#bottom jason todd week

[beautyconsumer]

Okay I've been working on my WIPS for my Bottom Jason Todd Week fics, they'd be delayed but see the light eventually. So for the free day I have two ideas I'm debating on writing first.

NSFW under the cut, smut discussion

Option 1.

College Teacher Jason with Grant as a student, power dynamics, cis male genitals for both. Filthy smut.

Grant has always struggled with school, now that he has such a hot teacher distracting him he might need to find other ways to pass, the problem is figuring out how to navigate that relationship with his teacher.

Option 2.

Secretary Jason with CEO Grant, A/B/O verse with omega Jason. Dual genitalia for Jason. Fantasy sexism, so much filthy smut. Lingerie, Jason in office siren outfits.

Jason is trying to do his job as the CEO of Kane industries's secretary but his boss doesn't seem to be able to take his hands off of him. Not that Jason is complaining.

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposal and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[julymusings]

PORTRAIT

jason hates taking photos. it's a shame you find him so beautiful.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. Standing there with a fake smile, posing for a deceptively happy vignette of an unhappy reality feels awkward. He never knows what to do with his hands. He doesn’t like the way his face translates through the lens; the green of his eyes glows just this side of too spectral, his broad, stocky frame towers over that of his siblings, and the scars on his face bring memories of a darker time, an intentional carelessness for his life he used to carry. He leans away when others huddle together to smile. Pretends to notice something behind him when caught in the background of the lens.

Enter you. Only capable of looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Serving on a silver platter what he used to starve and scavenge for in dimly lit bars on the lips of women who only saw him as something to sink their teeth into and then spit out, never sticking around for longer than one night. Jason feasted at first, he’ll admit, stuffing himself to sickness on your unconditional adoration until it was almost too much to bear.

You take pictures of him and gush over them, telling him how pretty he is. How he belongs in a museum. He never believed you, never bothering to actually look at the pictures you take. But pretty soon he’s everywhere; you set him as your lock screen and screensaver, and print photos to frame on your bedside table. When your storage is maxed out, you steal Jason’s phone to flood his camera roll, and he finds that he keeps going back to stare at the photos you take. Selfies where you kiss his cheek and his mouth curves upward just enough to transform him from brooding to disarming; portraits where he looks, not at the camera, but just beyond and his eyes crinkle, the tips of his sharp canines peeking out over his bottom lip. He looks…different. Better. He starts to believe the things you tell him; his beauty is ancient. Michelangelo himself carved the contours of his body. The Trojans and the Greeks fought for a decade over him.

But what is it about this camera, he wonders, that makes his appearance digestible? Is it the way you frame him front and center, the backlighting sun rays extending in all directions behind him, encircling him with a holiness he doesn’t deserve? The scenery against which you capture him, busy nighttime streets under city lights, just dark enough to smooth out his rough edges? 

Or maybe it’s just you. Seeing himself from your point of view. Seeing himself as yours. His hooked nose, crooked from being broken one too many times, belongs to you for the early mornings when you trace down the bridge, around his lips, and up his jaw, drawing a portrait with your fingertips. His unruly hair, with streaks of white that make him stick out like a sore thumb, exists only for you to run your fingers through when he lays his head in your lap. His scars are for you to kiss on those difficult days until he can bear to look in the mirror again. He wants nothing more than to be a museum of all things you.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. But when you ask so nicely, showering him with compliments and promises of thank-you-kisses later on, how can he say no?

why are we as a society still striving for more definition and higher quality photos for anything other than, like, x-ray imaging and space exploration. I don't want 8k ultra-max hd in my phone that highlights every hair and pore and eye bag i want grainy and dark and fuzzy because it makes me look hotter and that's a fact. rant over

anyway he's so pretty i wanna take candids of him and kiss his face and squeeze his huge ti-*GUNSHOTS*

this is gonna be my last post for the next few weeks because i have finals. see you on the other side🫡 (born to be a farmer on a remote island, forced to study STEM) i'll be on requests as soon as i'm back trust

[sirxlla]

Accidentally Hitting Them In The Balls/Them Accidentally Hitting You In The Boobs

Note: Not Proofread or Check Grammer (I would today but its my birthday and I dont wanna.

Dick: "No, I promise I can get it open. Just hold the bottom of it." He was helping you open a pickle jar that almost seemed superglued shut.

"Are you sure you got it, Hun? It's not a big deal, it's a pickle." You said as you held onto the jar as he pulled and squeezed at the lid. At this point, you weren't even sure you wanted a pickle anymore after such a hassle.

"You want a pickle, you get a pickle." He said as he pulled the lid off and somehow simultaneously hit you in the boobs. Your face turned bright red, as did his, you two were just friends, and he hadn't ever grabbed you like that before.

"Ummm...." He started to short-circuit like a phone that had been dropped in the kitchen sink.

"Cop a feel, why don'tcha?" You teased him, and his face got even redder. He liked you, but right now, he's trying not to burst into flames due to embarrassment.

"I wasn't trying to cop- I mean, I am a cop, but I- I- Um...Pickle?" He held up the fork with the freshly skewered pickle, and as you took it, he quickly put the lid back on the pickles and opened the fridge door before pretending to browse the fridge until you left the room. It took him about thirty minutes for the blood that rushed to his face to leave.

Jason: "No, tighten this one, Babygirl." He instructed you as you tried your best to fix up your Chevy Impala you found at an auction a few weeks ago.

You attempted to tighten the bolt on the bottom of the vehicle but quickly realized you grabbed the wrong wrench. 'Oh. No problem, I'll just get the other one.' You thought before you slid out and went to get up, effectively teabagging yourself with Jason's boys. You were trying to be quick so you hit them a little too hard with your head. If you asked Jason to recount it right now he'd remember it like those X-Rays you get when you play Mortal Kombat.

He groaned and held onto the hood of the car, leaning over it, just trying to handle the pain in his groin. He reached down to massage them, and you did your best to apologize, which you were doing profusely.

"I- Um....um...Ice?" You asked even though you knew the answer and you went to get up and slipped and elbowed him in the crotch.

"I'm so sorry! Jason- I-" You didn't know what to do and you didn't want him in any pain.

"Just- Just go get the ice!" He was lying on the floor at this point, gripping his family jewels like the precious cargo they were to him. You quickly ran off to go get ice, but there was none in the fridge, and you were scrambling.

"Ms. L/N, Can I help you find something?" Alfred asked as he noticed your panic and your watery eyes.

"Jason- knee- nutz- ice-" You were so worried and concerned about Jason that you weren't entirely thinking about what you were actually saying, but alas, Alfred put together what you were trying to say. He had gotten good at that after all of the boys and essentially him raising Bruce on his own.

"Ah, you hit Master Todd in the nads? Take the frozen peas in there, they will work better than any ice pack or ice cubes." He said as he directed you to the frozen lentils.

He shook his head with a bit of a smile as you ran back out to the garage. You leaned down next to Jason before gently removing his hands from his boys to place the icepack as softly as you could, holding them for him.

"I'm so sorry, Jay. I- I didn't know you were right there. I thought you were on the other side still." You apologized profusely over and over whilst rubbing his arm with one hand to try to calm the both of you.

"It's okay, I should've told you. It's okay, Princess. Deep breaths. Shhhh...I'm okay, it's okay." Jason knows you didn't mean to, and he definitely was not gonna get mad or angry at you for an accident.

Bruce: You're his assistant, and of course, being his assistant meant you're normally with him regularly when he takes flights, in meetings, etc. The both of you were on a plane, he got off the seats that turned into a bed, and it was all great until there was some serious turbulence. Bruce's hand suddenly reached out for anything he could grab. In this case, that was your ass that caused you to blush and clear your throat.

"Um...I'm sorry, Ms. L/N, I didn't mean anything by it. I- Not that you're ugly, 'cause that most certainly isn't the case; I don't believe I've seen someone so beautiful. I-" He stammers out as his face turns as red as the lobster he ordered.

"I um- sorry, Mr. Wayne. It's entirely my fault for not watching-"

"It isn't, don't take blame for my actions."

You probably sit down before taking a few breaths to try to calm the redness in your face. He's your boss, and you shouldn't be thinking of him this way right now, the only thing you would think about was what was underneath his clothes.

The same thought was on his mind about exactly what you would look like when your clothes were off and how he felt the soft skin of your ass underneath his hands, and how he would love to feel that again. The rest of the flight was silent between you two it was hard to ignore the tension that filled the two seats. After the flight, both of you took a car to the hotel and found out they only booked one room instead of two.

Well, it looks like you're sleeping in the same room as your boss. Even after you had insisted that he sleep on the bed with you because you didn't want him to be uncomfortable he still slept on the couch like a gentleman.

Tim: Tim asked you out on a date, and he chose roller skating even if he hasn't done it in years, and he's definitely out of practice.

"Come on, Slow Poke! I'll race you!" You said as you zoomed past him, skating backward, and the colorful lights lit your face in such beautiful ways. He's distracted as he fights his desire to just continue admiring the look on your face right now. If he could tattoo this moment on the inside of his eyelids he would.

You laughed at the traced look on his face, but before you both knew it, you hit the short partition that blocks the rink from the dining area, and his face was buried deep in your breasts.

He pulled his face from your breasts, and his face was redder than a firetruck, and he began to apologize profusely. You didn't even hear what he was saying with the song on the loudspeaker blasting in your ears. You gently grabbed his face to calm him because his embarrassment was turning into panic and worry.

"Hey, It's okay." You smiled and his heart fluttered before it stopped as soon as your lips pressed against his. His shoulders fell, and he relaxed against you, completely forgetting he had just mashed his face into your boobs on the first date.

Damian: Both you and Damian are drenched in sweat from working out. His black compression shirt stuck to his torso like a second skin, and the both of you ready yourselves again. He looks at you. You aren't even remotely ready, you're exhausted and wanna stop but promised him one more round.

Damian goes to flip you onto your ass, but you move, flipping over, and your face somehow ends up firmly planted into his crotch. You move your head and press your cheek to his thigh as you try to catch a breath. You can't see it, but his face is bright red as he fights the erection that his body is forcing on him, as well as the pain from your head hitting him in the crotch.

You can feel it forming underneath you but choose to ignore it to not embarrass you or him; it's better if both of you pretend to be ignorant of the hardness and pain. He breathes trying to put himself at ease.

Damian brings his hand down into your hair to comfort you and himself, more so for himself. The both of you calm your panting breaths slowly, not to rush each other.

"Teabagging myself on you wasn't on my yearly bingo card. You okay?" You asked as you took a break from training on your best friend's lap.

"I didn't imagine I'd have pants on." He jokes before his eyes widen like saucers when he realizes what he says.

"I- Errrr." He stammers a slight bit before quickly snapping his mouth closed again and continuing the silence between you both; you both lay like that until you fall asleep against his thigh, much to his relief. Damian, being the gentleman he is, puts you in his bed, and you wake up surrounded by his silk sheets and warm blanket. It's one of those blankets that just wraps you up like a fireplace; you look at the time and realize he's most likely on patrol now and decide to head to the bathroom to relieve yourself and refresh. Then you change into one of his shirts and socks before crawling back into those sheets.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if youd like.

[plethorawrites]

jason with reader who is really burnt out from studying or a major nerd?

(VERY fitting because I'm also burnt out!!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Jason Todd is not often considered a well educated person, by most people's standards, considering he never finished high school and never went college. A lot of people assume he couldn't cut it.

Those people would be wrong. Very wrong.

He wasn't just smart, he was borderline brilliant. Okay, no, just plain brilliant. His family knew it, his close friends knew it, you knew it.

Mostly because he spent every free minute of his time helping you study, barely even needing to look at your meticulously crafted flash cards to know if you were right or wrong.

And most of the time, that was wonderful. You loved how damn smart he was. But other times, it felt almost mocking. It made you run your hands through your hair and practically shut down from frustration when you couldn't grasp a concept he had already mastered with barely any effort.

"This is pointless," you huffed, head buried in your hands, not wanting to even see his stupid face. "I can't do it. I'll never know this by the time midterms are here."

He sighed, setting down the marker he'd been using to draw on your whiteboard in hopes of helping things make more sense. "Hey, relax," he muttered. "We have a week."

"No," you said looking up. "I have a week. You already know all of this and you never even went to college, let alone got a masters degree."

He wet his bottom lip. You were right. He hadn't. He wanted to, he really did. It just didn't work out.

"I know," he responded softly, taking your hands and gently rubbing your knuckles. "But I don't need to have a masters to know how hard it is, and how smart you have to be for one."

This was a lot of pressure for anyone, especially at a college as hard as yours. "And they aren't my midterms, but I'll still be here. For the snack runs and the complaining and proofreading."

You softened slightly, shoulders sagging in exhaustion and guilt. "What if I wanna throw a pencil at you?" You mumbled, only half joking.

He merely shrugged. "I have good reflexes," he reminded you. "Throw as many as you want."

[jayswhorex]

jason todd groans under his breath as he splits you open with his cock. he dips his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your fresh scent. one hand gripping your hip, the other cradling one of your tits. there wasn't a part of you he hadn't missed or craved in his time away and he could finally get his fill of you once again. he couldn't help but move his hand down from your hips to your ass, giving you a firm squeeze, earning him a soft gasp. you're pressed down in between him and the bed with his hands all over your body, your nails bruising your skin. "fuck it's been too long baby" he mumbles as he completely bottoms out into you, "way too long" you whimper, at the prolonged feeling. there wasn't a part of you jason couldn't help but crave, he needed all of you. after weeks of waiting for your husband to come home, here he finally was, showing you exactly how much he missed you. "you're home jay…" you mumbled out, your words barely even coherent "mhm i'm home baby" he said, mumbling an incoherent plea of love in your ear.

[cupidsworstcrime]

Jason Todd x dom f!reader

inspo

filth, you know the drill

His back hit the mattress a little harder than he expected.

Jason blinked up at you, still shirtless from when you’d straddled his lap mid-kiss and tugged it over his head. Your hands were planted on his chest now, fingertips hot against his scarred skin. Your thighs bracketing his hips.

He hadn’t expected you to follow through when you said it—jokingly, teasingly—last week.

“One of these days I’m going to be the one calling the shots.”

He’d laughed. Shrugged it off. Said, “Good luck with that.”

And yet, here he was. On his back. Eyes a little wide.

You leaned in close, mouth just shy of his.

“Be good for me?”

A breath caught in his throat. God, he could feel the way his pulse jumped.

“…Y-Yeah,” he muttered. “I—yeah. Okay.”

You smiled. Slow. Sweet. Dangerous.

Your hand traced down his chest, fingers featherlight. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until your lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, soft and reassuring, like you were grounding him.

He didn’t mean to make a sound when you kissed his neck. But it slipped out—just a low, choked breath—and your grin widened against his skin.

“You’re doing so good already…”

Jason didn’t answer. He just reached for you again, desperate to keep some part of you in his hands—your hip, your thigh, the curve of your waist. Anything.

You caught his wrist mid-reach.

“Ah-ah,” you whispered, eyes sparking. “Tonight, you let me do the work.”

Jason stared up at you like you’d just told him the moon was fake.

“…That’s evil,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

You only leaned down again, your smile now brushing his ear.

“I’m just getting started.”

You had him laid out. Hands pinned gently above his head, your thighs straddling his waist, and that look in your eyes.

Jason wasn’t used to this. He didn’t do soft. Didn’t do giving up control. But with you?

He was already gone.

His wrists shifted beneath your grip. You didn’t squeeze tighter—just looked down at him with that same gentle, dangerous smile.

“You trying to escape me, baby?”

