#Jason todd x fem reader

[allllium]

Jason's love language is 100% touch

I don't care what anyone says I know this man has been craving a nice cuddle under a warm blanket for so long

At first he'll put firm boundaries in place, asking you not to touch him in any intimate way, not unless he initiates it

Which makes total sense considering everything he's been through, all the scars on his body that makes him sick to touch

But over time, surprisingly not a long time, he warms up to your touch and even finds himself craving it

It starts small with an arm around your waist and a warm hand placed in yours, but it quickly turns more intimate

Something he never thought he'd have is suddenly there whenever he wants and he doesn't know how to feel about it

He gets more comfortable with things he never thought would be so nice

He lays his head in your lap as you lay on the couch watching TV, showing a kind of vulnerability neither of you ever expected

He starts sleeping without his shirt on and continuously pulls you closer to him

He almost always has a hand on you now

Now that he's comfortable he's not even gonna think twice before keeping his arm around you or laying his hand comfortably on your thigh

He can't even begin to understand why he feels the happiest he's ever been when you do something as simple as playing with his hair or placing your lips to one of his many scars

Safe to say once he gets to this stage, there's no way to go back

p.s he will totally pout the entire day if you lean away from his touch

[kitkatscabinet]

TAKE ME TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S HOUSE

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader.

Summary: So, he might be going against "bro code". He can't help it, though; his best friend's sibling is just too cute.

A/N: Reader can be imagined as biological/adopted/found family.

DICK GRAYSON & WALLY WEST

How Dick hadn't learnt to not leave his phone unattended was beyond Wally, especially when, for a vigilante, the man had such lax security for his personal phone. Nor should he have ever trusted Wally with the password.

Already drafting his absolute PR nightmare tweet on Dick's account, he's mentally rubbing his evil little hands together when his thumb hits the banner notification that pops up on the top of the screen.

My Heart: Thinking about you, come home soon xo

Alongside the text is a photo, a very suggestive photo of a woman dressed in nothing but one of Dick's hoodies. Wally knows because he bought Dick that hoodie, he's also very familiar with the woman in the photo on account of it being his baby sister.

He shrieks, the phone slipping from his slack with shock grip and landing on his big toe.

He doesn't hear the ringtone over his sudden stream of pained expletives, hopping on one foot, until he hears your voice from the speaker.

"Hey babe! You left your hoodie at - "

"YOU!" Wally screams, blubbering incoherently, pointing an accusing finger at the phone like you can see him.

"Jesus Christ," he can practically see you recoiling away from your phone, "Wally?" You've heard enough of your brother's meltdowns over the years that you can recognise him from just a single word.

"YOU, YOU - YOU HARLOT!" You snort at his words, staying silent until his stream of consciousness is finished.

"You done?" You hum, completely unphased at the tantrum Wally's just thrown for the past seven minutes.

"Am I, am I done? No, I'm not done." He squawks, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" There's a beat of incredulous silence on your end.

"Excuse me? What have I done to you?"

"DEFILED THE SACRED BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IS WHAT YOU'VE DONE, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND"

"The sacred bond of brotherhood? I'm your fucking sibling, you're supposed to attack him, not me!" Wally can't help but notice how you don't deny his words.

"Oh, believe me, Dickhead is gonna get what's coming to him."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm hanging up now, tell Dick I'm getting pizza for dinner."

"Don't you dare - " He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before you've followed through.

"Hey Wally, have you seen my ... phone?" Dick trails off as he spots the item he's looking for in his agitated friend's hand.

"You don’t fuck your best friends younger sibling. That’s like the number one rule of bro code!” Wally shrieked, not greeting him like a normal person, and not giving Dick even a second to realise what was happening before he was being grabbed and shaken by his shoulders.

"I love her." No explanation, no apologies, just pure earnestness and the softest look Wally had ever seen on his friend's face.

The declaration takes all the wind out of his sails, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He drags a hand down his face slowly,

Finally, he groaned and dragged both hands down his face. "Ugh. I hate that you’re so genuine. It ruins my ability to stay mad. Barry's not going to be happy you kept this from him though."

The mental image of the Flash going protective uncle giving him the slightest bit of sick satisfaction, until Dick shatters his dreams by casually saying, "he already knows."

"He what?! Am I the last to know?" Dick makes a show of thinking about it before shrugging with an unapologetic grin.

"Kinda, yeah."

"I'M SURROUNDED BY TRAITORS!" Wally yells, sinking to his knees in defeat.

JASON TODD & ROY HARPER

Nobody had ever accused Roy of being a detective. He might not be as smart as the bats (an impossible hurdle in Roy's opinion), but he wasn't completely fucking stupid.

An unfortunate reality for his sister, who he'd caught sneaking into the Titans Tower at the ripe time of 4:47 am, wearing a familiar leather jacket with a bullet hole in the sleeve. A jacket that could only mean one of two things.

You had joined a biker gang.

You were dating Jason Todd, AKA, his best friend, AKA dead fucking meat.

Because while option one terrified him, he'd still prefer it to the option he had a sinking suspicion about was actually correct.

The next afternoon, he finds Jason working out in the Tower's gym, and he grins wickedly. Bastard didn't even have to make Roy track him down.

"Hey, Roy." Jason greets, never once faltering in his reps, entirely unbothered, like he hadn’t committed emotional treason.

Roy thinks he could be forgiven for his following action, he could have done a lot worse than picking up the nearest kettlebell and throwing it at his unsuspecting friend.

"WHAT THE FUCK ROY?" Jason screeched as he dove for cover.

"YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER?!"

"Um, what?" He squeaks, before clearing his throat, "I mean... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't try to gaslight me!" Roy jabbed a finger at him, seething. "You're supposed to be my best friend, and you went and... and started... canoodling my sister."

Jason’s brows shot up in amusement despite himself. "Canoodling?"

"Don't try and deflect either." Roy flushed as red as his hair.

"I’m not—well. Okay. I am. But in my defense, it wasn’t like I planned to fall for your sister."

"Have you kissed?"

Jason contemplates lying but bites the bullet and nods.

Roy gasped like an old lady hearing someone say cunt. "ON PURPOSE?!"

Jason gave him a flat look. "No, Roy, I tripped and fell. Of course, it was on purpose. More than once, too." He smirks, unable to stop himself from prodding the bear.

Roy spasms.

"Ok, let's not make this weird." Jason huffs.

"Make this weird? It's already weird, we're neck deep in it, NAY!, We're drowning in it!"

"Oh dear god," Jason sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and speaking before he can think better of it, "I love her."

Roy chokes, Jason startles, clearly surprising, even himself, "Oh my god, I love her."

There's a heavy, pained silence before Roy croaks "... Bro"

"I know." Jason tugged at the roots of his hair.

"…BRO." Roy was trying to prevent a panic attack, his panic fuelling Jason's.

"I know."

"You love me?" A slightly giddy voice breathes from the doorway.

Both men groan for different reasons as they spot you bouncing toward them.

"Babe, I -"

"I love you too," you beam, throwing your arms around Jason's neck and kissing him like your life depends on it.

Roy gags, forcing you to pull away. "God, this is gonna ruin every group hang for the rest of my life." He whined.

"Nah. You’ll get used to me kissing your sister in front of you."

"I SWEAR TO GOD —"

TIM DRAKE & CONNER KENT

Conner's knee is jiggling furiously. From across the room, Cassie raises a questioning brow, but Conner makes no effort to stop as he checks the time for the fourth time in less than three minutes.

You're late. So is Tim, but it's not him Conner's worried about. You're never late; you've always been a perpetually early person, and you always get so anxious if you aren't. Conner knows, having been on the receiving end of your time-anxious meltdowns more than once.

"Dude, calm down, they're not even five minutes late yet," Bart says, looking at him as if he's the weird one here, when clearly, something terrible has happened to you.

You've been in a car accident (you don't drive), you've been shot, (you're bulletproof), you've been taken hostage by Lex Luthor (plausible), you've -

"Hi guys, sorry I’m late, I slept through my alarm." You laugh bashfully, avoiding Conner's gaze, which narrows in suspicion.

"That never happens." He scowls, his enhanced hearing picking up the slight stutter in your heartbeat.

"Well, it did today." You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit next to Cassie.

Barely two minutes later, a harried-looking Tim scurries through the door, brushing his sweaty hair from his face, and in doing so, accidentally reveals a hickey just beneath the neckline of his shirt.

It's only for a second, but that one second is all he needs to connect the dots.

"No." He says, glaring at Tim as everyone else, including you, watches in confusion.

"No?" Tim repeats.

"NO!" Conner snarls, jumping up from his seat and pulling down the neckline of Tim's shirt to display not one, but three love bites.

"YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY SISTER?!"

"Technically, there wasn't much sleeping involved - " Tim mutters, with absolutely zero regard for his well-being.

"I trusted you with my life, and you go behind my back to DEFLOWER MY INNOCENT BABY SISTER?!"

"You're the same age?" Tim mumbles at the same time you scoff.

"Deflower? Innocent? Are we living in the Middle Ages? Are you my owner?"

"Stay out of this!" Conner whirls on you, his gaze dangerously red.

"Stay out of my own sex life?" You guffaw, ignoring the way Conner puffs up like an angry cat. "Besides, Tim's hardly my first."

Your words are enough to shock your brother enough that he drops Tim, reeling back with a hand on his chest like he's suffering a heart attack.

You take the opportunity to scoop your partner into your arms, flying away before Kon can recover, until you reach the safety of the bed you've both only just left.

"I think he's actually going to kill me." Tim mumbles, burying his face in your chest.

"Hmm, guess you''ll just have to keep me around forever, for protection."

"Sounds perfect." Tim dreamily says, clutching you even tighter in contentment.

BRUCE WAYNE & CLARK KENT

Once, there would have been a time when interviewing Gotham’s Bruce Wayne would have left him an anxious wreck, but now, Clark relished in the opportunity. Giddy that his best friend, no matter how much the man denied it, would turn to him (him! A Metropolis interloper), instead of someone like that tart Vicki Vale.

(That thought has him mentally apologising to his ma for his crudeness, but what she wouldn't know, couldn't hurt her.)

Needless to say, Clark was excited to have been given the chance, and he refused to squander it.

They were in Bruce's "office," a room they both knew he hardly ever even stepped foot inside, but had occupied to keep up the facade.

A brilliant facade it was, Clark thought in amusement, as he watched Brucie Wayne ramble on earnestly. Nobody would ever suspect the man, reaching for his wallet to pull out a picture of his kids in an interview on Wayne Enterprises' newest ventures, to be the fearsome Batman.

Clark, ever affable, just smiles, nodding along until a second picture flutters onto the desk. Bruce freezes, his perfected mask slipping just a fraction, but enough for Clark to notice as the unshakeable man's eyes widen in sheer panic.

Bruce was composed. He was always in control, a master of self-control. Bruce was unflappable, he had a plan for everything.

Bruce, evidently, did not have a plan, beyond freezing in horror, for when an intimate Polaroid of his girlfriend, Clark's sister, landed face up on the table between them.

You're wearing one of his button-up shirts, seated sideways across Bruce's lap, the man's large hand clasped over your thigh, as you stare up at him like he's your whole world.

Clark paused, staring at the photo on the desk like it was a live grenade.

Bruce, very carefully, snuck a hand out to retrieve it. Only to be thwarted by Clark's superspeed. He holds it between his thumb and his index finger like it might bite him, the blinding grin never once fading from his face.

Bruce thinks it's the most terrifying Clark has ever looked.

There's a long pause, with Bruce mentally calculating how long it will take before he has some Kryptonite on his hands and whetehr or not Clark will flatten him before then.

"Oh my god," Clark said.

Bruce grimaced. "It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're dating my sister."

"Ok, it's exactly what it looks like, but—" He cuts off once more as Clark speaks with surprising giddiness.

"You carry her around in your wallet. Like a real boyfriend, it's sickeningly sweet."

Bruce opened his mouth, closing it and opening it again repeatedly like a stunned fish as he blushed a brilliant red.

Clark wasn’t finished; if anything, he looked like Christmas had come early.

"Is there more?" Bruce stiffens, "There is! Do you have a shrine? I bet you have a shrine!"

"Clark."

"Is it in the batcave?"

"Clark."

"What about a scrapbook? Is she on the manor walls yet?"

"Clark."

"Do your kids know? Wait, am I the last to know?!" He seemed genuinely hurt by that thought.

Bruce looked up at the ceiling like it could save him from the confrontation; he thinks he'd rather fight than... whatever the hell, it is Clark's doing.

[softvalentines]

Gunplay with Jason!

pairing: jason todd x reader cw: smut, afab reader, gun play, breeding (no intentions of pregnacny), mentions of death, jason is somewhat submissive, descriptive details of bodily fluid (pre cum)

it was always like this with him. too much, too intense, too intimate in all the wrong, perfect ways. you don’t remember who pulled first, who dragged the other into this sick, desperate tangle, but you knew how it would end. it always did.

both of you with guns drawn, breathing heavy, the weight of cold steel pressed into overheated skin. his piece against your forehead, slick with the mess he made nodding it against your clit not even five minutes earlier, teasing you until you were slick and panting for it, the metal leaving a faint, sticky imprint where it kissed your skin. and your own gun nestled against the underside of his jaw, right where the stubble faded soft against the tender skin of his throat. safety off. your finger ghosting over the trigger.

he was on top, that big body of his trembling, chest heaving like a man possessed, sweat dampening his hair where it curled against his temple. those arms — fuck, the veins bulging like cables, flexing as he kept his gun steady, or tried to. you could see how bad he was shaking now, how much the strain was getting to him.

because his cock, his pretty, pink flushed, sensitive cock, was leaking over your stomach, twitching between you both like it didn’t know what to do with itself. poor thing was so worked up, dripping precum and smearing it against your skin with every slight shift of his hips. his lips were parted, pink and slick, letting out these tiny whines that he tried so hard to bite back.

but he couldn’t. not with you. not when it was you holding the other end of the game, when it was your finger that could end him, your eyes that watched him come undone like this.

it was ritual by now. something wordless and sacred between you. the threat of it, the trust in it. you could end him right here. blow his fucking brains out and he knew it. wanted it. wanted to see if you’d do it, to feel what it was like to hover right there on the edge of life and death, to gamble with his own mortality while the person he loved most in the world held the dice.

and the sick, awful, beautiful part was how it turned him on beyond reason. how it made him whimper, made his eyes roll back a little, made his body seize when you pressed the muzzle a little firmer under his jaw, just to see him flinch.

"fuck," he gasped, the sound so wrecked, so raw. the gun in his hand finally slipped, falling with a soft, metallic thud against the mattress by your head.

and then it was just him. shaking, begging, his whole body clenching as his orgasm tore through him sharp and fast, spilling hot and messy over your stomach, your chest, anywhere it could land. his hands scrambled for you, grabbing your face, your neck, your shoulders like he couldn’t hold enough of you.

"i love you," he choked out, over and over, "i love you, holy shit, i love you—"

like it hurt him. like it physically ached to admit it, but he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. and you didn’t make him. you just let him unravel. let him come down in your arms, the both of you a sticky, trembling mess in the wreckage you made together.

because you weren’t gonna kill him.

never.

[melodiesz]

Shooting practice with Jason ⭑

( -_•)︻デ═一 pow ! ✮⋆˙

“are you even trying?” He asks with an unimpressed look. When you continue to fumble with the gun (possibly on purpose), he groans and takes matters into his own hands.

“No- here, like this.” He grabs your hands and positions them on the pistol, adjusting your fingers and correcting the way you held your arms out with clear experience.

He nudged your legs into proper position, grabbing your waist and guiding you to a slight angle.

It was an innocent action but your face is burning. When you try to take the shot again all you can think of is the lingering feeling of his scarred hands on your waist and you miss completely, hands shaking far too much to hit a proper shot.

You frown in embarrassment at being so easily distracted, but before you can think on it too much he comes up behind you, placing his hands over yours and raising your arms. His face is close enough that you can hear his warm voice right next to your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Come on, keep trying. I know you can do it,” he encourages with a smile. He’s just being a helpful friend, trying to teach you how to properly defend yourself, and here you are thinking of how good he sounds humming encouragements into your ear.

You’re glad he’s behind you so he can’t spot how red your face is turning. You take a second to prepare yourself or you just want to feel his hands on yours a little longer and with a deep breath you take the shot, hitting the target dead centre.

His grin widens. “See? you’re a natural!” He boasts dramatically and steps back, and your expression dips at the loss of contact. “now try it without my help,” he asks.

You get back into proper stance and aim perfectly, stance corrected and shoulders back, but when the moment comes, you miss again, mind utterly clouded.

He raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be this bad,” he jokes. “something got you distracted?” He steps to face you now and immediately notices your flushed expression.

He may be a little dense when it comes to romantics, but he’s not an idiot. Rather than tease you he just smiles reassuringly and covers your hand in his again, reaching his left one to rest softly on your waist.

He’s pressed against your back now and you want to squeal at the way his body basically covers yours completely. He rests his chin on your shoulder, eyeing you calmly like you weren’t on the brink of imploding. His voice is soft, like a whisper in your ear when he urges, “do it for me, yeah?”

