#Red Hood x y/n

[killerplink]

You: You know, baby, sitting on your lap does wonders for my mental health.

Jason: You've been here for an hour, doll.

You: Mental health is a journey, Jay. Let me heal.

Jason: You're grindin'.

You: It's the trauma leaving my body.

[theobservatory]

You ogle Jason as he stands up from bed. He's butt naked in the room, covered in smudged lipstick from you being insatiable the night before. He has a couple raised scratches down his back too, along with various hickeys to match your own. Your practically purr seeing the marks you've left on him.

"Turn around." You demand softly.

"Why?"

You're too busy staring at Jason's ass to give him a timely response. You only answer when he turns his head to stare at you.

"I like to watch it hang."

You also like the way Jason's whole body goes red. The way he flushes from his toes to the tips of his ears. The scene makes you bite your lip, another humming purr easing from your chest.

"You're such a fucking freak." He scoffs.

"No doubt about that." You shrug the blankets off your shoulders teasingly. "The question is if you're gonna match it."

Very pointedly, Jason turns around. The word turn could honestly be too light of a description the way he practically whips his body towards the wall.

"I'm putting pants on."

"Noooo! Jason!!" You whine. "I'm sorry!!"

"Too late."

"Uuuuhhgggg you're so mean to me."

I need him so bad. (with a tone that says I'm ovulating)

｡⁠☆Requests Open

[debonairprincesposts]

You: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

Jason: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks, I don't want to hear shit.

[notsodelirious]

U write sub Jason so fucking good it's not even funny im foaming at the mouth and going feral

Can u write some body worship for him please the man could really use it

Addicted to the idea of making him kneel in front of a mirror for me while I grab his chest and thighs and make him watch how pretty he is when he blushes UGH

I fear this is just going to become my legacy now (jk I love writing sub Jason)

synopsis: Jason has a few choice words about himself and you’re not about to let somebody talk about your boyfriend like that

notes: NSFW MDNI, also, some of the tags look scary (eg. spanking, pet play) but genuinely just tagging them bc they’re featured but they’re in no way central

tags: anal fingering, masturbation, mirror sex, very minimal spanking, vague undertones of pet play (this wasn’t intentional), overstimulation, reader is a little mean but I promise they’re making a point, gn!reader, 1.7k words, no use of y/n

idk either, just enjoy — also, big boy Jason

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

You were sitting on the bed, waiting for Jason to change out of his clothes so he could finally join you. You didn’t mean to be a creep as you watched him undress, but the sight of his back muscles flexing when he pulled his shirt off made you wolf whistle and grin.

He blushed as he turned back to face you, a small frown on his face.

“The fuck are you whistling for?”

“Are you telling me you don’t know why people whistle?”

He rolled his eyes, as if offended you’d question his knowledge of anything.

“I know why people fucking do it. I’m asking what you’re whistling at me for?”

“What do you mean? You’re insanely hot.”

“No, I’m not.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as you regarded him, waiting for him to break character and laugh and tell you that he’s just pulling your leg and he didn’t mean it.

Because how dare he imply that your boyfriend wasn’t the hottest piece of ass alive.

“Come here,” you said, as you clambered off the bed and took his arm, leading him to the large full length mirror hung on your wall. Jason followed, very much reluctantly, like he was about to drag his feet like a toddler. “That-” you pointed to his reflection in the mirror as you came to a stop, “-is the hottest man I’ve ever known.”

Jason crossed his arms, a frown still tugging at his lips as he angled himself away from the reflection and towards you, “Okay, well when the only men you’ve ever known are me and your father, I sure hope I’m the hottest.”

Any other time, you would have laughed sarcastically, punched him in the arm and said something quippy back—but now an actual sadness settled in your gut, wrapped around your heart and lungs like thorns. That was the shit you couldn’t let slip and you’d be damned if you did nothing about it.

“Drop the sweatpants for me,” you said as you stepped back to give him a little more space. He raised an eyebrow, sceptical, but complied soon enough, dropping his pants, and then his underwear when you gestured him to do so. You beckoned him closer with a wave of your hand before gently nudging him to turn towards the mirror.

“The fuck are you playing at?”

“Proving to you that you’re hot as shit,” you said as you stood behind him, “On your knees.” He dropped to sit on his heels, legs almost nonchalantly spread as his soft dick hung between his thighs, hands rested on them.

“I don’t think I’m ugly,” he said as he looked up at you in the mirror as you stood over him, “I’m just not-“

You hushed him softly as you placed your hand against his mouth.

“Shut up,” you said kindly as you ran your other hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp softly, making him close his eyes and sigh, “You’re more than hot; you’re fucking gorgeous—got that?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t, considering your hand was still placed over his mouth.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” you said as you tugged his hair back, bending his head back so he’d look up at you. You removed your hand from his face, smiling softly when you met his eager and tender gaze, “You’re going to jerk off, you’re not going to look away from the mirror—that’s all you need to worry about, yeah? You get to cum when I tell you so.”

He nodded as best he could considering you were still gripping his hair.

“Give me your right hand,” he obliged, reaching his right hand up for you—you leaned down to lick it, wetting his palm before you straightened up and let go of his hair, “Go for it, big boy.”

His wet fingers wrapped around his limp cock, making himself groan as he slowly began to pump his cock, making it stir to life beneath his own touch. A gentle blush bloomed across his cheeks: from your gaze or the sight of himself in the mirror, you couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter—Jason kept to your word, eyes on his reflection as he touched himself.

You got down onto your knees behind him, making sure you could still see your reflections as you reached around his back to rest your hands on his chest. The touch was soft at first, almost innocent as you ran your hands across his skin, feeling him up, watching as his blush spread to the tip of ears down his neck.

“I love your tits,” you said against his ear as you kissed the shell of it, squeezing the pecs in question, pushing them together in a mock-cleavage.

“They aren’t-“

You pinched his nipples, tugging on them and rolling them between your fingers, effectively silencing him as he moaned in favour of talking.

“That’s not what you say when somebody compliments you,” you chastised softly as you continued to play with his nipples, watching him as he arched his back into your touch and quickened his hand, “You have nice tits,” you repeated.

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered out as he pushed his hips into his hand, matching his own pace with his thrusts.

“You’re welcome, big boy,” you cooed before your hands finally left his chest, freeing him from the soft torture. You trailed your hands downwards, brushing over his tummy, feeling muscles quieter under your touch: it wasn’t that he was unhealthy when you first met him, but two years into the relationship, he had gained a healthy layer of chub on his body from the meals you had shared together and there was quite literally nothing sexier.

You squeezed his waist, fingers dimpling his skin, before you shifted a little from behind him so you could comfortably dig your hands into his thighs.

“I really like these too,” you said as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, feeling the shift of his body with each stroke of his cock. You brushed your hand over his butt, groping him there too, “And your ass; both very fuckable.”

“I- I’m not-“

You knew he wasn’t expecting the harsh slap to his thigh from his startled yelp and his temporary pause.

“Try again,” you said as you knead his ass.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he began to stroke his cock again, now slick from the pre-cum pearling from his tip, red and eager. You hummed, pulled your hands away from him before presenting him with your middle and ring finger, and pressed them to his lips. “Suck. Don’t stop touching yourself.”

He took you into his mouth comfortably, sucking and lapping at your fingers, moaning noisily. You met his gaze in the mirror, saw his eyes roam over his reflection, his desperate body and leaking cock and parted lips: he was a painting and he was gorgeous.

You finally pulled your fingers out of his mouth when you deemed them wet enough before brushing them across his asshole.

“Fuck…” His hand stuttered for a moment, like his brain couldn’t process both sensations at once. His fist around his cock tightened ever so slightly, likely not enough to hurt himself but enough to not cum on the spot.

“Ready?” You pushed the first finger in before getting a response and Jason tensed, a small strain keen leaving his mouth. “Relax, baby. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

It took him a minute to finally relax and you were able to push your entire finger into his rectum, thrusting in and out slowly to begin stretching him up.

