#Red Robin FanFiction

[glamourscat]

May i please request headcanons, maybe a drabble of the batboys where reader is trying so hard to pretend that they don't know anything about their partner being a vigilante because they want to be told with trust and the boys are growing increasingly concerned about their s/o's obliviousness bcs like?? and the their s/o keeps saying things like "haha yeah!! red robin's super underground but that costume is pretty good timmy!" and "oh? i do have a thing for morally gray men, lovely red hood costume" whenever they accidentally see parts of the costume and can't pretend they didn't see it

idk i just think it would be funny af, ty in advance!!

i decided to go for drabbles. they are quite long so i only did jason and tim. should i do dick, maybe steph too, in the near future? let me know!

"You can't be serious," Jason thought. It's not that you're blind, and he’s not exactly being subtle. He knew from day one that being involved with a civilian meant the topic of his nightlife would eventually come to light. Before getting together you two had been friends for a long time, but he never quite managed to outright say, "Hey, by the way, I’m Red Hood." How do you even drop something like that into a conversation? 

Yet, as your relationship grew, more milestones came along and suddenly, you two were approaching your 2 year anniversary. Now, more than ever, as you found yourselves living together, Jason knew it was going to be harder to explain his secret. How many lies could he keep telling about going to help Roy or some emergency with Dick? How many nights could he still sneak out after you’d fallen asleep, only to return aching from a patrol?

So, he started leaving subtle hints. From his domino mask to his gloves… but hell, at this point, he might as well leave his whole costume out, because how in the hell are you not picking up on the clues?

“You know, Jay, that vigilante... What's his name? The one in red? Oh right, Red Hood. He’s pretty cool, right? I mean, he has a different approach than the others, i think some would say morally gray. I mean, hot.. Anyway, but—oh, wait, this is a lovely Red Hood costume! I didn’t know you were a fan too?!”

At that moment, Jason didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do both at the same time. Maybe by accident—maybe not—he had left his entire costume out. And it wasn’t exactly cheap. The fabric was thick, heavy, it was definitely not something you’d find at a Spirit Halloween. Yet, you just folded it, didn’t ask any questions, and continued with your little chat.

“Doll, you got a moment?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible because he was seconds away from laughing his lungs out.

“Yeah, Jay?” You looked at him, internally sweating. Did you give anything away? Did he suspect that you knew?

“You know, doll… that… the costume. I mean, it’s not fake, right? I…” He sighed, trying to find the right words.

“It’s real. Because I’m the Red Hood.” There. He’d said it. A relieved sigh left his lips as the words came out. Now comes the hardest part: your reaction. Would you laugh? Be shocked?

“Oh, yeah. I knew.”

What?

“What—? I beg your pardon?” Jason asked, his voice laced with disbelief, eyes scanning you to figure out if you were lying.

“I mean, you’re not exactly the most subtle, love, are you?” You said, amusement dancing in your eyes as you tried to hold back a smile. “Besides, I found out a while ago. I was just waiting, I suppose. It wasn’t my place to ask or say anything. I figured when you were ready, you’d say something.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wait… when did you find out?” Jason raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Well, you see… It wasn’t that hard. At the beginning of our relationship when I’d tell you, ‘Hey, I’m going out with my friends tonight,’ and then coincidentally, when something happened—because it’s Gotham, let's be honest—there you were, Red Hood, swooping in to save the day. Always fleeting, never lingering too long. But what was really odd was that both Red Hood and my new boyfriend had the exact same walk style. Not to mention, Jay, mask or no mask, costume or no costume, I could still recognize you. Even in a crowded room.”

Jason just stood there, stunned. How had he missed all the signs? A part of him was relieved, he didn’t have to keep lying, but another part of him couldn’t believe he had been so obvious. You were too sharp for him to pull anything past you. And to think he was under the impression he had you fooled…

As he looked at you, he realized there was more to your patience than just waiting for him to confess. You’d known, but you’d never pushed him. It made him wonder how long you had really been aware. But now that it was out in the open, Jason found himself surprised by how easy the weight of the secret seemed to fall away. He’d been carrying it for so long, and yet, with you, there was no judgment, no shock. Just acceptance.

"You've always been patient with me," he murmured, his voice soft but grateful.

You gave him a warm, knowing smile, stepping closer. "Because I know you, Jason. And I know what you're doing matters. It’s a part of who you are, just like everything else."

Tim was stressed, but to be fair, Tim was always stressed. You two had been dating for a good while now and had been friends for much longer. However, somehow, he still hadn’t brought up the whole vigilante thing. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was due to his own selfishness. For once, he just wanted someone to see him as Tim and only Tim. But the truth was, he couldn’t exist without Red Robin. He knew that. And it had been too long. He knew he had to say something. But… does he?

Still, something didn’t sit right with him. It was the way you weren’t questioning him anymore on why he was always so tired, why sometimes he had to be gone for an entire week or why he trained so intensely. His physique, though not the most built, was still incredibly fit for a “simple rich kid.” And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand if you were just pretending not to notice or if you honestly hadn’t put it together. But when you suggested what costumes to wear for Halloween, he almost passed out on the spot.

“Yeah, I mean, we can do a couple’s costumes or… I don’t know, Tim. We can always go as… hmm? What about we go as vigilantes? I can be Wonder Woman and you can be Red Robin. It’s pretty underground. I’m sure the costume will look great; besides, you already have a good replica in your wardrobe. Fits like a glove, no?”

Like, this had to be a joke, right? Sometimes Tim wondered if his life was some kind of reality show, secretly followed by cameras just to capture his reaction to these weird, questionable moments.

He froze for a moment, staring at you, trying to piece everything together. Was this your way of telling him you knew? Was this a test?

“Uh... you... know?” he asked, his voice betraying a mix of confusion and disbelief.

You look at him confused. “Know what?” You shrugged, casually leaning back in your chair.

Tim blinked, his mind racing. He was smart, very so, but at this very moment he felt like the most ignorant being on planet Earth. He looks at you and you look at him and for a moment there is this unspoken, silent battle.

“You know, that I am Red Robin.” he says, quietly. Eyes searching yours for an answer.

“And what if I do?” you reply back equally quietly.

He had expected a lot of things. Shock, anger, even confusion, but not this calm, almost nonchalant acknowledgment. And yet, a wave of relief washed over him. You weren’t angry or disappointed. You weren’t even all that surprised.

“I’ve always known, Tim,” you continued, your tone softening. “You’ve been dropping clues left and right. The late nights, the cryptic phone calls, the strange bruises... And don’t even get me started on your ‘training’ routines. I never pushed because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready. And now, here we are. Although… I certainly did not imagine it to happen in such a way” you say, letting out a small soft laugh. 

Tim let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging in a way that felt like he’d been carrying a weight for far too long. "I didn’t want to burden you with it. I didn’t want to be Red Robin to you. I just wanted to be... just Tim."

You smiled softly, walking over to hug him. “And you are. You’re Red Robin, sure, but you’re not just that; are you? You’re Tim. My Tim. Two things can coexist at the same exact time, this is just what makes you.. You, ya know?” 