Jason’s throat bobbed. His voice was rough. “No. I just—fuck—”

“You just what, sweetheart?” you asked, your mouth brushing over his. “Need me to touch you again?”

He was already hard. Had been since you climbed into his lap and kissed him like that. And now? You were just hovering there. Warm and heavy on top of him, rocking slowly against his hips but not giving him anything solid.

His hands twitched. His face flushed.

“…I hate you,” he mumbled.

You grinned. “Liar.”

You let go of his wrists and leaned back. He didn’t move—couldn’t. Not with the way your fingers trailed down his chest, past the scar on his side, lower still.

“Tell me what you want,” you said, fingers dancing along the waistband of his sweats.

He looked at you like he was fighting with himself.

“…Please.”

“Please what?”

He hissed through his teeth. “Touch me.”

You slid your hand under the fabric, finally wrapping your hand around him, and he groaned. His hips jolted up instinctively, chasing your touch like a man starved.

“There he is,” you cooed. “So fucking responsive.”

Jason’s hands fisted the sheets. “Don’t stop.”

But you did. Only for a second—just to lean down, lips at his ear.

“Not until you beg.”

He cursed. Actual, full-body trembled. And then—

“…Please,” he whispered. “I need you. Need to feel you. Need to—fuck, I’ll do anything.”

That’s when you rode him.

Took him slow. Rocked your hips with maddening rhythm. Every time he tried to speed up, you held his hips down. He whimpered, bit back a growl, eyes locked on yours with a desperate fire.

“Look at you,” you murmured, hips rolling. “So needy for me.”

He was flushed red. Scarred chest heaving. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip to keep from begging again.

You leaned down, brushing your nose to his.

“Say it again.”

���…Need you,” he gasped. “Need you so bad it hurts.”

And you kissed him for it. Deep and wet and filthy. Let him shake apart under you, trembling as he came hard—his body jerking, your name half a prayer, half a curse in his throat.

When you collapsed against his chest, he was still breathless. Shaky.

And quiet.

“…So,” he finally muttered, “that was illegal.”

You laughed softly. “You okay?”

Jason blinked up at the ceiling, lips parted, completely overwhelmed and ruined.

“…I think I saw God, ma."

Jason waited. Let you stretch out on the bed all soft and smug, like he hadn’t spent the last few days thinking about the way you’d made him beg. He watched you roll onto your back, lazy and loose-limbed from sleep.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” he asked, crawling over you.

You smirked. “I know I am.”

He grinned, slow and sharp. “Yeah? Let’s see how smart that mouth is with my fingers in it.”

Your breath caught. That damn grin of his deepened.

He kissed you like he was trying to steal your breath. Rough hands pinning your wrists above your head, his thigh wedged between yours, pressing up just right. His voice was a low, smug purr against your lips:

“My turn, sweetheart.”

That was the plan.

Except…

The second you moaned into his mouth—just right—he stuttered.

The second you shifted under him—just right—he whimpered.

The second you tilted your hips up—just right—he lost control completely.

Jason had intentions, okay? He had a script. He was gonna ruin you. Tease you until you cried. Make you beg.

Instead—

You were on top again.

His wrists were pinned again.

And he was looking up at you like you’d hung the stars.

“What happened to your turn, baby?” you asked, smirking.

He groaned. “You’re cheating, ma.”

You grinned down at him, rolling your hips slowly. “Nah. You’re just weak for me.”

Jason choked on his own breath, gasped as you sank down on him. He tried to buck his hips up but you held him down with a palm on his chest, that wicked smile curving your lips.

“Still your turn, daddy. Come on. Do something.”

His hands clenched. His brain scrambled.

And then he gave up. Again.

“…I hate you,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Liar.”

It started with a bruised ego.

He’d tried to take control again. Had the nerve to push you against the wall and growl something cocky in your ear. Handsy, mouthy, that glint of challenge in his eyes.

But you had his number.

You knew exactly where to push, where to pull, how to look at him to get him crumbling.

And that’s where things went sideways.

He was under you again. Chest rising hard, wrists pinned, the air thick with heat and tension.

And oh, that look on his face—half scowl, half ruined, all red.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he bit out.

Your nails scraped down his chest, light and deliberate.

“Immensely.”

He gritted his teeth. Flexed his arms a little, like he could break your hold if he wanted.

He wouldn’t. He liked it here. You both knew that.

“Should’ve just bent over and taken it like a good boy the first time,” you murmured against his throat.

Jason shivered. His hips stuttered under you.

You leaned in closer, lips at his ear.

“Keep bratting off, and I’ll spank it out of you.”

And that’s when it happened.

That slow flush bloomed down his neck, across his cheeks, bright and shameless. He tried to glare at you—he really did—but it flickered, fast and helpless. He blinked fast and turned his head, swallowing hard.

“Ohh,” you cooed, dragging your fingers down his ribs. “That’s what you want?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, voice thick and hoarse.

You rolled your hips slow over his lap.

“I don’t think I will.”

Jason turned even redder.

“Look at you,” you teased, running your nails down to his waistband. “You’re blushing like a virgin, and I’ve already had you begging with tears in your lashes.”

“Shut up,” he hissed again, but it cracked into a whimper halfway through.

And that’s when it hit you—

Your big, bad, Red Hood was a brat in denial. All bark, all bite, until you pinned him down and whispered something dirty in his ear.

And when you reached back and smacked his thigh, just once, just enough?

He gasped.

“One more word,” you warned, voice dripping sweet. “And I will pull you over my lap.”

He didn’t speak.

But his hips twitched.

And that blush? Oh, it deepened.

[beautyconsumer]

Summary:

Black Mask makes a magician do the dirty work for him and discovers Jason's intimate video with his partner.

Jason is more worried about his boyfriend being exposed as well.

Bottom Jason Todd Week: 1 day | Jason sextape gets discovered and he's blackmailed into making more.

[jaysgirlx]

jason todd has never really been verbal when it came to sex. you were used to his encouraging grunts and soft groans and you loved earning from him. you knew it was his way of showing you how good you made him feel even though it wouldn't hurt to hear me talk every once in a while. so when those messy words fall from his lips words, you knew you were fucked.

"use your words baby"

"such a pretty mess, just for me yeah?"

"i know baby, i know"

"you can take it ma, i got you"

"that's it, baby, just like that, good girl, fuck it, you're my girl"

jason knew you too well. he knew exactly what you wanted to hear, from him and he tried his best to give you what he could. he hated the idea of you thinking he didn't enjoy sex with you because of how quiet he was. he needed you to know the things you were doing to him and how you made him feel. he wasn't quiet intentionally it was just what he became accustomed to, especially since he rather hear your choked moans and soft gasps instead of his own.

whenever jason decided to speak even when it was only a couple of words, you'd always make sure to respond even if he had bottomed out and was teasing your clit. this man was yours and you were willing to take anything you could get from him. especially since some of those words, he mumbled was occasionally, "i love you".

words meant just for you.

❥ a/n: i've been stacked with assignments so hopefully after next week i'll have more time to write

[igotanidea]

Too hot to handle: Jason Todd x reader

SMUT MDNI!

As usual sorry for all the typos, grammar mistakes etc. I really had to post it XD

***

Y/N was fuming.

For no reason at all, falling down the internet hole, she found herself on some stupid forum for stupid horny women who couldn't keep it in their pants.

Clearly those bitches were getting hot and bothered for Red Hood, shamelessly sharing their dirty thoughts and comments on some parts of his body and the things he'd let him do if--

Fuck.

She could have Tim or Babs trace their IP addresses in a second and could pay them a visit of a very possessive, angered and super jealous girlfriend.

Her hands were almost itching to write a few spicy comments herself, spilling the beans of whose body Red Hood was touching almost every night. Whose lips he was devouring. Whose most sensitive parts he was tasting with his tongue, begging for as much as a drop of sweetness. Whose moans and gasps he got to hear, whose voice was his drug, whose curves he was worshiping on his knees.

Obviously, she couldn't do that, but the thought of Jason's muscled body on top of her, his hands tracing her skin and joining her in the intimate dance had a side effect seeping through her panties. 

She needed him. 

With the need that could not be satisfied with her fingers or even the toys she had stacked safely in the locked bottom drawer.

Jason ...

Come home...

Can't you sense how much I want you now...

She almost prayed to the moon on the sky to bring her lover back to her. 

***

That little tingling on his skin was something new and as much as he hated to put the thought into words, it was like a spider-sense. The one of Y/N’s second favorite self-appointed hero – spiderman.

Y/n…

Was that feeling because she was in danger?

Did someone hurt her? Did anyone dare lay a finger on his precious girl?

Jason gritted his teeth, clenching fists, anger at a purely potential enemy flooded his brain.

It was a quiet night either way, giving him a perfect opportunity to take a quick detour and check on his angel. Just a look and assurance that she was safe, to help him keep going and push him through all the shit and doubts.

Y/n….

***

He did not expect her to sit in front of Netflix at 2 am. She had work in the morning so why on earth was she watching the series?

“Hey!” he called, probably a little bit too loud, causing her to jump on the couch and almost drop the mug. “Sorry…”

“Next time give me a heads up, will you?” she muttered with a pout.

“Um- okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing.” Y/N scoffed angrily, turning back to the TV.

“Can I please get my girlfriend back? You know, the other one? Nice and caring? The one who would ask me if I’m hurt or maybe need patching or a post-patrol kiss?” Jason teased moving in front of the screen, successfully blocking it from her view. “Wait… Y/N, are you watching “Too hot to handle?" His laugh filled the room, because honestly that might have been the funniest thing in the whole week. His serious, a bit reserved, goody-two-shoes girl had her eyes on the show about horny singles.

“Shut up…”

“Oh, I will most definitely not shut up about it. Are you hinting at something, here? Cause you know, you don’t need a show like this if—” he switched a little, coming closer and leaning over her silhouette on the couch

“Shut up, Jason!”

“Whoa!” his hands raised in feigned surrender “someone’s feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I’m not feisty. I’m furious!”

“At what?”

“Girls!”

“Wait, what?” Jason frowned “I am confused.

“Girls! Women! The ones who are trying to bang and –”

“I thought you liked banging?” he sent her a knowing smirk

“Jason!”

 “Come on, sunshine, you cannot hide that blush.” He pointed out, brushing fingers over her reddened cheeks, raising her head so she had to look into his eyes “What’s gotten into you? Tell me the truth.”

“Stupid internet.”

“Mhm. Okay. Care to elaborate?”

“Did you know the girls are getting hot for the Red Hood on some stupid forum?”

“Nope. Did not. But… did it make you jealous?” he smirked, expecting her to deny and squirm in embarrassment that he accused her of such low feelings.

“Yeah…” Much to his surprise, she decided to be honest. It truly was a strange night. “Yeah, I was. Jealous and furious. Hence the “Too hot to handle” marathon.”

“Hm? Can’t see the correlation.”

“It’s so shallow and selfish and mean, but – the show is so silly and most possibly fabricated. I may, or may not have been trying to diminish women who are openly horny….?” Her voice became barely audible at the end, as if she was ashamed to admit her own .

“Oh, you silly little one.” Jason laughed, pulling her onto his lap and brushing hair out of her forehead. “You could have led with that.” His lips brushed over her forehead

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You should have told me, that coming across girls leching over me-“

“Over Red Hood!” she interrupted and he only laughed again.

“Over me” he underlined  “- got your knickers in a twist.”

“It did not!”

Great, now she was trying to deny it. Too bad it was too late and he was in the mood for the games anymore. He felt the need to assure her that she was the one, though also expressing appreciation for said open horniness and for a little bit of jealousy. It made his ego soar.

“Didn’t it?” he teased, grabbing onto her waist and laying her on her back, hovering over her, moving fingers up her leg, until it reached the hem of her sleeping shorts. “Maybe I should check myself then?”

His hand brushed over the inside of her thigh, causing her to let out a sharp exhale.

“Oh, right… My little minx is not wearing panties at all. So it seems like you have been telling the truth after all. You did not get them in a twist…”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her, a sudden sweet distraction allowing him to yank those silly little shorts down, exposing her want without any care in the world. Opening her legs and wrapping them on his waist, without breaking the kiss for even a second, Jason pressed his weight on her, distributing it evenly on his forearms, to not crash her.

“Mmm. Tease.”

“And you love every second of it.” He smirked, grinding against her core, sacrificing his favorite tactical pants to her warmth and wetness. Not much of an exorbitant price for what was waiting at the finish line.

And even though it was just the beginning of the marathon, they were already gasping heavily, grasping onto each other, pulling each other closer and closer. She was so needy and he loved it. The more bothered she was, the easier it got for him to end on the winner’s podium. His cock was hardening by a second, making it almost painful to be kept in the pants, but he was holding back.

“Jason…” she moaned, reaching down his torso, sneaking hand under the waistband.

“Not yet, baby.” All she got in return was her hands pinned above her head in a very vulnerable position, completely at his mercy. And to add to it all, Jason lips attached to her pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a dark purple hickey. The one she wouldn’t be able to cover easily. “Not yet…” the grip on her wrists faltered for a second, but not enough to allow her to break free.

Jason was skillful and knew exactly what he was doing.  Feeding her with the false hope of freedom only for a second, only to grab her hands in one hand, using the other to roll her sleeping shirt up, exposing her breasts, but not taking it off fully.

“Hello, lovelies…” he muttered, before diving between her tits, getting the arching back and multiple sounds of pleasure in return. “Yeah… keep those sounds coming, baby…”

His lips traced a scorching path down her cleavage, making her want skyrocket, smirking upon the feeling of her legs tightening on his waist and her hips grinding against her jeans.

“Not yet.” He commanded again, pressing her back flat onto the couch. “Not yet…” his eyes flashed with something primal and animalistic. There was something devilishly turning on with having her naked under him, while he didn’t shed a single piece of clothing. And he was going to exploit that opportunity to the maximum.

With a quiet laugh that sounded almost sinful, Jason bent down and traced tongue over the flesh of her soft, warm breast, purposefully avoiding the little pink button that was begging for his attention. Yes, his ego was skyrocketing upon hearing her cries of pleasure and broken gasps of his name on her swollen lips, followed by the flexing of her body against his touch.

Yes, he might have been acting a little dominant, but they both knew it was not going to go on forever. 

Deep inside Jason was sweet and romantic, definitely putting soft, tender lovemaking over hard and rough sex.

And really, it didn’t take him long to give in to her pleadings and entreaties, moving lips to her nipple, sucking and biting on it gently.

“Oh yes!” she cried out, closing her eyes and from that moment things started taking on the pace. Jason groaned from the sensation of her breast in his mouth, letting go of her wrists, allowing her hands to tangle in his hair, only adding to the feelings burning inside his chest and groin. Abandoning lavishing attention on her chest, he guided her hands to the hem of his shirt and with  interlaced fingers and eyes never faltering from each other’s face they pulled it over his head, exposing his toned upper body, covered with fresh bruises and cuts.

“So you are hurt…” she whispered, touching the pads of her fingers to the newest purple mark on his pec.

“I didn’t notice…” his voice was deep, calming and full of adoration “All I notice right now is you…” he grabbed her hand pressing it to his lips, kissing all over her knuckles.

“Then come feel me too…” she moved upwards, pressing her lips to his, wanting to feel that chapped warmth on hers. And once their mouths met it was a sensation incomparable with anything else. Ironically (or not) making out like this, with their entwined bodies, separated only by the material of his pants, slowly, tenderly, focused only on each other, leaving the whole world behind was turning her on more than actual penetration.

Which did not mean she didn’t want to go all the way.

“Is it time yet?” she whispered, with a little bit of teasing in her voice, breaking the kiss only for a second.