“Keep touching yourself,” you reminded him softly—which he did, moaning a little louder as the dual stimulations pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

“Please, please, I need to…”

“Do you need to cum, big boy?” you cooed softly as you thrust your fingers into him a little faster, making him whimper and writhe. His walls clenched around you, hot flesh trying to suck you in, keep you there. “You know, you’re so pretty when you beg.”

“Thank you,” he panted, “Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

Carefully, you introduced your second finger, still slick from his spit, forcing him open a little faster, brushing your fingers along his warm, tight walls, curling them into his prostate.

You laughed softly as he yelped, pressing down against his bundle of nerves again just to see him grow more agitated and needy again. His own hand picked up pace again, thighs quivering as he brought himself closer.

“Please?” he asked softly as he looked down at you, puppy eyes pleading and desperate. “Please, please, I’ve been good-”

“You have,” you acquiesced calmly as you nodded, “You’ve been so good for me, the prettiest boy I know.”

“Thank you, thank you, I-“

“Come for me, baby.”

He obliged, letting his orgasm slam into him full force. He came into his hand as you continued to finger him, dragging your fingers across his nerves over and over again, leaving him trembling and keening from pleasure and overstimulation. You kissed his shoulder as he finally fell limp.

“Good boy,” you cooed as you watched his entire frame wracked with shivers as you continued to pleasure him, even after his cock softened and he sank down on his haunches. “One more.”

“C-can’t,” he mumbled out as his breathing stuttered, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath but you wouldn’t physically let him. You moved to gripped his cock when he let go, using his cum as lubricant as you kept your fingers buried deep inside his ass, teasingly pressing down against his prostate.

“I know you can,” you kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder and he trembled beneath your lips, whining loudly as the overstimulation overcame him, with nowhere to flee. “Just one more.”

“Too much, too- ah!” The second orgasm caught him by surprise, his limp cock giving a valiant twitch as it spurted cum again, dribbling onto your palm, which you promptly licked up. His eyes followed your hand as he practically went limp, leaning his body weight against you. “Mmh, ah- baby, baby, enough, red.”

You’d had no plans of continuing after his second orgasm, but you thanked him softly for the use of his safeword as you pet his thigh.

You were kinder this time around when you pulled your fingers out of him, mumbling soft praises when he whimpered.

“Who’s a pretty boy?” you asked softly as you both admired the sight of his debauched body in the mirror.

“I am.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

a/n: I actually rewrote like 90% of it because I was so displeased with my original draft—I still don’t know if I did the prompt justice but I’m happier with this version

request are temporarily closed as I work through my current ones and start on my assignments (but the ask box is still open, refer to my pinned post or dm me if you have more questions)

[igotanidea]

Childlike behaviour: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one when Jason understand family can be found.

might be read as part 2 to Childlike honesty.

***

The house was a mess.

Toys splattered everywhere, dirty pans and dishes in the sink.

Piles and piles of laundry in the bathroom.

And everything was too much and she felt helpless and like crying.

Theo was sick and Y/N could barely handle everything by herself.

Those were the times when being a mom, a single mom was turning into a living nightmare.

Having to handle a crying kid, an apartment that was slowly turning into a den and work calls.

“Mommy….”

Y/N sighed internally, holding back her emotional crisis, running hands through her hair and face, gathering all the strength she had left to not lush at the poor, innocent soul holding onto her leg.

“Yes, honey?”

“my tummy hurts…”

“I know, baby, I know.” She picked him from the floor, rubbing soothing circles on little stomach.

“I don’t like it…”

“I know that too…” truly, her mother's heart was breaking seeing the pain etched on the boy's little face.

“When will it stop?”

“Listen, how about we get you to bed and – “

“I don’t want to go to bed-“

“Mhm. But you want to feel good again, right? Go play with the kids in the kindergarten right?”

“I don’t like them.” Theo pouted and despite everything it was adorable. Sickness was making him exceptionally grumpy, hating everyone and everything.

“We both know that’s not true.” Y/N bopped his nose and kissed his cheek. “You like that girl right? That – what was her name, again?”

“Mom!” little fist landed on her shoulder and he hid face in her chest

“What? It’s okay, you know.”

“I don’t like her!”

“Of course not, of course not… Now come on, you’re gonna get some sleep and take that raspberry syrup and – “

“I don’t want to!”

“Theo-“

“I don’t like it!”

Y/N sighed again. She was fighting her own flesh and bone since the very morning and it clearly was a mix of a sick three year old alongside with a three year old rebellion.

“Can you be a good boy for mommy?” Despite his protests she carried him to bed, forcing to lay down and putting cover up to his chin, sitting right next to him “ please?”

“mhmmhmh…”

“Look, hon, we only got each other, ok? How about trying a little support?”

“su- support? What’s that?”

Of course he didn’t know.

“Support is when I’m here for you and you’re here for me…”

“But I am here-“ Theo tilted his head in confusion.

“Yeah, but – “ how was she supposed to explain it to a kid? How was she supposed to get into details of how she was struggling and not explode? “You know what? You’ll understand it when you’re older.” It was physically painful to use that hated sentence, she herself heard so many times before.  Even in her 20s some people were still treating her like a kid. “Get some rest now, ok? You need it and – “

“Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?” she brushed hair out of his forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“My tummy –” he said again, but before she could even attempt to answer, Theo vomited and unluckily, she was just within the scope of its reach.

***

It took two hours to finally soothe her son enough so he fell into the restless state of almost-sleep. Finally giving her a chance to drag herself to the bathroom, hoping against hope that the stains on her favorite hoodie would come off.

Being a woman, capable of multitasking despite tiredness, anger, and an urgent feeling of despair, she set the laundry and moved to the kitchen to finally wash the dishes, bottles, and other stuff that threatened to flood the space.

“Five minutes for myself ….”

“Mommy….” Something was tugging at her leg

Oh god….

“Theo? What’s wrong?”

“My tummy—”

“Does it hurt again?” instinctively she grabbed the first vessel that got into her hands and put it in front of the kid, who only looked at her incredulously.

“That’s a pancake bowl.”

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s a pancake bowl.” She admitted, mentally punching herself. Truly, the whole situation was turning into a meme.  

“Are we making pancakes?” Theo asked softly, with hope in his voice and sparkles in her eyes.

And she was gone, unable to deny this sweet little angel that crumb of happiness.

***

The house was a mess.

Toys splattered everywhere, dirty pans and dishes in the sink.

Piles and piles of laundry in the bathroom.

Only now, it was far worse.

Theo was sitting by the table, munching on the chocolate chip pancake while Y/N was desperately trying to fix the leaky faucet that was extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

“Fuck!”

Great, now she was swearing in front of the kid.

A kid that was so engrossed in his comfort food that barely noticed her struggle let alone her words.

Thank god for that, but she couldn’t put her luck to risk, cause obviously with the little disaster on her hands, fucks and shits were bound to happen again. Therefore acting like an irresponsible mother and walking the line of least resistance, she resorted to the easiest way of remedying the problem.

“Hey, Theo, what do you think about some Paw Patrol?”

***

“Of for fucks’ sake! Do I look like a fucking plumber?!”

The more she tried to stop the leak the worse it got. She was all sweaty, face red, hair wild and fuzzy, fingers reddened and one bleeding excessively from the untrained use of the French key. Of course she could call the specialist, but it didn’t even cross her mind.

“Fuck!”

Kicking the cupboard did not bring her even the slightest amount of peace, especially when the immediate effect of a spontaneous action resulted in pulsing foot and its door creaking and falling off the hinges.

“FUCK! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Mommy?”

“AGH!” she roared before holding back, obviously causing her kid not only the emotional damage but also starting a waterwork. “God! Theo, baby, I am so sorry – so sorry – please, come here…”

“Mommy… I think something is wrong in the bathroom—”

“Something wrong?” in the back of her distressed, tired mind she was already imagining monsters hiding in the shower. Clearly, adjusting to the way of thinking of a three year old was easier than expected. “What’s wrong, Theo? Come on, tell mommy.”

“Noises.”

“Noises?”

“From the bathroom.”

Oh, okay.

“I’ll go check it then.” Reluctantly she abandoned the kitchen, making a mental note to take a break and a deep breath before cursing again, grabbing Theo’s hand and tiptoeing to the other place. “I’m sure nothing wrong is – OH MY GOD!”