Tim stared at you for a moment, hands around your waist, his mind still processing. It was as if the entire weight of the secret identity he’d been carrying all this time suddenly evaporated. He had been so worried about how you would react, but now that it was out in the open, there was nothing left to hide.

"Thanks," he whispered, his head dropping to your neck. Hiding, but not really. It was more or so a way to feel you even closer. 

Your head gently resting against his, brushing a kiss against his hair. “Always, Tim. You’re still the same guy I fell for. I love you.”

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[miwsolovely]

—can you love me (like i love you?)

𝜗𝜚 — in which, red robin likes to shows up at your apartment for an irenic moment from the harsh lines of Gotham. he meets you and you meet him, all of him.

TIM DRAKE x CIVILIAN! GN!READER mild angst. reader pining over tim, vice versa if you squint. 3.8k. — this was so fun — requested

The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blooming jasmine from the park nearby. You always found it comforting—an odd juxtaposition of Gotham’s grit and its rare moments of beauty. Tonight, however, it wasn’t the air that brought you solace. It was the quiet creak of boots landing on your fire escape.

You smiled before even turning to look. “You’re late,” You teased, peering over your shoulder at the figure perched outside your window.

“Got caught up,” Red Robin replied, his voice light but tinged with fatigue. He stepped into the room with a practiced ease, his cape swaying slightly as he entered. The mask didn’t hide much—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed from the weight of the night’s patrol.

“You okay?” You asked, setting down the tea you’d been preparing next to an additional mug, turning around to face him in the living room, ignoring the pressure of your island on your lower back.

It had become routine by now. After weeks of these impromptu visits, you’d learned his habits: the subtle signs of exhaustion, the occasional wince from a barely hidden injury.

“I’m fine,” He said, though the way he sank into your worn-out armchair betrayed him.

You sighed and let the warmth seep into your palms as you spun around and took a mug from the counter and handed it to him. He took it without argument, the warmth seeming to settle him as he leaned back. “Liar,” You quipped. His nose tensed when he lied.

It had started months ago, the first time he appeared outside your window like some wayward bird. You’d been startled, of course—who wouldn’t be? But he hadn’t come for trouble, just a quiet moment away from the chaos. And somehow, without ever planning to, you became part of his nightly routine.

The first few visits had been awkward. After all, how often does Gotham’s very own Red Robin show up uninvited? But over time, the strangeness faded. He was careful never to overstep, never to ask too many personal questions or reveal too much about himself. Instead, your conversations meandered—books, movies, music, even the weird quirks of Gotham’s neighborhoods.

It wasn’t just him who needed the company. You found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. He was steady, like the ticking of a clock in the background of your life, even if you only ever saw him at night.

Tonight felt different, though. He wasn’t as talkative as usual, his responses short and clipped. You watched him over the rim of your own mug, debating whether to press.

“Long night?” You ventured.

“Something like that,” He replied, staring out the window at the city below. “Some nights are harder than others.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to pry, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that tugged at you. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You’d make a good therapist.”

“I’m just nosy,” You said lightly, hoping to draw out more of that smile.

And for a moment, it worked. He chuckled softly, the sound like a warm ember in the cold.

“Thanks,” He said after a beat. “For this. For letting me . . . just be here.”

“You say that like you’re intruding.”

“Aren’t I?”

“No,” You said firmly. “You’re not.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need filling. You’d grown used to these quiet stretches, knowing that sometimes words weren’t enough to smooth over the rough edges of the night.

After a while, he stood, setting the empty mug on the counter. “I should get going,” He said, his voice softer now.

“Be safe out there,” You say, facing him on your place on your chair, the words automatic but heartfelt.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows as seamlessly as he’d arrived.

A foggy evening, after his patrol, he arrived later than usual. His uniform was damp, and he looked more worn than you’d ever seen him.

When his eyes met yours, you let out an amused huff, walking to the closet in the hallway to your room, grabbing a beige towel and making your way back to him. “Take a dip in the lake Red?” You teased, handing him the towel as he stepped closer to you.

“Something like that,” He said, echoing the same vague answer he always gave. Even with the mask, you could feel the dam that wanted to implode.

Your brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

He looked at you sharply, as if the words had hit a nerve. “I’m used to it,” He said after a pause, his voice low and guarded.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

The room fell silent again, the tension thick enough to cut.

“I don’t… I can’t risk that,” He said finally. “Letting people in. It’s complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Your countered. “But you don’t have to keep everyone at arm’s length. At least not me.”

He stared at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then, as if breaking under the weight of his own defenses, he said, “I wish it were that simple.”

You didn’t bring it up again, sensing it was a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But the moment lingered, coloring every interaction that followed.

You’d open up to him. Though it wasn’t as reciprocated, you didn’t mind because he listened. Sometimes, when the night was soft, you two would talk about the random things that reminded you of each other, it was your favorite part of when he’d come to your apartment, relaxing in each others presence; it left a sapid taste in your mouth.

You’d talk to him about your life in Gotham University, talked to him about the enigma your heart palpitated for. How his voice made your smile bright and cheeks warm, how it rang though your mind constantly throughout the day, echoing off the walls and finding it’s way back to your heart, the devil that wouldn’t calm down.

You hadn’t realized that underneath the mask, he looked at you with a smile lining his eyes, his own devil pounding in his chest.

When asked if he knew of your feelings, your smiled turned bashful.

“He doesn’t even know my name, Red. I’m just a random with a crush.”

You’re not random, you’re mine. Is what he wanted to say, he wanted you to know who he is. Not the man with the mask — rather the man behind it.

He distanced himself from you at school because he thought that if he didn’t, you’d figure out he’s ‘Boy Wonder’ a bit too easy for his taste. He scares himself every night thinking about what would happen if you find out.

And then one night, he laughed.

Not just the quiet chuckle you’d heard before, but a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up his face. It was over something stupid—a poorly told joke you’d heard from a coworker. But the sound warmed you to your core, and for a moment, it reminded you of your enigma, Tim Drake.

How could someone do that? Look so familiar but unknown at the same time? Your eyes seeing one person, Red Robin: Gotham’s hero. But your heart seeing, hearing, feeling—

“Tim.”

The name left your lips in a whisper, your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure how you knew, but it was there—like a puzzle piece falling into place.

He froze, his entire body going rigid. “What did you say?”

“Tim,” Quieter this time, you repeated it. “That’s—”

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes confirmed it.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to—” You started, but he cut you off.

“How?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” You admitted. “I just . . . knew.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of what you’d just revealed.

Red Robin—Tim—he stepped back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read the truth there. You could feel the tension in the room, thick and unyielding, and for a moment you thought he might leave. But instead, he sighed, his shoulders slumping as though a great weight had finally pressed him down.

“I’ve been careful,” he said softly. “I’ve spent so long making sure you — no one could ever connect me to . . . to this.”

You didn’t know what to say, the gravity of his words grounding you to the spot. Finally, you managed, “I didn’t mean to—to figure it out! It’s not like I was trying. It just . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, the motion uncharacteristically unguarded. “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long.”

“Don’t say that,” You pleaded, stepping closer. “I know you think you’re protecting yourself, or me, but you don’t have to do this alone, Tim.”

