#ak fic

[i-yap]

I love the idea of jason being like super weird when he gets into a relationship with y/n

Cuz bro was on the streets then with bruce (aka loner dad) and then the main teen years where we learn about relationships and stuff he was being tortured abd trained to be an assassin.

So when he gets into a relationship, he tries to do something or act a certain boyfriend-y way for you. And he has only 4 options -

1. Batman and catwoman the super loner who doesn't say anything and the girl just keeps making sexual innuendos and steals stuff...which obviously doesn't work out cuz u(prolly) don't steal and he likes to talk to you

2. Bruce wayne the playboy- now imagine jasom trying to be smooth at making sexual innuendos ..he can't. At least not in the start and he lacks the subtlety and honestly he is too infatuated he fucks it up real often. " want some of my ice cream" " well sweetheart , I know some ice you can cream" in a weird rich voice and you're just standing there like wtf . Don't get me wrong he can be super vulgar and upfront but he gets all in his head and bruce wayne slips out.

3. NIGHTWING- man that's like the only person around him who has relationships. But noghtwing is like sunshine and jason really is not. So while nightwing aka Mr pitch perfect serenading his girl works and Mr acrobat from circus pulling his girl into a full on waltz works...it rlly doesn't for jason.

4. Books - bro reads Jane austen, bro likes the classics and therefore he will use those books to find gestures for you. Now once he got u a horse cause you were bored. And while that worked for the fictional Victorian housewife...not so much for a busy person in Gotham.

And he gets so confused with such normal things. "Could you Get me some milk" suddenly your entire kitchen is filled with all the different brands and types of milk a person can buy- 2 of each so u don't run out of it cuz Mr lover had no idea what "some" means.

This is just when he overthinks or gets jealous or insecure . Otherwise he is collected and his own unique way of showing love. But he just messes up sometimes and it's the cutest thing everrr.

[allllium]

★ Jason Todd Fanfic Recommendations ★

Part One • Part Two

.★. .★. Hurt/Comfort .★. .★.

Text Me

Window Pains

Fight

↳ [ @sanguineterrain ]

Out of the Bag

Comparisons Pt.1

↳ [ @indulgentdaydream ]

° Be With You ~ [ @chaotic-birds ]

Pregnant ~ [ @millyhelp ]

Domestic Headcannons ~ [ @morverenmaybewrites ]

Nightmare ~ [ @fcthots ]

I Feel Safe With you ~ [ @acourtofidiots ]

Name ~ [ @gay-dorito-dust ]

Nightmares ~ [ @killishin ]

Angel Baby ~ [ @aries-writingblog ]

Don't Want you to go ~ [ @dollfacefantasy ]

Nightmare ~ [ @gothamhappiness ]

Touchstone ~ [ @baesonjason ]

[l0vergirls]

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

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

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

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

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

[hanasnx]

We were talking earlier and you said Jason fucks mean and I KNOW IN MY HEART OF HEARTS I'm too soft for him but maybe that's the appeal. I love all that mental shit he's got going on, like baby you are so complex 😵‍💫

-Doe

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: he fucks mean. classic indy quote tbh. calling him complex is such an understatement. tbh he doesn’t appeal to me sexually like anakin does, but the basis of his appeal is his sexual interests for me. at least right now. even tho i’m not attracted to him like i am to other characters i write for, i’m interesting in exploring him in this context briefly :))

JASON TODD fucks mean. He fucks like he hates you. There’s a double side to him that he doesn’t know how to control, a borderline obsessive nature that creates a need to destroy the object of his desires. He loves you, so he must be the one to unravel you.

“Jay… Jay! I can’t—“ you whimper, cut off by his harsh pace, breakneck and ruthless as he fucks your brains out through your cunt. You were about to tell him that you “can’t take this” but you can’t even form the end of the sentence. Brows knit deeply, you howl like a fucking dog in heat being pummeled by his sex, and his hand clamps around your throat to pin the back of your head to the wall behind you.