Right. There was nothing wrong with the washing machine shaking like it was about to explode and smoke hovering over it like a storm cloud. In the last flash of clear thinking she grabbed the plug and almost ripped it out of the contact.

And then –

Lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Before it all turned into darkness.

This was too much and she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Falling onto her knees, starting to shake and sob, deprived of all strength, drained of the remnants of positive thinking, exhausted.

“Mommy?” upturned, shaking lip, trembling chin and teary voice was enough of a symptom of what was coming. Soon enough, two people were crying in the bathroom, hardly hearing the doorbell, that got more and more insistent.

“Go away….” She muttered weakly, leaning on the bathroom wall, grabbing Theo and pulling him on her knees, holding close. “Just – just go away…”

“Y/N?”

“Jason!” Theo instinctively recognized the voice and jumped out of her reach, rushing to the hall on his little legs. “Jason!’

“Hey kiddo. Where’s your mom, huh? And what’s all this darkness about? Were you playing hide and seek or something?”

“No.” Theo shook his head, grabbing Jason’s hand “mommy’s in the bathroom. She’s crying – “

“Crying?” the older guy became concerned and worried “why is she crying, Theo? What happened?”

“The sink. And then it went poof in the bathroom.’

“Poof?”

“Poof! And then it was dark, but I don’t know why-“

“All right. Up we go.” Theo was placed securely on Jason’s arms “Y/N?! Y/N?”

“Bathroom…”

A moment later, a familiar 6ft tall silhouette appeared in the door, taking in the almost apocalyptic landscape.

“Jay…” she sobbed

“Mommy, don’t cry…” the kid squirmed in Jason’s arms, wanting nothing more but to hug and comfort and Jason let him do just that, before sitting next to her on the floor and putting an arm around her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder, rubbing her side without a word.

And if felt safe.

And it felt like she could finally allow herself to be weak, cause she wasn’t alone.

As cliché as it may sound, she had the proverbial big, strong man to take care of her.

To make her feel like she didn’t have to carry it all by herself.

Cause in the end, a woman has to feel like she has someone to rely on.

And Jason was just that.

***

Within the next two hours, he managed to fix the electricity and leaky faucet and the cupboard door without a single word of complaint. If anything, he was smiling under his nose all the time, repeatedly throwing glances at her, perfectly content seeing her relaxed and opening enough to be vulnerable. 

All while Y/N was properly comforted, wrapped in a blanket and served with a chamomile tea and Theo miraculously put to bed with a new book Jason brought him as a gift.

“feeling better, princess?

“incomparably… thank you.”

“Of course.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head “anytime. You could have just called me, you know, I’d come running in a heartbeat.”

“And make it all okay?”

“And make it all okay. Now come here.”

As he opened his arms she dived into them with a soft sigh of relief. He was her safe space and she was his peace of mind. And even if he didn’t say it out loud, having someone to do those every day, mundane, housework for, felt like home.

Felt like love.

“Will you read to me?” Theo appeared in the doorframe holding the new book in his little hands with a shy yet disarming smile.

“Sure thing, fella. Come here.”

One arm wrapped around Y/N, Theo’s back to his chest, book opened, lost in their own bubble of three.  

A truly family-like picture.  

He could get used to this.

@gl1tchgr3mlin @mara-moon @gone-batty-fics @tristrip @madness1999sworld @enchantedreader

[redsakura101]

Quiet Affections: Silent Sorrows (Part 2)

Jason Todd x Reader

A prologue to Quiet Affections: Dead Roses, but it can be read as a stand alone. Silent Sorrows (Part 1) can be read here

After a fight filled with heated emotions, Jason leaves a posy of flowers for his love. A small gesture, expressing what his words fail to convey. You realise just what these flowers mean.

Word count: ~1.9k

You wake to the light of the early sun as it filters in through your windows.

Rolling your neck loosening as little cracks are heard.

Rubbing gently against the base as the stiffness of sleeping on the couch makes itself known.

Echoes of last night’s fight threaten to seep into your mind. 

But you push it back. 

Back into the crevices of your mind.

You'd deal with it, just not yet. The hurt from the night still fresh in your mind.  

A yawn escapes, as you trudge to the bathroom.

Your eyes glance to the side and notice a glimmer of blues and purples with flickers of greens, peeking from outside your window.

You make your way over as the blur of colours takes shape into flowers as you come closer. 

Pursing your lips before they reluctantly form a small tight smile forms as you slide the window open, grasping the little bundle of flowers.

The beauty of the blues, purples and olive greens are soft and harmonious. 

The contrasting red ribbon, not harsh but complimentary. 

You take in a sharp breath.

They’re from Jason. 

You know they are.

No other indications beside the little red ribbon and yet you just know they are.

Shuffling to the kitchen as the weariness of the morning still settles into your bones, you pluck a small vase from a shelf as you pass it.

In the distance the sounds of the waking Gotham disrupts the morning as beeping horns, the squeal of tires and early starts to construction sites begin to filter in through the window.

The steady stream of water soothes your ears as you fill the jug with water.

You carefully untie the ribbon and twine from around the bouquet with great care.

Doing your best to not disrupt the arrangement as you slide the posy into the vase, retying the ribbon around the vase not wanting to throw it out.

Inhaling the fresh aromas tones of sweet honey and earthiness emanating from the flowers.

Also noting the lingering notes of gunpowder and leather. 

A hint of vanilla. 

It’s intoxicating.

Enveloping you whole with the memory of his presence. 

You miss him. 

But you also knew that you needed to give him space. 

Pulling yourself away from the flowers, you walk off, needing to wash off the night, feel refreshed.

You’d made plans to have your friend over for lunch – and you weren’t about to cancel now just because you were feeling a little lost in your own thoughts. 

A distraction might be good.          

As you move around the apartment after having gotten ready you rearrange pillows, move items, aimlessly cleaning. 

A knock at the door alerts you of their presence.

Opening the door, your friend chatters away entering your apartment. 

They pause, noticing your less than enthused self, instead they see your sunken shoulders and red rimmed eyes, no matter what you did to conceal the trademarks of crying your friend knew better.

They hug you and hold you close, not asking anything.

Just unconditional support.

They insist you sit while they fluster around your kitchen pulling out some mugs and pouring some tea for you both to enjoy. 

You told them of the cakes you’d bought yesterday for the two of you to enjoy, as they pulled them out of the fridge and presented you with a spoon. 

Both of you begin to dig into the sweet desserts, as you begin to talk.

Trying to stay off the topic of why you were saddened, you talk of whatever you can think of even indulging your friend's corny story they had definitely told you too many times already.

But soon it leads back to the fight, the memory of what had happened crawling out from the recesses of your mind.

Your friend was ready to go on the offensive for your sake - but held their tongue as you explained, omitting the more sensitive details.

Neither of you to blame, just a miscommunication gone wrong.

It seems stupid now.

All you wanted was for the fight to be over – they note suggesting Jason feels the same way too. 

This confuses you, as far as you knew your friend and Jason didn’t have each other’s contact numbers.

So how would they know what Jason felt? It's not like they could text each other.

With a roll of their eyes they point to the flowers, 

“I’m guessing these are from him?” 

“Yes, he left them for me this morning...but what’s a bouquet of flowers going to tell me?” Wanting them to get to the point. 

“Well, remember that one summer I took that short course on floral arrangements? – anyways, one of the things I learnt was that flowers have meanings,” 

“And what do these flowers mean oh great and wise one – pray tell,” you humour them.

“Say what you want, but that course was one of the most informative classes I've ever taken. Now do you want to know or not?" Their brow perks with a teasing smile.

"Ok, ok. I'll take your word for it. So what do they mean?"

"This particular choice in flowers means regret and asks for forgiveness. An olive branch.” They point to the particular flowers while explaining their associated meanings.

This makes you perk up, heart melting from the thought, Jason picked those...for you? 

“You’ve got a good one, it’s pretty difficult to find a guy out there who puts thought into flowers. Any other schmuck would’ve just gotten you roses,” your friend sighs – “where can I find me one of those guys, tell me does he have any brothers?” 