Hearing his name in your voice seemed to shake something loose in him. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of Red Robin slipped away for just a moment. Beneath it was someone young, someone tired, someone who wanted to believe you. The enigma who became more familiar.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to turn it off, how to let someone in without putting them in danger.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his arm. “You already let me in,” You said quietly. “That’s why you kept—” You stop yourself. “—that’s why you keep coming back.” Your hand connects with the rough material of his suit and you wish you could feel his skin on yours.

He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, the two of you stood there, the sound of rain against the window the only noise in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “You deserve better than this. Better than me.”

You shook your head, your throat tight. “Don’t decide that for me.”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Instead, he turned his head, staring at the rain running down the window as though it could give him the answers he sought.

“I’ve thought about it,” You continued, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve thought about what it would mean. What it would mean to care about you —really care about you. Even though it was for Tim at first, there’s more to you and I want to care for you and everything that comes with it. And I’m still here. I’ll always be here Tim.”

That seemed to break him. He sank down onto the edge of the couch behind him, his head in his hands. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. What my life is like. The people I go up against—they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you don’t understand what you could mean to me,” You countered. You sit on the floor, right at his feet so you can lock eyes with him even though his domino mask hides them, you can still see the blue of his eyes you admire so much.

“I see the risks, Tim. I see them every night when you walk out that window, not knowing if you’ll come back. But I’m still here because I care about you. And you need to stop deciding what I can handle.”

He looked up at you then, the walls he’d so carefully constructed were crumbling, and you saw the man behind the vigilante.

“I care about you too,” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should, and — and it scares the hell out of me.”

You rose from sitting criss-cross to your knees, resting your arms on his, you wanted to get impossibly closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “Then let’s be scared together.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and real, and for the first time, neither of you looked away. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if this thing between you could survive the dangers and secrets of his world. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative but warm. “This won’t be easy,” He warned you gently.

“I know,” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled—not the practiced smile of Red Robin, but something softer, something real.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmured.

“Maybe not,” You teased, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the storm outside mirroring the quiet storm of emotions between you. And when he finally left that night, it wasn’t with the usual heaviness of his patrols.

This time, he carried a piece of you with him—and left a piece of himself behind.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[alikesical]

Bad Omens.

Tim Drake x Reader

part 1

❛ Heaven knows I should let go, it's nothing that I don't already know ❜

Tim Drake was a lot of things. Yours wasn't one of them.

But he used to be...

"What are you doing?" you see Tim jump at the sound of your voice, slowly turning around to face you.

"Hi, sweetheart..." he says, smiling at you. But you cant reciprocate it, shock displayed clearly on your face.

Shock to the fact your kitchen looks like a warzone, sauce splattered everywhere - including your boyfriends probably very expensive clothes.

"I made dinner?" he laughs awkwardly, showing you two plates of pasta, sitting idly on the table, looking completely out of place in the mess the rest of the room was in.

You turn your gaze back at him, not quite registering what's going on. Your millionaire boyfriend, who very clearly has never stepped a foot in a kitchen, much less tried to cook anything, was covered in tomato sauce from head to toes looking sheepishly at you.

You feel your heart grow ten sizes at the sight, trying to engrave it in your memory, all details included.

A laugh escapes your lips at the absurdity of the situation. Your boyfriend tried to cook for you, and managed to even with the collateral damage.

You take of your coat, hanging it by the door, trying to hide your smile as you sit on the table waiting for him to join you.

You see his face light up as he wipes his hands on your apron, approaching you, but instead of sitting down, he chose to stand over you.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not knowing what he was waiting for.

"What?" he says leaning down, "No kiss for your very handsome boyfriend who just cooked dinner for you?" he says, leaning in with full intention of kissing you.

You scoff at him, placing your palm on his mouth, "No way, you're dirty." you say, lightly chuckling, waiting for him to pull back and go change.

But Tim had different plans, "EW TIM!" you exclaim feeling his tongue come in contact with the skin of your palm, quickly retracting it, wiping it on his shirt.

"That's how you wanna play?" he asks exhaling through his mouth, mischief lacing his voice, as he reaches in your plate, grabbing a handful of pasta.

With a quick motion, he mushes the food on your shirt, cackling manically at your flabbergasted expression, "TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE!" you exclaim as he retracts his hand.

"There, now you're dirty too," he says, as you whine, picking off the noodles, "Can I have my kiss now?" he asks leaning down again.

"No!"

He grins, eyes narrowing like he’s accepting a challenge. "That so?"

You scoff, smiling at him, "You're crazy if you think that I'll-" you're cut off by a sudden yelp as he wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you off the ground effortlessly.

"TIM!" you squeal, laughing despite yourself, smacking his shoulder as he carries you bridal style into the living room. "Let go!"

He simply laughs, taking you to the living room.

You feel you back hitting the couch, laughing as Tim climbs on you, trapping you underneath him.

"Tim no, you are covered in food!" you try to leave, but he holds your wrists, pinning them on the couch.

"So are you."

"And whose fault is-" you're cut off by Tim capturing your lips with his own, and despite your inhibition -joking or not- you waste not time reciprocating, smiling into the kiss.

You dont know when your relationship with him shifted.

Maybe it was when he didn't show up for a date the third time in the row. Maybe it was when he didn't return to your shared apartment that night.

You were curled up at the couch, staring at the clock on the wall.

5 AM. It was 5 AM and Tim hadn't come home yet.

Tim wasn't home and he hadn't called to tell you.

He probably forgot to call. He got swamped in work and forgot to check the time. He has done that before. You to force him to leave his computer and go to sleep.

He could be at the manor? Maybe they had a family emergency, or maybe a game night? And he just forgot to text you. Or invite you.

He could have been in an accident. He was in his car coming home from work and there was a car crash, and he was at the hospital. Maybe he got jumped in an alley, this is Gotham after all, and- No.

You tear up thinking of him hurt, laying on a hospital bed unconscious.

You exhale as you throw your head back, staring at the ceiling.

You should stop thinking of this. It just makes you more upset.

You pick up your phone, fingers slowly opening it. Hoping to see anything, that'd put your mind at rest.

No calls. No text. No nothing.

You look at the door, hoping he'll come through any time now. He'd enter the house, and he'd hug you, kissing you softly as he apologises. But no one opens it.

You turn back at the clock. It seemed to mock you in your loneliness.

And you wait.

Maybe it was long before that. When he went straight to bed after coming home. When he didn't remember to call you after he was gone for a business trip, leaving you to wonder for his wellbeing.

When he couldn't be bothered to comfort you after your father was put to jail.

You never really knew your father. He wasn't in your life.

Well, he used to be, when you where very young. I mean, you have a singular memory with the guy and it's him walking out on your mother, leaving her with a five year old to raise and a broken heart to mend.

Soon after, you took your mothers name, and cut all ties with the man. He was nothing but a sperm donor to you.

So why are you shocked as you watch the GCPD take him into custody?

"Good evening. In a shocking turn of events, GCPD officials have confirmed that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, director of Arkham Asylum and long-time mental health advocate, was unmasked earlier today as the elusive criminal mastermind known as Black Mask." you watch as the news show the man you used to recognise as a father, being lead into the police station in handcuffs.

Your father was planning on killing hundreds of people. He did kill people.