“You are ruining the moment, sunshine.” He chuckled, tracing kisses up her cheek, all the way to her ear, softly biting on her earlobe, causing more tickling than actual pain. Y/N responded with a little chuckle as well, cupping his cheek, bringing his lips back to hers once more. Without breaking the making out for even one second, Y/N removed his belt and undid the button on his pants. Then, with a few kicks and swings of legs, they managed to set him free from his confines, finally feeling each other from head to toe.

“How’s your jealousy doing now…?” he teased, guiding himself to her entrance, grabbing onto her waist, rolling his fingers in tiny circles on her sensitive skin.

“Who’s ruining the moment now?”

“No idea. Who?” he chuckled. It was so good being with her like this. In the moment of intimacy, that was meaningful but deprived of the seriousness that could ruin the tenderness. Perfect mix of softness and love, seasoned with a bit of well balanced humor and  sarcasm that bonded them in the first place. “You ready for me, baby?”

“So ready.” She smiled, shifting and squirming to allow him to slide inside better and maximize the pleasure of unity for them both.

“Mh. Hello there…” he smirked and without missing a bit started to move inside her. Slowly, but intensely. Building up and drawing the tension. Moving hands on her body in time with the thrusts, fueling the fire that was meant to warm but not burn. “Is this what you wanted?” he looked at her face searching for the answers behind those e/c eyes, filled with longing and devotion.  

“Yeah… Good thing you helped me realize what it was that I wanted…” she started matching his movements, kissing him again.

The tension between their bodies was building slowly and steadily. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world, that suddenly shrunk to only them two.

Jason and Y/n.

Y/n and Jason.

Together.

Connecting seamlessly, with bodies joined and heart beating only for one another. Creating their own bubble of beauty and wonder in the darkness and danger of Gotham.

“I love you…” he muttered, leaning forehead on hers, needing to say those words before everything turn into the blur and haze due to the slowly approaching tidal wave of climax.

“I love you…” she responded, feeling the exact same need, knowing well enough that those three little words exchanged before the post-bliss was far more meaningful and far more true.

***

“How’s the hate on horny women doing now?” he muttered against her hair, some time later. It could have been minutes as well as hours cause once they busted the pleasure door open time suddenly became relative and meaningless.

“Hm? What women? Wait a second. Are you really trying to tell me there are other women somewhere?’ she looked at him with a tease, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I am fairly convinced there are only you and me. No other men or women anywhere.”

“Hm… What I’m hearing is that I’m the only guy in the world for you?”

“It depends on—”

“Because sure as hell you are the only woman for me.” He added quickly, knowing what her condition was. “And no silly internet forum or contestant of so-called hot, naughty Netflix show could change it.”

“You got soft, Red Hood.” She smiled, nuzzling into his chest and placing a little kiss on his chest, close to his heart

“I can be hard when it counts, though.” His heart picked up the pace as her lips touched his skin “Honestly I can be anything you may need from me.”

“How about we both stay ourselves?”

“Works for me.”

Jason's arms wrapped around her pulling her to his chest for more and more aftercare and cuddles. It was a quiet night after all and he could indulge in some time with his beloved Y/N.

[sramoonlight]

Part of me

What if Damian Wayne had a sister?

Content you’ll see here: Batsis, batfamily, reader

English is not my first language! Please be patient.

Even if they prepared a room for you, you couldn’t accept it and neither did Damian, preparing a little bed next to Damian’s you listened to all your brother could say even if was trivial

— So, Robin? — you asked looking at him as you raised an eyebrow, Damian rolled his eyes before he layes on his stomach

— What’s so weird about it? — he seemed to not like the tone you used for that question and you couldn’t but chuckle at the image

You thought, looking at the room, it was quite big for him but you knew it wasn’t enough, not when you two are used to sharing rooms

— Mother told us that Robin was some type of boy wonder — and you lay down looking at him, for some people that would look weird, the Damian Wayne acting like a kid of his age

But for you, he was just your brother who don’t has any sense of humor

— That was a Grayson thing, and Robin can be everything — he seemed offended by the way you say it and it makes you smile

— I don’t think father would be happy knowing that I know your secret identity — your hands pressed on your stomach as you keep looking at him before he rested his head on his palm

That boy had the heavy eyes that your father has but for you it was the vivid image of your mother

— You can’t lie to your reflection, do you? —

The way he said it made you think, his tone didnt changed always talking in a serious one but you knew, you knew how much it meant for him

After all, you were the one who said that to him when you were little

Your reflection on the mirror even if there was no mirror

— Are you going to be a vigilante? — He asked, and that snapped you out of your thoughts even if it makes you go back there to get the answer

It was weird, you could feel the expectation on his words like if he needed to hear an answer and that doesn’t look like your brother

He was sure someone who would be direct on his questions, never too shy or too bold, just direct about what he wanted to hear

That’s the worst part, let’s think about it, Damian wasn’t a member of the league of assassins anymore but you were, that feels weird, thinking back about the incident, you left the country a week before Damian was sent to you father

Was it a sign? That you only can be part of the league? That question seemed so weird but still so necessary

— I don’t know brother, I don’t have a date to leave — and you turned to him, using your hands as a pillow

You had a moment to think before opening your mouth again

— Do you want me to? —

You woke up the next morning, 6 am exactly as you looked beside you, Damian was still sleeping and that made you wonder if he changed his schedule

Putting that thought aside you got up walking to the kitchen of the manor, your first day and you already knew where it was.

As you used to do in your mornings on London you prepared the coffee maker instantly placing a cup beside one you borrowed, for Damian

— Coffee is bad for someone your age — the voice made you jump on your place before facing him, that guy, Jason Todd looked at you from the door frame

Was that a helmet on his hands?

— Where are you going? — you asked as he walked to your side taking a cup and placing it beside the other two

— I gotta leave this place before B asks me to eat breakfast — you brushed the tiredness out of your face before looking up and him

Damn, he is tall.

— Is that for the little demon? — he asked you pointing at the cup — Is it a twin thing? How could you know which one is his favorite? —

With a smile you served the coffee now on the three cups before adding sugar to yours, and without letting Jason notice, you did to Damian’s too

— I just know when he use something — not that you were some kind of freak, but once you start watching Damian you can notice a few things he does

And one of those, was that he does not let the spoon get to the bottom of any cup, so no mark is left behind.

The man beside you drank the coffee in a hurry almost surprising you, how could he not get burned?

— You can let me know that later kid, welcome to the manor — he ruffled your hair before running to the door.

A quiet steps could be heard from the halls and the same butler from yesterday looked at you

— Master (reader)? — you took the two cups before walking past him nodding as a greeting, you went upstairs quick trying to not find any other family member.

Let’s think about it again, you know Jason, well not know know because you only shared a few words with him so it is normal that he just don’t know much about it, and that makes you go to the other question, why do they want you here? You can’t find an answer, if you ask Damian he would answer with another question and that makes you mad but you can let your guard down

They may be Damian’s family but for you they’re strangers.

— (reader)? — Damian asked getting up as you entered the room, you sat down at his side giving him the cup

— Don’t worry, I didn’t put any milk on it —

You looked at the cup thinking about it, too many things moved inside of you head as you tried to put them in order, first, why was it so easy to convince your mother? You know she’s the type of person who needs at least three days to take a decision but once you told her about what you wanted to do.. she just said yes, you didn’t question that but it feels so out of her.

But now, you haven’t talked with your father since you arrived, well, you would if Damian hadn’t took you upstairs to talk and even if it was disrespectful you couldn’t say no to him

Again, why do they want from you?

— You’re overthinking — just two words (or three?) that made you come back to reality, Damian’s cup was almost empty but yours was still full.

You didn’t notice when you started to drown on your thoughts

— Im sorry I just- I can’t put a finger on it — you sighed, taking a big sip and you couldn’t feel it extremely hot, a hit that you were out for too long

— if you keep thinking you won’t see the answer — Damian copied your actions drinking all was left before getting up, his hand brushed against his hair trying to get it fix.

Once again, you sighed trying to finish your coffee, it felt so weird to not be at your London apartment

— Let’s go downstairs, I don’t want Grayson here —

With that, you chunked all was left following him, the manor was starting to get noisy as you could hear the butler cooking some breakfast

The middle child, Tim drake walked through the halls and you can notice how messy is his hair, before you could judge him you can see how one of his hands is covered with a glove

So that means he’s a vigilante too, interesting.

Damian walked to the dinner room where you could see Bruce looking at some papers, your eyes traveled to his eyes noticing the heavy bags below them, didnt he get any sleep?

Ah, of course, he was the Batman, another weird thing, why didn’t he asked Damian to patrol last night?

— Good morning father — Damian said as he sat down next to him, you had to cleared your throat before talking

— Good.. morning father — that tittle rolled so weird on your tongue, you were used to saying it with a grand before it.

Grandfather, you do quite miss it though

— Good morning to you two, how did you sleep? — the man didnt stop reading and you looked surprised of that, still, you brush it off before talking again

— Quite nice father, it is a relief to sleep next to my brother again — you tried to do a conversation but before you could say anything

That eyes lifted from the work looking at you, did you do something wrong? You analyzed your words again trying to find something out of the page but there was nothing

Then, you looked a Damian who seemed bored at the trivial conversation, was it something your father only had seen?

— Good morning B, little demon — Dick Grayson, the man from the night before walked in and he ruffled your hair — Good morning to you too, little bird —

A weird feeling found his way on your heart as you tried to fix back your hair, you know your guard is up but why couldn’t you react at that?

Still, it didnt felt like an attack.

— I was thinking, what about if we go to a trip together, to take all the time we didnt met —

Your eyes moved to where his arm was, he grabbed your chair but he didn’t seem to be moving it any time soon, just like if he wanted to be close but not knowing how to approach

— Uhm, I guess that’s okay —

The man seemed to be happy about if ruffling your hair once again, and now you looked at Damian wanting to see a reaction from him but he was looking across the room like he didn’t care or like he didn’t see anything weird about it.

— So, I heard that you were in London, was it fun? — The short chat made you jumped as you tried to keep it up.

— Uh, it was fine it was just for a mission — a mission that lasted five years, well, you can say it wasn’t just a mission

You felt like overthinking again so you brought your hands above the table trying to find an anchor back to earth.

— Ow, so you didn’t have any fun there? — Dick walked to the other side of the table sitting in front of you as he keep talking

It was so weird, he keep seeing you even if he was moving

— I guess I didn’t, but I kept my communication with Damian —

You brought your siblings name to the conversation, maybe that could make him stop asking about how you were back there, it looks like he wants to take any information from you. Sighing you look at the way the butler comes with the breakfast and you do a note in your head to help him clean the dishes before you go.

The manor went silence again, Damian was doing some school work, Dick went out for something you didnt heard, Tim is probably sleeping and Bruce… you don’t know where he is, but that leads you the perfect moment where you can find your thoughts about what is going to happen

Of course, being a twin represented that you were raised to be a successor for the league but, unlike Damian you weren’t raised for being something now that you think about it, your whole existence was a mistake, not that you cared, you’re alive now and no one would change that

That makes you wonder, if your mother left you go without fighting back, does that mean that your work was over? But, what work were you performing?

You see back at your passed actions, doing minor jobs like getting rid off of noisy politicians, none of them seemed like a job a high level person would do

What was your purpose now?

— You’re overthinking — You looked up at the person who was talking to you, ready to say a sassy comment to Damian but there was your father, a book on his hand as he hit you with it softly.

You didn’t notice when he get on you behind, that was a consequence of overthinking and you felt like it was a mistake to be sorry about but, his eyes were as kind as they were this morning.

— Whatever is in your mind, don’t let it affect you — the man with kind eyes and still heavy ones, only a few words from him were enough to lighten your heart.

You still can’t put a finger on why he’s too kind, you just met him a few hours ago and still he treats you like he met you all his life, you don’t know why your chest feels so warm.

— You’re my daughter too, so whatever makes you worry, it hurts me too — The man sat down beside you opening the book, you knew the conversation came to an end so you didn’t tried to answer

Was this how it feels to have a father?

[stargrltara]

Kinda Outa Luck III

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song "Kinda Outa Luck by lana del rey. 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩. Reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman, she works in a club, and on the low she's gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage. Oh, did I mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT 2 PT 3

warnings: 18+ MDNI,

a/n: hey cuties!!! i cant apologise enough for how long i’ve spent doing this, DAMN. but heres the long awaited part 3!! lmk if u enjoy my fics bc i’ll definitely write more in the future! xox

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“ 𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊’𝒎 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌. „

Each day blended into another after that night. It felt as if your own soul melted from your skin and body, but you were still conscious in the empty pit of your mind. Of course, you were still making drinks, talking to your friends and your boss like normal, but behind your melancholic eyes is a forbidden abyss; impossible for you to crawl out of.

You were so drawn to the electric feeling that scraped through your limbs that night; the sounds of your lewd moans and his gruff pants and grunts. Even the familiar sound of rain trickling onto the glass windows still shoots memories back into your mind. Every word he uttered sounded perfect in that moment, no matter if it was complete bullshit. The slam of the door behind him when he left scarred a burn in your soul.

Although, he left your apartment like it was nothing. And the night after, you found yourself rushing around the city, watching his every move. Every punch and hit he took and gave. Every criminal he stopped, every person he put a bullet in. This was the man you fucked.

You were finally coming to terms with the actions you performed that night; finally accepting that you had hot, sweaty sex with the infamous Red Hood.

You were finally coming to terms with the fact how it would never happen again, and it was a one time thing. He’s clearly got something up with him, the way he just strutted out of your apartment after he just finished inside of you.

That was until you heard the thudding of boots entering the lounge, gasps and light chatters echoing in the room and your eyes glaring up, wondering who it is.

Your lips parted in disbelief when you saw Red Hoods tall, muscular figure glance over the bar, his crimson mask boreing into your bewildered features. And suddenly, you felt a slight sensation pool into your lower stomach, an unknown emotion. You unhand the glass you were cleaning, plopping the hand towel on the wooden countertop before making your way to him, noticing the way he’s just staring at you, almost as if he’s trying to work out a puzzle, or a riddle.

“Anything I can get ‘ya—?” your voice was breathy, but your tone was stern, almost too nonchalant as if the known vigilante isn’t standing before you. He cut you off quickly, “Know where Oz is?” He shifted in his position, arms now folded over his chest which revealed his broad shoulders and highlighted his biceps.

You thought for a moment at how he just cut you off, clearly in a rush for some odd reason you’re not even sure you want to know; a low hum escaping your lips. “He’s not here today.”

Penguin wasn’t here for the whole week actually, apparently some business he had to handle elsewhere, he cut out all the gorey details before drowning you in the responsibility to handle his lounge while he’s gone, along with a few of his other close assistants.

“Where is he?” The man grunted impatiently, a low grumble erupting from his throat and seeping from his helmet. You sighed, not wanting to tell him much as you don’t wanna piss off Penguin for spreading confidential information.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth before shrugging bluntly. “He’ll be back in a few days.” You reached for the hand towel and continued where you left off and focused on drying the glass, trying to act as unbothered as you can, though your furrowed brows and narrowed eyes betrayed you. “Left me and some others to manage it in the meantime.” you muttered lowly, and you heard his abrupt scoff.

“..Oz left.. you in charge?” his brows raised in disbelief, and though you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was shocked by the fact how The Penguin left you in charge of his Lounge for a few days, as if you couldn’t run it, as if you were undermined and deemed weak.

You scoffed back at him, mimicking his own move before glancing back up at him slowly, eyes raking leisurely over his body and then back up at his helmet. “Got a problem with that?” you questioned, clearly taken offence at his passive aggressive tone.

