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kenobers · 4 months ago

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nsft alphabet | fem!Jason Todd

but first free palestine !! once more...what the title says ! this time, jason's a woman tw; explicit wlw sexual content, jason's insecurities, afab!reader a/n: this is a lot of the same stuff in the original jason alphabet, but it's all rewritten with lots of new content added. i'm still suffering from writer's block, but fem!Jason is such a powerful muse...

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jason's gonna make sure you're comfortable afterwards. She'll wipe you down, check that she didn't go too far. If you leave afterwards, she'll make sure you get home safe. If you stay, she'll offer you a t-shirt to sleep in. Outside of the actual act of sex, she's incredibly awkward about intimacy, so for a while, she wasn't big on the physical aspect of aftercare. In fact, the first couple of times you came over, you thought she was maybe trying to usher you out of her apartment afterwards. However, as the two of you grow closer, holding you close becomes second nature. It feels so comforting and so right to have her arms around you after driving you to your limits. She's big on eating after sex. If you have enough energy, she'll turn on the tv and order some Chinese or throw a frozen pizza in the oven. Sometimes it's kind of astonishing how the woman will fuck you until you're more than a ragdoll, then immediately demolish like three Big Macs.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

She loves hands. She loves her hands. They're big and strong, they can protect you, please you, provide for you. She adores the way you feel under them, soft and clean. She loves to feel you press against her palm while her fingers disappear inside of you, until the tips of her fingerless gloves tickle your entrance. She loves your hands, the way they feel on her skin. They always look so beautiful against her breasts, which fit so perfectly in your palms. She cherishes every mark your fingernails leave along her back, every sting they leave on her scalp when they twist her hair as her own fingers make your writhe. She loves that your hands can go from caressing her scars to replacing them with a much more loving display.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jason likes to think she can hold out. Well, she can, but she's so damn impulsive. Fuck if she doesn't loves the sight of you, sweaty and panting, with your mouth, thighs and fingers glistening with the proof of how good you make her feel. And yeah, she's a little possessive. The sight of your excitement all over her fills her with a very specific, very strong sense of pride. It makes her want to give in again and again and again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She loves having high sex. Drunk sex is so clumsy and disconnected, but when the weed hits just right, so the world reduces to nothing but you...that's that good shit right there. Especially when the mood lights and the playlist are working in tandem...oh man, she gets so locked into you that it's like nothing else exists. You're in your own beautiful universe, creating new constellations with every mark she leaves on your body. She's numb in every place that isn't touching you. It adds a certain level of passion, of desperation, for each of you because your senses are so heightened to each other. There's never any goal in mind, you aren't racing towards an orgasm. It's just the two of you moving against each other, making each other feel so so good. She also likes a little bit of role play. What can she say? The Big Bad Red Hood persona lends itself to the bedroom quite well. It's so cheesy and if it were to ever get out, she'd go on a spree, but she really loves the idea of being your (Arkham) knight and coming to your rescue. Like in a very bodice ripper kind of way - although she would argue it's in a much more gothic romance way.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She isn't as sexually charged as you would think and she typically waits to get to know a person before having sex with them. And not just because she never knows how to react when someone flirts with her. So in that regard, one of her body counts is significantly higher than the other, but she's had enough experience to know what she's doing. She knows what she likes and she knows how to figure out what you like.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