And you do, abiding without a second thought and pressing down on the trigger. The hand on your waist is trailing down to your hip and tracing patterns on it, like he was trying to distract you. Yet somehow, you manage to make a good shot.

You’re still red in the face when just like that he backs away, smiling innocently again like nothing happened. You gawk at him and he just laughs and walks away, throwing out a quick: “told you.”

[athenalvss]

Hi, I love your writing style, and I was hoping you could write a Jason Todd x reader? Where the reader is a sexual menace, even though Jason was her first. Jason hadn't really told his family he was dating anyone. So when Barbara was out one day, going about her day, she saw Jason shopping with a woman[reader], and so being the person she was, she followed them around and from what she could see, the woman was a kind and sweet person so she snapped a pick and left unnoticed. She showed the fam the picture when she got home. A few days later the mystery was eating away at them specifically Dick. So he decided to pay Jason a visit in the middle of the night, only to hear Jason and the mystery woman going at it.

HE RUINED THAT GIRL ( Jason Todd! )

Summary: The family is eager to meet Jason's sweetheart, but Dick is the first unlucky one to meet her.

pairing: jason todd x fem reader

tw: some smut

open request - Jason masterlist

You and Jason had been dating for less than a year, but he had fallen really hard the first day he met you. At that moment, you seemed to him a beautiful woman, with a gentle presence, a calm smile, and a sweet voice. A serene, elegant, almost angelic person. Jason thought that maybe he had finally found something normal in his life.

But when he really got to know you, he realized that you were the complete opposite of what your appearance showed, everyone saw you as an educated, sensitive and innocent woman, too pure for this cruel world, but you were nothing like that.

You were brazen, intense, unbearably provocative. Your constant double entendre jokes, your caresses that were far from pure, and every time you smiled innocently, it was right after you'd said something that left him breathless, uncontrolled, unable to keep his face straight.

Jason used to say you were a problem with your long legs and dangerous lips. But he never meant it as a reproach because he loved you for being that way; he truly enjoyed the relationship you had.

The truth was, Jason didn't know how he'd survived so long without you. Your energy contrasted absurdly with his: where he was tense, you helped him calm down; where he tried to maintain control, you knew exactly which button to push to tear him to pieces.

And you always did it with an innocent smile, as if you didn't know what you were doing. As if you weren't aware of how his eyes darted to you as he watched you walk by, or how his sighs escaped him every time you laughed and caressed the back of his neck with those fingers of yours that showed not a shred of mercy.

The funniest thing is that Jason had been your first everything, and you had turned out to be a sexual threat in an angel's disguise, you were a lethal combo.

"How can you be so damned if I was the first?" he'd once said to you, his breath coming in short bursts, after you'd dragged him from the kitchen to the couch as if he owned it.

"As if you hadn't seen my books," you had whispered in his ear, licking his earlobe before mounting him as if the world was about to end.

He kept you away from the family out of self-preservation. Because if they ever heard what you said when you had him up against the wall, the jokes would last for years. And if they ever saw him melt with just one look from you, he'd lose all credibility as the cold, tough guy of the group.

Too bad Barbara Gordon had perfect aim, or you guys just didn't have very good luck.

Barbara had just stepped out for coffee when she saw Jason. Or rather, she saw you. A pretty woman dressed exactly like Jason, a white blouse, black pants, and cute, delicate boots that she'd no doubt look up online later. You were leaning against Jason's big arm like it was your natural place to be. Laughing at something he'd said, your eyes were sparkling, your hand in his, and Jason had a grin that stopped Barbara in her tracks.

It was a soft smile, something the family didn't receive; they could only settle for that condescending smirk he show at family dinners.

Curious, Barbara followed them from a distance, watching and analyzing their movements in detail. Trying to figure out who the hell had managed to win Jason Todd over without him saying a single word.

She watched you two browse books, check out vinyl records, and end up at a coffee shop ordering pastries and cappuccinos. You seemed like a really sweet and kind girl, maybe too much so for a guy like Jason, but from what he was seeing, you didn't really know Jason at all.

Barbara took a photo from a distance and left unnoticed. She was going to use all her knowledge and training to learn more about you and what was happening.

That was three days ago.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

"Okay, I need someone to explain this to me" Barbara put her cell phone on the table in front of the boys, the screen lit up with the photo."Did anyone know Jason had a girlfriend?"

Dick leaned forward. “It can’t be.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Is that… Jason?”

Damian frowned as if he were witnessing a crime. "What's that grimace on your face? Is he... smiling?"

"Yes, Damian. He's smiling." Barbara crossed her arms. "Smiling and holding the hand of a woman we don't know. And I swear, he looks... happy."

“He’s mesmerized,” Damian murmured.

Barbara sat down, resigned. "I couldn't identify her. I already ran a facial recognition search on the database, but nothing. She's completely clean, too clean."

"So why didn't he tell us anything?" Dick asked, frowning.

"Could it be that he knows how we are and that's why he's hiding it from us?" Tim raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"You mean because we're invasive and emotionally dysfunctional?" Dick looked at him sideways.

"Exactly."

"We have to show her she can trust us, maybe that way she'll let us get to know her," Barbara commented, in that reasonable tone she used when she was trying to sound less nosy than she really was.

Damian snorted. “That’s not going to work. Jason doesn’t even trust his reflection.”

"He's right," Tim agreed. "The guy skips family gatherings, leaves the group chat every two weeks, and the last time I asked him how he was doing, he replied with a picture of a gun."

Dick jumped up, with that impulsive energy that always got him into trouble. "Well, that's all. I'm going to stop by her apartment tonight. Big brother surprise. Casual conversation, not at all intrusive."

“That’s invasive,” Tim told him.

"Not if he doesn't find out," Dick replied, already moving towards the door.

"You're crazy," Barbara muttered, shaking her head but not stopping him. "He'll kill you if he finds you."

"What if he doesn't find me?" Dick smirked. "I go in, take a look, see if he's with her, if he's okay... and that's it. Five minutes."

Damian followed him with his eyes, like someone watching a man headlong into his own funeral. "When you're done, be sure to send us your location, in case we need to recover your body. "

Dick winked at him and disappeared down the hall. He was going to find out; curiosity was eating him up. If Jason had a girlfriend who could make him smile like that, he needed to know what kind of woman could do it.

Even if that meant sneaking through his brother's apartment window in the middle of the night.

The city was silent as Dick climbed the fire escape with the same agility as always, moving through the shadows, barely breathing. Jason's apartment window was barely ajar.

Perfect .

He crouched down, peering carefully through the cracks.

Inside, there was no sound at first. Everything was pitch black. Not a voice, not a laugh, not even the sound of the television. And for a moment, Dick thought it had been a terrible idea. Maybe Jason was sleeping, or had gone out, or just...

"Fuck... baby, where did you learn to do that?" Jason's voice was barely a growl against your neck, deep, hot, ragged.

Dick froze. He didn't move, he didn't even breathe. Because that clearly wasn't the sound of friendly chatter. Not even remotely.

"I imagined it..." your voice came seconds later, muffled by gasps and laughter. "I spent weeks imagining what it would feel like to do this to you. And I wasn't wrong."

In response, he heard the mattress creak loudly. There was a wet sound, a raw gasp, and another shove. Dick closed his eyes, wishing he'd stayed home, or been born deaf.

“Fuck yeah, like that. You’re so good for me. So perfect. So fucking dirty with that innocent little slut face…” Jason growled through gritted teeth against your neck. “Every time you open that mouth, I want to see you taking my cock and those wet little eyes.”

Dick jerked away from the window, tripping over his own foot. His heart was pounding. He didn't know if he was hyperventilating, having a panic attack, or both at the same time.

"I can't. I can't be listening to this. It's not real. It's not real," she repeated to herself, while the sounds inside the apartment grew louder with each passing second.

"Please," you begged, slurring your words in the sweetest, most provocative voice, completely dizzy from how close you were. "Don't stop."

Jason groaned from deep within his chest. He gripped your hips with both hands, changing the pace, the angle, everything, only to hear you moan his name again, and you did so, your voice shaky, clipped, intense. “Jason… God, yes, yes, just like that.”

That was enough.

Dick left without looking back. He jumped two stories as if he were escaping a nightmare. He ran. He flew. He didn't stop until he reached the mansion.

When he came in, he was pale, disheveled, with a blank expression.

"Well?" asked Barbara, who was waiting for him on the couch next to Tim and Damian.

Dick opened his mouth… and closed it again.

"Did you meet her?" Tim insisted.

Dick just slumped back in the chair as if he'd been shot in the soul. His gaze was fixed on a fixed point on the wall, as if he saw something the others couldn't.