You could feel his stare into you, and a rough snicker emerged from his throat. His head shook, “No.” he said bluntly, but you could tell he was biting back his tongue. You hummed in satisfaction before he spoke again. “You’re just ‘gonna tell me instead.” his head jerked towards upstairs, gesturing Penguins Office; your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You abandoned the drink you were fixing up and the two of you made your way to Penguins office. He carefully shut the door behind you, and you leaned against the desk filled with stacks of paperwork, some cash and a glass of whiskey left behind.

“So are you gonna tell me what this is about?” your eyes rolled, trying to act as cold as possible, though the heated patch in your chest was growing hotter and hotter by the second.

He inched closer to you, each step thudding, mirroring the exact way it thudded the night he left you in your apartment. “Tell me everything you know about his caches.” he ordered, voice rough and rigid.

“..and why would I tell you that?” your head tilted, almost challenging his authority. “You know that ‘info is classified.” you crossed your arms over your chest, still leaning against the desk.

Red hood creeped closer and closer, until you could almost feel his chest on yours, as your eyes raked along his helmet, head folded up at his tall figure as silence echoed the atmosphere. You couldn’t deny the burn flowing under your skin at the familiar proximity of his body before you.

“I’m not asking, doll.” his voice was ragged, and almost a warning. You knew he would leave until he got what he wants, but you also knew Penguin would fire your ass if he knew you told Red Hood anything about his upcoming illegal activities.

You bit the inside of your cheek which was helping to refrain something you’ll regret escaping your lips. But he noticed, and he huffed in annoyance at your stubbornness and grabbing your chin and making you lock eyes with him, his fingers gripping your skin harshly.

You winced before your hands flew up to his chest, attempting to push away the muscular frame as you finally opened your mouth. “—Fine! fine..god..” you kept shoving at his chest, before he finally let go of your chin.

A sigh left your lips. “It’s tonight..” your muttered reluctantly, eyes falling from his to the ground in defeat. “Where?” he straightened his back, listening to your every word, but that also meant his body loomed over you like a tower, raking his shadow along you.

“Downtown..by the docks.” you huffed, still stubborn and pissed at your obvious defeat, knowing you could probably break free but you don’t wanna reveal your strength too soon. “..but all of Penguins goons will be there guarding the place.” you snorted, undermining his strength. “You don’t stand a chance.”

Red hood was silent until a low scoff left his helmet as you underestimate him. “We’ll see about that.”

His grip loosened on your cheek, and you rubbed the reddening marks softly, soothing the pain. He turned around, boots thudding as he left, door slamming shut mimicking the same night he left your apartment. You sucked in a shakey breath, cant deny you were a little intimidated, but also felt a small spark between you two. Did he feel it too?

You were left there in that room flustered, and then you realised. You really want him back. So, a little danger can’t hurt, can it?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

“ babe you can see that i’m danger,

glamorous but i’m deranged, yeah,

teetering off of the stage, yeah „

It was probably a bad idea, but what could go wrong? You just wanted some fun, life was getting tedious without something or someone to play with. And you cant deny Red Hoods sexiness.

Once again, you peeled on your black suit, the material clinging to your curves so perfectly. After putting on your mask and hood over your head, you climbed out of your window, rain trickling down onto your back as you melted in the cool atmosphere.

You made your way to the docks, and you peered over at the sight from a building, examining the setting and waiting for Red Hood to make his appearance. You were starting to lose your patience when heard the interference, and that was your cue.

You leaped down, crawling behind a crate as he swiftly took down multiple goons so effortlessly. You scoffed under your breath as you leaned crawled into the now opened cache while he was distracted, and took as much money as you could stuff in such a compact bag hurriedly.

“In a rush?” his voice echoed through your ears as he stomped his boot on one last thug, making his way closer to you and you bit the inside of your cheek before turning around.

“..you here to stop me?” you raised your hands defensively as you asked through a hum. Even though you planned to get caught, you couldn’t help but allow goosebumps to raise on your arms in anticipation and desire.

He chuckled dryly, arms crossed in-front of you and you could make out how his forearms spilled out of his tight shirts. It was almost alluring. “Just curious on what you’re gonna do with all that money. ”

A playful smirk creeped onto your lips, and you walked up close to him, so close you could feel his body heat radiating yours. Your hands came up to rest in his chest, and slid up to his neck as your heart was beating out of your chest in adrenaline.

“You never kissed me goodbye.” you muttered lowly, leaning up on your tip-toes to glare at him. He was praying that you couldn’t hear the way his heart was beating, the way his breath hitched at every word you spoke.

“..about that,” he huffed roughly, though there was an unknown edge to it. “That was a mistake, ‘m not usually one for one-night stands.” His hands reached down to your wrists, pulling them down from him and your eyes narrowed in disappointment.

“—but,” you stammered, watching him as he began to move away from you. “Oh, come on.” you blurted out, eyes hazey as you watch his every movement. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” your tone was nearly a purr, low and teasing. A small hum rose from his mask.

“I never said that.” he stopped in his tracks before admitting, still facing away from you.

“Exactly.”

“Don’t act all smug now, doll.” your hand was on your hip as you watched him stand still in his spot, head tilted slightly at you.

You both were silent for a bit before you walked up to him and placed your hands on his chest, riding them up around his neck right below his red mask. “Still wish you would ‘just take off this pretty thing, hm?”

He shook his head, scoffing at your persistence to see his true identity. “You won’t be impressed.” his hands reached in his pockets as he grabbed the remote of a device. Your eyes narrowed in confusion as he backed up a little from you. “Might wanna stand back for this one.”

“Huh—?” you muttered before the cache blew up. And then you chuckled at all the money being destroyed before you turned back to him, although he disappeared. Like. Always..

You were about to leave before you heard some of penguins thugs shouting, “There ! Get her—!” your eyes widened as you tried to find a way to escape, but it was too late. Some big guy knocked you out cold on the ground, and your eyes fluttered closed.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

“ 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒓? ,,

Your eyes began to flutter open and adjust to the dimly lit room you were in. You were restrained; wrists tied together around the back of the wooden chair you were seated on. Your eyes narrowed in annoyance at the sight, how could you let yourself get caught?

You grunted, attempting to break free at your tied hands, but then you noticed Penguins thugs surrounding you. Their murmurs were annoyingly loud, talking about you as if you weren’t there. Thankfully, they hadn’t taken off your mask yet, if they did, you’d be truly fucked and jobless.

“Look, boys—“ you sighed, adjusting your hips in your seat as the murmurs silenced, “Let me go. — or we ’gna do this the hard way?” You’d raise your hands in defence if it wasn’t for the restraints, it only pulled at your wrists earning another light grunt from you.

What was worse is that you recognised some of these guys from the bar; especially the leader who just scoffed at you, shaking his head. “Not till you tell us what the fuck you were doin’ messin with Penguins cache.” his rough voice echoed through the walls and the thick air.

“That wasn’t even me—!” you snapped, eyes widening. He inched closer, pulling out a pocket knife and pushing it up to your throat, the cold metal lingering against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “Listen, lady. We ain’t playin’ games here.” He spoke again, voice laced with spite. “So unless you wanna live to see Gothams lights shining again tomorrow, you ought’a tell us.”

You rolled your eyes, honestly getting a bit bored of this, you didn’t really have a plan, but you were planning to go with the flow. “I told you already, ass hole.” you groaned, before slamming your forehead against his nose, he staggered back with a painful groan into the other thugs, grasping onto his nose now gushing with blood.

Another thug turned to you and kneeled down to your height on the chair, “Oh.. You’re gonna regret that, bitch.” and his hand came to wrap around your throat. Your eyes widened, and taking caution your legs lifted up, wrapping around his neck before snapping it with ease.

The other thugs stood in shock, and you took the opportunity to quickly stand up, chair still attached to you before you whipped your body round, slamming the wooden chair against one of their bodies before it broke and you pulled the ties, your hands breaking free.

You beat up all of the thugs, knocking them out. You had your boots heel on one guys neck, waiting for him to pass out before your ears picked up a sound in the distance. Your head turned round, and you were hit hard, a force which knocked you only the ground with a thud.

You could feel blood trickling down from your brow, and you muttered ‘fuck.’ You tried to stay conscious, really, but it was hard as the figure lingered over your splayed out state, glaring at you. “Not— cool, man..” you slurred lowly, before you passed out.

Though, you could slightly hear a cacophony of chaos happening. Some swearing, some punches and some knives. But one noise in particular made your eyes shoot open. A gun shot.

You gasped at the sight, the thugs were all shot. Your vision was spotty and a haze, you couldn’t really see much though you could definitely decipher what was said to you. “Looks like I’m late to the party.” a familiar voice ricocheted across your ear canals, his cold but slightly smug tone making you scoff lightly.

“You.. weren’t invited.” you muttered, wincing as you tried to sit up, his colossal hands wrapped around your waist, helping you up, and you fell limp into his chest, body aching. He stood straight, not sure on what to do, but then you felt his gloved-palm creep up to your head, pushing it into his chest in an embrace.

You glared up at him through lidded eyes, still a haze. The crimson mask blinded your eyes, helmet glimmering in the dimmed lighting, still shining in the shadows. “What? No thank you for saving you?” he stared back at you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, they were softening behind the helmet.

“I didn’t need saving..” you muttered, knowing you had it under control.. for a bit. Though, you still didn’t need a man to save you, you’re fully capable and independent. He chuckled roughly under his mask, and the sound echoed through your mind, sending waves of an unknown emotion in your stomach.

He picked you up, hands wrapping around your body to carry you out of the scene. Before you knew it, you were placed on the back of his motorcycle, and you didn’t even realise but your hands subconsciously wrapped around his waist, craving that sense of protection.

He drove you to his base. Fortunately, by now you were pretty much awoken, and back to reality. You followed behind him as he entered through the doors, and your eyes wandered around the place. It was nice, cozy. “..cmon let’s patch up those wounds.” he sighed, placing his keys on the counter before you jumped up onto the kitchen counter opposite him, watching as he opened the cabinets looking for some rubbing alcohol and cotton pads.

You waited, swallowing hard as he turned around, now facing you as he inched closer, positioning himself between your thighs. You both couldn’t deny the tension, it was still strong, still clinging onto the air. Every time he got closer, sparks of electricity from the night before come back, and you find yourself shifting in your seat, trying to hide your growing arousal.

He brought the cotton pad up to your forehead, dabbing the rubbing alcohol against your cuts. You winced at the stinging, and moved your head slightly which resulted in him grabbing your chin with his free hand, holding it in place. “Don’t move.”

“Fine— god.” you muttered low, scoffing at how cold and blunt he is. “How’d this even happen, huh?” he continued with the task a hand, patching your cuts on your forehead before throwing the used cotton pad into the bin and lowering his gaze down your body, checking for any other injuries.

“It’s your fault.” You stated in annoyance, “—they thought I blew up that cache.” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as he glared at you intensely, scoffing through his helmet. “You were there.” he shrugged, mimicking you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So? .. anyway— I had them, you didn’t need to come to my rescue.” you rolled your eyes, and he just shook his head at your attitude. “You gotta be a bit more grateful.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before you spat, “ and you gotta learn to not leave a girl hanging.” he growled when you mentioned the night again, before he pressed up against you, impossibly close to the point you felt his body heat, and the undeniable bulge growing in his pants that rubbed against your clothed groin.

“Look, I had a lot goin’ on— I didn’t mean to hurt you, really.” his tone was sincere but laced with something else, need? desire? his pitch low, rough. The truth was, he didn’t know what to do. Afraid you might’ve saw his identity, how scarred he is outside and inside. He didn’t want to hurt you by staying and leading you on but leaving meant hurting you more.

You glared down, avoiding eye contact as you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s.. fine.” You wanted to say more, wanted to tell him about that burning desire that still pools in your stomach even at the sound of his voice, but you bit back your tongue.

“It’s not..” he admitted lowly, his gaze also faltering as he looked down before his hands came up to his helmet, and you heard a heavy thudding to the ground. You were too afraid to look up, too afraid to see what might be under the mask, good or bad. But his fingertips came to your chin, lifting your gaze to take in the sight of him.

Your lips parted in shock, confusion, arousal, deep unknown emotions. He was ethereal, his gun-metal, heavy lidded with yearn eyes glistening in the light and locked onto yours. his messy hair from the helmet jet black and tickling his forehead slightly; pink lips wettened by his tongue and a nose which looks like it was carved by a greek god himself.

He stared at you intensely, searching for any signs of fear or disgust, but he couldn’t find any, instead he noticed the way your eyes darkened with the same look you gave him that very night. His glare twinkled between your eyes and your lips, and your hand came up to cup his face.

“—now, why would you hide your beauty from me?” you cooed, soft palm resting on his rough skin which contrasted with the way his heart melted under your touch. “..i’m scarred.. and unfixable..” he whispered, eyes closing softly as he leaned into your hand.

You shook your head, other hand now coming to cup either side of his face as you pulled his face closer to yours. “You’re perfect.” you said without hesitation, noticing the way his eyes softened and the way he was completely allured in your touch. It was different, but you weren’t complaining. Having the Red Hood like this, at your mercy was actually quite heartwarming nonetheless.

You both felt it, the electricity pulling you two together. He leaned into you, flush against your chest as your legs wrapped around his waist, and his lips collapsed onto yours.

Although he was at your mercy, he still devoured your lips. His tongue slipped into your mouth, gliding against your and capturing each others saliva. It started off slow, but gradually became more rough, and filthy as his hands snaked up your torso, gripping the flesh through your suit firmly, as if he’d never were to let go.

Your fingers grazed up his neck, tangling in the wavy, jet-black locks and tugging lightly resulting in the most desperate moan you’ve ever heard him let out. He deepens the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, hand sliding down to your hips and that’s when you realise the growing bulge that’s prodding at your heat; you take the opportunity to grind against it teasingly, and Jason moans again, slightly reluctant of surrendering to you.

You pull away, though Jason’s taken aback by the sudden stop, his eyes open back up and glare into yours. His emerald orbs yearning, his drooping with need and hunger.

You reach for your domino mask, beggining to take it off since he took off his but his hand comes to your wrist, stopping you. “what..?” your brows furrow in confusion before he chuckled dry and gruffed. “..You think I don’t know who you are? I knew since the day we fucked, since then you’re all I could think about..” he trailed off, eyes fluttering closed at the confession, though he carried on.

“..still cant get your fucking scent off my suit,,” his voice was low, a hint of annoyance at the statement but then his voice turns into a soft, needy whimper, “—don’t wanna get your scent off my suit..”

Your breath hitched, and your fingers stopped gliding through his locks as you were in complete shock at his confession. How he knew this whole time who you were, how he was afraid to tell you.

You were stunned, “I don’t know what to say..” his hand came up to your chin, holding it up to look at him and he groaned softly, “I just— I need you..” he rocked his hips against yours to prove how much he needed you, and you gasped when you felt his solid buldge hitting against your core, the feeling sending shivers of arousal down your spine, and slick to coat in your panties.

You knew you had the upper hand, and you felt a wave of dominance rush through you as you grabbed his face, fingers brushing over his lips before dipping them into his mouth. His eyes widened at your bold move, but soon they were shut as he took them in his mouth.

Jason's breath hitches at the feel of your fingers in his mouth, his mind spinning as he loses all control and self restraint, a small moan slipping out from between his lips. “So good for me..” you purred, lips forming into a small smirk.

He lets out another rough moan, his hands coming up, grabbing your wrist, his warm fingers curling around it, pulling your hand in deeper, taking your fingers deeper into his mouth, his mind going blank; his tongue wrapping around them, sucking softly, his mind and body completely at your mercy.