So long as your legs are hooked over her hips, she's happy. If the strap is on, Jason particularly loves it when she's on her knees while you're on your back with your hips angled over her thick thighs. It lets her get deep inside of you while still getting a good view of your pretty pussy and your gorgeous face. Not to mention, she loves grasping your hips, spreading your legs wide. (According to trusted resource, SexPositions.Club, this is position 5. Aquarius) She also loves having you up against or bent over things. Against a wall, on the kitchen table, the handle bars of her motorcycle. The way you hold onto her in more ways than one really adds something to the moment. And yeah, maybe it allows her to show off her strength to you. But she also loves to make you ride her, whether you're sinking down on her strap or grinding your cunts together. She love love loves to make you work for what you want. The way you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes as you put your back into it, the way your tits bounce like a hypnotist's clock...mmh, she could watch that all day. But don't worry, she'll always make sure you get what you want...and then some.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Jason's tone depends on the time and place. For the most part, she's serious. She teases you, lets out a low chuckle when she gets a sought after reaction from you, but it isn't humorous. But sometimes...sex is just incredibly unserious. Like lazy morning sex, when neither of you can be bothered to do much more than stroke each other. Like you're horny, but Jason looks so goofy with her hair sticking up and you're a real beauty queen with your crusty eyes and that fuckass alarm keeps going off. Or the aforementioned high sex, when both of you are so lost in your pleasure and laughter. One time she said the word "clitty" and giggled about it until she fell asleep. Then giggled some more when she woke up.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

She lives and dies by the dark curls. Maybe she'll trim here and there, but she lives free.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jason doesn't take sex lightly. It's either a tool or a declaration of love (no matter how lazy). If she's using sex as a tool, she isn't going to be very intimate. She'll praise you, sing songs about your body, but it isn't going to be very personal. She's going to bounce you on her strap to keep some distance between you. However, when you're in an established relationship, she's very intimate. There's much more kissing and eye contact, lots more "that's my baby" instead of "that's it, baby". She'll press every inch of her warm body against you, invite you to see and feel every part of her.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh yeah. Usually only if you're gone though. She'd rather have the real deal, but if she can't have you and thinks about you for too long, she'll help herself. It's never as satisfying as she hopes, but it gets the job partially done.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jason's kinks are sort of a revolving door. She likes to go rougher and she likes to be in charge typically, but everything else is dependent on your moods. One day she'll blindfold you, the next you'll tie her hands together while she gives you orders you have to follow on your own. She lowkey likes being called daddy and sometimes she'll promise to make you a mommy when she really gets going with the strap. But mostly, she just likes to hear you cry out Jason. She also gets a thrill out of doing it with the Red Hood mask on - and she'd be lying if the whole "Oh, Red Hood, my knight in bloody armor, what are you doing my bedroom at this hour?" routine didn't work for her. She's also got a praise kink. There's nothing that gets her going more than hearing you babble about how good she's making you feel, about how much you love her. It goes the other way as well. She loves to tell you how good you feel, how beautiful you are.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Where ever the mood strikes. Generally speaking, her apartment is her favorite place. There isn't a particular room, she just likes the knowledge that this is your space to do as you please. But she does get a little thrill whenever you manage to do it somewhere risky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It's cliche as hell, but the sight of you in red really does work wonders for her. Whenever she notices that that little red thong is missing from your underwear drawer in the morning...it's all she'll think about all day. If she can see your nipples through your shirt, it's over. If you don't already own one, trust that she'll buy you a tight little red satin party dress - one with an open back, so you can't wear a bra with it. Watching you doing or say something intelligent is a huge turn on. Watching you get impassioned is her own personal kryptonite. She likes to watch you work for it. The way you oh-so-conspicuously bend over to pick something up or shiver so your chest sticks out. Make a suggestive face as you drop an innuendo only she understands and she'll see to it that your efforts don't go unrewarded. But also the sight of you all helpless and needy...she knows it isn't very feminist, but fuck if it isn't sexy as hell.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She's not a voyeur. If she's gonna do it in a public setting, it's gonna be in a closet or a bathroom stall; somewhere that still shields your bodies from prying eyes. That's just for the two of you. It's fun to risk getting caught and she loves the thrill of it, but only so long as she can pull the "do you know who my father is" or "can you not see I'm thee Red Hood" cards should you actually get caught. She's also not going to do anything that could result in you being injured. Maybe in concept, like if you wanted to suck on her gun or have her wrap a hand around your throat, but she's not going to make you bleed. She's also not going to hit you anywhere but your fine little ass.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jason is nothing, if not a giver. Just lay back and let her take care of it, baby. She can spend hours between your legs, holding your thighs wide open and high. Her tongue knows just where to work you, she knows just how much teeth you like, where the biting boarders on pain. And if her fingers aren't right next to her mouth, they're kneading your skin, raking her nails across your stomach with a featherlight touch, massaging the kinks in your thighs so you can open them a little more. If nothing else, her mouth and hands can cover a lot of ground. Once she's secure in your sexual relationship, she'll rarely say no to allow your own bite to eat. It secretly made her giddy when she realized you had every inch of her cunt committed to memory...but anyways, she likes to sit on your face or have you kneeling on the ground when you eat her out (although she leans towards the first option, unless she's feeling real cocky).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jason likes it fast and rough. She'll drag out foreplay to her heart's content, but once you're good and ready, she's fucking you like her life depends on it. Then she's flipping you over and doing it again. You're going to bounce on that strap like it's a damn trampoline. That said, she has her slow and sensual moments. After a rough night when she's feeling particularly sentimental and grateful for you, she'll take all the time in the world just to watch you underneath. She'll just soak in the feeling of your warm cunt on hers, cooing about how lucky she is that you even let her glance your way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Pro quickie, but usually if it's an appetizer for what comes later on. So, most of the time quickies look like her fingers sneaking down your pants during your lunch break, her head between your thighs in the bathroom at a charity event, or you on your knee taking care of her before patrol like it's not going to leave her twitching for the rest of the night.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As mentioned earlier, her kinks are a revolving door, so she would be down to experiment. She's pretty good about saying no when she needs to, and if she trusts that you can do the same, then she's open to trying new risks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