"Barbs," he murmured, his voice hollow. "You told us she was an innocent girl."

"Well... she looked like that," Barbara defended herself, crossing her arms uncomfortably. "She's very delicate and... smiley. She seemed... nice."

"She was... until Jason corrupted her," Dick said, still not blinking. "The things I heard can't have come from that poor girl."

"Dick, what the hell are you saying?" Barbara looked at him indignantly.

Dick turned toward him slowly, his eyes open, his voice low. "She seemed good..." Dick repeated, his voice low, like a traumatized echo. "She seemed good. Until she told Jason she wanted him to finish inside her while he growled that he wanted to see her on her knees, her eyes moist."

Absolute silence fell over the room.

Tim blinked several times, unsure whether to laugh or throw up. Damian turned his face toward the window, as if hoping someone would save him from being in that room.

And Barbara... well, Barbara needed a few long seconds before she found her voice again.

"Dick… did you hear that?"

“I heard everything!” he exclaimed, raising both hands as if he needed to defend himself from the images in his mind. “Every fucking second. Sound effects included, every word, every shove, every fucking obscenity Jason said.”

"Maybe she wasn't as innocent as we thought," Tim muttered, clearly struggling not to laugh.

"I refuse to believe that," Dick shouted, dramatic as ever. "She looked so sweet and delicate. She had an angelic smile, Tim. And now... now..."

"Now what?"

Dick looked at him, with a broken expression. "I'm going to sleep, I don't want to think about this anymore". Dick disappeared down the hallway, still muttering things like “watery eyes” and “damn mattress,” while the others watched him in silence.

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The next morning seemed like any other, the whole family was sitting at the kitchen table, ready to begin, until the door to the mansion opened.

Footsteps and laughter could be heard in the hallway, and a female voice, sweet, casual, almost musical “This house is huge! Does it always smell this good?”

"Yes, it's Alfred, he's going to love you," Jason replied, in a low tone, with a barely contained smile. "Try not to be scared of the rest."

The four in the room turned at the same time.

And there they were. Jason with a calm expression and a hand on your waist, you wearing a pretty dress, a bright smile, sparkling eyes, and that completely charming aura that made no sense given the things Dick had said to everyone last night.

Dick couldn't take his eyes off you, not Tim, not even Damian. Dressed simply, delicately, with a serene smile and a soft voice that said, "Nice to meet you."

"Is that her?" Tim whispered under his breath, completely shocked.

"Yes," Dick growled. "That's her, the one who said she wanted..."

"Dick!" Barbara cut him off in a quick whisper, kicking him under the table.

"What's wrong?" you asked with a smile, noticing the whisper. Your innocent eyes darted from one to the other, sparkling with curiosity.

"Nothing," Jason replied, tightening his grip on your waist. "They're just... nervous. They're not used to such pretty girls around here."

"Master Jason?" Alfred said, coming in, pausing briefly upon seeing you. "And this young lady?"

"My girlfriend," he replied with a calm smile. "I told you I was going to bring her."

"Oh, finally. Nice to meet you, miss," Alfred said with an elegant bow. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please," you said, gently settling into the chair Jason offered you. "How kind of you."

Dick stared at her as if he were facing an optical illusion. "It can't be," he muttered, as he watched you and Barbara laugh at an innocent joke, take the cup with both hands, and thank Alfred for the tea as if you were a damn fairytale princess.

"Are you sure about what you heard last night?" Tim asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Dick glared at him. "I swear by all that is holy, that voice..."

Damian swallowed. "It can't be. She seems like she wouldn't break a plate."

"Exactly!" Dick burst out in a low voice. "And yet she destroyed Jason last night!"

Jason raised an eyebrow at them whispering, but decided to ignore them. Meanwhile, you leaned slightly toward Barbara, smiling. "Is Dick okay? He looks a little pale..."

"Oh, don't worry. He's just... digesting something," Barbara replied, swallowing a laugh.

Jason came up behind you and absentmindedly stroked your back as he talked to Alfred, not noticing that Dick was watching him as if he were watching a wildlife documentary.

"The traumas are fresh," Dick murmured. "He's touching her as if it were nothing. As if he didn't say he wanted to see her on her knees with wet eyes less than eight hours ago."

Tim nudged him. “Well, at least he’s happy.”

"He's obviously happy! He had a good night, the bastard," Dick said.

Barbara laughed softly. “Dick, I beg you. That girl can’t be…”

[hanasnx]

Hop hop 🐇 hiya bugs :). Can I use my super special Donnie privilege and request 6'11 Jason Todd and biting, Like, just absolutely sinking his fucking teeth in, borderline primal, while that fat cock bullies your pussy. The bites could be anywhere, everywhere, but especially the neck cause he wants to suck on your pulse while his dick fucks an orgasm outta ya and makes ya go limp. Im 4"11 and the size difference makes me dizzy. Work your indy magic if ya wanna but you don't even have to take this if ya dont cause it's um... it's January. My bad for being indecisive tbh. Bye imyyy 👋 🐇 hop hop

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! | IMPORTANT: do not use my 6’11!jason au without my explicit permission.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit, determined to get 6’11!JASON TODD to hear you even while he fills the room with the sounds of skin smacking skin. His monstrous hips plow into you from the back so hard it stings against your ass, rippling the globes while he’s pinning you to the mattress with his strength and weight. Futilely, you’re bearing that weight, holding yourself up with your claws in the sheets, arching your back to keep your head raised—anything to try and be taken seriously right now. Yet, you flinch with every violent sheath, getting speared on a length so insane it’s unfathomable for it to bottom out without an ache.

You squeeze your eyes shut, choked noises releasing from your throat in pained chuffs, unable to decipher whether you hate it or love it. Your cunt certainly does, sopping around his dick, getting cream all up in his pubes. He has yet to say anything to retort, his teeth having sunk into your neck and remained there. If you think anything is painful about the way he’s fucking you, it’s nothing compared to the concentrated pressure in the most vulnerable part of you. Your exposed jugular latched onto like he’s some animal, fangs sinking into your skin to pin you while he uses you. His massive body spans you nearly twice over, blanketing you in an escapable landscape, having plowed you into a prone bone position from doggy. When you try to turn your head, an attempt to get him to release you, a rough growl of frustration releases from his nose.

For one second, his jaw unlocks, and relief floods in, a breeze hitting that wet and fresh dental print. You can’t see them, but you can feel how deep the indents of his canines are. As quickly as it came, he bites back down for a better grip, and this time you cry out in a moan. The new angle hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars, while the sensation of the pain heightens the pleasure. You’re not talking shit anymore, instead your cunt is drooling around him while he’s got your life in his mouth.

[pomegranatelifethis]

Little Trouble

The Gotham night was thick with mist, the kind that clung to your skin and made every shadow look like a threat. At 16, you were the youngest of the Batfamily, adopted by Bruce Wayne after a rough start on Gotham’s streets. Tonight, you were supposed to be on patrol with Jason Todd, your reckless older “brother” and the Red Hood. But instead of busting criminals, you were knee-deep in a sibling prank that had spiraled straight into GCPD custody.

It started innocently enough—at least, as innocent as anything involving Jason could be. The two of you were staking out a warehouse in the Bowery, waiting for a rumored gun-running deal. But the deal was a bust, and Jason, never one for sitting still, got that glint in his eye. “Hey, Y/N,” he’d said, leaning against a rusted shipping container, his red helmet tucked under one arm. “Wanna mess with Dick? He’s patrolling the Narrows tonight.”

You should’ve said no. Dick Grayson, the first Robin and now Nightwing, was the golden child of the Batfamily. Annoying him was like poking a bear with a stick. But Jason’s grin was infectious, and you were bored. “What’s the plan?” you asked, already regretting it.

The plan was stupidly simple: hack into Dick’s comms and blast the cheesiest pop song you could find while he was mid-patrol. Jason had the tech skills, and you had the playlist. You both cackled as “Never Gonna Give You Up” echoed through Dick’s earpiece, followed by his exasperated, “Jason, I swear to God—” But then Jason, never one to quit while he was ahead, decided to up the ante. “Let’s tag his bike,” he said, pulling a can of spray paint from his jacket. “Something subtle, like ‘Nightwing Sucks.’”

You snorted but followed him to the alley where Dick had stashed his motorcycle. The paint was bright pink, and you took turns scrawling the words across the bike’s sleek black frame. You were halfway through a heart around the insult when a spotlight hit you both like a punch.

“Freeze!” bellowed a voice. GCPD. Of course.

Jason could’ve bolted—he was fast, and his grapple gun was primed—but you froze, paint can in hand, and he stayed. “Not leaving you, kid,” he muttered, raising his hands as two officers approached, guns drawn. The irony? You were vigilantes, trained by Batman himself, but tonight you were just dumb kids caught vandalizing.