You stared at the TV in silence, not knowing how to react. You didn't know him. Then why do you feel the pit in your stomach deepen the more details you learn about the case.

You don't register the door opening, feeling numb.

You only realise Tim had come home after you feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, cold and cautious.

"Are you alright?" he asks tentatively, as he looks between you and the TV, waiting for an answer.

"...That's my father" you say after a while, quietly, as if you had said it any louder, it become real.

Tim stares at you, expressionless, "Oh." he says, and without another word goes to your room.

He didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.

You always wince at the memory. Remembering how cold he was, how he couldn't look at you after he learned about your father.

You exhale, as you wipe a stray tear with your sleeve, staring at the full plate of food across from you.

Tim hadn't come home again.

Maybe he was working, he always worked to much. Maybe he was at the Manor, because there was an emergency. Maybe he just didn't care.

Maybe you should finally let him go.

There's no shame in relationships ending. It happens all the time.

And you know it was time for you. Your relationship had run its course a long time ago, but you kept holding on.

It's hours later, when you're lying on the couch, food cold on the table, when the front door opens. But you don't move, opting to closing your eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Maybe he'll wake you up, carry you to bed and everything will be fine. Maybe all that you were feeling was you overthinking again. Maybe he still loved you.

You listen to his steps walking by the couch, not halting for a single moment. Ignoring your presence completely, and you feel your heart drop as tears well silently in your eyes.

You know you should let go, it was apparent. But how could you?

So you don't. You ignore the empty bed. You ignore the tears. You ignore every omen, choosing to turn a blind eye, in favour of keeping him in your life.

Even if your heart shattered a little more as days passed you by...

[oldmannapping]

Fic: The Mouths of Babes

Summary: Bernard meets Lian Harper, who decides he's friend-shaped.

Roy and Tim have terrible boundaries. Bernard and Roy have their first fight - will this be the end of a beautiful friendship?

Part of the Networking series, where I singlehandedly try to make the "Roy Harper & Bernard Dowd" tag a thing.

Excerpt:

“My daddy says that the most important thing you can do is challenge yourself. That’s why I make sure I brush my teeth even when I don’t want to, or go to school even when I don’t know anyone, and when I’m playing Minecraft I always make my axolotls swim in the ocean where can sharks eat them, so they challenge theirselves.”

“Uh.” The end of that sounded like a very Joker thing to say, but Bernard didn’t want to get this kid offside. “That does sound challenging.”

Read it here

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce, who has a problem expressing emotions because he was teased for them in school as the "crazy Wayne kid"

Bruce, who used to clutch Alfred at night and wet himself due to his nightmares.

Bruce, who got flashbacks till his mid-twenties everytime he walked down an alley.

Bruce, who would hug a weeping Dick Grayson and stay with him until the night terrors were over, humming a soft lullaby that Bruce's mother sang for him

Bruce, who hardened his mouth and his life to keep the anger in check after Jason, because he knew if he didn't every criminal would pay.

Bruce, who sees Damian chopping up shrubbery and thinks "I was far worse as a child inside, it's a good thing he's letting it out"

Bruce, who can't walk by a homeless child in the street without calling his special Wayne Foundation liaison (who he keeps on speed dial) and asking her to find "one more spot"

Bruce, who sees Selina petting kittens and robbing the rich and thinks "if I could have had a life with her, that would have been nice"

Bruce, who looks at Cass' x-rays and sees her knit bones and swears to god he will break the bones of whoever's responsible for her upbringing

Bruce, who gives Tim projects that he himself can do faster because he sees attention-starved Tim trying to please him

Bruce, who looks at Clark smiling and thinks of what he can buy for his birthday to make him smile just like that.

Bruce to his parents in their graves after not being able to catch a criminal: I'm sorry. I've failed you. I'll try harder.

People who don't know Bruce: why is that man so unfeeling.

Bad DC writers: idk just that way i guess

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ When he realised he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

The moment had been a quiet revelation, in a silence so profound it frightened him. The kind of silence that followed the first crack of thunder, one moment loud and undeniable, the next building with tension, waiting for it to strike again. 

You were sitting in the library of the manor, an arcane book resting open upon your lap, the fire crackling softly behind you. He had just returned from patrol — broken, bloodied, and defeated.

You looked up, eyes wide, alarmed at his state and asked, ‘Bruce?’ You had spoken as if he were not the Batman, not an emblem of vengeance and grit, but a man, just a man, whose hurt mattered.

Something in him gave out. Not in an ostentatious, cinematic collapse, but in the subtle yielding of defences too long held taut. His mind, a fortress of rationale and boundaries, fell silent.

She sees me, for all I am, it whispered. And yet she stays.

He had not believed in unconditional love since the alleyway. But in that moment, with the stench of blood from his suit and the leaden weight of the city upon his back, he saw love for what it was — not a sanctuary, but a quiet understanding, and a choosing. And she had chosen him.

It terrified him. Because now he had yet another thing to lose, to protect, something that was not abstract. It had a name. A voice. A laugh. It sat in his home and softened his world.

He had never been the same since.

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

It crept up on him — not a wave, but rather a tide. Quiet and constant and utterly irreversible.

You had fallen asleep in his bed, still holding a game controller, your brow furrowed even in your unconsciousness. He watched you in the blue glow of the screen and thought, God, I’d die for her.

And then came the laugh — low, bitter, surprised. Because of course he would. He was always ready to die for someone.

But this felt different. This was not a compulsion, a sense of duty. It was not about legacy or guilt. It was about you. And the way your presence grounded the part of him that had always been just suspended above the world, half-grieving, half-trying.

He remembered kissing your forehead before leaving for patrol that night. Slow. Lingering. The kind of kiss that was not about want, but reverence.

That was when he knew.

Love was not a thrill. It was a weight. And he had never wanted anything to anchor him, to tether him to this sphere, more than you.

The realisation made him smile. And then it made him ache.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

Jason felt it like the first rays of sun upon his back after a piercing winter, it flooded his system, warm and compelling. It struck him all of a sudden — new, unfamiliar, and… unwelcome. He did not want it. He had not asked for it.

You were brushing your teeth, half-asleep, wearing one of his old shirts, humming a song under your breath as though nothing was wrong in the world, as though it were not in a state of disrepair just beyond the window. And while watching you, he could believe it for a moment too.

Jason stood in the doorway, paralysed. Because he had seen too much tragedy, too much carnage. He could hardly believe that a quiet instant of peace, like this, could even exist, let alone in his reality.

His first instinct was to run. Not literally — he could never leave you. But to emotionally retreat, to steel himself for the moment this fleeting softness was stolen from him.

But you looked at him. Just looked — toothpaste foam and all — with a kind of amused concern, and asked, ‘You okay?’

After everything he had been through. He was not sure he had ever been less okay.

He loved you. He loved you with a passion that made him feel unworthy, as if he had tainted something holy.

A voice in him protested — said it was weakness. Said this would end in catastrophe. But he ignored it, just this once. He stepped forward and kissed your temple.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Just tired.’ But he was not. This was a lie. His mind was reeling.

He did not sleep that night. He lay awake memorising your breathing.

T I M⠀D R A K E

It was a question you asked that did it. Something ordinary, like, ‘Did you eat today?’