You abruptly pull your fingers out of his mouth, and he whines at the empty feeling. You instead find your fingers raking through his hair,, and then pulling tightly for him to come down to your mouth level before whispering in his ear, “—let’s take this to the bedroom, sugar.”

He waisted no time hoisting you up onto him, carrying you with one hand supporting your ass and the other around your back as he entered the bedroom. He laid you down on the mattress, but before he could get on as well you pulled him by his shirt onto it, crawling on top of him confidently and straddling his lower abdomen.

He looked up at you in pure awe at your beauty, at your fierceness and at the way you looked down at him with a mischievous grin. You take fingertips along shirt-clad biceps, raking along the fabric and glaring at him through doe eyes.

“You gonna tell me what you want?” you raised a brow, leaning in and laying opened mouth kisses along the skin of his neck. He shuddered at the feeling, your soft lips now biting down creating maroon marks to wake at the surface.

“I want—“ he stammered, chest heaving uncontrollably, “I want you..” he groaned, his cock now pulsating with need of release. You hummed, but then shook your head as you leaned back up to glare at him.

“..where do you want me?” your hands came up to run down his chest, and back up again before tugging firmly on the material. “I want you everywhere..” he breathed, struggling to focus on anything but the feeling of your hands on his chest, body tensing up.

You pulled his shirt up and he helped you get it off of him, now he laid under you bare chested, and you could properly see the way his muscles curved. Every scar, every dip and line on his skin was now revealed to you and you bathed in the beauty of it all.

You immediately leaned in, wet kisses planted all over his chest and stomach. You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to mark him, you needed to mark the Red Hood, to make him yours. “Ahh..” he moaned at your touch, eyes shutting as he needed more, “..please..”

You hummed, tilting your head as a way of asking, ‘what?’ and he just whimpered softly, “Need more..” so you complied, and began to grind hard against him, and his head flew back against the pillows, letting out a sharp gasp whilst his body arched up against yours.

His mind went blank as he grabbed onto your hips, fingers gripping hard, his breath ragged and uneven as he tries to regain control, his teeth gritted together, trying to hold in another moan that pleads to escape his lips. "Oh..god...please" He begged so beautifully, his voice low and rough, the desire coursing through his entire body.

Your hands grab onto his that rest on your hips, and pull them off of you , interlocking your fingers before pinning his hands on either side of his head.

You must admit, having him pinned here like this, under your submission, aching for you is quite ironic knowing that he can easily flip you over and take you, he’s twice your size and strength, though it’s amusing seeing him like this all pathetic, starving for touch. “..let’s not get ahead of ourselves, honey.” You whisper into his ear, hot breath fanning his skin. He nods, humming a small sound before you chuckle, “..now tell me where you want me, again.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, he finds his mind a haze, this feeling foreign to him. “Where..?” you repeat teasingly before licking a long stripe from his jaw to his throat, a slick trail of your saliva glistening through the moonlit reflection. He lets out a groan at the feeling, wanting to pull you off of him and flip you over, wanting to show you who’s boss, show you who’s stronger, but he couldn’t, he felt under your submission.

“..was it here..? You then move down moving up to where you have his hands pinned and nibble on the skin of his muscles, before kissing the reddening mark. “—or here..” you giggle slyly, knowing how pent up you’re making him before giving one hard grind against him.

His eyes closed at the wave of pleasure that rushed through him, and he begged again, this time more rough, more demanding, “Please— stop teasing me,” and you just smirked, bottom lip coming between your teeth. “..because you asked so nicely.” you trailed off, sitting back on his lower abdomen, now staring at his state. He looks fucking gorgeous, could genuinely devour him right there right then.

His hair a mess, beads of sweat collecting near his eyebrows and gunmetal blue eyes now hooded with need and desire. You peel off your top, and Jason relishes in the sight, savouring every moment as you then throw the shirt into the abyss of his bedroom floor.

Jason’s body tense with anticipation, his eyes drinking in your every movement, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes move across the exposed skin, your laced-lingerie that he just wanted to rip off, the way your nipples pebbled under your bra.

His body reacting almost automatically, his hands reaching up, wanting to touch you, to pull you to him, to feel your body against his. He pulls your bra down, hands coming to unclasp it as quick as possible as he almost moans at the sight of your breasts, all perky and on display for him.

He leans in, taking the bud into his mouth before swirling his hot tongue around your nipple, over hand coming up to palm at your other breast, your body warmth radiating off of each other. He groans against your skin, vibrations attacking you, when his nose is corrupted with your natural aroma.

Your eyes shut at the feeling, your hips slowly moving at a rhythm against his. He pulls away from your breast with a pop, before moving to the other one, thumb rolling against the nipple as he watches it harden. “—fuck..” you gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure, it overcomes your senses, and you drown in the bliss.

He pulls away again, leaving you in a quivering mess as he moves you slightly to take off his pants, along with his boxers. You sit between his thighs as you watch his cock spring free, the sight heavenly.

Seeing it this time was different, last time it was mere features that happened to show in the dimmed lighting, this time you could see it perfectly. The thickness, long length and slight curve, two veins which ran down the sides and the twitching, flushed mushroom tip leaking with pre-cum. He looked like he was carved by a greek-god himself.

You needed to taste him, to taste his seed. You wanted to feel him in your throat, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your lips wrapped around his length.

Your lips part as he looks down at you with desperation; then your palms come down to his thighs, before you leaned in, kissing the tip of his dick too softly, too sweetly. He groaned in pleasure at the feeling, but he needed more. His hands came to your hair, tangling in the locks before forming a ponytail and without warning, shoving your throat into his cock to end the teasing.

He moaned, so beautifully; head thrown back onto the pillows whilst you sat between his thighs taking his thick cock. You took him so well, head bobbing up and down as he face fucked you, spit bubbling at the corner of your mouth and dripping onto the sides of his length, onto the sheets and his thighs.

Your hands removed their grip from his thighs but moved to where you couldn’t take all of him. Your hand wrapped around the bottom of his cock, pumping as your spit that dribbled down from your mouth was now lubricating the bottom of his cock.

“Shit.. ahh— ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum if you keep doing that,“ jason’s voice was strained, full of lust as his grip on your hair got tighter, and you started stroking rougher, eager to make him release all whilst hollowing your cheeks which made his legs tremble.

Though before he came, he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped for air, eyes rolling back as you came back to reality from the haze of his cock shoved down your throat. He sat up, pulling you up onto his lower abdomen as you tried to look at him through hooded eyes.

His fingers came up to your chin, tapping your face lightly, “—need to feel you,, need to feel my cock inside you.” he muttered low, and you nodded, a smirk growing on your lips before you leaned in, letting him taste your saliva.

He groaned into the kiss, hands coming to wrap around your hips. The slick in your panties now seeping through, and collecting on his stomach. You moved off of the kiss, before lowering onto his cock, pulling off your panties and throwing them onto the floor, as you took his cock inside of you.

Your hands placed on his chest, steadying you as you slowly took his thick cock. Every inch that went inside of you resulted in your mouth gaping open, the tip twitching in your walls as you took him fully; a guttural moan left his throat when he felt your pussy squeezing him up so tight, so possessive.

His precum and your juices mixing inside of you, and leaking down onto his thighs and onto his sheets. Your fingers grazed up his chest, manicured nails leaving light marks as they came up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair as you found the strength to bounce lightly, not too fast, you didn’t want to tire yourself out too quick.

Your mind quickly grew a blurred haze, unable to focus of anything but the growing arousal both of your pants and moans which filled the four walls. "—ah.." Jason breathed out, his grip on your hips tightening, bruising as you were sure it’d leave a mark in the morning.

Your pace grew faster, and his whimpers turned into primal groans, “..you’re so beautiful,” He found himself fucking up into you, hips slamming against yours as he adjusted you to his desired speed as he moved you back and forward on his cock. His digits dipping into your skin, “..all mine..” he was lost in the moment, muttering sweet nothings all whilst colouring your skin in unethically beautiful maroon marks.

Your mouth gawped open, and you couldn’t contain the moan that escaped your lips, “Red—“ , his hand came to your mouth, silencing your screams as he corrected you, “Jason.”

You nodded as his hand moved off of your mouth, fingers dancing over your lips as you whimpered, “..Jason..” . Your lips purred his name so perfectly, so seductively as you looked like a goddess bouncing on his cock. Hooded eyes shutting, furrowed brows with sweat beading on your temple, relishing in the feeling of his cock inside of you, re-arranging your guts.

You felt your release approaching, along with his as his cock twitched inside of you. Your bounces faltered, beginning to get tired so he gripped onto you and fucked his cock up into your walls fast and hard, every thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs as your arms snaked around his neck; his pants and primal grunts growing louder as your gummy walls squeezed him, aching to come all over him.

The sounds grew filthier and slicker, and you were both close. The moon shimmering its hue onto his hooded eyes, deep with hunger and a hint of an unknown feeling.. love?

He was whimpering, moaning into your ear, breath fanning over your ear as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, lips brushing over his skin at every thrust. He was so aching for release, his thighs trembling, “..so close, baby.“, so eager to fuck his seed into you.before grinding so hard onto him, “—know you are too, can feel you squeezing me, i’m right here, honey— not going anywhere,” he muttered sweetly into your ear as you were gasping his name; you were seeing stars, literally.

“Jason—!!” A loud scream escaped your lips, and again, and again, you couldn’t stop saying his name, the way it rolled off of your tongue, it sounded all too natural, like you were made to be screaming his made with his cock stuffed in you.

His seed emptied inside of you whilst your cum spilled out of your cunt mixing with his. You were both panting, gasping for air and seeking the privilege of coming back to reality. He looked perfect a mess. Hair scruffy, tugged and stuck to his forehead, eyes darkened and breathing like an animal in heat. He grabbed the back of your head by your hair and shoved you into a filthy, sloppy kiss. It was passionate, each of you moaning into the kiss as your hands came to cup his cheeks whilst your saliva was leaking down his chin onto his chest.

You slowly moved off of him, the warmth of his cock now gone as you fell back against the mattress beside him, staring at the ceiling catching your breathe. You were still in shock about the whole situation, but now you’re literally lying in his bed.. naked.. whilst he’s next to you.

He’s reluctant about what to do, but then hand comes up to face, pushing a stray hair away from your face as he glared at you with puppy-dog eyes, like he’s been waiting for this his entire life.

“You’re perfect.” he chuckles softly whilst taking in your every feature, even when you’re lying here a fucked out mess, you still looked amazing, still looked like his perfect mess. Your lips cracked into a small smile at his words, heart melting at his soft touch.

He pulls you closer, and your head lays contently on his chest whilst you two simmer in the wave of silence, though it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it’s quite tranquil, as you listen to his every breath, counting way his heart beats.

His fingers rake through your hair, scratching softy through the scalp as you grow tired whilst your heart flutters at the feeling. Your body relaxes at his touch, mind slowly feeling at ease as he keeps you close, his heart filled with a warm feeling that he almost doesn't recognise. You let out a soft sigh, his body melting against yours, the sound sounding more vulnerable than you would like to admit.

He chuckles while watching you relax under him, "You're making me soft." mutters gruffly and you giggle tiredly, innocently, “Uh, Oh, big bad Red Hood gotten soft?” your voice is low and muffled against his chest.

“Don’t start.” he warns playfully, though there’s also a relaxed tone to his voice too. You smile contentedly at how peaceful this moment is his usual gruff and tough exterior completely gone, replaced by the sight of a man who looks completely vulnerable and yet somehow, completely at peace. He continue to rock you softly and soothe you until you’re completely asleep, your soft breathing the only sound in the room.

୨♡୧

As the golden morning hue peaked through the blinds in beams of blaze, Jason’s eyes blinked open to be met by the sunrise. His heart melted, a smile creeping onto his lips as he took a glance at you in a peaceful slumber. Your hair slightly messy and lips parted, you shifted your position in your sleep while you began to awake as well.

Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took and you lifted it lightly to take a look at him. His fingertips came to your temple, brushing away the stray hairs as he gruffed, “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

You giggled softly before lifting your hands from around his waist to crawl ontop of his lap, kissing him on the forehead. His hands immediately gripped onto your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and you were soaked in his body heat. “Morning, handsome.” you purred, voice still sly and laced with tease which was surprising even at this time of morning.

“You still think this was a mistake?” you tilted your head, leaning in to plant another kiss, this time on his nose which resulted in his face to get all undeniably flustered. He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his throat, “Never. I don’t regret a thing.”

You smirked, “—not gonna get up ‘nd leave like last time?” you teased, the memories of that night still rushing through you. He just scoffed at how you thought so low of him, even now; emerald eyes rolling sarcastically.

“Well— maybe,” he shrugged, a bit too nonchalantly and your brows furrowed as he got up from the bed, now towering over your confused figure. “..to shower.” he raised a brow, and you sighed in relief but then a small giggle escaped your lips when he held his hand out like a gentleman. “—care to join me, m’lady?”

You nodded eagerly, jumping from the bed as he hoisted you up into his arms, your legs immediately wrapping around him as his lips smashed onto yours in a passionate, gentle kiss. Your hands rushed up to cup his face, and as you pulled away from his lips, you gave him a smitten grin, “It would be my honour, baby.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

a/n II: I’d like to thank everyone for all the support i got during making this series. I’m also so so so sorry for how long it’s taken me, i hope this makes up for it. Please tell me if you enjoyed it, it means a lot and i’ll be sure to make more fics like these in the future. I’m also happy to make part 4, it might not follow the same song but i’d could just be little blurbs or head cannons that reader and jason do in this universe! <3

tags: @1abi @vrtualknife @callmeash @dollishmehrayan @marveljedimaniac

[neontiger]

mistakes like fractures

♡ Jason Todd x reader

♡ semi-angsty fluff

♡ In the mood for something a little softer...ghosted by Jason Todd, you struggle to come up with a reason why...until he suddenly reappears in your life in a way you don't expect.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Three months. Around the time you thought it was good – everything was right, dinners out, meeting for lunch, or for nothing at all – he’d gone with you to the grocery store ten times in three months. That was a thing, wasn’t it? That wasn’t a fuck and dump. He’d followed you around with puppy dog eyes, watched you get ready in the morning, kissed you good night. That was something.

Then you blinked and Jason Todd was gone. The first week after felt like you’d imagined it all, and if it hadn’t been for the imprints in your palm and on your heart you could’ve convinced yourself you had.

But you hadn’t, so the anger came, and you cursed his name to everyone who would listen: friends, coworkers, the ducks floating on the pond that only wanted you for your salad. You skipped bargaining, stayed stuck in the depression. Was it you? It had to be, right? It was. No, it could’ve been him – maybe something had happened? – you drove yourself crazy trying to justify it.

Finally you accepted it. Sort of. As much as one could after falling so hard and being left behind to rot.

The locker clangs shut. Another night, finished, feet aching and adrenaline from the dinner rush slowly wearing off. You fix your bag on your shoulder and tug out your limp ponytail, pulling off the strands that come with your hair tie before placing it on your wrist. That’s too much. You take it off again and shove it in your bag.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Nina’s voice comes from behind you. You look over your shoulder at her and nod as you’re digging in your bag for your phone. She continues. “Which shift?”

You know where this line of questioning is going. “Lunch,” you say, tapping your passcode on your phone.

“You want a double?”

“Not really. Call Sarah.”

Nina pinches her mouth to the side. That’s the signal, her mouth shut, and you make your way through the kitchen and out the back exit, where the line cook is having a final smoke on work time by the dumpster. You nod goodbye and quickly step into the light of the streets. It’s warm tonight, and despite the soreness in your feet you’re not sure you can handle getting stuffed into the subway. The stop by the restaurant is particularly busy; you’ll walk a couple blocks and see how you feel at the next one.