Snorting at that, “trust me you’ll find someone who loves you just as much as –” your voice falls short.

“Just as much as what? – as Jason loves you.” A knowing grin slips onto their face. 

You push them away jokingly, “we haven’t said that yet. I don’t want to scare him off, we're taking it slow, remember. That's kind of the whole point of our fight last night.” 

“Trust me he looks at you as if you are his whole world, and these flowers show he means it. Even if he doesn’t know how to say it.”   

“Yeah?” your voice is quiet, almost unsure.

“Yeah,” your friend's voice resounds with sincerity and a firmness that makes you believe they’re right.

Soon your catch up ends and you say goodbye.

A promise to let them know what happens with you and Jason is shared as they leave.

You walk back to the kitchen and simply sit gazing at the flowers. 

You don’t know how much time passes, all you know is that the orange glow of the sunset now filters into the room.

A knock is heard at your door.

A quick look in the peephole fills you with joy as you see the familiar raven haired man you call your boyfriend, the wisps of white strands a beloved feature you never fail to admire. 

Your hand pauses at the knob, a little hesitant.

Mind flooding with worry for what's to come - but your eyes flick to the counter seeing the flowers which eases your worries away.

You open the door and simply fling your arms around him causing him to stumble in surprise, but his arms slink around your waist.

Grip tightening as he practically lifts you from the floor in his embrace. 

His scent of leather, gunpowder and the hint of vanilla fills your senses, just like the flowers did.

Similarly Jason takes in your presence – he didn’t know what to expect when the door opened. 

Unsure of whether you were ok.

Worried out of his mind, thinking of the worst. Thinking he'd lost you over his insecurities bubbling out in a destructive form over last night's argument.

But this – this is better than he hoped, more than he believed he deserved. 

He breathes you in, the comfort of your scent calming his beating heart.

He believes the flowers aren’t enough. 

They’d never be. 

Nothing would ever be enough for you, he decided.

You deserved everything and more.

So he’s here.

Wanting to try everything he can to come close to giving you everything you deserve.

Words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m -,” he goes to apologise, but you stop him, "I know." The finality of your tone buries itself into his heart.

The apology, unspoken but the sincerity of his remorse is felt, you can tell from the way his touch softens as if afraid of scaring you off, from the flowers he left for you, to the way you feel safe and held in his arms. 

You nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck as he nestles his own into the softness of your hair. You slowly slink back lower as your feet touch the ground, still in his arms. 

It's no question, you'd already forgiven him. From the moment he left those sweet flowers on your window sill - you forgave him.

“It’s ok Jay, I know. I didn’t mean to push you last night.” Pulling back slightly his hands slide to grasp the sides of your face gently, the slightly calloused pads of his fingers still soft as they caress the gentle curve of your face.

“Doll, you have no reason to be sorry. I lashed out – I never… Never wanted to hurt you.” His voice cracks with vulnerability seeping into his words, eyes glazed. 

Your hands rest against his own hands tracing slight circles.

“Still I didn’t want to hurt you either, I said things I wish I could take back,” You choke out, tears once again threaten to fall.

He kisses your temple sweetly, then your nose before finally locking your lips against his. 

All other words melt away. 

Silent promises of love and devotion trickle into gentle touches and the flowers that sit on your kitchen counter. 

That evening you find yourselves entangled together as you lay in bed, a comforting embrace.

You're both learning, with the awkward tenderness of people who had never experienced this kind of devotion, and are instead forced to improvise.

Learning how to understand each other, learning how to cherish and love each other in a way no one else ever has shown either of you.

Your eyes closed, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You deserve to be loved Jason. And I will spend every moment we have together making sure you know that,” the whispered promise makes his heart swell – his love for you growing every moment he spends with you. 

You feel a soft kiss placed upon your head as he pulls you closer.

You are his world, and you have him body and soul for as long as you'll have him.

Even if he's not ready to tell you that just yet, it is his deepest truth.

“I am so grateful to have you. And I will spend every moment making sure you know that too,”

The calm of the night settles over you two as you fall asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms. 

And for the first time, Jason stays over for the night in your apartment.

While this won't be the last argument you ever have.

You know that you'll always pull through.

There will be more messiness to come.

Moments of difficulty or misunderstandings - issues you'll face together. But these will be outweighed by the gentle tenderness and care in your actions, unfounded with anyone else.

Even when words fail the both of you.

You'll know what is meant in the silence of your actions.

Part 2 of Silent Sorrows! hope you enjoyed xx The continuation of this and what reader does with the flowers Jason gifts her can be read Quiet Affections:Dead Roses

Who knows maybe I'll find some more inspiration and write another addition to this little idea, I'm thinking of doing one where Jason gifts the reader Forget-Me-Nots? Would love to hear any other ideas you may have

[dark-l-angel]

The Storm We can't Escape

Jason todd x reader

Warning : Smut warning, mdni +18

A/N: Alright, listen up before you roast me.

I have no idea if this even qualifies as smut.. let’s just say it’s my "spicy but make it classy and passionately" attempt. No weird animalistic behaviors, no choking until someone’s a blueberry, no pee/shit consuming, no weird fetish or fucked up kinks. We’re keeping it cute here, OK?

Since some philosopher said that when you don't find the perfect fanfic you gotta make it yourself. right? 😂 Anyway, I rolled up my sleeves and did it myself. If it’s a mess, at least it’s my mess. Enjoy!

The storm outside had nothing on the one in Jason’s eyes.

He slammed the door behind him, but you hardly noticed too caught up in the way he looked at you.

Like you were prey, like you were salvation, like you were his next breath and he was starving.

“Been thinking about you all damn night” Jason’s voice came rough, dark silk woven with barbed wire. His jacket hit the floor, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen. His boots followed, fast and careless, like every second spent undressing was one second too long without you.

Your lips parted to answer.. maybe to tease, maybe to tempt.. but he didn’t give you the chance.

Jason closed the distance in two strides, one hand snatching your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck like you were something precious.. or dangerous. His grip was tight enough to remind you of your place: right here, caught between desire and destruction.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?" he murmured, lips ghosting over yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. “Looking at me like you want me to ruin you."

Your pulse thundered in your throat as your body arched into him, a silent confession of your wicked craving. His eyes burned with dark amusement.. gotcha, they said.

"You want me to make a mess of you, huh?" His grin was sharp, all teeth and trouble. "Say it."

The words slid off your tongue like sin, breathy and reckless:

"ruin me baby~."

That was all it took.

His mouth crushed to yours, all fury and fever. His kiss wasn’t soft.. it was consuming, as if he was trying to swallow every sound you made, every gasp, every whimper. His hands were everywhere at once, greedy and unrelenting, like he couldn’t decide whether to pin you to the wall or pull you closer.

Your clothes came off in frantic motions.. torn, discarded, forgotten. His calloused hands left fire trails down your skin, fingertips grazing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, like he was memorizing you by touch alone.

"You feel that?" Jason rasped against your neck, grinding into you so hard your breath caught in your chest. "That’s what you do to me."

And God, the way he looked at you in that moment.. like you were both his favorite sin and his inevitable downfall.. it ignited something feral inside you.

You dragged him down to you, nails raking his back, desperate for him to mark you from the inside out. He groaned, deep and guttural, and you swore you’d never heard anything so goddamn filthy and perfect.

When he finally slid into you, it wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. Relentless. Like he couldn’t get deep enough, like he wanted to bury himself in you so completely you'd never be able to think of anyone else again.

"You take me so fucking well" he growled, each thrust hard enough to make the bed creak, to make your head spin, to make you forget yourself.

Your moans tangled with his name, raw and aching, like a prayer begging to be heard.

“Louder” he ordered, breath hot against your ear. "I want the whole damn building to know you're mine."

And you gave it to him.. every ragged breath, every shattered cry of pleasure, like you were offering your soul on a silver platter.

He fucked you like he wanted to own you.

No. He already did.

His pace never faltered, even as you clawed at his shoulders, trembling beneath him. He chased your release like a man possessed, refusing to let you fall alone. When you shattered around him, he cursed against your lips, your name a snarl of pleasure on his tongue.