Tim wanted to laugh because it was such a cliché, wasn’t it? But clichés exist because they are true. No one ever asked him that, not like you had, not like it genuinely mattered. 

Then you brought him a coffee, one of those orders so tailored it was essentially an identity. You did not need to ask what he wanted. You simply knew.

He blinked down at the cup, then at you, and suddenly the task he was completing meant nothing.

He felt the world tilt. Quietly. Like the axis of his orbit had shifted. And it had.

Love, to Tim, had always been a puzzle he did not have time to solve. A thing for normal people, with normal lives, for people who lacked the responsibility he had garnered.

But there it was — simple, unassuming and irreversible.

He did not tell you. Not for a long time.

But he began cataloguing what made you smile. The way your face changed after a laugh, crinkled and carefree. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled just a little brighter when you spoke of things that made you passionate, and how the corners of your lips turned up when you were lost in a quiet thought.

This love became his sustenance, it was the first time in years he feared forgetting something.

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E (Aged up as Batman)

It had infuriated him. The sheer idiocy of it.

Love was chemical, juvenile, a distraction. Or so he had been taught. So he had believed.

And yet there he stood — across from you in the garden, where you were speaking to a stray dog as if it were royalty, and something in his chest pulled.

At first, he mistook it for contempt — annoyance at your softness in a moment where he was attempting to be serious. But then you looked up, grinned, and said, ‘I think she likes me.’

And the words caught in his throat. Not because he did not believe them, but because he liked you. Against every grain of his upbringing.

He wanted to scold you, retreat, build walls. But instead, he asked the dog’s name, eying the tag.

That was the beginning. The fracture.

He loved you. In an old, mythic sense. In the way poets spoke of their love — fierce, unyielding, as though it could bend the very fabric of time. 

And that it did, time slowed every time you entered his concentration.

He began to dream of futures — a concept once as foreign to him as mercy.

He has not told you. But he will. In his own time. For now, he will continue to relish in it, and continue in this alluring descent. 

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He did not realise. Not at first. Because what he felt for you was too immense, too intrinsic, to label with as small as a word as love.

It was not until you fell asleep in his arms, mumbling about a stressful day, completely unaware of the god you were held by, that it hit him.

You did not see him as Superman. You saw him as Clark Kent. You simply saw him. The man. His hope. His grief.

And he realised then — you are his tether.

He thought of Krypton. Of its loss. Of the gaping emptiness it had left as soon as he had learnt of it. And for the first time in years, he did not feel hollow. He felt… full. He realised, that the planet could never have been home to him like she was. 

You snored softly. He laughed. Then cried.

Love, he realised, was not loud. It was simply your hand over his heart. It was your laughter in the next room. It was your body next to his.

He had not fallen in love. He had found it, unexpected and irrevocable, and for all the power he had been bestowed, this force had left him helpless to resist.

And now he guards it with everything he is. Because you are not just his world.

You are his home.

If you're interested, I've since posted a follow-up called 'When he admitted he loved you' linked, here. Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[rapplesart]

Jason : Dick, I need your help.

Dick : Oh my god it's finally happening my little brother needs help!

Jason : Dick listen-

Dick : Alright so you know how to bury a body and make it disappear. You're good at cooking and stuff so no household help. You definetly don't need a pickup after drinking...... So what kind of emotional mess are We in?

Jason : First of all, rude!

Dick : You'd hang up on me after said "I need", I am nothing but polite here!

Jason : Well you're not wrong.

Dick : See?!? So, emotional mess?

Jason : Yeah OK listen, I did a Bruce.

Dick : You did a what now?

Jason : A Bruce. There's a kid sleeping on my couch and -

Dick: Oh my god. Are they an orphan?

Jason : Yes? No? I don't know.

Dick : Black hair, blue eyes?

Jason :..... Yes

Dick:..... Well,.... Are you gonna let them fight crime after they discovered your secret identity and/or force their way into your nightlife by being a sidekick you never asked for but can't get rid off any more?

Jason : OK Listen, he came like that!

Dick, whispering: Oh my god, you did a Bruce.

[everwalldigan]

Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…

The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:

Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?

Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason (crossing his arms with attitude): What are you going to do? I refuse to apologize.

Bruce stared at Jason in shock, and in his anger, he made a decision that every parent dreads.

Bruce (stern tone): You are grounded!

Jason (this is a whole adult, defiant): You can't ground me!

Bruce (firmly): Grounded!

Jason (shouting, confused): But I don't even live here!

Bruce turned Jason around and pointed to the stairs leading to his old room. Jason was too stunned to respond.

Bruce (stern, but calm): Tonight. Your room. Grounded!

Jason (stammering): I- I- Wait- This isn't fair!

Bruce (scolding parent voice): I'm very disappointed in you. Now go to your room. I'm only doing this because I care for you. Grounded.

Jason (face turning red with anger and sadness): This is some bullshit!

Jason stomped upstairs and slammed the door to his old room. The sound of random items being tossed around echoed through the house.

Bruce (indifferent): He'll work it out of his system. I'm going to bed.

Dick (looking at Tim, then Bruce as he heads upstairs): Did you just ground a 23-year-old?

Tim (surprised): And did it work?

Bruce: You forget I'm Batman.

masterlist

[glamourscat]

It was 3am and you were supposed to be asleep, but after dating TIM DRAKE for almost two years now, you picked up on his weird sleeping patterns. Tonight in particular your brain won’t rest. Not until you will receive his usual post patrol message.

2am, then 2:30, 3 and 3:30am rolls around and your lack of sleep was slowly turning into anxiety. Why hadn’t he texted yet? Did something happened? You try to make sense of the situation, but your brain is refusing from making you think logically. And just as you were about to message him, his message comes through.

“sorry for the late message. had to run in the shower immediately after i arrived home cause i was covered in blood” he texts 

“not mine btw” he follows up, knowing already to clarify. 

“good, good. im glad you’re ok love, i was beginning to worry. what are you doing now then?” you text back, eyes fluttering at the screen waiting for those three dots to appear. But they don’t. In their place a picture appears. 

Him. In front of the mirror. His face covered by his phone, one arm on the sink leaning a bit to flex his muscles and that towel dangerously low, enough to see his v-line and the outline of his hardness against it. Oh….

“damn, drop the towel? 🙂‍↕️🙏🏻”  “for scientific purposes obviously…” you add in two consecutive texts. 

You know it’s unlikely he would do it, but teasing him comes naturally to y— he did it. You cannot even continue your train of thoughts because suddenly his next picture comes through. The towel gone, his pretty cock— and that damn blushy pink tip— staring right back at ya, hard against his stomach. 

You can’t even begin to form a coherent thought  as another picture comes through. 

This time he is on his bed, on his knees— which are open to show the view between his legs— His hungry, leaking, cock is begging to be touched; while his face now—no longer covered by the phone— looks at his phone through the mirror reflection with a knowingly devilish grin. And your mind goes to one thought, and one only, how desperately you wish to have a dick. Because he looks so damn breedable right now. 

“cause I don’t feel like I did it right the first time ;)” he texts back within seconds from sending that second picture. 