Traffic is middling. Not bumper to bumper but a steady pace of cars drive past, and the sidewalk is decently occupied for it being ten at night. Gotham takes a while to get in bed, if it ever decides to. You're feeling fine, safe as you can with your fingers gripped tight around the strap of your bag, until you realize the same set of footsteps have been following you since you left the restaurant.

You want to glance back; at the same time, you don't, because that puts a face to the danger. There's a moment you can pretend it's not real and you're being paranoid and all's good until you finally look back over your shoulder. Your eyes scan right over the man – hood on, knuckles scraped up, face impossible to make out in the shadows. There's nobody but him now.

Your phone is in your bag. Your keychain too, the whistle and pepper spray attached to it, buried at the bottom. There's only seconds to dig through all your crap and get to it. Distracted. Unprepared. Too tired, mind hazy. In the time between when you first see the man and when he reaches you, you think of a thousand ways to blame yourself. Your mouth opens but no sound makes it out before his hand is grabbing your face and shoving you into the alley.

Darkness swallows. The world exists in sound only: a thud, your blood rushing in your ears, a smack. The hand is gone. You inhale and scream.

“Shh. Shh – it's alright.” A gloved hand grabs your shoulder and you take a breath to let out another scream even as a rough, slightly muffled voice continues to shush you. “Shh! He's gone – he's out, I mean – shit, princess, stop screaming.”

The whispered yell shuts you up.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness to make out the figure in front of you, enough to find the shape of him: tall, muscled, wearing a red hooded vest and some sort of half-mask – on his back are a pair of weapons, one of which is shaped like a crowbar, and you can't think what else it might be. You know the figure. Everybody knows the Red Hood.

But the Red Hood doesn't call you princess, unless that's his thing, you don't know. It's your first time being saved by him. it's the combination of the hand on your shoulder, a familiar, comforting weight, and the nickname…there's no doubt in your mind who exactly is hiding behind the mask.

“You piece of shit,” you hiss, throwing Jason's hand off. “You – piece of shit.”

You shove at his chest. He stumbles back a few steps, probably on purpose, because as big as he is he should be immovable for you. He doesn't even bother to lift his arms or speak up, just stands there under the dim glow of the laundromat. With the yellow-green light, the half-mask and hood hiding his features, you're not sure who you're really talking to. So certain before, now you lose your courage, no longer able to string together letters into words.

The knot in your throat makes it difficult to swallow. “Who are you?”

Jason glances behind you, a split second look before his shrouded eyes are on yours again. “A piece of shit.”

You can't hold eye contact. “Can you take the mask off?”

“Not here. You should – should go home. Do you want a ride?”

“No. Are you stalking me?”

He sounds like he's smiling when he speaks. “No. Not – why would you – I'm not.” He shakes his head, takes a step closer to you.

You step back. “You got here really fast.”

“I was in the area. I heard you scream.”

“I didn't scream.”

“I was in the area,” he repeats. Another step and he rejoins you in the darkness of the alley, before brushing off his hood. If you were questioning it was Jason before, all doubts are gone when you catch sight of that patch of white hair curling over his forehead. “Sometimes…I come by here, make sure you get home safe.”

“Your costume is stupid,” you say. The logical next line of conversation according to your mentally exhausted brain.

He stares at you. “What?”

“Like, you're just – is that like one of those N95 masks?” You gesture at him as a whole, as if to illustrate a point. “And you've got no armor. Your arms are exposed, your head's exposed –”

“Fucking Di– Nightwing's head is exposed!”

“Who?” You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Who do you think you are? Are you Batman, Jason? Is this you dressing up and trying to be somebody important? ‘Cause like…” You shrug, losing wind. “You're not. Are you wearing cargo pants?”

Jason is quiet for a moment. On the sidewalk, a couple passes, but they don't notice the two of you. Or don't care, more likely. When there's nothing but the wind again, he speaks. “What's your problem?”

Your blood runs hot in your veins, almost too boiling. “My problem? Are you serious? You want to have this fucking conversation while you're dressed like some Batman wannabe? Let's start with how my boyfriend decided to ghost me after three months and I was so afraid something had happened that I watched the obituaries for a straight week. Then I sat around for a week and tried to figure out what was wrong with me, what had I done? And I can't figure it out, Jason. So I don't know my problem. What's your fucking problem?”

“I didn't leave because of you,” Jason whispers. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek, but you step back out of reach. His hand drops back to his side in defeat. “I left because of…this. Shit. I didn't know how to explain.”

“You didn't know how to explain that you dress up like an asshole and punch people in the middle of the night?”

“I didn't know how to explain that I might not come back,” he says. Despite the softness in his tone, the words are like a gut punch. “I didn't want you involved. I didn't know how to tell you without telling you.”

“Why? ‘Cause I'd tell you how dumb you look?”

“Are you done?”

“Almost.”

“Because there's going to be a night I don't come back. It happened once. I didn't want you to deal with that.”

You rack your brain, trying to figure out how it could have happened already, but give up. “You could’ve just broke up with me. IInstead of just disappearing.”

“I didn't want to leave. I wouldn't have been able to.”

Thank the Gotham city planners for not caring enough to make their alleys safely lit so Jason can't see the red burn of your cheeks, his words leaving you flustered. You refuse to give in so easily. “You could've said something,” you mutter. “I could've handled it. You didn't even try.”

He chuckles. “It's not exactly safe to have a relationship in this profession.”

“Do you get paid?”

Jason shifts on his feet, another movement to close the gap between the two of you. “I mean, not exactly…”

“Then it's not a profession, is it? You're like a volunteer.”

“Batman doesn't get paid.”

You snorted. “Bullshit. He's got armor and all those gadgets. Did you steal that crowbar out of somebody's garage?”

“I've got guns. The crowbar is symbolic.”

“How is it –”

Jason holds a hand up to silence you. Briefly you consider slapping his hand away, but the fight has abandoned you. Now you just want to go home…maybe with him. “I'll explain that part later, I promise,” he adds, aware of the look that flashes across your face. “I'm sorry. I guess we should end things here –”

“Why?”

“I'm not going to risk your life. Somebody figures out who I am, comes for you –”

“Maybe you should get a better costume.” You reach up and tug his hair. “A full face mask.”

Jason grabs your hand tightly, as if afraid you'll pull away, though you make no attempt. “I'll die,” he says. Blunt and rough, another punch to the gut. Sounding too certain. “And I don't know if I'll come back again when I do.”

You've been called emotional before, a crybaby, like an insult. Tears pricked the back of your eyes and you squeeze his hand to control yourself. He responds with another step forward, the final one that completely closes the negative space between you, and rests his forehead on yours. You squeeze your eyes shut. “So you didn't give me an option,” you whisper. “You didn't think that maybe I would…maybe I could handle it.”

He doesn't let go of your hand, keeps it wrapped in his as he brings it up to his mask, like he'd kiss your fingers if the covering wasn't there. “I didn't want to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

“Better softly in the beginning than harsh in the end.”

“I wasn't ready to say goodbye.”

Jason's hand slips away from yours and he lifts his head to remove his mask, despite his words before. Left behind is the domino mask. For some reason it makes you laugh to see him that way. “You look like Robin,” you say.

He feels off the domino mask, revealing those blue-green eyes that make your heart flutter. “We've got a lot to talk about,” he says. “If you're willing.”

You open your mouth, despite knowing in your gut you shouldn't be this easy, should let him beg and suffer at least a little. But before you can say anything, he interrupts again.

“I've done a lot of shit,” he says. “I've killed people.”

Your mouth goes dry. That's…something to think about. “Bad people?”

“Mostly.” Not reassuring. “But I'm trying to do better.”

It's too much to process in a dark alley with those eyes staring into yours. You don't have the strength to think anymore. “I'm tired,” you say. “Can we go home?”

There's a moment between Jason absorbing the words and his reply. “We?”

“Yeah. Are you done here? Like, are you still…vigilante-ing or whatever?”

He shrugs. “It’s pretty quiet tonight.”

You nod. “Batman could probably handle it. He's seems a lot more capable.” You snort a laugh. “You don't even know how to use detergent.”

“I didn't…” Jason shakes his head. “Nevermind. Later. You're inviting me over?”

Why not? A moment of weakness for what? A breath of air. “Yeah,” you say. “I have lunch shift tomorrow, so I can't be up late. Got it?”

“Understood.” Jason fits back on his masks before taking your hand again. “Come on, ma'am. I'll get you home safe.”

You want to roll your eyes, but putting that strain on them will only make the tears fall quicker, so instead you can only pretend to be unbothered by everything as he leads you out of the darkness. For tonight you decide to be okay with everything – to not face it all head-on, at least yet. And maybe that’s what you see in Jason. A shared inability to confront the things that truly frighten you.

For now, all that matters is that he is back in your hands. All that matters is that you’re no longer alone. Everything else can wait.

[burning-omen]

With Everything I Say and Do (part 1)

Jason Todd x Male!reader

(A/n: Unrelated to the fic but I love Jason's fuck ass hair from utrh. Also, this isn't meant to be one specific version of Jason, I pulled from several different canons and also made shit up while writing this. Also, also, peep the title, Brokeback Mountain reference, I know I'm so cool)

Ao3 ver.

Summary: Jason isn't stalking you, stalking would imply something more sinister than what he was doing- he was just...watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner.

W.C: 6,486

Warnings: THIS IS A FLUFF FIC I SWEAR, PTSD, childhood trauma, mommy AND daddy issues (both reader and jason), child abuse, mentions of Jason and Bruce fighting, depressive episodes, anger issues, murders, child death, bombings, canon typical Gotham violence, stalking (affectionate), breaking and entering, Y/n's friends being cringe but I love them so shut up about it, Barbara and Jason being friends, homelessness and being kicked out (reader, pre-fic) mentions of Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Bruce Wayne (not really a warning just wanted to mention it), also, I didn't send this to my proof reader beforehand so if you see a fuck up feel free to mention it.

God, you forgot how ridiculous you were in middle school. Reading through your old journal- which had been shoved in a box once it was full, then shoved in another box when you moved out of your parents house-it really just showed that your avoidant tendencies had been festering for far longer than you’d care to admit. Seriously, were you actually that concerned about- you re-read the chicken scratch that was your writing back then, squinting slightly- the fucking moon landing of all things? No, you weren’t, but it had been April 28th and the day before had been a lot. So now you have a passage about the moon landing.

It had been closer to the bottom of the box, covered by old memorabilia from your early teen years. With a trash bag to one side of you and a pile of things you were keeping on the other.

It’s about time you went through it- the box has been sitting under your bed long enough, and really, when were you ever going to need an old hoodie from Gotham City Middle School? Never, so it went in the trash pile. You, of course, got distracted by your diary and have been reading through the pages for the past half hour- you really don’t remember being this edgy- good fucking lord. You flipped through the last couple of pages until you landed on what was supposed to be the blank, white card stock at the back of the book- only to see the word “LOSER” written in big, red letters. You blinked, now who the hell did that? Defacing your perfectly good diary. Under the graffiti, in smaller letters, was “-Jason”

You closed the book. Of course. Who else? 

Really. He’s the only other person you’d let have the book long enough for this kind of vandalism to make sense. He’s the only person who your adolescence self wouldn’t have thrown a fit at for touching your property- or making fun of you, even in a joking fashion. You smiled down at the book for a second before tossing it in the keep pile.

You pulled the next item out of your little memory box. It was your senior portrait- sorta. It was just a picture of you in your cap and gown- you’d skipped school the day the actual senior portraits were taken- not intentionally, you just skipped school a lot then, and happened to hop the gate that day- and every other day that week. You were smiling in the picture, but your eyes were far too dark and far too tired, you weren’t standing straight, slouching and leaning slightly- but it was good enough for your mom, so it hung in the living room of your parents house for the next 3 years. She’d tried to put makeup under your eyes, fussing with your hair and your gown until she decided to take the photo as you were. Some days you wonder where that patience had gone- that forgiveness and kindness that she showed to you that day. You sighed, you could reminisce and lament about your parents later, for now you needed to go through the rest of this shit.

You flipped the frame over, bending the little metal pieces back, and taking the picture out. Folding it down the middle and sitting it on your night stand- you’d find a place for it later- the frame went with the rest of the trash.

The box was almost empty- small knick knacks at the bottom, some more clothes, an umbrella- you picked it up, checking for holes in the canopy. It was old, but it was better than any other cheap umbrella you’ve ever had. Resisting the pestering urge to run your fingers over the bronze “J.T” inset in the handle, you set it in the keep pile. The rest of the box was pretty much trash- buttons and pins, crumbled class notes, more school spirit wear, and Gotham High School's Library’s one and only copy of Pride and Prejudice. Oops- you hadn’t meant to take that. Letting out a quiet sigh into your empty room, you thought, ‘oh well’ you doubted they wanted it back after the years it's been rotting- and you really didn’t want it either, it was dirty and had something inappropriate written on nearly every page. An unsalvageable childhood artifact- now bagged up with everything else you deemed trash.

The sun had set hours ago, and it was a weekend- Gotham’s crime scene was always overly active on weekends, and you’d rather not get mugged on your way to the trash shoot-

‘Not like I’ve got anything to give..’

–Still, you sat the bag by your front door. Walking through your dark apartment, the only light coming from the desk lamp in your bedroom, the loud, creaking floor covering the sound of your footsteps. You weren’t afraid of the dark- but you did live in Gotham- so you were more reasonably cautious of the dark than anything. You should be- you’ve had the literal Batman in your apartment before. Why that freak was in your bedroom, you may never know, but he left as soon as you woke up so you decided- after changing the lock on your door and buying a gun and deadbolts for every window and door in your house, that you weren’t going to worry about it. 

Even if you’re 90% sure he bugged your place- you’d just have to deal with it. He is Batman- invasive and mysterious is kinda what he does according to the Gotham Gazette. 

Back in your room, you shoved everything from the “keep” pile back in the box to be dealt with…eventually. You’ll get to it by the end of the week- probably- no, nope, no more procrastination, you’ll put it away in the morning- after breakfast and a shower.

Kicking your slippers off, stepping onto the freezing, wood floor for just a second before crawling into bed- your heater was broken and the city was just as cold as it always was, so you wrapped yourself in every cover and blanket you had in a nearly successful attempt at comfort. A bit of cold air would seep in every couple of minutes, but you could handle it, at least for the next few days until the building manager is able to get it fixed (turns out it's not just your heater, no it’s everybody's heater. So your entire apartment building is freezing, but you’re freezing together- how touching). You rolled onto your side, sticking an arm out of the burrow of blankets you’d created and turning off the lamp on your night stand, pulling your arm back in as fast as you could to keep any more heat from escaping before settling in for the night.

—

‘Damn, It’s cold out,’ Jason thought for the millionth time tonight, crouching down on the dingy, rusted roof of yet another warehouse- fifth one tonight- watching from the skylight as nothing happened. His helmets night vision didn’t show the slightest hint of movement, not even a fucking rat scampering across the ground. Just like there had been nothing in the last 4 warehouses. At least this one is somewhat familiar- his gaze wandered over to warehouse A-9 for about the hundredth time since they arrived. He knew the night crew was in, only a handful of people occupied a handful of buildings, mostly in the A buildings, where all the important shit was kept- Red Hood and Nightwing, however, were stationed on top of the B-16 building, as instructed.

Rising from a crouch, catching the attention of Nightwing, his knees popped.

“Feeling restless?” He asked.

At first Jason just grunted- obviously- he’s been sitting in one spot for 40 minutes and the hunch that Batman had them working off of seemed to be a dud, but he can’t just leave. He could, Bruce doesn’t control him- but after a few too many dramatic family feuds and attempted (and successful) murders Jason is just really, really fucking tired of constantly arguing and fighting. 