“You ‘can’t’? Nah, baby, you won’t. Is that what you’re trying to say? Trying to say no?” A tone of fake sympathy invades your ears, pain and pleasure shooting up your spine bringing tears to the corners of your eyes as you pant through your noisy mouth. His voice lowers, darkens, “Let me show you something.” He releases your throat, and when he’s not holding you up by it you crumple, collapsing onto his shoulder as he stoops. Thick and angry fingers dig into the plaint flesh of your thighs, yanking them up to arrange over his hips. Pinning you to the wall with his dick, the new angle makes you cry. You clutch onto him, babbling mindless whines as you shake your head, but what can you say? You don’t want it to stop, not really. The emptiness that’s created within the pits of your stomach every time he pulls out is unbearable. “See? That’s what I fuckin’ thought. Knew a bitch like you could take it.”

[hemmingsleclerc]

The prince of the Paddock ┃T.C

timothée chalamet x fem!f1mercedes!reader

summary: Everybody knows yn, the queen of the track but her bf is also important 😘

yourusername

Liked by t.chalamet, lewishamilton, and 1,683,184 others

yourusername Such a good weekend!!! P1 baby! And I also had my pretty boy w me 😘😘

username pls marry me yn

mercedesamgf1 Our silver girl !🙌

tchalamet my queen on the podium ❤️🤘😍

username SLAY QUEEN!!!!!

username TIMMY AT THE LAST SLIDE

tchalamet has posted a story!

Seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 2,549,535 others

tchalamet

Liked by yourusername, zendaya and 2,583,892 others

tchalamet MY BABY WON A RACE (again 😘!!!!!) 😍😍❤️❤️❤️

username PLS ADOPT ME

florencepugh Is your girlfriend single?

zendaya cuties!!

yourusername I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU 💃💃🗣️🗣️

username parents!

youtube

The tonight show has posted a video!

Timothee Chalamet on F1, Wonka and Dune Part 2

comments

timmyfans ok but the way he says that from that moment he knew that yn would be his wife

ynlnf1videos if they break up I will no longer believe in love again.

username This man is absolutely in love with his girlfriend and I'm here for it!😭👏

username we support a king who respects, admires and loves his gf💗💗

username ugh he's such a green flag

username Idk if I wanna be yn to date timmy or be timmy to date yn

f1

Liked by 894,573 others

f1 Our favorite couple at the race earlier this day! ¿Who doesn't love our timmy?

mercedesamgf1 little timmy t was about to sing statistics to y'all

username GIVE MERCEDES ADMI A RAISE

timmyfanpage yn is so pretty stop

mercedesfan22 toto's adopted childrens

username RUMORS SAY THEY JUST GOT ENGAGED

username WAIT WHAT!?!?! how do u know!!!

username Apparently a close friend of them posted sm about it!

taglist

@willowpains

@ladyoflynx

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until they fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”

[averagegtenjoyer]

Yeah i think constantly amused giant is scary but i think bored giant is probably scarier. Probably scarier when they look down at you with lazy and glazed over eyes, when they drum their fingers on the table, when they cock their head, clearly trying to find something to do with you. Or even giant who’s boredom was not caused by you but they use you as a method, a toy, to cheer themself up. You’d better perform, silly tiny, or they’ll have to get creative.

[clownprince]

how sick and twisted would i have to be to miss that lunatic?

batman: arkham city – end game #1 // batman: arkham city – harley quinn's revenge // batman: arkham city – end game #2-6 // batman: arkham knight – the riddler's gambit // batman: arkham knight #0 // batman: arkham knight

[pidgeeepombo]

Flowers and inconvenient first meets.

Sinopsis: jason is having a bad day, you too, but it doesent stop you to be kind

Fluff!Jason Todd x civilian florist!reader.

A/n: i try to make the Y/n the most neutral as i can! You can imagine any gender for them.