“hey…? you still there lol?” he texts back after 10,  long minutes without a reply from you. Did he overstep? Was it too much…?  But then the outdoor camera alerts him of a movement outside his front door. 

“im outside. open me up.”  ________________________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

A/N: I wrote this at 5AM and had the sudden, horny, urge of writing for Tim. Nothing else to add lmao. Also this is not proofread :(

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…

[petalbcrnes]

꣑ৎ COMFORT BICEP PROTOCOL ╱ #sendbicep w/ the BAT-BOYS via text ꩜ smau .ᐟ ⠀⠀ ────⠀⠀⠀ est. relationship. suggestive.

‧˚꒰ৎ୭ 🗒️: do not ask me how long this took. something as simple as a #sendbicep smau should not be this complicated. i put so much effort in finding suitable pictures !!! send help.

‧₊˚🖇️✩ : masterlist; more bat-boys smau posts.

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

[oldmannapping]

Fic: Olive Branches (2/?)

Standalone chapter. Nothing but banter, no plot. Roy, Jason, and Bernard hanging out.

Roy tries to convince Bernard to give him a tattoo.

Jason tries to find a clean shirt.

Excerpt:

“Why can’t you just go to an actual professional and pay them to give you hepatitis like a normal person?” asked Jason through a mouthful of food.

Roy waved a hand dismissively. “Those are so overpriced. Anyone can do this. I’ve done a bunch of my tatts myself, it’s not that hard.”

Jason lowered his gaze pointedly to Roy’s arms, which were covered in tattoos of varying skill. “I wouldn’t brag about that,” he said. “You look like Post Malone.”

Bernard raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know who Post Malone is, honestly.”

Jason scoffed but made no rebuttal. He’d never reveal that he only knew who Post Malone was because he was featured on Taylor Swift’s latest album.

Roy said, “He only knows him because of Taylor Swift.”

“Fuck off, Roy.”

“Tell me I’m lying, Mr Tortured Poet.”

Jason threw his fork at him. Roy caught it and shoved it in between the couch cushions. “That’s what you get for reacting impulsively,” he told Jason. “Now you can’t eat your dinner. What did we learn?”

Bernard was watching the whole thing with his hands covering his mouth. “It’s so criminal that I can’t start a TikTok channel with you guys,” he bemoaned. “You’re all children and no one would ever believe me.”

[olailamajnoon]

Dick, on the phone: *leans away* Clark says hi, guys.

Tim: Hi!

Jason: Hi.

Cassandra: Hi.

Stephanie: Hi.

Duke: Hi!

Damian: Hi.

Dick, on the phone: Clark they all say hi back.

Bruce to himself, so done: Truly a pinnacle of human communication. I say something they ignore me, but it's all 'hi' like synchronized idiots when it comes to Clark.

Clark, faintly audible: Bruce I heard that.

[amiratheangel]

marriage was something JASON TODD couldn’t settle into immediately. he was used to moving into safe houses after every mission, he was used to having to use violence as a way to express his feelings, but he wasn’t used to that soft love. everything in his body felt like jelly when you would give him those warm kisses, when your eyes looked into his like he was everything in the world.

just when he thought his life couldn’t get any better, you found out you were pregnant with a baby girl. every single part of him was hers the second she showed up on that ultrasound. from that moment on, the princess treatment was upped by a thousand percent. you didn’t have to lift a finger for anything. water? he’s got it. errands to run? he’s halfway out the door already. midnight cravings? he’s ordering door dash while half asleep.

a lingering thought stayed at the back of his mind. what if he wasn’t a good father? what if he couldn’t provide a life of innocence and purity to his little girl?

all of those doubts drifted away the second he held her in his arms. she was weightless, a bundle of love and affection, proof that someone could actually accept him for who he is. “hello baby anastasia.” he whispered, making a little ‘oh’ as she wrapped her teeny tiny fingers around his index. “hello, baby.” he smiled. she was everything he could’ve hoped for. smart, confident and a lot like him. she had his same black hair, his blue eyes and his nose. but she was a perfect mix of you as well, having your ears, your lips and eye shape.

now, ten months later on father’s day, jason wasn’t expecting a big celebration. of course he had gone all out on mother’s day, making a photo album of all of the pictures he had taken of you, annotating every one with reasons why he loved you.

so, in return, you and your ten month old woke up early to surprise him with his favourite breakfast- blueberry pancakes and bacon with coffee.

“annie! no!” you whisper shout at your baby, she was sitting in her high chair smooshing blueberries over her face. “messy girl..” you tut. she just squeals and claps her hands in response. “come on, let’s get you clean.” you wipe her face and she fusses a bit, so you put her pink pacifier in her mouth.

about twenty minutes later, you had managed to make a stack of pancakes and some bacon, and wrote his card without anastasia throwing anything on the floor. “come on, baby.” you coo, picking her up so she can lay by her dad for a bit. as soon as she’s by him, she smacks his face to wake him up. obviously, you don’t realise because you’ve gone to get his breakfast but jason wakes up.

“annie..” he frowns, “i was asleep!” he whines like a little child not being able to get a toy. “it’s okay.. i suppose. only because you’re my favourite girl.” she claps again and laughs when he pulls her onto his chest. then, he spots you balancing things on the tray. “is that for me?” he laughs, sitting up while annie clings to him.

“my girls treat me sooo well.” he says, kissing his daughters head then kissing you. “this looks yummy, doesn’t it, stassie? you made this for me?” he says to the baby, who’s using him as a climbing frame, showing off her new motor skills. he shoves half a pancake in his mouth and lets out a ‘mm-mm’.

“do you like them? annie helped me by eating the first ones that weren’t perfect. i wouldn’t let her have them but she just kept-” he shuts you up with another sweet kiss to your lips. “stop rambling, hun. they’re perfect, she’s perfect, you’re perfect. i couldn’t ask for a better family.” those words melted your heart, making you feel like you were the luckiest girl alive.

“maybe we should have another one. i mean, look at her.” he tickles anastasia’s belly, making her squirm and laugh. “maybe when she’s down for her nap we can start the process.” he suggests with a wink.

you instantly feel your cheeks heat up and all the thoughts rush out of your head. “jason! she’s- she’s like.. ten months old! it’s a bit soon.” you splutter, but he just chuckles at your reaction.