The ride to the station was mortifying. You sat in the back of the cruiser, Jason’s knee pressed against yours, his usual cocky smirk replaced by a tense jaw. “Bruce is gonna kill us,” you whispered.

“Nah,” Jason said, though his voice lacked conviction. “He’ll just make us clean the Batcave for a month. Alfred, though? He’s the one I’m scared of.”

At the precinct, the officers recognized you both—not as Red Hood and the newest Batfamily recruit, but as Bruce Wayne’s adopted kids. That made it worse. Commissioner Gordon himself showed up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two again? What is it with Wayne kids and trouble?”

Before you could answer, the Batfamily descended. Bruce arrived first, his face a mask of controlled fury, the kind that made hardened criminals sweat. Dick followed, still in his Nightwing suit, his motorcycle towed to the station with your pink graffiti blazing under the fluorescent lights. Tim Drake and Damian Wayne trailed behind, Tim looking exhausted and Damian smirking like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week.

“Y/N, Jason,” Bruce said, his voice low and lethal. “Explain.”

Jason opened his mouth, probably to say something smartass, but you cut him off. “It was my fault,” you lied. “I dared him to mess with Dick’s bike. Jason just went along with it.”

Jason shot you a look, half-grateful, half-annoyed. “Yeah, sure, blame the kid,” he muttered, but he didn’t contradict you.

Dick crossed his arms, glaring at the defaced bike. “You rickrolled me mid-fight with a gang, and now this? I’m framing that paint can as evidence of your betrayal.”

Damian snorted. “Amateurs. If you’re going to prank Grayson, at least make it permanent.”

“Enough,” Bruce snapped. He turned to Gordon, who was barely hiding a smirk. “Commissioner, I’ll cover the damages and ensure they face consequences.”

Gordon waved a hand. “Just get them out of here, Bruce. And maybe lock them in the manor until they’re 30.”

The ride back to Wayne Manor was silent, Bruce’s knuckles white on the steering wheel. Alfred greeted you at the door, his polite “Master Jason, Miss Y/N” laced with enough disapproval to make you both wince. The family meeting in the Batcave was brutal. Bruce laid out your punishment: no patrols for a month, extra training with Alfred, and a written apology to Dick. Tim, ever the overachiever, suggested you also debug the Batcomputer as penance. Damian just called you both idiots.

Later, as you sulked in your room, Jason knocked and leaned against the doorframe. “You didn’t have to take the fall, y’know,” he said, tossing you a candy bar he’d swiped from the kitchen. “I’m the screw-up here.”

You caught the candy, shrugging. “You’re my brother. We’re in this together, even when you’re an idiot.”

He smirked, but his eyes softened. “Next time, we prank Damian. Kid’s got it coming.”

You laughed, already imagining the chaos. “Deal. But no paint cans.”

As he left, you realized that despite the police station, the lectures, and the grounding, you’d do it all again. Jason was trouble, but he was your trouble—and in the Batfamily, that was worth everything.

[cinnamongrl2006]

what if…. English Major nerd!jason tutoring bimbo!reader… and reader’s entire mission is to just annoy him / flirt with him so he’ll do her course work so she doesn’t have to

* ⊹₊⟡⋆ mdni 18+ * ⊹₊⟡⋆

a/n: My queen @ditzydoe444 has some stuff about this that are soo scrumptious, so defo check her blog out, THAT BEING SAID— here’s my interpretation of it, enjoyy. Also, do we like the new format or was the three picture banner thing cuter? Also, this gave me war flashbacks from my uni lit class, that was WAR *

Warnings: fingering (idk, nothing else happens, guys)

When you were assigned Jason as a tutor for your English lit course you thought it'd be easy to get him to do all the work, a bat of your eyes and an empty promise and he'd be scrambling behind you like a lost puppy; however, you soon found it wasn't like that.

At first he didn't think much of the lingering touches and fleeting glances, of the way you'd rest your hand on his thigh and leaned over his hips to see the glowing laptop screen better, or how you’d chew on your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes; but then came the bolder touches, the flirting and pouting your glossed lips at him when you didn’t want to do the coursework.

And Jason, sweet and doting, smiled back with his cheeks and ears red and a boner in his jeans.

You prided yourself in the fact that you could get him hard nearly as quick as he got you soaked, you’d always had a thing for nerdy guys.

Jason was anything but stupid, and he quickly realized you were trying to lure him to do all the work, so when you put your hand over his clothed cock that day— running it up and down his half hard shaft while you spoke about the reading with feigned innocence— he didn’t stop you, instead he angled his hips up into your palm and groaned, smiling at your flustered look.

You recovered quickly, manicured hand gripping his clothed cock harder, complaining about how you just didnt get the coursework.

“Come on…you do get it, we’ve gone over it before. It’s just— metaphors.” His voice came out strained, breathy.

“No, Jay, I swear I don’t— can’t you just…do it so I can see what it is?” You whined, body angled towards him, buzzing at the proximity; your tits pushed up enticingly close to his face.

He could give in easily, reach out and—no. He’d voluteered to tutor you, not fuck you (no matter how much he wanted to do the latter).

All his resolve came crumbling when you spread your legs slightly and placed his hand on your inner thigh.

“You can at least explain it again, no?” Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand closer to where you wanted it.

That’s how you ended up with his thick fingers playing with your clit as he quizzed you. Whenever you’d get a question wrong his movements would halt, if you staggered or didn’t know the answer, he’d slow down.

“I don’t know, Jay, I swear!” You whined, hips pushing up against his hand.

“Babe, you do know. Come on, I told you less than an hour ago.” His tone didn’t have that usual veil of stoicism you’d once confused with shyness, he was almost patronizing.

“Let’s do this,” He ripped his hand off your panties, his fingers glistened with your arousal when he pushed them past your lips. “If you get the question right, I’ll put a finger in.”

You whined, sucking his fingers clean. “Fine.”

“Okay, use your pretty little head, what do you think?” His words were sweet, calming as he snaked his hand up your skirt and under your panties again.

“It’s…lady Macbeth?” You whined, his hand now so close to where you needed him.

“Such a smart girl,” He pushed a finger in. “See? You just needed an incentive, didn’t you?”

────୨ৎ────

* I’m sooo considering doing a part two for this of just smut because I lovedd writing it, so if the anon who sent this wants it lmkkk!!

masterlist

[normal-internet-user]

STUPID CUPID

Summary: Jason is a little awkward when it comes to his feelings.

Requested: No.

Warnings: none

Fem reader!

Sometimes Jason felt cursed. He had to be after he came back. Some things were obvious, the aches and pains, the anger.

He just felt wrong.

Except when he was with you.

With you, he felt seen.

Everytime he saw you he melted. You smile, your hair, the way you held yourself... It made him weak. You made him feel so sure.

It started simply, you were just his neighbor. Some women he lived next to. Then, you started bringing him portions of whatever you cooked for dinner, claiming you'd made to much.

He always accepted, even if it wasn't something he was very fond of. You made good food, and it was this or instant ramen noodles.

After a while, he started helping you out, taking care of your pets while you were at work, fixing things the landlord took to long to get to.

He told himself it didn't matter. You'd never see him as more, but god, did he want you too.

Jason wanted to be yours, he wanted you to love him like he loved you. He scoffed at himself, the idea laughable.

You would never. You didn't think of him that way. He didn't deserve it. You.

But Jason's a man, and men are clueless. He doesn't seem to get it, and you're getting frustrated.

How many lasagna's does a guy need to get before he realizes! It's ridiculous.

You're being obvious! At least you think you are.

It's getting late, and you just finished making dinner, and you're making a portion for Jason. Neatly packed away in some of your tupperware, you make your way over to his apartment.

You knock on the door, and wait for his answer, which comes shortly.

He smiles, it's small, but it's there, and you return it.

"Chicken parmesan tonight." You say, handing over the food, "I know how much you like italian."

"Thanks." Jason says with a nod, gesturing you inside, "You're a saint, you know that? I'm starting to think you're making extra just for me."

"What? No, I just have bad portion control." You reply with a shrug, waving away the though, even though it's definitly true. You are.

Jason chuckles, watching you make yourself comfortable in his apartment, "If you say so." He mumbles.

"Besides," You remark from your comfy place on his couch, "Think of it as payment for taking care of my pets. A little homemade thank you."

Jason sits next to you, doing his best to look natural and relaxed and not give way to his urge to stare at you, "Well, either way, I appreciate it. I appreciate you." He says softly, clearing his throat.

You shoot him a smile, subtly scooting a little closer, "It's really not a problem. I like the excuse to visit."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Jason says, glancing over at you with a small surge of confidence, "Just to see little old me?"