Warnings: hiper cliché, my frist actually romantic x reader fic, i love Jason so much hadhhahshsheheh. English isn't my frist language! Im sorry to any ortografic errors! I hope you like it!

You were at your small flower stand, there wasn't much movement, after all, who has a reason to buy flowers in Gotham city? The cloudy weather left the air feeling depressed, but nothing you weren't used to. The movement of people rushing to get to their appointments ended up causing the vase of tulips that was right in front of their tent to fall, spilling the flowers across the sidewalk.

You hadn't seen who had dropped them, and the person probably didn't even realize they had done it, all you could do was get up from your plastic stool and go gather the poor flowers, in these difficult times losing merchandise meant having the light of a house cut down again, As you bend down to gather the flowers, suddenly a thump happens and you fall back, only hearing a "holy shit" giving the situation some intencity.

Jason Todd was having a rough day. Of course, today was the anniversary of his death, he was definitely not in a good mood to talk, everything had gone wrong for him today, he hadn't slept well, he was quite injured from last night's patrol, and the next day he still had Forcing themselves to go shopping to their safe house, definitely going to the supermarket during rush hours and interacting with people who are just as unhappy as he are is not one of Jason's favorite things. Now, walking home with a rather flimsy paper bag full of supplies, he trips over someone on the street and all their purchases spill onto the floor, *great*

-holy shit.

He looks at the person he bumped into, apparently they weren't in a situation very different from his. Even so, he got frustrated and soon opened his mouth to say something sarcastic. Until the person on the ground comes forward and says:

-I'm really sorry, sir! Did you're hurt? You should take better care of where you're going.

Jason, without much patience, bent down and started to gather his things, while you were gathering your flowers.

-And you shouldn't sit in the middle of the sidewalk.

Jason says with a bitter tone in his voice, you, who perhaps felt worried about having knocked him over, as soon as you finish gathering your flowers you start to help him with the shopping, realizing that his bag had torn, you get up and takes a bag from behind the counter and gives it to the man with black hair, who gets confused, but accepts the kindness, you start helping him gather his purchases.

-I'm sorry again...

-its okay.

he replies dryly, but you really don't care, he must be having as bad a day as you. But you decide to try to give sympathy a chance.

-What's your name?

-...Jason.

- I'm Y/N, nice to meet you. you say, smiling softly as you hand him the last fruit that was lying on the floor

-rouge day, right?

-kind of

He notice that you was trying to make the situation less unconfortable. Jason felt a little uncomfortable at first, he hated interactions with people he didn't know, but he became more relaxed as the other person didn't appear to be a potential threat. He glanced at the florist, their seemed tired, but Gotham does that to people. If he himself wasn't busy with his own problems, he would even find the person on his side pretty.

When they finished gathering things, Jason gets up to leave, but you say:

-Hey sir! Wait a minute.

he stopped and looked at you, you smile gently and hand him a single tulip.

-It's for the inconvenience, sorry again!

-ah... No problem. Thanks.

He leaves holding the flower and analyzing it on the way home, he found it funny in a way, the last time he received flowers was at his funeral. And maybe that made him a little happy, it was hard to find someone kind to strangers in Gotham. He thought a lot about that florist and maybe he wanted to run into them again.

A/n: HEYYY MY SPACE READERS! my frist fic on tumblr? Im kinda pround of myself. This was inspired by a Character A.I boot.... (My favourite one btw) im gonna put the name here later! Byee! I hope you all like it! Take care of yourself!