No one recovers like this menace. She can go for as many rounds as your heart desires. Unless she's already been yearning the whole damn day, Jason can last until the cows come home. That's part of the reason she lets herself give in so easily - she knows she'll bounce back.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She has toys, but nothing fancy. She has a little pocket vibrator she bought from Target on a whim (and was very embarrassed to discover could not be purchased via self checkout). She invested in a bigger one when your relationship became official. The real crown jewels are her small collection of strap-ons. It started out as a joke, where she'd come across a ridiculous dildo and buy it, thinking it was funny because...well, when would you even use something like this. But then she got with you and realized she did, in fact, have occasion to use them. She's got a double ended up she'll use on herself, but mostly their appeal for her is about how they look going into you. She'd rather you use a vibe on her.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She likes to tease up to a certain point. If you're out doing something, she'll keep sliding her hand higher and higher up your thigh, then pull away completely, or lean down to say something to you so that her breath hits your neck in that one sensitive spot. She wear a sports bra that's just a smidge too small as a top and make a phony complaint about how she's got a knot in her shoulder so she can arch her back and stick her chest out... But once your clothes are off, she can only restrain herself for so long. Although she does like to make you beg before she lets you finish sometimes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Low groans and swears. Her mouth as a mind of its own when she really gets going as she praises you, teases, calls out to you. You're her Baby, her Pretty Thing, her Gorgeous Girl, so so good for her, taking it all like this. Oooh. Look. At. You. Sometimes she surprises herself with what comes out of her mouth. You can always tell when she's close because her panting turns to grunts, her sweet nothings become more intense as they strain between her teeth.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She's secretly a little self conscious about her body, particularly about her scars. Like, yeah, she's big and muscly and people always say they dig scars, but...some of hers are, like, real nasty. Not to mention, that some of them have triggering memories attached to them. She finds her autopsy scar to be especially gross. It takes up so much of Her torso and it doesn't seem to want to fade like the rest of her marks tend to do. Not to mention that it's hard not to compare herself to other smaller, softer, cleaner women. So for a while when you first started having sex, she found ways around taking her shirt off. And if it did come off, it was in the dark. It takes a lot of proving just how divine you find her goddess-like body before she really lets you get a good look at her. Once she works up the courage to finally show you all of her in proper light, she's surprised when you're more fascinated with it than anything. She can't suppress the shiver that runs down her spine when you press your lips to the crux of that T-shaped stamp. She probably won't ever love her scars, but she'll always adore the way you treat them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Jason Todd is easily over six foot with never-ending muscles, tits designed by Aphrodite herself and a side of love handles in every iteration. This one is no exception.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Her libido is strong for you. As previously stated, she's not as sex charged as you would think, but she does have a strong desire for you. She initiates sex fairly regularly, but she doesn't feel the need to have you bent over 24/7. She is very touchy though. She can't help it, she's anxious.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She almost always waits until you fall asleep. If you manage to fall asleep quickly, then she'll follow suit typically, especially if she's spooning you. She's putting American Dad on for background noise though.