Jason followed you over the edge, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you, body taut, breath ragged.

But even then, even spent and soaked in sweat, he didn’t let you go.

He kissed you slowly.. sensually, drugging.. as if he had all the time in the world to worship you, to ruin you all over again.

His forehead rested against yours, and in that quiet aftermath, his voice came low, dangerous, full of promise:

“Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, sweetheart.”

And you believed him.

You wanted him to prove it.

Again. And again. And again.

btw if you wanted any more character other than the DC to write for just tell me I'm all ears 🙂 and PLS.. my whole inbox is filled with damian wayne type shit. i told you he's a lil cutie kitten to me and i barely can think of any daddy spit on me typa thing on him.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAWBERRY BABYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Jason Todd x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : You Just Gave Birth To Your Child, Jason's Child, The Love Of Your Life. But Everything Went Wrong When You Saw The Child...

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

Your life was supposed to be perfect right now. You just gave birth to your beautiful baby—a moment that should have been magical, joyous, and filled with happy tears.

Instead, you were losing your mind.

Because the baby in your arms… did not have black hair. Not even a single dark strand.

No.

Because the baby—the tiny, fresh-out-the-womb infant that you had just spent hours screaming into existence—was blonde.

Blonde.

BLONDE.

And he looked exactly like Jason.

Now, for most normal people, this wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, it would be a cute, happy moment—"Oh wow, he looks just like his dad!"—but you? No. You were spiraling. Because Jason had black hair. Jet black. Dark as the night. Dark as his soul (romantically speaking).

And your baby?

Your baby had a tuft of blonde hair that made him look like a tiny cherub sent straight from heaven.

Which made no damn sense.

You hadn’t cheated. Hell, you barely even looked at other men since getting together with Jason because—let’s be honest—your man was already borderline psychotic when it came to his jealousy.

So, if you had cheated (which, again, you HADN’T), you would already be dead. There would be no hospital room. No baby. Just a Jason-shaped shadow standing over your shallow grave.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were staring at your son, this tiny, beautiful baby with blonde hair.

Which would be fine. If Jason had fucking blonde hair.

But he didn’t. He had black hair.

You were a hundred percent sure of that. You had run your fingers through that thick, inky hair so many times. You had tugged it when he pissed you off. You had yanked it when—

That didn’t matter right now.

Because either you had just given birth to the wrong child, or—OR—

“Oh my God,” you choked, your voice cracking as you looked at the baby in your arms with sheer, bone-deep horror. “Jason’s going to think I cheated on him.”

The room went silent.

A nurse looked at you with wide eyes, hesitating mid-step. Alfred, ever the picture of composure, cleared his throat, carefully folding a tiny onesie. And Dick—because of course Dick was here—froze mid-bite of his celebratory snack, a hospital pudding cup, before slowly turning to you.

“Uh… what?”

“I didn’t cheat on him,” you gasped, convulsing in hormonal sobs as you clutched the tiny baby closer to your chest. “I didn’t! I swear I didn’t!”

“I mean, obviously,” Tim mumbled, looking more alarmed at your emotional breakdown than at the situation itself.

But you weren’t listening. You were spiraling, your voice getting more frantic.

“Oh my God. What if they gave me the wrong baby?” you whispered, eyes darting wildly around the hospital room. “What if some poor woman out there has my real baby? And I have hers?”

“Miss, please,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Damian, perched in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, made a disgusted sound. “That’s your child, idiot. It looks just like Todd.”

“NO, HE DOESN’T!” you wailed. “JASON HAS BLACK HAIR!”

Damian just scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I—WHAT?!” you shrieked.

Dick sighed dramatically, putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe we have to do this right now. Jason’s gonna lose his mind.”

That set you off even worse. Jason’s gonna lose his mind?! Oh God, oh God, he was going to think you cheated. He was going to leave. He was going to storm in here, take one look at the baby, and—

You sobbed harder. Ugly cried harder.

Bruce actually looked like he was reconsidering every decision that led him to this moment.

“Uh, wow,” Tim muttered.

“I didn’t cheat,” you repeated, voice breaking. “I mean—how would I even have the time?! Jason’s always around! He’d kill anyone who looked at me for too long! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Why are you trying to convince us?” Damian scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be telling Todd?”

Your stomach dropped.

Jason.

Jason wasn’t here.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

“I—I love him so much,” you sobbed, clutching your little (wrong?!) baby. “I—oh my God—what if he leaves me?! What if he thinks I—Oh God, he’s gonna think I cheated, and I didn’t, I swear—”

“Jason’s going to break the door down when he gets here,” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples.

“No, he won’t,” Bruce grumbled.

CRASH.

Jason absolutely broke the door down.

It slammed against the wall so hard that even your baby, who had been peacefully asleep through your meltdown, flinched.

"Fucking Gotham traffic, I swear to—"

He froze.

You were crying.

Sobbing.

Hysterical.

His brain ran a million miles per hour. Did something happen? Did you change your mind about the name? Did one of the nurses insult you? Did he leave the oven on? Did someone die?

His eyes darted to the baby in your arms.

Tiny. Swaddled. Breathing.

Okay. Not dead.

So why the fuck were you crying like this was a damn crime scene?

"Uh," Jason started. "Baby? What’s wrong?"

You let out another broken sob, clutching the baby to your chest.

Jason panicked.

You started crying so hard you couldn’t even get words out. Just absolute, gut-wrenching sobs while Jason rushed to your bedside, grabbing your face.

“Baby, baby, what’s wrong?!” he panicked, his voice an octave higher. “Did they hurt you?! Are you in pain?! Do I have to kill someone?! Is it Bruce?! I bet it’s Bruce.”

Bruce exhaled through his nose, deeply unimpressed.

It's just made you cry harder.

"Oh, God—what happened?! Are you okay?! Is the baby okay—"

"Jason, I SWEAR I didn’t cheat on you!" you blurted out.

Jason blinked.

Everyone collectively flinched.

"…What?" Jason said, voice flat.

"I didn’t cheat! I would never cheat! I love you, and you were my first, and I would never, I would never, I—"

"Baby," Jason said slowly, trying to wrap his head around this absolute fever dream. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You let out another shaky breath, eyes darting around the room in pure panic. "T-the baby, Jason. Look at him."

Jason frowned, stepping closer. He looked at the baby. Looked at you. Looked at the baby again.

"…Yeah?" he said, confused.

"He has blonde hair!"

Jason blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then turned to the rest of the family like they had the answers.

Dick rubbed his temples. "Jay."

Jason turned back to you, lips parting like he was about to say something, then stopping. Then opening again. Then stopping.

“I swear I didn’t!” Your sobs renewed, your shoulders shaking as you held up the tiny, peacefully sleeping baby. “But look at him! He has blonde hair! He looks exactly like you! But you have black hair! I think I got the wrong baby, or I cheated on you in my sleep, or maybe you’re going to leave me—”

Jason stared.

Then he turned, slowly, toward the rest of the room. “…Did you guys let her spiral like this on purpose?”

“Yes,” Damian said, unbothered.

“Absolutely,” Dick grinned.

Jason inhaled deeply.

Then, to your absolute shock, he let out a long, tired sigh—before shoving a hand through his hair and grumbling, “I fucking forgot you didn’t know.”

You hiccupped again. “Wh—what?”

Jason gave you a flat look. “Babe. My hair. I’ve been dyeing it black since I was a kid.”

Your breath caught. “Huh?”

“Because of him,” Jason added, jerking his thumb toward Dick, who just wiggled his fingers in a smug little wave.

Silence.

More silence.

The world stopped.

The Earth stopped spinning.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

Jason nodded.

"You… had blonde hair?"

Jason nodded again.

You sniffled. Sniffled again. Processed this information.

Then immediately let out a loud, gut-wrenching, ugly sob and buried your face in your hands.

Jason Todd. Your husband. Your big, scary, six-foot-four, muscle-bound, leather-wearing husband. The man who used to be the meanest street kid in Crime Alley. The man who could disassemble a gun with his eyes closed and had murdered actual people.

Had spent his entire life dyeing his hair because he wanted to look like Dick Grayson.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “Babe—”

“Oh my God.”