[thesandsofelsweyr]

Arkham Trash Party Idea #1:

Joker invites his fellow inmates down to "his office"—one of the abandoned offices in the basement of Arkham—to discuss his latest scheme to terrorize Gotham. The inmates find Joker reading The Gotham Gazette, with its front page story featuring a large photo of Batman and Robin (the "new & improved Robin"). The Clown's leaning back in a dusty old office chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed on the back of his pet. Jason, dressed in an orange Arkham jumpsuit, his red leather collar 'round his neck, on his hands and knees, his head tucked shamefully between his sagging shoulders as he's used as a footstool, Tom Wambsgans style 🤡

(Thanks again @bestangelofall for this fantastic playground)

[i-yap]

I just love thinking about jason x reader

Big bulky jason who has so much trauma and issues and needs and why would you even dedicate your entire life being patient and kind with him

But that same jason refuses to let u out the bed. The jason that will press Your feet after HE is the one who just went crime fighting

Jason who Hates being separated on his days off and will sit beneath the table between your legs hugging your waist with his on your thighs if you're doing work or meeting or studying

Jason who literally Hates work, vengeance, revenge, mafia stuff , crime fighting , saving the world ..basically anything that makes him spend time away from you.

Jason who prolly just leaves all this behind and genuinely works at processing his trauam . Becomes a literature teacher in a nice university. Settles down with you and have a normal life...give you the life you deserve

Not before saving up enough from mafia/batpay to give you the best luxury

Jason who just wants to stare at you , Hold you, get kisses from you forever

[gothy-froggy]

I miss your every kiss

AK!Jonathan Crane x goth!fem!reader

She/her for reader

Warnings: patching Jonathan’s face, needles, fluff, possibly hurt & comfort, definitely comfort for Jonathan, insecure Jonathan, slightly suggestive if you squint, Not proofread

Summary: Jonathan thinks back to different moments his lovely wife as she patched him up from a fight. He wonders, how did he get so lucky?

————————————————————————-

Cold, dense, agony, miserable.

These were the things Jonathan felt, grunting at the pain form the sharp needle as he worked to keep his face from falling apart. How could his wonderful plan go all to waste? How could the Batman, not feel fear? His frightening toxin not do anything to him?

Part of him wonders, was it Batman who wasn’t afraid, or the man behind that mask? Perhaps both? It didn’t matter. No, not right now. What matters is him getting back on his feet, climb his way back as a feared villain of Gotham. The media perused him as dead, but he could assure the people of Gotham that he is not. Just slowly piecing himself back together. Literally in a sense.

As he walked in the sewers below, he felt as the pain course through his body. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Slowly walking, hissing at any shift that causes his damaged leg trouble. His one working cloudy eye quickly scanning around.

He needed a way out. He needed to escape. His work, his toxin, his reputation, life,

His wife.

He stopped, leaning over a wasted crate as he tried to control his breathing.

Would he still have a wife? How long has he been down here? That was something he couldn’t tell. Even if she was looking for him, why would she stay? He looked…hideous.

His thoughts continued as he made it out, at the edge of city itself. He could barely make out the boats in the water. It was night, moon hitting the water. The thoughts continued as he water the water, getting louder as he closed his eyes.

His cloudy eyes shifted slowly once they opened, hearing faint footsteps, slowly getting louder with each step. It stopped, to the side slightly behind him. He turned, heart racing as his eyes widened.

“Oh darling,” She whispered out, gently touching his face. Mumbling a sorry when he let out a groan. She observed him head to toe, bringing him back to one of their locations.

He sat there, watching her finish up patching his face, stopping when he told her to.

“Gotham will pay, my love. It’s only a matter of time.” She reassured him.

Jonathan’s hand ghostly touching her suit, feeling the nice fabric of her black suit. He couldn’t understand. Why wasn’t she afraid of him? Not walking away, not disgusted by the way he looks? Here she was in her all black professional suit, carefully stitching his face together with fabric for him, not an hint of fear of his damaged face. She still wore her ring too. But again, he couldn’t help but think of the question again,

Why isn’t she afraid of him? Disgusted by him?

He here now, curled in a ball, muttering to himself. The look of pure terror in his eyes as he scurried away from his wife. To be fair, she looks undead to him. No, no, it can’t be. Her voice echoing in his mind,

“Why didn’t you save me?”

What happened? What have he done? What haven’t he done?