He’s “back to being the favorite” Dick had joked a couple times- after he decided that maybe there was some merit to a no-kill-rule, and maybe Tim wasn’t so horrible, the kid’s kinda funny actually, smart as shit too. And Bruce..things were..fine. For the most part. It wasn’t entirely Bruce’s fault- he still held a grudge- the clown lived entirely too long after, but Jason already knew that Bruce had no interest in playing executioner- judge and jury was fine- but he wasn’t going to kill. Jason could understand that, especially after going off the murderous deep end himself- once you start it feels like you can’t stop, like there’s no point in stopping. So sure, he gets why Bruce didn’t- doesn’t make it hurt less though.

“Any word from B?” He  mumbled, his voice made robotic and stiff by the modulator in his mask.

Nightwing silently fell back, sitting with his legs crossed, his attention now fully on Jason, “Nothing yet.” he sighed, stretching his arm, a amused grin on his face, “Not trying to jinx it, but I think we finally got a calm night in Gotham, who would of thought-?”

Right on queue, a deafening, blinding explosion went off- about two hundred feet away. Jason barely managed to not be fully knocked off his feet, couching down near his brother, one hand gripping his arm as the aftershock sent strong winds their way- mostly a comfort for Jason, but there was no time to think about that- because what the fuck just exploded and why?!

He glared at his brother through the helmet- and no, Dick couldn’t see it, but he still deserved it.

“See what you did? Now we have to deal with this shit.” Jason said, no real malice in his voice, mostly annoyance that his already long night was about to get even longer.

“Me?” Nightwing gasped.

“Yes, you- stop testing the universe, you know it doesn’t like us.”

The conversation ended there. Jason hopped off the roof, landing in an uncomfortable crouch- ‘My knees were going to be demolished in the morning...’ he thought before heading in the direction of the explosion- hearing Dick following behind him with his near silent landing.

__

Waking up to a hundred texts and calls was…new. Your friends, people you hadn’t talked to in ages, and most noticeably, your estranged parents. You blinked at the screen as more text rolled in. You decided you weren’t dealing with that. It’s entirely too early. Breaking free of your cover cocoon and rolling out of bed, phone discarded..somewhere in there.

You showered before anything, letting the shower run long enough for the entire bathroom to fill with a heavy fog before stepping in. Taking as much time as you physically could, until your skin was steaming and tinted red from the heat. Not even bothering with a towel as you walked straight back to your room, dressing warmly before flopping back down on your bed. You had a shift today. You used to take night shifts- sleeping through the day like a true night owl. But, in a desperate attempt to regain control over your life after what felt like a never ending downward spiral, you switched to the morning shift.

It was a win-win scenario, really. It paid just as much as the night shift, and you’d have the entire afternoon to yourself, and you would sleep at night, like normal, well adjusted people did.

You had planned on having a serene morning- getting to that box, having a nice well balanced breakfast, then heading to work, but your phone would not stop buzzing. Even under a mound of covers it was distracting as all hell.

“Ok..” You muttered as you dug it out, “What do you want?”

‘Y/n bby if you can see this I love you <3’

‘He’s in a better place now (hell)’

‘PLEASE stop joking like that its stressing me out’

Seems like your friends groupchat, aptly named “Gotham’s prison for whores”, was having quite the morning, hundreds of messages ranging from genuine expressions fear to half hearted jokes.

‘‘Tf are y’all going through???’’  you texted back

A collective group response came instantly.

‘‘He’s alive????’’

‘‘OH THANK FUCK YOUE NOT DEAD’’

“LETSGOOO”

‘‘*you’re’’ you responded without thinking, before fully processing what you’d just read, “why would I be dead??’’

‘‘Dude.’’

You waited for them to continue.

“GHL blew up last night, thought you worked the night shift????’’

Oh.

Ok, so you don’t have a shift today. 

“WTF no I switched to the morning shift a couple weeks ago what happened”

“Idk man shit blew up, Nightwing and the red one were out there.”

‘The red one?’ you paused to think of who The Red One was, not even near processing that your job had blown up- wasn’t Robin, he knew that one- and his cape covered most red in his costume anyways. Red Robin, despite his name, his costume was more black than red, and your friend was more likely to call him CondomMan or something, because of his head piece thing.

“Bitch, do you mean Red Hood??”

“IM NOT FROM GOTHAM LEAVE ME ALONE”

Followed by-

“THERES TO MANY OF THEM I CAN NOT REMBER THEM ALL”

You laughed for a second, before remembering that your mother had also texted you and suddenly any joy you felt was sucked away- fuck, why wasn’t she blocked.

“Are you ok?” She asked

“I’m fine.”

Simple, blunt, and definitely not an invitation back into your life. You closed out of her contact and moved onto the mountain of text you still had. How did this many people have your number- how did this many people know where you work- worked, past tense.

After an hour of assuring dozens of practical strangers and distant relatives that you were perfectly fine and no you didn’t need anybody to check on you- you decided to get to the bottom of your sudden popularity. Seriously, none of these people reached out when you got kicked out, or worse, some outright denied you when you asked for help. They weren’t obligated to, but they can’t come around acting like their hearts were absolutely broken and bleeding at your supposed death. 

With minimal digging, you figured it out. All you had to do was open any social media your mother had- it’s been, what? 4 hours since she first texted you, and she’s got two dozen posts about you up, with your number and your job posted for the world to see on each one, half of them posted over 5 hours ago, the others posted at random with the latest being only 12 minutes ago.

‘Fuck, this was so her, why the hell would she think this was ok?’ 

Another way to garner attention and sympathy and now she’s dragging you into it, like sure, you could have been dead, but her text didn’t exactly scream “I’m worried about you”.

You opened your messages with her again,

“Take the posts down, mom. Thanks.”

___

Why was the sun in his face?

Jason made sure the curtains were drawn so he wouldn’t have this problem. Cracking his eyes open he spots his brother- the traitorous bitch- standing by the window, opening the curtains just enough just to peek through. His personal cell phone pressed to his ear, talking quietly to somebody.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go check on him later today Mrs. L/n..”

‘L/n..?’ Jason pushed himself up. ‘Ah, fuck. Please let it just be a god damn coincidence.’

Dick glanced back at Jason, a tired smile flashed across his face. Jason let him stay at his safe house for the night so he wouldn’t have to travel all the way to the manor, or worse, all the way back to Bludhaven. Laying back, Jason continued to listen in to the half of the conversation he could hear.

“No, sorry, of course not- I’ll call him right-” Dick let out a frustrated sigh.

“I will try Mrs. L/n. Right, thanks- bye.”

Despite the nagging feeling he knew exactly who was on the other side of that line, he asked, “Who was that?”

Dick sat on the edge of his bed, another irritated sigh leaving him.

“Remember Y/n?”

Ah, fuck.

“Yeah.” he said, doing his best to give the impression of disinterest and flippant-ness . 

“That was his mom- Y/n works over at the GHL Warehouses- well, he used to before last night. His mom wanted to make sure he was ok.”

Jason breathed out- you were fine. He knew you were fine because you don’t work the night shift anymore- when the bomb went off you should have been safely at home, sound asleep, trying to get some rest for your morning shift.

“Is he?” The deception in his voice was blatant this time, his thoughts having drifted to you and away from the mask he had perfected literally a second ago. Dick turned to look at him, a grin splitting across his face. Dick, who was just as much of a detective as the rest of the family, clocked that something was off immediately. 

“What?” 

“Oh Jason,” He said, all too happy to have been just talking about you potentially getting blown up. “Are you still into him?”

“Get out.” Jason responded, which only made Dick happier.

“You are, aww Baby Bird’s got a little crush-”

“Fuck off, I’m serious.”

Years ago, before his death, Jason had confided in his brother. During a quiet moment in the library of the manor, Jason told Dick that he liked guys, well, one guy, so far. He didn’t know what he was then and doesn't have the energy to label it now, but he does know that at 14 he had a massive crush on a boy his age that he went to school with– which only became a hundred times worse when he actually became friends with said boy. Y/n. You. One of his few attachments outside of his family.

When he came back he didn’t think about you for years, revenge, rage, and violence were the only things on his mind- but when he settled, you popped back into his mind. Just as much of a stalker as the rest of his family, he did some digging on you. It was invasive as hell, as he went through every bit of public (i.e., the stuff that was only slightly illegal to obtain) information about you before asking Barbara for more private(super illegal) information. 

Barb- whose closeness to Jason surprised everyone, including themselves (paralleling traumas, they supposed)- was more than willing. Her moral compass was a bit sideways, understandably,  but she couldn’t help but “play match-maker” as she had put it. He intentionally ignored that comment from his accomplice.

It’s how he knew about your work schedule, and just about everything else about you- and why he really, really hated your fucking parents.

He was…captivated. It wasn’t love, he didn’t love you. He didn’t even know you anymore. 

…

He should check on you, though. Losing your job so suddenly couldn’t have been easy for you. Finding a legal job in Gotham was hard enough as it was- he didn’t want you spiraling, or worse, getting involved with criminals- except for him. He huffed out a short chuckle. He wished you could get involved with him. He was, legally, still very, very dead. And you had no idea he was back. Which he’s somewhat happy for.

He killed…a lot of people, he got his ass handed to him in public by his father, and had lost his shit in PTSD fueled episodes of rage multiple times.

It was better if you stayed as far away from him as possible. Your life was just getting good, you had friends, an apartment of your own, you could probably fuck anyone you wanted- an unsurprising amount of people were into that independent, blue collar thing you had going on- Jason sure as shit wasn’t immune to it. He wouldn’t be mad if you did- you don’t. He has his ways of knowing. (your entire apartment is bugged thanks to Bruce’s almost unfounded paranoia, which was only a bit fair, Jason and Bruce were still on new ground in their… reborn relationship when he broke into your house for the first time, B probably thought he was trying to kill you, which- if it had been any other member of the family- would have been outlandish and entirely unfounded. But it was him, so…yeah, wasn’t really coming out of left field with that one) Which was a surprise, but a relieving one. 

Fucking hell, Dick was still looking at him with that stupid smile.

“You’ve got a boyfriend.”

Jason, as he did everytime a conversation steered in a direction he didn’t like, brought up his own death.

“I don’t have anything, Dick, can’t be anything to him if he still thinks I’m dead.”

“..right.”

A moment passed before Dick spoke again, “He’s fine, by the way. Barb sent a list of the confirmed victims earlier. He wasn’t on it.”

___

Fuck Bruce Wayne. No, really. This guy fucking sucked, you hated him and you hated that the only way you’d be keeping your apartment was by signing up for his stupid unemployment program. You’ve reloaded your inbox a dozen times waiting for the confirmation email, after spending hours upon hours reading through fine print and having to dig out your own documents, send proof of unemployment- you’re brand new letter of termination had been emailed to sometime earlier- and digitally signing your signature with your mouse pad and just wading through piles and piles of exhausting corporate bullshit-

You were really sick of this shit, to say the least.

‘It's been five minutes..’ You thought, glaring at your laptop screen.

Trying not to think about how this was literally the only way you’d be keeping your apartment and not go back to living in your car, you reloaded the page again.

And again and again until finally-

“Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Wayne Int…”

You didn’t even need to open the email, the preview told you all you needed to know, a long sigh of relief leaving you as you shut your laptop. 

Well, that’s over, now what. 

You’ve worked nearly every day since you’ve got this apartment, and when you weren’t working you were either catching up on sleep or, well, that’s it really. Despite planning on “having afternoons to yourself” when you switched schedules, you haven’t actually done anything with those afternoons, cleaning, watching TV, and texting more than anything. Because of course none of your friend schedules aligned for more than a couple minutes a day- usually early in the morning or really late at night.

You breathed in again- looking out the window, you could see the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, mostly hidden by the typical gothic skyscrapers that were found all over Gotham. Another heavy breath, you rolled out of bed, feeling a sudden pang of hunger after neglecting yourself all day. 

You didn’t bother taking your phone with you, even though your mother had pretty much announced to her loyal 1,267 followers that you were okay, you were still getting text and calls at random- you needed to take your mind off of all of this for at least a moment, cooking and then maybe a long, long sleep could help. You did a mental coin toss on what to eat, burger or pasta- either would do, really- conjuring up a slow, dramatic coin toss in your head, letting your subconscious decide. 

Heads. Pasta it is.

Rummaging through your cabinet until you pulled out the little pot you were looking for, perfect for a single serving. Filling it with water from the sink- completely forgetting for a moment that this was Gotham and you probably should have checked to see if it had been poisoned or tampered with- it was such a common occurrence that there was a whole app for it…Created and funded by Bruce Wayne of course. You sighed for about the millionth time today. That fucking jerk has his hands in everything- can’t even be in your own home without running into the motherfucker.

You huffed, it’d be fine. If there was something wrong with the water you would have seen it on the news. 

Putting the pot on the stove, repeatedly turning the knob until the fire lit. Putting a bit of salt in the water as it heated- staring into the pot for who knows how long as bubbles started to form. Thinking about things hurt right now. You lost half of your co-workers, your income, the first thing you felt you earned on your own, and on top of that you had to indirectly beg a man you couldn’t stand for money. It would only get worse from here. That was guaranteed- but you couldn’t spiral- because that would only make things so, so much worse. So, you’d face whatever the next couple of weeks brought with maturity and strength and when it was all over things would be semi-normal.

Hopefully.

You moved to the cabinet and pulled out a half empty box of bowtie style noodles and dumped them into the boiling water- then moved over to the fridge to see if you had any jarred sauce.

___

Barbara was just about the only person Jason actively texted- he didn’t need casual conversation with anybody else, not yet anyways. Roy maybe could have been the exception, but Roy barely responded, Jason doubted he even kept his phone on him. 

Leaving his bike in the alley before scaling your building- resting on the roof for a short moment as he texted Barbara.

“Think you can keep B out?”

She didn’t respond instantly, but when she did,

“You know he’s still home, right?”

‘Obviously, Barb’ he thought as he typed out a response

“I’m just checking on him.”

Then,

“He won’t see me.”

“You’re getting bold, thinking of saying ‘hi’ soon?”

No, definitely not. That would be a horrible idea. It would blow up in his face and he’d not only freak you the fuck out but would piss off his entire family (excluding Barbara, and maybe Dick- now that he’s thinking about it Tim would probably have been a good accomplice too- no, he’s not forming a little stalker crew, not gonna happen). It was, definitively, a terrible idea. Even if the infinitesimally small chance that you wouldn’t lose your shit and he was able to have any semblance of a relationship with you was calling his name like no other, he wasn’t going to take that risk. Stalking you- no, watching you in a completely non obsessive, platonic manner, would be all he did- and an occasional breaking and entering. But that was all.

“No” he finally responded.

She sent a sad face emoji back, then a middle finger, then,

“You’ve got 5 minutes.”

That jolted him into action, the sun quickly setting over Gotham as he crossed the building. He’s done this enough times to know just how to get through your window. Using a rope to scale down to the 4th floor windows- stopping right next to yours, closed, but unlocked for once. Good, he wasn’t looking forward to picking the lock.

As quietly as he could, he pushed your window open, cursing at the small creek it made about halfway up. Slipping inside, landing silently on his toes, pausing before pressing forward. Pressed against the wall of your nearly pitch black room, your bedroom door cracked open he could see the yellow-ish light emitting from outside it, he could hear you shuffling around out there, the faucet running for a second, and the ticking of the gas stove as you turned it on and off and on again. You were fine, you were up and active, cooking, not sulking. You were fine. 

Mission complete. 

Time to go..

He heard you open the fridge, let out a small sigh before closing it.