“yeah, how about he just practice? you know, that’d be a great gift.”

tags: @madsluvsdilfs (lmk if you wanna be added 💞)

[rottingpink]

late nights | jason todd

cw; body worship, groping, nursing fetish, fixations (sensory, oral) clingy! jason, missionary, raw sex, breeding, teasing, nastyyyyyy sex, tit sucking, perv jason, mdni

synopsis: jason has a thing for tits. and milk.

main masterlist

jason has a dazed expression on his face. you'd been listening to him recount his day as you lay in your shared bed together, while he lays on you, but he's gone quiet. his head is lifted from your chest just enough to stare very intently at the smooth expanse of your cleavage.

he doesn't even pretend to be subtle, just blinks slowly, like he's half-awake. you coo softly, petting his soft black hair to keep him present, even as his gaze remains locked on your breasts. "you okay, jay?" you murmur, smiling gently.

jason doesn't look away. " 'm fine," he mutters, voice low and soft due to the sleepy tone he always gets when he's this close to you and feels safe. "just thinkin'. "

"mm." you hum in response. "right, you're thinking." you keep carding your fingers through his short hair, having an idea what's on his mind. "bout your tits." he says flatly, not even a trace of shame in his voice. "can’t focus at all when they're like this."

he squishes your tits together in his huge hands so they push up together and look even plumper and perkier. "all soft 'n squished up like this," he mumbles, staring at how you gasp and twitch under him when he squeezes you. "you're just layin' there. expectin' me to have anything else goin' on in my head?"

you pant a little, trying to act normal when you get so sensitive from the slightest touch he leaves on you. "you- mnh!- were mid sentence, jay!"

jason grunts and lowers his head again so his mouth slots over your sternum and then travels lower down to kiss at your cleavage, hands curling around your soft tank top to tug down and expose your tits. "doesn't matter. wasn't important."

jason doesn't even try to hide it anymore. once he's got his face buried in your tits, it's over. he's not budging. big, solid body draped over yours, one arm curled under you, the other hand warm and rough where it settles under your shirt. He palms one gently, holding your tit in his huge hand and brushing his thumb over the soft curve like he's trying to memorize the weight, the shape.

"so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs under his breath like he forgot you could hear him. you squirm a little, breath catching, and he sees your chest rising, soft little noises slipping past your lips that you didn't mean to make. he lifts his head again, eyes flitting up to yours. something shifts in his expression like he discovered something new. "that make you whine?" he says, almost to himself. "just that?"

you blink down at him, flustered. "n-no..."

jason huffs a breath through his nose, not believing you for a second, and presses his palm in a little firmer, thumb flicking, causing you to whimper loudly once more, and he reaches to grip your other breast, fondling them in his hands experimentally. he groans softly and dips his head again, nuzzling you. "could touch you all fuckin' day," he mumbles against your skin.

jason's mouth is hot where it meets the swell of your breasts, plush lips trailing slow, claiming kisses over your skin. he takes his time, nosing along the curve reverently. "softest fuckin' thing I've ever felt," he mumbles, dragging his tongue over the underside. His hand keeps palming you, thumb lazily swiping over your nipple. "you got no idea what you do to me like this."

you squirm and gnaw on your lip to muffle your sounds, hips shifting under him like they've got a mind of their own. "jay," you moan weakly, hands tugging at the soft strands of his hair.

" 'm right here, baby," he says, too calm for how hard he's breathing, too fond for the way his hands continue to squeeze greedily. "you need somethin'?" he watches your throat bob as you swallow, sees your fingers clench around his hair. "want more of your mouth, jason," you plead softly.

jason lets out the most obscene groan, and then he's on you again, mouth hot and wet, tongue swirling around one peak while his hand covers the other, teasing, coaxing every reaction out of you. you gasp, arching into his mouth before you can help it. "fuckin' hell," jason growls against your skin. "that's the sound i wanted."

breathless, you press your thighs together to try and get some friction between your legs, your body giving away how in heat you are each time you twitch or clutch him tighter. he switches sides without warning, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with a groan. The wet drag of his tongue makes you cry out again, louder this time.

his lips seal over your areola with a soft suck, but then he switches sides again, giving the other nipple the same slow, adoring treatment, wet, open-mouthed kisses that bring heat right to your pussy. his hands don't stop kneading your soft mounds.

you whimper his name again, so breathy and soft it makes him shudder, but jason's too far gone to respond. he can't believe he didn't worship your tits like this earlier. his mouth returns to your breast with purpose this time, need pulsing through every movement like a current under his skin.

he drags his heavy, thick tongue along your nipple again before wrapping his lips around you once more to greedily suckle and pull at you while he palms your other breast, heavy hand molding over soft flesh.

jason presses in harder, flattening his tongue before curling it again around the tip and sucking, suckling, so hot and slow you can feel the drool slipping from the corners of his mouth. he doesn't wipe it away. all he cares about is the feel and taste of you, but he still wants more. more of you. something seems to be missing. you can feel his desperation in the way he suckles harder, arms tightening around you and dragging you closer so your breast fills his mouth more completely.

jason's nose is buried against the warm swell of your chest, hips pressing against your soft, puffy pussy and rocking slowly and lazily, an unconscious act meant to alleviate some of the pressure built up in his hard cock. you glance down and see him like eyes closed, lashes low against his cheeks, mouth full and suckling, his hand greedily kneading the other breast like it'll coax something out.

your breathing picks up, soft whines leaving your mouth as you busy your hands with petting his short hair, eyes fluttering at the influx of pleasure. you hear faint groans coming from him while he humps you and sucks your tits a little too hard. "please..." you whisper, voice weak. he doesn't stop, messily dragging his mouth over your nipple, sealing his lips and sucking hard enough to make you cry out. "fuck, jay! ge-gentle, please!"

jason anchors you still to restrict you from squirming away, trying to coax sweetness out of you with his mouth alone, face flushed, lips shiny, cheeks hollowing as he suckles hungrily. he hasn't even touched you anywhere else and you're already soaked. "still not enough," he rasps, dragging his tongue over the swollen tip of your nipple again. "wanna keep suckin' 'til you're leakin' for me."

you go still under him with surprise, even though you can't focus long because his tongue licks a broad stripe over the valley of your tits as he pays more attention to your other breast. "w-what do you mean, j-jase?"

he grunts. "you know what i mean. milk, wan' it warm from you. wanna feel it on my tongue."

his mouth returns to your nipple once more, tongue curling before he sucks deeply, clothed cock still rutting between your thighs. his hands squeeze around your breasts as if he can force something out of you just by willing it hard enough.

his hips rut against you, grinding between your spread thighs in lazy rough thrusts, not even inside you, but his cock is heavy and hard under the sweats he never got a chance to take off. you're soaked through your panties and you can feel the heat of his lower half against you, even through layers. "wanna put it in you," he mumbles, eyes dark and hooded.

he lifts his head just enough to look you in the eyes, like it physically hurts him to stop suckling at your tits. his mouth is wet and flushed. "i have to fuck you," he whispers, reverent, thumb brushing your spit-slick nipple. "right now, sweetheart."

you nod a little too fast, body already arching toward him. you don’t even try to pretend to play coy because jason knows how bad you want him. your panties are soaked through and your whole body is buzzing from how he touched you. "then take me," you murmur, breath hitching.

he groans, then he's dragging the covers down just enough to get to what he needs, your soft, leaky little cunt. his mouth finds your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips, all sloppy, smearing kisses as his hands bunch your tank top higher until it's tangled under your arms and your tits are fully bare to the warm air of your bedroom.

he presses his forehead to yours, panting, making direct eye contact with you as he tugs his sweats and boxers off, heavy, fat cock slapping against his stomach with a wet sound. he grabs it in his marred fist, lining the dewy, flared tip up at your clothed hole before gently pulling the soaked cotton of your panties to the side so he can grind his cock at your entrance. "y'feel that?" he murmurs, hips rolling into the plush heat of your pussy, just barely, before drawing back. "so fuckin' hard for you it hurts."