Feeling restricted as he screamed, his wife screaming his name, forced to see her decomposing face. His new greatest fear, losing her.

“Jonny,” Jonathan opened his eyes again. She was there. Alive and well. A sigh of relief escaped through his teeth. Her smile wiping the memories of what he saw from the fear toxin away.

“I’ve got you.” She whispered, looking at him oh so lovingly. And once again, he couldn’t help but ask in his mind,

Why isn’t she afraid of him? Disgusted by him?

Jonathan came back from a disappointing conflict, resulting to his scarecrow textured face getting damaged. His wife, now sits on the desk with the needed materials, fixing him up. Her long, black dress, winged sleeves tied back as she focused on stitching things back.

“You’re concerning me, Crane.” Ah, Crane. She was serious. Jonathan only stayed silent, only letting out soft noises of discomfort from the needle as she finished up his cheek.

“Why?” The room got quiet. She looked into his eyes. Puzzled by his short question, tilting her head.

“Why what?”

“Why are you still here? Look at me,” Jonathan was giving her a partially accidental glare.

“Rough fabric, hideous, no lips, yet you are still here. Why?” He voice ever so slightly quivered. She leaned in, gently placing her forehead on his. It was their substitute for a kiss.

“How does your appearance partakes who you are, my dear?” He shivered as a hand followed his jawline.

“You could be nothing but a beast, and I would still be by your side. Be with you.” She said above a whisper, pressing a kiss on what remained of his lips. unable to stop himself, Jonathan’s tongue slipped inside her mouth, letting out a soft groan. Only to pout as it came to an end. His face expressed grim.

“I miss your every kiss. The ones from the past.” He mumbled. It was a shame. They were so great. He feel everything. It was harder and different now.

“Though I do not miss the time that I haven’t had any.” Jonathan placed his forehead against hers. He pulled her in by her waist, enjoying the warmth form both her body and her laughter. He truly couldn’t believe he how found someone who loved him. Someone so loyal and faithful to him as he is for her. He grabbed her hand, glancing at their matching silver ring. Both with such tiny gothic details engraved inside.

Jonathan brought her hand up to his teeth, gently nibbling on it as his form of a kiss. He was always secretly eager for her warm and soft skin. Her soft skin against his rough fingers.

“How did I…end up so lucky, with a wife like you?”

“Not quite sure, but let me finish patching you up. Then you have to eat. You will eat, right Jonathan?” She said his name sternly.

“Or is the Scarecrow going to keep you a hostage for the plan?” Jonathan let out a soft chuckle, helping her off his lap.

“I will,” He agreed. She finished patching his face, pressing a kiss in his teeth, leaving a bit of her colored lipstick on them.

“I could never love someone like I love, Jonny.”

“I feel the same for you, my dear.” He watched her leave.

The Batman may be a fear of his, but losing her who is the absolute love of his life was one as well. It was one he finds worthy to avoid.

————————————————————————-

[jasonsbruce]

jason wants to touch bruce, too, but bruce won't let him. he makes it all about jason's pleasure every time their fights and arguments shift and turn into lust and desire instead. jason thinks it's because of bruce's obsession with being in control all the time, another way for him to exert his dominance.

but it's about guilt.

each time jason reaches out to touch him, bruce pulls back. he is haunted by the knowledge that he failed jason. he isn't his mentor anymore, but he still crossed a line he never should have. whenever jason looks at him with dazed, pupil-blown eyes and cheeks slightly reddened, wanting, bruce has to look away. the flush in his face makes the whitened scar stand out even more, reminding him of his profound failure. he can't let jason touch him. bruce can't take anything from jason because he doesn't deserve it.

[hanasnx]

Now that you've opened your inbox to DC! Men I'm just going insane! I have so many thoughts on this and now I'm going to flood your inbox with it, if that's okay.

