he’d chide, even as he gently pulls you closer to make sure you’re okay.

alfred would quietly revel in the sheer domestication of bruce’s typically aloof charge. “ah, nothing like unrestrained enthusiasm to balance out your brooding, sir.”

DICK GRAYSON

dick grayson would be all in for having a hyper-physically affectionate s/o. the guy thrives on connection, and someone who matches his energy—or even outpaces it—would not only make him laugh but also make him feel completely loved. if anything, your clingy antics would ignite a bit of playful competition as dick tries to out-affection you, though he’d absolutely let you win most of the time.

( the moment he unlocks the door after a patrol, the creak of the hinges is your signal to strike. without hesitation, you launch yourself at him like a projectile, arms wide and grinning ear to ear.

“dick!”

“whoa—!” he yelps, barely managing to catch you before you tackle him into the doorframe. one arm wraps around your waist while the other steadies both of you. “are you trying to kill me, or…?” he teases, his voice light with laughter.

“i’m just so happy you’re home!” you say, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? well, i love being tackled the moment i step inside,” he says sarcastically, but the grin splitting his face is entirely genuine. “i mean, forget taking off my boots or hanging up my jacket—this is exactly what i needed.” he spins you around for good measure, making you laugh as he carries you further inside. )

dick would absolutely take your clinginess as a challenge to see who could be more over-the-top. you tackle-hug him at the door? he’ll scoop you up and spin you. you randomly leap on his back during a walk? he’ll carry you piggyback all the way home. it’s basically a constant competition to outdo each other.

one time, you caught him mid-workout and tried to climb on his back during push-ups. he pretended to be annoyed but ended up laughing so hard he couldn’t finish his reps. “you’re impossible,” he’d say between laughs, letting you sit on his back as he fake-struggled to keep going.

JASON TODD

jason todd would act like he didn’t know how to handle having such a clingy and affectionate s/o, but deep down, he’d secretly live for it. the guy has been through hell and back, so having someone who’s so unapologetically excited to see him would catch him off-guard at first—but it would also heal a part of him he didn’t know was still raw. he might grumble, roll his eyes, and mutter sarcastic quips, but the way he’d instinctively hold onto you would give away just how much he craves your affection.

( jason walks through the apartment door, shoulders tense from a long night of patrol, his helmet tucked under one arm. he barely gets two steps inside before the sound of your excited yell fills the air.

“jay!”

before he can react, you’re barreling toward him, all wild energy and open arms. “oh, shi—” the rest of his curse is cut off as you launch yourself at him, practically climbing him like a tree. he stumbles back a step, caught off-guard but reflexively wrapping his arms around you to keep you both steady.

“missed me?” you ask with a grin, nuzzling into his neck as your legs wrap around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

jason sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably. “miss you? you act like i’ve been gone for months. i was literally out for, what, five hours?”

“too long,” you mumble into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter.

despite his words, you feel his shoulders relax as he hugs you back. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?” he says softly, his voice a little rough around the edges but warm. )

jason would never stop pretending to grumble about your antics. “do you have to tackle me every time i walk through the door? my ribs aren’t exactly indestructible.” but if you ever didn’t tackle him, he’d immediately notice. “what, no welcome-home ambush? you mad at me or something?”

he would absolutely start using your clinginess against you. if he wanted your attention, he’d dramatically throw himself onto the couch and groan, “i can’t go on. i need one of your hugs to survive.”

TIM DRAKE

tim drake would initially be overwhelmed by having such a physically clingy s/o, mostly because he’s used to people respecting his personal bubble—or just not being that excited to see him. but once he got past the initial shock, he’d secretly love it, even if he was absolutely terrible at expressing that in words. your affectionate antics would constantly fluster him, but he’d quickly become addicted to the way you made him feel wanted and cared for.

( if you interrupted tim in the middle of one of his all-nighters, the results would be like this: imagine him sitting at his desk, surrounded by coffee cups and glowing monitors, so hyper-focused that he doesn’t even hear you sneaking up behind him.

suddenly, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and you rest your chin on top of his head. “hi,” you whisper, making him jump so hard he almost knocks over his coffee.

“[name]!” he hisses, spinning around to glare at you, his heart racing.

“sorry, couldn’t resist,” you say with a cheeky grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

tim sighs, trying to look annoyed, but the light blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but instead of pushing you away, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. “if i let you stay, will you let me finish his report?”

“no promises.” )

your ambushes would frequently catch tim off-guard, leading to spilled coffee, toppled stacks of paperwork, and at least one destroyed keyboard. “[name], i love you, but you’re going to bankrupt me in tech replacements,” he’d grumble while cleaning up the latest mess.

he would eventually start using your affection as an excuse to take breaks. if you tackled him while he was working, he’d let out a long-suffering sigh and say, “fine. five minutes. but only because you’re so insistent.” cue you dragging him to the couch for cuddles while he pretends to be annoyed.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting ! thank you if you do 🤍

[jupiterisnastar]

Something about Jason Todd reading us a book while we rest our head on his lap makes me all soft and act like a simp.

His tone soft, yet deep, the way Jason's voice is full of emotions, the way you can feel him getting so deep into the book that his petting in your hair is too robotic because all Jason can focus is the book.

Jason loves that you like him reading you his favorite books, that your eyes don't leave his face as he reads.

It's these silly calm moments that truly matter for him >_<