♡ i see your reblogs ladies, and they make me smile ♡

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greeeengoblin · 1 year ago

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Thinking of Jason Todd as a woman reminds me of myself, as lonely and hopeless as he is, it makes me feel dead. THIS IS PERFECT!

I CAN SELL THİS

Don't forget to subscribe to my Ao3 -> https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreeenGoblin ♡

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eeriedreamer · 4 months ago

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No because I have a friend who is so female jason todd coded.

Like the dark hair×blue eyes combi (i know there are also green or grey eyes jason truthers but this is not about them). She wears a BROWN leather jacket all the time. She's a literature nerd. And even personality wise she is a lot like Jason.

No she doesn't know who that is so I never told her this but it's so fucking crazy like damn??? I'm so lucky to know her (+she's one of the best people i know <3)

#rambles #jason todd #fem!jason todd #red hood #fem!red hood

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azuree1733 · 5 days ago

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At what point do I claim her as my OC

#Jessica Todd you will always be famous to me #ceo of fem!jason btw #red hood #Jason Todd #needed that #art #dc comics #dc #batman #comicart #red #robin #fem!jason todd #genderbend #I keep forgetting that traditional art is like 10x easier than digital but it’s so hard to get good photos #so yall will never see it #I post on my instagram story sometimes but that’s about it #azuree1733

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dragonpyre · 1 year ago

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The world isn't ready for Fem!Jason Todd

#she can and will stop on you #jason todd #fem!jason todd #female jason todd #red hood #fan art #fanart #my art #dc #dc comics #batman #meme redraw #muscle mommy #r63 #rule 63 #portfolio #womf

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luv-lock · 2 months ago

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ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAWBERRY BABYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Jason Todd x Fem Reader

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

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

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

Instead, you were losing your mind.

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

No.

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

Blonde.

BLONDE.

And he looked exactly like Jason.

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

And your baby?

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

Which made no damn sense.

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t. He had black hair.

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

That didn’t matter right now.

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

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

The room went silent.

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

“Uh… what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—WHAT?!” you shrieked.

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

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

You sobbed harder. Ugly cried harder.

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

“Uh, wow,” Tim muttered.

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

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

Your stomach dropped.

Jason.

Jason wasn’t here.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

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

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

“No, he won’t,” Bruce grumbled.

CRASH.

Jason absolutely broke the door down.

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

"Fucking Gotham traffic, I swear to—"

He froze.

You were crying.

Sobbing.

Hysterical.

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

His eyes darted to the baby in your arms.

Tiny. Swaddled. Breathing.

Okay. Not dead.

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

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

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

Jason panicked.

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

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

Bruce exhaled through his nose, deeply unimpressed.

It's just made you cry harder.

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

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

Jason blinked.

Everyone collectively flinched.

"…What?" Jason said, voice flat.

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

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

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

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

"…Yeah?" he said, confused.

"He has blonde hair!"

Jason blinked.

Then blinked again.

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

Dick rubbed his temples. "Jay."

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

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

Jason stared.

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

“Yes,” Damian said, unbothered.

“Absolutely,” Dick grinned.