"Maybe." You reply with a shrug, surpressing the shudder that the nickname created.

"Are you free this weekend?" He blurts out suddenly, and he silently curses the way his heart beats out of his chest, the way his cheeks heat up and the dizziness in his head.

He waits a beat. One. Two. And now he's scrambling, god, he just ruined everything. He needs to move. Die his hair, change his name-

"Yes." You reply softly, interrupting his running thoughts, "Why, you wanna go out?"

"Maybe." He says, breathless, and smitten, his eyes glued to you as relief flodd his entire body, "Are you.. up for that?"

You nod, "Mhm." Standing up, you press a quick kiss to his cheek, "Pick me up on Friday, 3pm. We can go get dinner somewhere."

"Great." Jason gulps, a goofy grin playing at his lips, "3. Yeah. Got it. Dinner's good."

"I'll see you then." You say, with a soft laugh.

"Yeah.... see you then."

He watches you leave his apartment, and he feels like he's dreaming. You said yes. You, beautiful, gorgeous, sweet and caring- said yes. To him.

Maybe he wasn't so hopeless.

This isn't as good as the first draft 😪 tumbr didnt fucking save it, so i had to literally start over- i am so mad rn- 🤦‍♀️

[wingedblessing]

JASON TODD HEADCANONS : ESTABLISHED COUPLE VER! a/n: hey guys... erm so what if i told u that i may or may not have forgotten to upload this a week b4 i went out of town n when i DID get back, the electricity went out for a few days.... smiley face. and that this post is a filler too. heh...

his love language is annoying you, yes. if u think he could get anymore insufferable other then being alive, you are deeply wrong.

he would gladly disturb you over anything, from asking the dumbest questions while knowing the actual answers for it, even while you were expecting him to NOT test your patience, to just linger around you while you do the most mundane tasks.

example: him repeatedly asking you to let him try whatever you were cooking, even though he'd already tasted it ten times already. you unfortunately love him too much. depressing, i know.

he also tries to act nonchalant or mysterious in public even while you two are together, you are not him bro. 👎👎

hogs all of the blanket, or accidentally start a blanket war with you sleeping besides on your shared bed everytime he's asleep - he doesn't even know that he steals the blanket in his sleep.

you attempted to do a cute couple trend with him, keyword: attempted. let's just say that you two are never doing a couple trend in public ever again if you don't wanna end up embarrased.

[©]:; don't copy, alter, or repost any of my works on all platforms, including tumblr too .

[allllium]

Just an Accident

~ Jason todd x reader who was accidentally hurt

~ Fluff, Jason being dramatic, WC:

~ Inspired by @mostly-imagines

[Thank you guys for being so patient while I finished this and thank you for all likes 💓💓 I really wasn't expecting anything till this was finished. Hope this meets your expectations <3]

Jason tried really hard to keep his secret secret from you but let's be honest, he's very obvious about it. Especially once you meet his family.

After he finally came clean to you about everything, he became even more protective. More protective than you ever thought possible.

He would freak out anytime he didn't know where you were or if you got hurt in any way.

"I'm so so sorry." Bruce says, following you through the mansion repeating his apology.

"It's okay, Bruce, it was an accident." You reply, "I should've known."

Honestly there was no way you could've known that Bruce was creating some elaborate booby trap on the kitchen counter that would fail and smack you in the face when you walked into the kitchen.

It didn't hurt too bad, luckily Bruce was testing things with plastic and not the real materials.

From the look of it though, you'll definitely have a mark on your nose and possibly a bruise under your eye.

"I had no idea it was gonna do that." He continues defending, knowing how Jason will react.

"It's fine, I swear. I know you wouldn't do that on purpose." You walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. Bruce sits next to you.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks. Obviously freaking out.

"No, it's alright. It really doesn't hurt."

"Oh shit." You hear Dick gasp. Coming in through the front door with Tim.

"Oh, what did you do!?" Tim asks, "Jason is gonna kill you."

"It was an accident, everything is fine." You try to calm everyone down.

Seeing that you're okay, Dick can't hold back his laugh.

"Wow, Jason is never gonna trust you again Bruce." Tim hits Dick on the arm and rolls his eyes. To the side of you, Bruce leans forward to hold his head in his hands.

"I think you guys are being a little dramatic. Jason isn't gonna kill him."

"No you seriously underestimate how Jason will react to this." Tim tells you.

"Yeah, remember he almost killed me for making jokes about you when you first got together."

"What?" You turn to Dick in confusion, "I don't remember that."

"Not important," he waves it off, "The point is, we need a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"A plan to hide this from Jason" He tells you, in a tone that screams obvious.

"How would I do that, Dick? I live with him."

"I don't know yet, that's why we need a plan!" He exclaims, pacing in front of the couch.

You roll your eyes, "You're being dramatic."

"No he's not." Bruce says. You fall back into the couch and cross your arms over chest.

"Bruce please. I need at least one of other person here to be an adult."

You can hear Tim laughing as he sits in the chair next to the couch.

"Well, he's right. Jason's gonna be pissed." Bruce shakes his head at you. He stands from the couch and starts pacing with Dick.

"They're gonna make me lose my mind." You mumble under your breath. You run your hands over your face, this childish behavior you're watching isn't what you were expecting from Batman and Nightwing.

Okay to be honest you were definitely expecting this from Dick.

Tim leans over to whisper to you, "You should make a break for it, they're too busy plotting to notice you leave."

"Let me guess," you whisper back, "you've had to make a break for it a couple times?"

"More than you know." He shakes him head and has a serious look on his face.

"Well, have fun with that." You laugh and walk out the front door. Tim was right, both the guys were so busy trying to figure out how to hide you from Jason, they totally forgot to hide you.

You rush home to meet Jason. You were supposed to meet for dinner but obviously you got a little distracted.

"Hey baby." You sigh when you walk through the door. Jason is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Whatever he chose to make, made the whole room smell amazing.

"Hey. What took you so long?"

"I stopped by the mansion to borrow that thing from Alfred but he wasn't there." You tell him, referencing some cooking tool you wanted to make desert for after dinner.

"Where did he go?" You want into the kitchen to see him while you talk.

"I have no idea. I got distracted by something Bruce was doing." You walk over and take a piece of food that he's cutting.

Without looking, he softly smacks your hand away.

"Rude." You laugh.

"This is my sacred space." He puts the knife down and gestures over the whole counter.

"You're ridiculous." You laugh again and kiss him on the cheek.

"How dare you." He puts his hand on his chest in fake offense. Only then does he turn to actually look at you. "What happened?" He immediately asks.

"Oh it's fine, just got smacked with some plastic " Which is apparently not the answer he wanted.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He grabs your face gently and examines the marks on your face.

"It means I got hit with some plastic. But it doesn't hurt." You quickly explain, but he doesn't let go of your face or stop freaking out.

"What plastic?"

"Bruce was experimenting with something and it didn't work."

"He did this?" He lets go off your face to run his hands over his own.

"It was accident. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose and you know that."

"I don't care if it was an accident, you're hurt."

"Jason." You say firmly. He's obviously surprised considering you never use his name to address him. "An accident is an accident and you're not gonna hold this against Bruce. He already apologized and clearly felt bad."

"But you're hurt" He pouts.

You step forward and wrap your arms over his shoulders. "It doesn't hurt. It was just some plastic."

"It left a mark."

"I promise I'm okay. And I want you to promise you won't hurt Bruce for this." You look right into his eyes and do your best to give him a puppy dog look. Which isn't necessary because he can't say no to you anyway.

"Fine I promise I won't hurt him." He presses his forehead to yours, "I'd rather leave him to stew in fear anyway."

You chuckle at his words. "As long as no real harm comes to him I won't stop you from having fun."

"Good." He kisses you once and heads back to make dinner. You have no doubt Jason would ever actually hurt Bruce over something so small but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

Hopefully this'll stop Dick and Bruce acting like absolutely children in the future.

Yeah that'll never happen.

Not even 10 minutes after finishing dinner you get a call from Dick.

"How dare you?" He asks the moment you answer the phone. "You're a traitor."

"Again with the dramatics Dick. You can't stop me from going home."

"Let me guess Jason's on his way here to get some revenge right now." He says in a very childish and fearful tone.

"No! I was right, you guys are way more dramatic than you should be and he has no intention of killing anyone." Jason looks at you as you talk to his brother. Clearly wondering what he has to do with this situation.

"I don't believe you. You've shown where your loyalty lies."

"Why are you talking like I'm an enemy or something?"

"Maybe you are! How should I know?"

"Okay you're right." You decide to play along, "I couldn't stop him from wanting to kill Bruce, he's on his way there right now."