“Listen, it’s not—”

“You mean to tell me I’ve been married to you this whole time thinking you had black hair, but you’re actually some kind of undercover blonde?!”

“Strawberry blonde,” Tim corrected.

Jason shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

You gasped, gripping his jacket like you might collapse. “You mean to tell me this baby is actually yours?”

Jason exhaled. Then he stepped forward, resting a warm, solid hand against your cheek before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, babe,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin. “He’s mine.”

"Oh my God," you wailed. "I’m so stupid."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Jason sat on the bed, grabbing you. "You’re not stupid. You just had a baby. And hormones. And clearly, no one ever showed you my baby pictures."

"This whole time," you hiccupped, voice muffled, "I thought they swapped our baby, and I stole some random kid. I thought you were gonna leave me!"

Jason sighed, rubbing your back. "Sweetheart, I would never leave you. Especially not over our perfectly fine, baby."

Damian scoffed. "Tt. As if anyone else would willingly have a child with Todd."

Jason shot him a glare. "Not the time, demon."

Dick sighed, stepping forward and ruffling Jason’s hair. "Guess we should’ve mentioned that whole blonde thing earlier, huh?"

Jason glared. "You think?"

Stephanie shook her head. "I thought everyone knew. It's, like, a family fun fact at this point."

"I DIDN’T KNOW!" you shouted.

Jason pulled you into his arms, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. "It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. I promise."

You sniffled, eyes red and puffy. "So… he’s really yours?"

Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead. "He’s really mine."

You let out a weak whimper. "I wanna see your baby pictures."

Jason chuckled. "Alright, sweetheart. When we get home, I’ll show you all of them."

Tim crossed his arms. "I have them saved on my phone."

Jason turned his head. "Why the fuck do you have baby pictures of me on your phone?"

Tim shrugged. "For emergencies."

Jason squinted. "…What kind of emergencies?"

Tim smirked. "Like this one."

Jason pulled back, finally looking down at the baby in your arms.

And—oh.

The storm in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something warm. Something deep. Something soft.

The big, scary Red Hood, suddenly looked—small.

Awe-struck.

Because there, curled in your arms, was a tiny, sleeping baby with blonde hair and soft little features that looked just like his.

Jason swallowed.

Then, hesitantly, he reached out, brushing his fingers over the baby’s little fist.

“…Holy shit,” he murmured.

Dick grinned. “You made a clone.”

Jason turned to you, eyes softening.

Then he kissed you—long, deep, and full of love.

“I love you,” he muttered, lips still against yours.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[cybergoth1]

can you do some Jason Todd as a husband headcannon pls !! i just know that when he’s healed , he’s hauling his partner and getting TF out of Gotham , and popping out babies (GIRLDAD) and a nice job in a low-key town and maybe becomes a househusband 😋🤭(for real i’m 100% sure he would) but at the same time he is The Jason Todd . Hot , mysterious , emotional but also not , a big fat nerd in a brick body .

you know your daddy's home.

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader.

warnings/tags: fluffy, pre established relationship. my silly drabble about raising a daughter with jason todd. girl dad jason todd. husband jason todd.

author's note: hey babe i turned it into a drabble! hope you don't mind it!

"look, mommy! i'm batman!”

you suppressed a chuckle as you watched your five-year-old daughter standing tall on the couch, wearing a paper mask poorly shaped like batman’s cowl. the little girl came home from school, talking non-stop about the vigilant and refusing to take off her paper mask, even during lunch time, excitedly repeating what her teacher had said about nowday heroes.

"gotham needs me!"

she was trying to make her voice deeper as she jumped onto the floor. the cats, startled by the noise on the wooden floor, bolted away in a stampede.

"you're too pretty to be batman, baby girl".

your husband jason said as he stepped out of the bathroom. the scent of soap and shaving lotion lingered in the air as he walked down the hallway in just his sweatpants. his scars seemed more visible, glistening under the light as drops of water trailed down his bare back and chest.

“but how do you know what he looks like? he's always wearing a mask!” her childish voice rang out indignantly.

he picked her up effortlessly with one hand, while the other gently tugged the paper mask aside to look into her bright blue eyes — blue like his had been before the lazarus pit. her nose, mouth and ears were just like yours, a glimpse of you both in her youthful face.

"he sounds ugly, like a very old sad man. unlike you, princess".

"i'm not a princess, i'm vengeance!"

you laughed behind the stove.

"well, vengeance," he said, walking toward the apartment’s kitchen with her tiny legs wrapped around his hips "you can save gotham after eating your vegetables," he added with a smirk, putting her on the high chair.

she looked at him with wide eyes, as if he’d just handed her a death sentence.

"broccoli?"

"broccoli".

you placed the plate of food in front of her, the broccoli standing out between the rice and meat like a tiny, green nightmare. she looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently appealing to your good side.

you stroked her hair gently.

"if you don’t eat, i'll have to tell batman that his sidekick isn’t eating properly. you can't patrol without eating broccoli," he said, pulling out the chair to sit beside her. that was more than enough. with a disgusted expression, she began to eat, occasionally poking at the broccoli.

"hi, jay," you said, placing your hands on his broad shoulders and giving him a light massage. he softly kissed your left hand before looking up at you.

"how’s my other girl doing?" he asked with a smile, his lips still lingering against your hand. your daughter was so focused on hating the broccoli that she didn’t even notice the display of affection. normally, she would’ve made a gagging noise, followed by a dramatic, “bleh!”.

"she's missing you a lot" you said kissing the top of his head. a familiar scent makes you pause for a moment.

"you're using my shampoo again, aren't you?"

"maybe?"

©cybergoth1, 2025

[kateswallofweird]

JASON TODD IS THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND TO . . .

cw angst ish fluff ish, mugging, implied physical fighting, forgetting to eat

jason todd would let the world burn for you, but for now, he settles on loving you with all he has.

the echoes of your recent argument still ring loudly in your mind (it was something trivial, it always is), but you're grateful when jason drops down from the fire escape, coming between you and the poor muggers who'd chosen wrong tonight. despite his helmet and the domino mask covering his eyes, you can feel the anger washing over him in waves. he doesn't turn to you, but you avert your eyes and when you find him again, red stains his leather jacket and his gun is holstered at his side again. behind him, the men are bloodied and unconscious. "i didn't think—" you started, but he scoffed (not coldly, but like he knew what you'd say). "even if we're fighting," he answers your unasked question. even if we're fighting i will be there for you, and it's a quiet reminder that his love always supersedes his anger.

grumbling under his breath as you continue to work on your laptop, jason nudges a plate of food to you. it's warm and smells like heaven, and when you glance at the clock, you realize the time. it's late, and you've forgotten to take care of yourself amidst all the work you'd been doing. jason sets down utensils in front of you and a glass of water before taking your laptop and setting it down elsewhere. "eat," he says softly. "you can't work if you're not capable." he doesn't have to say it outright, you can hear the worry in his voice and you know what he means. i care for you is whispered through the hot meal he spent the last hour and a half making for you.

in the quiet of the night (or as quiet as gotham gets), jason slips in through your bedroom window. he locks it behind him and sheds his uniform—his helmet, leather jacket, and finally his armor. he leaves it in the corner so you don't trip over it when you get up, and he makes sure to wash up before slipping into bed. still, the faint smell of cigarettes, cologne, and gunpowder linger. he smiles when you curl into his touch, relief settling in his bones as he presses a kiss to your forehead. he doesn't have to speak because even in your sleepy stupor you know what he's saying, i love you.

the red hood may be a terror to the streets, but to you, jason todd was home. he was warmth, like sunlight on a cold day, solace in a storm. a heart that was once dead now beat to love you, and yours did the same.