He leaned closer to the door, peaking through the small opening- your apartment small enough for him to see everything from his place in your room, including you standing in the kitchen standing over a boiling pot of whatever it was you were cooking. Ok, seriously, you were ok, he needs to go- he’s already been here for too long- he’s sure his time is up. You were fine, you are fine. 

“Fuck, ow-” You muttered to yourself, barely audible in the already near silent apartment. 

He pressed forward again, taking a step, then another, until he was standing just behind the door- half hidden in the dark room, illuminated by the kitchen light. 

—--

‘Stupid fucking cheap pot, why the fuck is the handle so hot?’ You thought as you checked your hand for any actual burns. You were fine, but dammit that hurt- first thing you’d when you got a new job, buy better pots and pans- ones that didn’t scorch your hands when you touched the handle. Turning around to face the sink, and run some cold water over your flushed hand-

What the fuck was that.

You paused at the sink. As you turned, you caught a glimpse of something…red. Just barely illuminated, standing in your bedroom. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, a feeling of impending doom washes over you as you turn to stare at whatever it is you just saw. Red and shiny, with stark white eyes- the rest of whatever the hell it was is hidden by the darkness of your bedroom and the door. 

A part of you wants to run- out of the apartment and into the street, scream for help at the top of your lungs until either whatever it was caught you, or one of many vigilantes showed up. Unfortunately, you lived in the absolute shit hole that was Gotham- so you were more likely to be an unsolved case than actually get saved. You really, really didn’t want to join the billion of unsolved cases already plaguing Gotham- you had so much more life to live, and shit was just getting good, well- not really but you still didn’t want to fucking die. Shit still could get good in the future! As long as you don’t get murdered tonight.

‘Ok, time to think rationally,’ You thought, eyes still locked on the whatever-the-fuck-it-is standing in the doorway, ‘I’m not dead yet, so maybe it doesn’t want to kill me, maybe it’s..I don’t know, trying to rob me or something.’

Robbed was probably the best possibility, considering all the other things that it could be. 

“I do not have any money, I’m poor as fuck I swear, can you please leave?” You tried.

You nearly tripped over your own feet, clambering backwards as the thing moved forward, stepping into the light and-

…

…Somebody is fucking with you, you almost immediately decide as your brain finally processes what you had been seeing this entire time. Fucking Red Hood. Every bit of fear is replaced with frustration and annoyance.

Taking a deep breath, you put your hands over your face, letting out a groan that quickly turns into a small, muffled scream.

Why? Why you? Huh? This is the second vigilante home intrusion you’ve experienced. You weren’t afraid of vigilantes, you had no reason to be- you aren’t a criminal and unlike certain organizations, they actually protect the innocent and whatnot. So, for you at the very least, seeing them was less of a terrifying experience than it was a wonder to behold…as long as they’re not in your fucking house. You just wanted to eat dinner. You just wanted to eat dinner and go to bed and then watch stupid 2000’s shows in the morning. But no Red Hood is in your house, and now your whole night is interrupted and you’re stressed and irritated and you really want to throw the nearest thing at him- but that’s rude and he might actually be here for a reason so you should really get out of your own head and hear him out.

You bring your hands down to your side, take a deep breath, and stare right into the eyes of his helmet.

“What do you want?”

—--

Jason has a very inappropriate answer to that question- he doesn’t say it, he doesn’t even give himself the chance to fully think it. But he does need to find an appropriate answer as to why he was in your house.

“You work at GHL?” He asked, his voice unwavering.

You rolled your eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck in the back of your skull. Fuck, you’ve always had a bad attitude, he hasn’t seen it up close in years. He hasn’t seen you this close in years either. During his…other illegal excursions in your house, he always kept a respectful distance from you, mostly out of fear of waking you up, but also because standing over you while you were asleep just felt…wrong.

You groaned, crossing your arms as your glare set on him.

“Yes, I worked at GHL before it blew up, no, I don’t have anything to do with the explosion, I was here all night, there are cameras in the halls, feel free to check them if you think I'm lying. Is there anything else or can you go now?”

Fuck- uh.

“No.” He said, before he could even come up with a reason why.

“‘No’?!” You were, reasonably, upset by this, “Why the hell not?”

‘Good question,’ he thought.

“I know-” Jason started without actually knowing what he wanted to say, his voice modulator making him sound a lot more sure of his words than he actually was, “-you’ve been very..vocal about your disapproval of the police in Gotham, they were temporarily holding a shipment of weapons and ammo there.”

Accusing you of being a criminal maybe wasn’t the best option, definitely wouldn’t get him into your good graces, but it was believable- his preexisting knowledge of you made it just that much easier, even if you look offended by the accusation.

“So what, you’re stalking me?”

You don’t even know the half of it..

“Investigating you.” He responded sternly.

You nodded, so clearly on the verge of losing your shit, “Right, right, ‘investigating’. I don’t care what you call it, I already told you I wasn’t involved in whatever happened so can you please-”

A sudden, blaring alarm shocked both you and Jason. You stormed back into the kitchen a pot of what was previously edible pasta sauce having been reduced to a soldering, smoking mess. Frustrated mumbling filled the space, you groaned and growled as you grabbed the pot handle with a towel and damn near threw it into the sink, turning on the faucet and letting it run. You turned to him, thoroughly pissed off at this point, so many thoughts and words festering in your mind- probably vulgar and violent- but you said nothing, clenching your fist at him and staring at his mask with an nearly dazed but somehow still enraged expression before turning to handle the fire alarm. Using a towel to fan smoke away from it until it stopped beeping. 

Then, you sat on the floor, facing away from him. Breathing deeply, rocking slightly. Jason just stared, there wasn’t much else he could do- 

He heard you sigh, the tension in your shoulder reducing until you were slightly hunched over.

“You owe me dinner.” You said, calmly.

Jason blinked behind his mask- that’s it? You were over it? Just like that?

He halfway expected to be yelled at, hell, he’s surprised you didn’t throw the pot at him. But the ability to just calm down wasn’t something that came easily, if at all to Jason.

“I can do that.”

You sighed again, pushing yourself up off the floor. Turning to him, you face tired and your eyes dark- he knows he just made an already hard day even harder for you, he knows the guilt is going to crush him later, too.

“I know you’re just doing your job and all but you’re kinda a jerk, you know that, right?” Your tone was flat and dim, “Look, I don’t know anything about what happened. I’m just…really fucking tired now so can you just go?”

I know

“I believe you.”

You sighed, “Good, I’m going to bed now, good night.”

He watched as you walked past him, your shoulder bumping him and he tried to ignore how his heart clenched at even the briefest touch from you.

“Oh, and-” you glanced over your shoulder at him, “-if you’re going to come back, use the door.”

You didn’t give him time to respond, closing the bedroom door behind you.

He stood in your apartment alone, a minute passes, and then another as he attempts to process what had just happened and just how fucked he was when Bruce inevitably found out. But…

A small smile crept on his face, could have been a lot worse, you don’t hate him, hell, you invited him to come back in a way. Bruce might scream his head off at him and he’d likely be placed under some kind of suspension and heavily monitored for the foreseeable future. But none of that mattered right now, because he’s seen you, he’s talked to you, and suddenly he has a goal. 

—-

Last night felt like a fever dream, but you could tell it was real. Early in the morning, when the sun was just barely peeking through your window, there was a knock on your door- your bedroom door. You should have been freaked out by it, but you had a sneaking suspicion that a familiar red jerk was on the other side. Stretching  and yawning before getting up, your body was more tired than you realized, feeling heavy and anchored as you dragged your feet to the door. When you opened it, there was nobody there, but a little white paper bag sat on the floor just outside. You looked around, the living room and the kitchen were both empty and the big red jerk was nowhere to be seen.

Taking the bag in your hands, the familiar logo of the 24 hour cafe down the street plastered on it, as well as a note. Taped to the bag, a torn square of paper read,

“Not dinner, but I figured this was close enough. 

And I used the door this time. You’re welcome.

-R.H”

And for some stupid, unfortunate reason, you found it charming.

“Fucking stalker..” you muttered, fighting a smile as walked back to your bed with the bag.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Whatever You Need

Request: Jason helping reader through their period

Pairing: Jason Todd x afab!Reader

Summary: Your period takes you by surprise. Luckily, Jason's there to take care of you.

Word count: 1.6k

Sorry this took so long... I started four different Jason fics, which means none were finished. But they should be finished and posted sometime soon.

Sprawled on the couch in your pajamas, watching an episode of The Great British Bake-Off that you’ve seen at least twice before, you feel the first twinge of pain in your abdomen. You don’t think much of it at first, which is a mistake. There are still two days before your period is supposed to start, and you ate ice cream after dinner even though you’re lactose intolerant and ran out of Lact-Aid a couple days ago. You figure you’ll head to the bathroom to deal with the consequences of your actions if the need arises, but you’re too comfortable to move when the weighted blanket on top of you has a name and that name is Jason Todd.

You’ve been on bedrest (or couchrest) for the past week and a half after a bad fall in the rain during patrol twisted your ankle. It swelled to twice its normal size. The upside was that it happened during winter break so you didn’t have to make the choice between limping to class or skipping. The downside was that you wanted your superhero persona to have more of a presence with Gotham’s goons. As a part-time hero, unlike Jason and most of his family, you get much less respect when suited up than, say, the Red Hood.

As a contestant’s dough fails to rise and they begin to have a breakdown on the screen, your stomach cramps again.

Sometimes, if you ignore it, the pain will go away. You’re too comfortable to get up now.

To distract yourself, you run your fingers through Jason’s messy curls. He doesn’t have a wash routine, so they’re always frizzier than Dick’s, but you’ve never minded. He’s devastatingly handsome either way. At least like this he looks a little bit less like something come to life straight out of your fantasies. He’s just a little more real.

Jason hums sleepily and pushes his head into your hands, a bit like a cat nuzzling at you. It’s been a lazy day for you both. You’ve been in the same position on the couch for hours—you on your back, half-watching the show, half-dozing, and him on his stomach in the cradle of your legs, head pillowed on your stomach, not even pretending to watch the show, judging by his closed eyes.

Your stomach cramps again, and this time you feel it—the ache even lower, and a wet heat blooming between your thighs. “Oh, fuck me.”

Jason takes a minute to respond, still interested in your fingers that make his entire body tingle when you massage in just the right way. Then he cranes his neck up, brow furrowed and bottom lip jutting out with his confused frown. “Okay?” He starts to sit up, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, but you draw your legs up and out from under him and roll off the couch.

“No, not literally,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fuck—did I stain the cushion?” It was no big loss—you’d found the couch on the side of the road and Jason helped you bring it up to your apartment and sanitize it—but a bloodstain would stand out on the light brown color.

“Oh,” he says with realization as you run to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. “The couch is good!” he calls.

Your pants aren’t. It looks like someone died between your legs. You’ve always had heavy periods, especially the first couple days, accompanied by strong cramps. If you get ahead of them and take pain meds, they’re not too bad. Sometimes you can even patrol. But playing catch-up with ibuprofen is a recipe for disaster.

The rest of the day is going to suck.

Because you always feel gross when you’re on your period, and because no amount of wipes would fully clean up the mess between your legs, you hop into the shower and turn up the heat until your skin is bright pink. Jason pops in for a second to drop off a change of underpants and sweats, then ducks out just as quickly.

Turning off the water starts the race against time. As quickly as you can, you apply your preferred hygiene product before any more blood can leak down your leg. Then you towel off and shrug on the new clothes. You still feel icky, but the new clothes and shower helped slightly.

Something sizzles in the kitchen when you open the bathroom door.

“Hey, honey,” says Jason without turning around, standing in front of the stove. He points at the table. “Meds and water are right there. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh,” is your response. You down the pills and almost set the glass back on the table, but at his insistent look, finish it off. Hydration helps with cramps as well.

“You’re two days early.”

“Well, I haven’t been patrolling. Exercise changes can throw my cycle out of whack.” You sniff. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken stir fry.” You peek into the pan and see broccoli, bell peppers, and a couple other vegetables frying with the chicken. The covered pan behind it, you know without looking, contains rice. “I also have ginger tea brewing.”

All of it, every part of the meal, is meant to help reduce your symptoms and pain.

You can’t help it. How is he always so thoughtful? You throw your arms around Jason’s middle and squeeze. So he can keep stirring the food, he shifts until you’re tucked beneath one arm. His hair is in complete disarray from your fingers like he just walked through a tornado. When he notices your gaze, red colors his cheeks and he flattens his hair down self-consciously.

You press a kiss to his shoulder, the highest place you can reach without stretching.

“Go sit down,” he pretends to scold.

In response, you lean into him, heavier and heavier, until he’s practically carrying you. Jason doesn’t even blink at the added weight.

“I plugged in your heating pad,” he says. “It’s right by the couch.” Another thing right next to the couch is a coffee table he stole from the manor when he was pissed at Bruce. On top of it is a bar of dark chocolate and a freshly-washed bowl of your favorite berries.

You kiss his shoulder again. Jason kisses the top of your head, then nudges you away with his chin. “Go. Sit down. Rest your ankle and your uterus.”

“That is not how it works,” you say, mirth in your voice.

“It’s how I think it works,” he mumbles.

When the food is done, he brings two bowls over. You lift your legs and he slips underneath them. He uses your shins on his thighs as a makeshift table, balancing the bowl between them, and absentmindedly rubs your weaker ankle with the hand not holding his spoon.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence as The Great British Bake-Off plays. You finish first, and as soon as he sets his bowl down, you sit up slightly and make grabby hands at him. “C’mere.”

Jason pretends to roll his eyes, but judging by the line of kisses he trails from your wrist to the inside of your elbow as he lies down, he doesn’t mind your bossiness too much.

You shiver at every brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of your forearm. It’s almost enough to distract you from the cramping that’s beginning in your abdomen again—a cramping that eases slightly when he’s atop you again, resting the gentle pressure of his weight on your stomach. Warm, fed, and with his weight on you, is it any wonder you fall asleep?

You’re only woken by Jason’s gentle hand shaking you, telling you that it’s been eight hours since you last applied your feminine hygiene product and you need to change it. You’re tired and sore and cranky, but as soon as you blink your eyes open he has pain medication and water for you to take.

You do so in the bathroom in a daze and tumble into your shared bed, tugging Jason in with you. He goes down easily, using his huge, warm form to surround you with his easy, comforting scent. You left the heating pad on the couch, but the thick arm Jason winds around your stomach does the job well enough, and you drift back to sleep quickly, never fully awake in the first place.

The next morning, you wake to an aching back and stained sheets.

You stare up at the ceiling and swear, which unfortunately wakes Jason, who lifts his head and stares at you, one eye still crusted with sleep. His curls are in wild disarray, one side flattened from the pillow and the other on end as if he’s been spending his spare time sticking forks in electrical sockets.

If the cramps have gotten to your spine already, then the next few days are going to be hell. And this was a nice pair of sheets! The blood had better wash out.

Jason grunts and lowers his head. “Everything we own is bloodstained, honey. Though usually it’s mine.”

You leave him in bed. Your hair feels way too greasy, and your skin feels tacky, and even after a half-hour shower, you still don’t feel great.

As soon as you step out of the bathroom, Jason is there with chocolate-chip pancakes he made himself, accompanied by a fresh bowl of fruit and more meds.

Emotion rises in your throat. You want to tell him so much, like that you love him even though you haven’t said it, or that you can’t fathom going through your period on your own anymore, but all that comes out is, “You’re perfect. You know that? You really don’t have to do all this—or stay home from patrol for me.”

Jason tousles his messy curls and shrugs. “Well, I’m gonna anyway. You need me, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

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