"jay, no teasing please," you whine, voice gone needy as you move your arms so they're wrapped around his thick neck. "been wanting…"

"shh," he soothes, kissing the side of your mouth, then your chin. "I know, baby. I know." he coaxes you to calm down, but makes no move to sink inside you yet, still rubbing himself against your swollen folds, barely slipping the tip in. his eyes flit back to the way your breasts jiggle with each rock of his hips. "shit," he mutters, "this all from me suckin' your tits?"

you nod, biting your lip hard, and his eyes flutter. you spread your legs a little in an attempt to coax him to fuck you proper, pussy glistening under his gaze. his cock is leaking steadily now, creamy beads of pre-cum spreading at the tip.

jason fists his cock at the base, eyes returning to the swell of your tits as he lines himself up again. but still, he doesn't push in yet. he grips the base of his thick cock firmly in his hand to keep it positioned between your puffy pussy lips, eyes flicking between your face and tits. "look at you," he murmurs, voice condescending. "why're you squirmin' so much, hm baby? haven't even put it in you yet."

you whine loudly, hips moving upwards and rolling against his to get him to stop teasing, but it doesn't work. he slaps the head of his cock against your clit once, slow and deliberate, and your whole body jolts. "yeah, 's what I though." he grits, voice quiet and mean. he presses the tip inside you once more and rolls his hips just enough to make you mewl and squirm as the head of his cock spears into you. he watches your tits bounce every time you shift your body around, and

he reaches down to squeeze at the pillowy flesh again and tug your nipples. you gasp, arching up into him, and he groans deep in his throat. "please," you whisper, voice cracking from how badly you want it. “jay, please.”

he huffs at your insistence, but finally indulges you, pushing his huge, heavy cock past your hole and deep inside slowly, slowly, and then, when hes halfway in, he slams the rest in hard enough to make you jolt, his huge cock splitting you open and filling up your tummy. "oh fuuuuuuuuuuck," he groans loudly, head thrown back. " 's fuckin' tight, baby." you scream, hands clawing at his shoulders, thighs flying up around his waist, and your back arches as he stretches you out, causing your greedy pussy to ache and throb around him.

"don't move yet. 'm serious, lemme just..." he groans and shudders a little, feeling you clamp down around him. "lemme stay in you for a sec." you nod quickly, whining, and jason exhales slowly, resting his weight more fully on you. he drops his face to your chest again, kissing the swell of your breast.

he pulls out just enough to feel your walls drag along his length, then thrusts back in hard, and the sound it makes is obscene, wet and sloppy, your body bouncing against the mattress under the weight of him. you moan loud, head tipping back, and he snarls through his teeth, biting at your nipple now, just enough to sting. “yeah, you like that, you stupid little thing” he mutters. “you fuckin’ love when I’m rough with you, huh?”

your moans grow louder, and you nod, hands scrabbling to grab something, settling on his broad shoulders. your pussy clenches hard around him, and jason grunts, thrusting hard and sloppy inside you. " 's what i thought."

he keeps fucking into you, your tits bouncing so prettily with his force, but he's mostly holding them still with his body splayed on top of yours, his mouth locked on your tits yet again, hands having shifted to your waist. he drags you a little closer, grinding his hips forward in a lazy, heavy roll that encourages another sharp little moan from your lips. you arch up for him, back bowing and breasts pressing into his chest.

jason starts to fall into a rhythm, his cock sinking into you deeply, before he drags it back slow enough to let your walls grip and squeeze onto him, then he pushes all the way back in again, thick length splitting you open until your cunt is stretched to the edge of pain. your pussy's so wet and swollen, walls fluttering around the fullness of his shaft. "goddamn, baby," he grits out, voice rough in your ear as he watches your pussy stretch around him. "y'feel that? grippin' me like you don't wanna let go."

his chest stays pressed to yours, the heat of his skin sticky where it meets yours, but he doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even give you space to breathe properly. just fucks you deep, body heavy over yours, mouth attached to your tits like he can’t choose which he wants more. "mmh, jason its so good," you cry out way too loud, hands squeezing at his shoulders, your nails cutting into his skin.

your noises get higher and breathier, little whimpers tumbling out of you with every slow thrust, and jason just groans against your skin, lips wet where they drag over your nipple again. he tongues over it, gentle at first, then lets out a soft hiss when a little more slick coats your cunt from how deep he hits. "so swollen and pretty, baby. stuffed full'a my cock and still beggin' for more." his hand smooths over your tummy, pressing down just a little, eyes flicking to the slight bulge he can feel with every deep thrust. "right there, fuck... y'take me so good."

"jason!"

your pussy clenches tighter around him as he shoves his cock in you deeply, your mouth open on a choked moan that makes jason throb inside you. he sucks at your nipple again like he's desperate for something to come out. he really believes he can pull it from you if he just stays latched on long enough, tongue flicking over the puffy bud before he pulls off with a wet pop, then goes right back in.

"keep thinkin' about you drippin' for me, baby. leakin' into my mouth." he rolls his hips deeper, grinding slow as his cock kisses your gummy womb. "wanna suck 'em til you're cryin'. i'll get you so full you start leakin' without me even touchin' you."

he uses his grip on your waist to fuck you in place, thrusts staying slow but deep, as he drags along every fluttering sweet spot inside you until you're shaking under him, and every time his hips slam forward, your tits bounce up into his mouth. "keep thinkin' about you pregnant, knockin' you up so your tits fill up. they'd be leakin' for me while i fuck you stupid." he fucks his cock into you with another slow, grinding thrust, dragging the fat head of his cock along your walls as your pussy pulses and shudders around him.

his hips rut into you faster, balls slapping heavily against your ass as your body bucks every time his cock pushes deeper. you can feel yourself falling apart, as he keeps sucking your chest and fucking you so deeply that it feels like he's trying to mold his shape into your pussy. he starts to lose his rhythm soon after, his hips stuttering, cock dragging harder through your soaked, pulsing cunt. the pressure in his hips shifts from controlled to reckless, wet slaps echoing louder around the room.

"you're squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, shit...this pussy's so wet, doll, you hear that?" he pounds into you harder and the sound your bodies make together is absolutely obscene, slick, messy and so icky, your pussy squelching wet around him. his cock batters your insides with every thrust, hitting deep, deep, deep until your thighs are shaking around him.

then his hand slips between you, and you cry out when he presses two fingers right to your swollen clit, already throbbing. he circles it fast. you sob for him, breath catching in your throat as your body starts to snap, your muscles tightening all at once around his cock, pleasure spiking so hot and sudden your legs seize up around his waist and your back arches. your cunt squeezes hard around him, as you cum, drenching his cock in another gush of slick.

jason groans, thrusting one more time as his cock twitches inside you, then he's spilling into you. hot cum floods your pussy in thick ropes, his hips jerking again as he fucks into you while he cums. one hand stays gripping your waist, while his other hand toys with and pinches your clit to overstimulate you through your orgasm.

he doesn't pull out, staying buried inside you as his cock pulses deep inside your guts as your walls flutter around him. cum leaks out of you as it overfloods your pussy, but it doesn't stop, his cock still rutting into you. his thumb gently rubs your clit, and he leans down to your face to kiss you deeply. "mmh... love you s'much baby," jason murmurs into your mouth.

-

jason todd taglist: @moonlight-dreamer04 @atanukileaf @tcddszn