💭 tbh i've never read any dc comics so my characterization of jason todd is from other fanfics

[nikkeora]

loving jason todd is like caring for an old marble statue.

he looks like something straight out of greek mythology, something pygmalion would have crafted with rough hands and bright eyes for nights on end. scars from battle like ares, or maybe he's closer to hephaestus considering his past.

but time hasn't treated him well, he's been broken and put back together more times than he can count. there are bad days where he can barely feel the parts of him that had once been taken away only to be stitched back on, where he feels like he's missing arms or ribs or even his head, and he feels as if he'd be right at home between nike of samothrace and venus of milo.

those days, he forces himself through the dark, grimy streets, body on autopilot as he watches limbs that aren't his own fight and bruise and bleed.

but then he comes home to you and slowly, slowly he feels whole again.

your fingers gently tap his before tugging at them, digits intertwined as you raise his hand up to your lips. you're just so warm and suddenly he feels his hand again, that fuzzy feeling gently running up his arm like spring water. he's thinking that the way your fingers are laced together reminds him of the crochet pattern he'd been trying to learn last night when before he realizes it, his other hand is moving on its own, finding purchase on your cheek.

it can't be a pleasant feeling, he thinks. he knows for a fact his hands are rough and calloused, years of abuse caked onto them in the form of scratchy white spots and ugly scars. but before he can take it away, you lean into it, nuzzling his palm as if it brings you comfort.

he brings you comfort, he realizes.

he stands there for a while, both hands now cupping your face, careful not to hold on too tight. his thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, feather light on each eyelid, one even traces the slope of your nose. you're so soft, flesh easily giving way under his touch and he can't help but feel like an elephant who's been given a kitten to hold.

then finally, he arrives at your lips.

he traces your bottom lip first, one slow, gentle swipe, before giving some love to the top. without much thought, he places both his thumbs over your lips like he's seen people do for stage directions, feeling the little squish when he puts just the slightest bit of pressure. your eyes open narrowly and he finally cracks a smile at the sight of you all smushed.

you open your eyes wider and his smile softens, his gaze locking onto yours. he feels like he could drown in them, drown in you, and he'd die happy this time.

he doesn't realize either of you are moving until his eyes physically can't look at yours anymore due to the sheer distance and the angle, instead slipping closed as his lips meld onto yours. he can feel the warmth in his cheeks and each kiss feels like pure bliss, the contact grounds him so that he feels like his head's on straight again. he's sure you can hear his heartbeat - after all, it's practically thundering against his eardrums - and the rhythm it knocks into his ribcage feels so real that the bones there can't possibly be missing.

jason feels every part of his body. in a good way. everything the world had ripped away from him now returned and fixed back in place by your warm, loving hands. yes, he may be a little weathered. yes, he may never feel brand new again. but really, does any of that matter when you look at him as if he's a masterpiece?

[connorsui]

Jason Todd is the type of man who dips his hands in holy water before ever thinking of touching you.

Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s the weight of sins he’s yet to confess. But it’s you—standing in the dim light of your apartment, hair a mess from sleep, eyes soft with something close to love—and suddenly, his hands feel too unclean to deserve the warmth of your skin.

He watches you from the doorway, glove-clad fingers twitching at his sides. Outside, the city hums, neon signs flickering against rain-slick pavement, but here—here, it’s quiet. Safe.

You tilt your head, an unspoken question in your eyes.

He exhales. Steps forward.

“Rough night?” you ask, voice laced with sleep as you reach for his arm, but he doesn’t let you touch him just yet.

Instead, he lifts a hand, slowly, hesitantly, and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek. A ghost of a touch. A prayer in motion.

Your breath stills, and he knows you feel it—the reverence, the restraint, the unspoken fear that if he holds on too tight, you’ll slip through his fingers like everything else he’s lost.

“I should wash up,” he murmurs, voice rough, edged with something vulnerable.

But you catch his wrist before he can step away, press your lips to his bruised knuckles—once, twice—before meeting his eyes.

“Stay.”

And maybe he doesn’t need such religious incantations. Maybe your touch is absolution enough.

[fear-is-truth]

JASON TODD notices them every morning when he steps out of the shower, steam fogging the mirror, water running in slow rivulets down his chest. his scars catch the light—some thick and jagged, others thin and pale—but his eyes aren’t drawn to those.

they’re drawn to the bite marks you’ve left.

pink crescents formed from a row of tiny half-moons scattered on his shoulder, biceps, below his collarbone, ghosts of your teeth. he touches one absentmindedly, thumb tracing over the tender mark.

you bite him a lot.

at first, he thought it was a joke. some weird, affection-adjacent habit you’d eventually drop. but you never did. if anything, it got worse—little warning nips when he teases you. slow, lingering ones when you’re curled up next to him, pressing your mouth to his skin, sucking til his skin turns a shade darker.

he should probably tell you to quit it.

but he never does.

he likes them, he realises.

likes that he can see them every morning. likes that you put them there. likes that even when you’re not with him, he can still feel you.

[jasonsdolly]

Domesticity was not something Jason Todd was used to.

His past and everything he does to keep the city free of any danger haunted him like his own shadow.

He would never think he would find himself cooking and laughing with someone he loved and they loved him too.

It felt so right, like despite everything morally wrong he did he still had a place where he belonged. With you.

As if somehow all the suffering he had gone through was being rewarded.

“Everything’s okay, baby? I lost you for a moment.”

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts, as always being the light among the darkness of his mind.

He took a couple of steps towards you and without thinking twice, hooked his arm around your waist and turned you around so he could face you and kiss you with longing and affection.

You, by surprise, at first did not kiss him back but then you followed the kiss in the same way that he moved his lips over yours.

“What was that?”

The way he looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I just- I love you.”

You smiled and brushed the tip of your nose against his lovingly.

“I love you more.”

[igotanidea]

Bait: Jason Todd x reader

aka: the one when Jason's family is using you to renew relationship with him

She certainly did not expect to see a huge bouquet sitting on top of her desk on rainy Friday morning.

And definitely did not want them.

Cause if there was one thing sure in the world it was that those flowers couldn’t have been a gift from Jason.

And if not from Jason this meant she had a secret admirer.

And since she was a taken and very in love woman, a man creeping on her could turn into a big problem, especially considering the fact that she was taken by no one else but Red Hood, who wasn;t a big fan of sharing.

“Y/N! Look, those came for you, this morning.”

“Uh. I see.” She muttered, trying to act unfazed by the excited squeals of her office bestie. How could she be so happy about it? And what the hell was her definition of morning if it was barely 8.30 am?

“You look like you’re mad about it.”

“I’m not mad about it-“

“Then what is it about?” God save Y/N from the office gossip and curious coworkers.

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s nothing.” She put a smile that was equally as big as it was fake, hoping it would be enough to nip this ridiculous conversation in the bud. “I got a lot of work, you know. How about we talk during the lunch break, how does that sound? Good? Great, see you later then!” Before anyone managed to chip in and threw their opinion into the newest office sensation Y/N closed the door to her room, using the unusual force of will power into not locking them. This place definitely didn’t have enough men on board, cause as much as she was a fan of women and their greatest cheerleader a firm full of girls could turn into a hen house at times.

Only after taking a few inhales and exhales did she begin the inspection of the gift, created from her favorite plants.

Hence – the person who sent it must have known her.

She started counting in her mind the amount of people who were close enough to dare to gather such knowledge, successfully limiting it to about 5 individuals.

Second clue was wrapping paper. The kind that only one flower shop in this silly city used. A very expensive one, hence someone truly must have put an effort into this.

And that made her narrow her suspect circle to three people.

But the final tell tale was a card, sticking innocently from the bottom. A teeny tiny note as if someone who endowed her hoped the recipient wouldn’t notice it.

Ha! Good try, but not when it came to Y/N. Honestly, living with Red Hood made her not as vigilant, as almost paranoid and sensitive to every detail.

Back to the gift card.

Two words. Two completely harmless words that under any other circumstances would mean absolutely nothing.

Thank you.

Oh hell no!

***

“Hello?”

“Dick! What the hell!?”

“Hello Y/N. So good to hear you too, how’s your day going?”

“Don’t try to placate me!”

“I swear you became so aggressive since living with Jason-“

“What the hell?!” she cried out again, circling the desk and the flowers as if it was a predator only waiting for the right opportunity to pounce at her, not that he could see it through the phone.

“I take it, you got my gift?”