Jason furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"I knew it! Mark my words one day-"

His voice cuts off when you hang up.

"There is something severely wrong with your entire family." You tell Jason with a blank face.

"Yeah I know." He puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into him.

Hmm you wonder how long it takes till Dick realizes you lied.

[kitkatscabinet]

ME, MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY GIRLFRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND BEST FRIEND

Summary: You and your bestie are a package deal; you thought he knew that by now.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader. Feat. best friend Donna, Kori, Stephanie and Diana.

DICK GRAYSON

It was one of those rare quiet nights. No alarms blaring, no villains plotting, no Bat-signals shining in the sky. Just Dick sprawled across the couch, half-watching a documentary and waiting for you to come back from the kitchen with popcorn.

You returned, phone pressed to your ear, clearly in the middle of a conversation with someone. You handed him the bowl before plodding back into the kitchen to get some drinks.

Dick watched you go with a smile. You were glowing—laughing at whatever was being said on the other end of the line, looking carefree and happy. He couldn’t help but admire you. You were everything good in his life wrapped up in one person. And tonight, he felt especially lucky to have you.

You were FaceTiming someone. Based on the way you were laughing and swapping stories from a wild night out, he assumed it was one of the girls, probably Donna or Kory.

You disappear from his line of sight, and he turns his focus back to the TV. Until you appear behind him, holding out the bottle of soda, and then he hears it.

"I love you!"

He looked up. You were smiling, voice soft and sincere. His heart stopped at the words, nearly bursting in delight. You'd said it, you'd finally said the three words he so longed to hear.

He spins around, popcorn bowl flying as he locks his arms around your waist over the back of the couch and all but vibrates in excitement, shouting, "I love you too babe!"

Only to falter when you wriggle loose, shooting him an incredulous look as you hold your phone up near your mouth.

"Dick, what the hell? I'm on the phone." You scold him.

"Wha? Who are you professing your love to?" He squawks in outrage.

"Um, Donna?" You raise a brow, as if to say, duh.

"Donna?" He reels back with a whine, hand over his heart in offence that's only half fake.

"Oh my God, you're such a baby." You sigh, "Donna, I gotta go." Donna let out an amused laugh before you hung up, throwing your phone on the couch.

"Get up loser." You roll your eyes.

"Why? Just go and be with Donna."

"For the love of fuck." you huffed, "I love you, Dick. But if you're gonna be annoying about it then maybe I will go and —"

Dick suddenly lunges for you once more, burying his face in your stomach and whining like a petulant child. "You love me more than Donna, right?"

"...Sure, baby." You threw up a mental prayer, hoping Donna would forgive you.

JASON TODD

"Babe? You home?"

"On the couch, Jay." You call back, making him falter a little. You always ran to greet him when he got home, no matter what you were doing.

You don't sound injured or distressed, but Jason can't help the anxiety that rises in his chest as he stalks through the apartment. Only to freeze in betrayal at the sight of Starfire sitting on your lap, her arms wrapped around your neck as the two of you giggle together over some inside joke.

"Are you... are you cuddling my girlfriend?" He looked offended, glaring at where Kori was snuggling into your neck.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch Jason." You rolled your eyes, "Besides, you literally made out with Roy the other day?"

"For the mission!" Jason sputtered, cheeks as red as his helmet.

"Whatever you wanna tell yourself hon." You hummed.

Jason dramatically drops his helmet on the table and crosses his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Great. Just great. What’s next? A wedding invitation?"

Kori shrugs. "You would be welcome to attend."

Jason’s brain momentarily short-circuited before he sputtered. "…That was a joke, Kori."

You snort. "Don’t explode, Jay. We’re best friends. This is just Kori being affectionate. You know how she is."

Jason squinted suspiciously, pointing an accusatory finger. "I don’t sit on Roy’s lap. Not like that."

"Okay," you deadpanned, "but you could, you just don't."

Jason narrowed his eyes, walking slowly toward the couch, still pouting. "I feel like I’ve walked into a really weird romcom. Or a very specific fanfiction."

Kori simply smiled at Jason, not bothering to move. "Do not worry, Jason. You are still her chosen snuggle companion for the nightly hours."

"Damn right I am."

That night, as you lay in bed, Jason's arms wrapped tightly around you, on the verge of falling asleep, he suddenly asked. "You love me more than her, right, babe?"

You blink sleepily. "Hmm? Babe, I live with you."

"That’s not a no."

TIM DRAKE

Tim’s curled up on the couch in full comfort mode: hoodie, blanket, snacks, and a fond little smile on his face as he taps the FaceTime icon next to his girlfriend’s name.

It rings once. Twice. Then the screen opens to reveal not you, his beloved girlfriend, but Stephanie Brown.

In what appears to be a changing room, with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hey, Loverboy."

Tim chokes on a gummy bear. "Why are you answering?!"

She grins, swinging the camera around to show you, standing in front of a mirror, wearing an absolutely illegal red lace number.

You gasp. "STEPHANIE!"

"You said you wanted his opinion!" She cackles.

"I meant after I bought it! It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Tim sputters, "I can check the fit! That’s literally my job!"

You tried not to laugh. "Babe, please stop behaving like you’re in an interview."

"But, I’m qualified! More than her! That should be me!" He says, indignant.

Steph winks. "Clearly not, if you’re stuck watching from home."

You grin, unable to stop yourself from throwing fuel on the fire. "It’s true. It’s a bestie thing. Steph’s like my other half."

"I thought I was your other half." Tim's eye was twitching.

"You thought wrong!" Steph mocked, wrapping her arms around you and cupping one of your boobs with her free hand as Tim screeched bloody murder over the phone.

"Those are mine! Mine!"

"Not anymore. Bye loser." Steph cackled before abruptly hanging up the phone, promptly declining every one of Tim's spam calls as you watched on with a wince.

"Steph, when I said I wanted to blow his mind, this is not what I meant."

BRUCE WAYNE

Bruce was exhausted, his bruises had bruises and muscles he wasn't previously aware of ached. It had been the 'week from hell', as Dick had moaned, with a large-scale Arkham breakout not even the worst thing that had happened.

His only solace had been knowing you'd be waiting for him in bed that night, soft and warm, your very presence enough to soothe him as you cuddled into his chest.

The batsuit lay scattered across the ground, he'd apologise to Alfred for the mess later, if he remembered, right now all he wanted was to pull you against his bare chest and bury his face in your neck for the foreseeable future.

He'd gotten back far later than expected, and though the bedroom door was open, your back was to him, snuggled under the covers having fallen asleep waiting for him.

Carefully pulling the covers back, he slid in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist with a contented sigh. Only to freeze at the feel of another body next to you. He's not immediately alarmed, assuming it's just Damian, only to nearly fall out of the bed at the sight of Diana.

"Hmm, Bruce?" You groaned, rolling to face him with a sleepy smile.

"Honey. There's an Amazon in our bed." He sighs.

"We're having a sleepover." You mumble, as if that was enough of an explanation.

"Whyyy?" He whines, too exhausted to be embarrassed about his childish behaviour.

"Cause cuddles."

"I give you cuddles!"

"Not Amazonian cuddles." You mumble under your breath.

"Are you saying she's better than me?" Bruce was outraged.

"It's not a competition." Before Bruce can counter, your door creaks open again, revealing an excited looking Clark dressed in pyjamas.

"No." He growls, making you, Clark and Diana all whine.

"Bruce, you know Clark gets fomo!"

[eicsanakin]

imagine you're married to Jason Todd for years, and he's a hitman named Red Hood, but you don't know... what he also doesn't know is that you're also a rival hitman of his

[athenalvss]

hi hello may I request Jason Todd with a breeding kink pleeeeease 🥺 especially if he runs his mouth and gets a little carried away with it

FULL OF ME ( Jason Todd! )

summary: Jason has a fixed idea in his mind of how good you would look with his baby in your belly, and he can't help but try to put a baby in you every time he fucks you.

tw: sex (p in v), unprotected (dont do thaaat), breeding kink, dirty talk

pairing: Jason todd x fem!reader

open request - Jason todd masterlist

Your legs are still shaking when Jason pushes you hard against the mattress. The room is dim, lit only by the streetlight streaming through the window. His gaze is completely dark, lost in the pleasure and desire to feel your pussy squeezing him.

It was the fourth time this week he'd fucked you, and the second time in that night he was close to cumming inside your soaked pussy, ready to fill you again, without hesitation, as if it were the only thing he knew how to do with you. Each thrust sank deeper, more desperate, as if that were even possible.

"So fucking perfect..." he murmurs, between gasps. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your ear, as if he needs to mark every inch of your skin. "You know what you do to me, don't you? You look so good like this, taking all of me."