I don't know about you, but I see AK!Jason falling (or just getting obsessed) over a real sweety reader. He would be in an immoral mix of how to take her to his cage with all his charm and suddenly he's just ponding your guts like u know ak would do, all cocky and massive and stuck up.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: hi :) i got this yesterday & i would like to tell u i love getting inbox messages so i implore you, flood my inbox.

JASON TODD never thought too hard about who he’d end up with. Concealed in the background of his mind for so long while he’d planned every other detail of his life out to fulfill one single vindictive plan. Now that he’s more or less free, he looks at you completely bewildered as to how he managed to cuff you. You’re nothing like him, save for a few domineering qualities you adopt when you’re disrespected, but other than that you’re… soft. Pliant. Sweet. When you hold his hand, you just clutch onto two of his fingers. You’re half his size. You’re adorable. A part of him wishes he could spend all day pinching at your cheeks and bullying you into whining indignantly at him.

He bullies you other ways instead. Charms you like a snake with all his sweet-talking, mouthing at your neck and smacking your little ass until you’re ready to do what he wants. Now he’s got you backing up on his cock with your hair roped around his palm. “Huh? What’s that? You like your guts fucked?” he jeers, a wolfish grin tugging at his lips as he’s yanking you back into his thrusts.

“Jason!” you whine at him indignantly, just how he likes it as he snickers at you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace the pain that comes with his length lodging all up in your insides, kissing your cervix. Not many like that sort of thing, but he loves that you do.

“You like this shit? You like it when it hurts? So fucking freaky, baby. Never would’ve guessed by lookin’ at’cha.” he degrades and you cry out as he rolls his hips the way that makes you howl. Bent over in front of him, his large hand comes down to swat your round ass that ripples with impact. A sweet little thing like you, drooling all over him because he’s being mean to you. “What’s next, huh? You want bruises?” He feels you clench down on him and he can’t help but laugh at you.

[smoosnoom]

(go on and) kiss the boy

“So,” Mike starts, drawing out the word, and Will turns to him. “Any ideas on how to spend the next fifteen minutes?” It’s teasing, suggestive when he wiggles his eyebrows, and it’s so unexpected that Will lets out a surprised laugh, unabashed, and it’s so easy, how the tension falls away, and it’s only them again. “You’re ridiculous,” Will shakes his head, smiling, but Mike looks proud of himself anyway. He points out, “I don’t hear you complaining.” Will scoffs, nudging at him with an elbow. “Whatever,” he smoothly replies. Mike grins.

Will, Mike, and the numerous attempts at their first kiss.

[andtheyreonfire]

thinking about g/t in terms of distance. metaphorical distance, shooting both further and farther away from someone as you grow. the disconnect from a human and the pixie village that lives next door. a giant watching humans run past their feet. a house and the mice-like people its inhabitants will never see. there's a disconnect between power, viewpoints, even sound, as you have to shout up someone or whisper down just to have a conversation. the knowledge of i could do anything to you and the instinct to flinch at rumbling footsteps. what i'm trying to say is that it's so, so, so easy to look the other way from tiny forms struggling at your feet, to destroy a house with a single movement, to keep walking as if nothing's happened. perhaps a someone grown in an emergency could look at their friend with something more than indifference. it's just easy to do nothing, even as others are in danger. who are the dolls around them to judge? do you interfere watching a tiny person lose to a prey animal, or do you let nature take its course?

but, in a way, it's about caring. respect. it's not hauling someone up by the shoulders and buckling under their weight; for as easy as it is to walk away, it costs absolutely nothing to care. it's as simple as breathing to hold a massive hand out, stopping a group of adventurers from walking off a cliff. to lift a few, wooden scraps off a borrower trapped underneath. to listen to a tiny voice laughing in one's ear. you could tower above buildings but still bridge the gap. it's not that you don't matter. it's just that i can care for you with a single hand. only in the literal sense am i above you. come out from hiding. leave your worries behind, little one. it makes no difference to me whether i stay or look away.

it's our distance, perhaps, that lets me protect you.