“Oh, I got your  gift, all right. Thank you! I’m not doing you any favors, wing! I merely managed to get Jason to talk to you about-“

“Which was a small miracle by itself and I figured it would be nice to –“

“- to what? To freaking bribe me!?”

“Bribe you?!” Dick gasped, acting dramatically even through the phone “I’m hurt, Y/N. It’s nothing more but a token of my gratitude.” She could almost see his shit-eating grin through the phone.”

“It’s a freaking bribe, Dick!”

“It’s a token of gratitude!”

“Oh yeah? And what will you ask in return? Cause I know for sure I am being used to get to Jason. And that’s both betrayal to Jay and – “

“I would never use my favorite sister-in-law to – “

“I am not your sister in law!”

“Yet.” He cut her off with a hint of humor in voice. “But since we’re already speak I’ve been thinking that maybe you could – “

“Oh, what? What? Dick? I cannot hear you! I’m entering the tunnel – I’m – losing – the – connection….”

She hated using such a lame excuse to hang up on her boyfriend’s older brother but clearly, using any rational argument against Dick Grayson while in his playful attitude was completely futile. And a loss of energy, that she didn’t have in abundance.

But once again, she was starting to realize that forming a relationship with Jason was equal to getting into a mess of connections with his entire (huge) family.

***

She should have left those flowers in the office and that mistake became painfully clear the second the crossed the threshold of her and Jason’s apartment. There were no logical arguments against doing otherwise, besides the fact that it was upcoming weekend and no one would water thema and they would turn into dry sticks on Monday and since Dick bought them for her it would be a waste of money and –

Yeah, yeah, women logic.

Though, men’s logic was working in quite different, mysterious ways….

“Jay? I’m home! Something smells nice in here!”

Coat ended up in the wardrobe, shoes on the shelf, bag on the hanger and without much thinking she followed her nose to the kitchen, eyes landing on her boyfriend in that silly no bitchin in my kitchin apron, bustling about.

“Hi princess.” Obviously, he didn’t even have to turn around to sense her presence. “How was work today?”

“Like a sledgehammer. I swear, sometimes I feel like strangling half of the people there.”

“Do you need help with that violent activity?” he grinned and finally spun to face her, heading for a kiss on the forehead when his sharp gaze laser focused on the thing she was still holding in her hands. Laser gaze that turned from playful and loving to accusatory and cunning in a second. And regardless of how amazingly swiftly Jason was switching between his two personas, such transformation also send a shiver down her spine.

Not a nice kind of tremble.

“Y/n?”

“Um…”

“You got something to say to me?”

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear-“

“Princess.”

“I can explain!”

“Good. Good, sweetheart, because explanation is all I’m asking about.” Jason grinned, but it was the grin of Red Hood, who was expecting a low blow, right into the groin.

He stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to carelessly toss the bouquet somewhere far away.

“I can’t remember buying them.” He pointed out, now sneaking the other arm on her, effectively but subtly preventing her potential escape.

“Hm? Oh no, you didn’t. In fact you haven’t bought me flowers since my birthday last year and – “

“nun-uh. Back to the point, Y/N.” he smiled again “where did you get them? Who did you get it from?”

“It’s not what you think!” She struggled against his grip.

“You have no idea what I think, love.”

“I’m not cheating on you!”

“I know.”

“Then what’s with the squeezing and hugging and – “

“Can’t a guy hold his girlfriend after a long day apart?”

“Since when are you so cuddly all of a sudden?!”

“Since some fucker is clearly trying to flirt with my woman!”

Oh…

He called her his woman. Not a girlfriend, not a girl, not any other sweet yet infantile word of affection.

His woman.

Making their entire relationship seem way more serious than –

Still being enraged and holding her captive until getting the info he wanted.

And that made her get back to reality from the cloud nine she was floating on.

“Who was it baby?” he whispered, leaning to nuzzle into her neck.

“No one!”

“Mhh. Don’t think so.” His lips moved upwards and to her ear. “You are protecting someone, I can tell. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise I won’t do any permanent damage. Just a broken leg or an arm as a reminder to keep a court mandated restraining order….”

“I take it you’re the presiding judge in this case?”

“Of course…” he kissed her briefly, rubbing soothing circles on her waist. “But cross my heart, no shooting, bleeding out or spine twisting.”

“Those are your arguments to convince me?”

“I can kiss you senseless and make you feel so high you’d babble it, but figured it was nice to try and ask.”

“Huh! Lucky me.” She scoffed.

Of course she could just tell him, but that would probably cause an interstate scandal and a very heated argument in a Wayne family.

If only Jason knew the scope of conspiracy against him-

She spaced out for a moment and those few seconds were used by Jason to take a look at the flowers on the floor and quickly get into the same conclusion about the donor she had earlier at the office.

“I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“What? NO! What happened to the no permanent damage!?”

“This is not permanent damage! This is terminal damage!” Jason yelled, grabbing his jacket and keys.

“And where is the difference in – Jason!? Jason! Where the hell are you—Oh my god….”

 ***

Living with Red hood under one roof was sure as hell far from peaceful, but never in her wildest dreams she wouldn’t think that it would get to such an extreme as chasing her biker boyfriend thought Gotham In a car.

***

“Where the hell is he?!” Jason busted through the door of Wayne Manor, acting like his usual self.

“Jason, what-“ Bruce looked up from his newspaper, displeased but not surprised by the commotion.

“I swear to God, when I get my hands on him-“

“Jason!” Y/N busted through the doors a few minutes later, and her appearance made quite a noticeable effect.

“Y/N.” Something akin to a smile bloomed on papa Wayne's face, getting as far as making him stand up and approach her. “So good to see you.”

“Yeah, um – nice to –“

“Listen, I’ve been thinking about something-“

“Yeah? You were?” she stuttered, looking above Bruce’s shoulder, helplessly observing Jason and Dick strangling, pushing and pulling, acting like two mad wrestlers in front of camera, much to Batman’s obliviousness. “Um… Bruce-“ her efforts to put his attention to the display of violence behind him came to nothing.

“Later. Now, I know you’ve been struggling to gather finances for your post-grad-“

“What? The hell you know that? Did you run a background check on me!?”

“And I was thinking I could loan you the amount –“ he skillfully omitted her question getting right to the point.

“L-loan me-?”

“Look, there’s no shame in asking your family for help. It’s natural.” Y/N could not believe the words Bruce was aiming her way. Family help? How could he be such a freaking hypocrite? When was his effing family help when Jason was struggling?

“Uh…” she groaned in total shock, while Dick and Jason were now running around the Manor, like a two five year olds playing chase, making so much noise it was getting almost hilarious that Bruce chose not to hear it.

“And I was hoping to see you and Jason at dinner on Saturday? And maybe next Saturday? And maybe every Saturday?”

Was that hope in Bruce’s voice?

“Over my dead body!” Jason’s yelling tore into the conversation and finally Bruce sighed, acting almost forced to intervene.

And the fact that his two sons were laying on the ground, one being half-choked the other flat on his back with the first on top of him made zero impression.

“Those are not funny words to use, Jason.”

“Those are when I say it.” Jason smirked almost vindictively.

“Get off Dick, Jason.”

“Like hell I am going to get off him.”

“I don’t know what I did!” Dick whined theatrically

“Don’t give me bullshit, Grayson! You bought her flowers!”

“As if it was the first time—AAH!”

It took the combined efforts of Y/N, Bruce and even Alfred (who had a miraculous talent of showing up when most needed) to stop Jason from knocking out Dick’s teeth.

“You!” he hissed, throwing his hands around, before grabbing onto Y/N and pulling her into his chest. “You are all a bunch of mentals! Using my girl to get to me! She’s not your fucking toy!” he held her even closer as if she was a precious baby, unaware of being treated like a pawn and having to be protected at all cost. “I swear if she wasn’t here I would –“

“Father, what is all that noise?”  Damian was standing on top of the stairs, looking down at everyone, both metaphorically and literally.

“We have guests.” Bruce stated with a flat tone.

“Oh, Y/L/N, good. I got those books you were looking for and –“

***

-        and she was forbidden to ever contact any of his family members ever again. 

[counterleen]

HAPPY NEW YEAR JASON ENJOYERS 🤭