His voice trembles a little as he speeds up, and his words become dirtier, needier. He was completely blinded by desire, by watching your face twist in pleasure every time he entered you and touched your needy clit, constantly bringing you to the edge, making you squirm of pleasure against his hard body.

"You don't know how much I think about this, about you filled with me. You cumming for me, you asking for more..." He laughs softly, but there's something dark in that sound. "It makes me want to do it nonstop until you can't take it anymore. Until you're trembling, with my name between your lips and my seed deep inside you."

Your arched back, your moans, everything incites him. And he doesn't stop talking. He holds you tighter as he wraps one of his large, rough hands around your neck. "are you going to let me put a baby inside you?"

That whisper in your ear makes you tremble, without much chance to respond you could only nod with difficulty, while you tried to keep your eyes open to be able to look at him, giving him a more than hot image of you totally stimulated and with that silly face that made you look so pretty, your pussy inevitably clenches at his dirty words, and of course he notices it.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you? You love it when I tell you I'm going to fill this greedy cunt with my cum, completely, all the way. Fill you up until your needy cunt spits out all my cum."

He moves slower, deeper, emphasizing every word, enjoying how foolish you look because of his cock, your eyes barely open.

“Imagine how beautiful you’d be with my baby... and me looking at you, knowing I did that to you. That I filled you so much you couldn’t help yourself.” He pants against your neck, his lips grazing your skin as his pace becomes more erratic, desperate. “Glossy skin, bigger breasts, I’m going to eat those fat tits full of milk out of you every day, I swear, fucking perfection.”

One of his hands moves down to your belly, caressing it as if he could already feel something there, as if the mere thought drove him crazy.

"I want to see you like this. I want everyone to know that I did that to you. That I fucked you so good and filled you up so much that you couldn't help yourself."

And when he cums inside you, he doesn't do it quietly. He says your name with a tremor that mixes love, lust, and need, as if finishing inside you would bring him a great sense of relief.

The silence was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the heat still burning between your legs. You felt his excess slowly begin to spill out, hot and thick, sliding down your thighs with obscene slowness. The cum made a glistening path on your skin, mingling with your own desire, while Jason remained inside, panting, looking at you as if the sight made him even more addicted.

"Look at that..." he murmured with a dark smile, his fingers moving down to touch where their bodies were still joined. "There's no way you don't have my baby."

[hanasnx]

Hello dearest, Jason Todd keeping reader pinned beneath him as he fucks into her relentlessly, enjoying the power he has over her ❤️

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

“Nah, nah, nah—c’mere.” JASON TODD drawls as his grip yanks you right back to him. Stuck in this wrestling match, you’ve been doing little to deter him other than retreating. “You’ve been running all night, try som’thin’ else.” Limbs tangle together on the bed, and you squeal with delight at the familiar feeling of his rough fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants.

“Jason!” you scold, but it’s convictionless, watching him cage you in with his body, using his weight to trap you against the mattress. You don’t resist when he undresses you, even going as far as to help him do it, eager to feel skin on skin while you continue to exhaust him. “I thought I told you to earn it.” you challenge, jutting your chin while you push the rigid denim of his jeans down his hips. He holds your eye contact, his tongue rolling between his lips in thought.

It’s a matter of minutes before he has you right where he wants you, blanketing you with his body as your legs suspend on either side of him. “What, you’re just gonna take it?” he questions you with a condescending air of disbelief. His grip tightens—whether he meant to or not—around your wrists above your head, having pinned them there and out of his way. It takes only one of his big hands to wrap entirely around them, and you’re too distracted to squirm with your full strength. Your eyes glaze over, breath hitching in your throat with every sheath, filling you to the brim and fucking your brains out along with it. “Where’s the fire, birdie? The attitude? Aren’t you gonna run away again?”

Weakly, you push yourself up, attempting to meet his challenge. “You’re such- an asshole—“ You wince, and fall limp, ankles bobbing in air as his palm plants on your tailbone, lifting you up into his movements. The kind of angle that has you keening and seeing stars.

“Careful. You almost sound like you like it.”

[pomegranatelifethis]

I think I'm dying

The Wayne Manor library was your sanctuary, a labyrinth of leather-bound tomes and soft lamplight where you could lose yourself for hours. At sixteen, you’d carved out a place among the Batfamily, not as a vigilante but as a quiet anchor, someone who patched up their wounds—emotional and physical—when Gotham’s shadows spit them back out. Tonight, though, the library’s warmth couldn’t shield you from the sharp, unfamiliar pain clawing at your abdomen. You curled tighter into the armchair, a copy of *Jane Eyre* forgotten on your lap, your breath hitching as another cramp twisted through you.

You’d never felt anything like this. A dull ache had started that morning, easy to ignore, but by evening it was a relentless vise, squeezing your insides with no mercy. Then there was the blood. You’d stared at the red stain in your underwear, heart pounding, before piecing it together. Your first period. You’d read about it, heard friends whisper about it, but no one warned you it would *hurt* like this. Embarrassment burned hotter than the pain—you couldn’t tell *them*. The Batfamily was a pack of overprotective, mostly male vigilantes. How do you explain this to people who dodge bullets for a living?

The library door creaked open, and you stiffened. Dick Grayson poked his head in, his perpetual grin faltering when he saw you hunched over, face pale. “Hey, kiddo, you okay? You look like you just fought Bane and lost.”

You forced a weak smile, clutching *Jane Eyre* like a shield. “I’m fine, Dick. Just… stomachache.”

He stepped inside, all easy grace, but his eyes—sharp, trained to catch lies—narrowed. “Uh-huh. That’s not a stomachache face. That’s a ‘something’s seriously wrong’ face. Spill.”

Before you could deflect, another cramp hit, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out. Dick was at your side in an instant, crouching to meet your eyes. “Whoa, hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Your cheeks flamed. “It’s nothing. Really. Just… girl stuff.” The words felt like broken glass in your throat.

Dick’s expression softened, understanding dawning. “Oh. *Oh*. First time?” When you nodded, barely meeting his gaze, he didn’t laugh or make it weird. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder. “Okay, stay put. I’m calling in reinforcements.”

“Dick, no—” But he was already gone, leaving you to curse your luck. Reinforcements in Wayne Manor meant chaos.

Ten minutes later, the library was a battlefield of Batfamily concern. Dick returned with Tim Drake, who clutched a laptop like it held the secrets to curing periods. “I’ve got articles,” Tim announced, scrolling furiously. “Cramps are caused by prostaglandins, which trigger uterine contractions. Heat helps. Also, hydration. And maybe ibuprofen?”

“Tim, chill with the WebMD,” Jason Todd drawled, leaning against a bookshelf. He’d shown up with a heating pad—where he’d found it, you didn’t ask—and tossed it onto your lap. “Here. Crank that bad boy up. Works wonders.”

You blinked at the heating pad, then at Jason. “You… know about this?”

He shrugged, a rare softness in his green eyes. “Grew up around women. Picked up a thing or two. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Damian Wayne, perched on a ladder with a scowl, muttered, “This is absurd. If the pain is this severe, perhaps a medical evaluation is warranted.”

“Damian, it’s just a period,” Dick said, ruffling his hair, which earned him a glare. “She’s not dying.”

Bruce entered last, silent as ever, carrying a tray with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a bottle of painkillers. He set it on the side table, his presence grounding the room’s chaos. “Take two,” he said, nodding at the ibuprofen. “And drink the tea. Alfred swears by it.”

You stared at the tray, then at the five vigilantes circling you like overzealous nurses. The embarrassment was still there, but it was drowned out by something warmer—something like belonging. “You guys are ridiculous,” you mumbled, popping the pills and sipping the tea. The heating pad was already dulling the cramps, and the tea soothed the knot in your chest.

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with us,” Jason said, smirking. “No suffering alone in this family.”

Tim piped up, still scrolling. “There’s also this yoga pose that’s supposed to—”

“Drake, enough,” Damian snapped, but there was no venom in it. He hopped off the ladder and, in a rare moment of gentleness, draped a blanket over your shoulders. “Rest. We’ll handle patrol tonight.”

Bruce’s hand rested briefly on your head, a quiet gesture of reassurance. “If you need anything, you tell us. No shame in it.”

You nodded, throat tight. As they filtered out—Dick with a final wink, Tim muttering about anti-inflammatory diets, Jason tossing you a salute—you sank into the armchair, the pain easing under the heat and care. The library was quiet again, but it didn’t feel empty. Not with them.

For the first time that night, you smiled. Being part of the Batfamily was messy, chaotic, and occasionally mortifying. But it was also this: a room full of heroes who’d drop everything because you were hurting. And that? That was worth every cramp in the world