Jason inhaled deeply.

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

You hiccupped again. “Wh—what?”

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

Your breath caught. “Huh?”

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

Silence.

More silence.

The world stopped.

The Earth stopped spinning.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

Jason nodded.

"You… had blonde hair?"

Jason nodded again.

You sniffled. Sniffled again. Processed this information.

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

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

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

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

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “Babe—”

“Oh my God.”

“Listen, it’s not—”

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

“Strawberry blonde,” Tim corrected.

Jason shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason glared. "You think?"

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

"I DIDN’T KNOW!" you shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim shrugged. "For emergencies."

Jason squinted. "…What kind of emergencies?"

Tim smirked. "Like this one."

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

And—oh.

The storm in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something warm. Something deep. Something soft.

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

Awe-struck.

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

Jason swallowed.

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

“…Holy shit,” he murmured.

Dick grinned. “You made a clone.”

Jason turned to you, eyes softening.

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

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

— MASTERLIST ☆

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago

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I'm wild about this fic!! The tension, the angst, the way I want to bite her!! (Or have her bite me, I'm not picky) I'm actually so down bad for Jay Todd and OP is feeding us sooo well with this fic! I talk about my fav parts below the cut:

It's her eyes you recognize first, oddly enough, through her cracked helmet. You shouldn't recognize her at all, with how everything about her has changed. Even the way she looks at you is different. You've never seen Jay Todd so ferocious.

FERAL!! insane opener. Like yesss her eyes. A girl could get lost in them and the sigh I just let out was so dreamy fr

Okay, you lied. This wasn't an accident. This was fate that you played a hand in. This was what was bound to happen after Jay got too close, let herself get seen. You've had an itch for months, eyes on your back. You're a civilian now, sure, but you loved a bat once.

On my knees! Especially that last line, you loved a bat, and even if you aren't part of their world anymore, you know enough to remember what it felt like. And the reader hunting Jay down to see her again?? She's so me. As if I would be okay with fumbling such a baddie after everything we've been through

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

giggling and batting my eyes

When she was Robin, you had a slim chance of physically overtaking her. Now, double in size and muscle, Jay keeps you pushed to the ground with no chance of getting free. Her hands hold you by your wrists, body hovering close so you can't move much.

GIGGLING AND BATTING MY EYES. Just give me a chance!! ah, this whole paragraph has me glued to my screen. I might have stopped breathing. There's so much tension because of what they were and what happened and what they could be. Ahh!

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

owwww

"You're a good shot." You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

Reader is whipped and that is an accurate representation of me. Got me over here starry eyed and kicking my feet

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!" "But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

UGh this is so visceral. Like there's the joy of seeing her again, being near her. And then there's the crushing hurt of why she's been gone for so long. Why there's the smell of iron in the air and she's yelling at you and trying to push you away.

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first." "It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

oooh! I gasped over this reveal

"You're fuckin' deluded," she says, eyes glassy with tears. "Fuckin'—sleep so heavy, like I can't slip in and smother you. No one would know. Make tea in your-your robe, don't even pull the curtains shut. I can see you. Anyone can."

!! wow. I don't have words but I do know that I covered my mouth with my hand when I read this.

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat. "And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

Sobbing over them

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest.

We all need hugs after this one fr. Seriously, it was good!! The hurt HURT and I actually went crazy over Jay. 💙💙💙

Femjay you say 👀 how about the classic "you're alive?!" confrontation with a sprinkle of pining

sprinkle of pining you say-oh dear! i've dumped the whole bag in! along with a jar of erotic violence! whoopsies...

female!jason todd x afab!reader. violence, angy jay, reader being held down, crying, reunion. remember that girl best friend you had highkey lesbian tension with? yeah.

****

"You weren't supposed to be here!" she screams.

It's true, you weren't. You stumbled across your dead best friend by accident, found her hissing and vicious with a shattered helmet and a smoking gun. Four dead men surround her.

"Get out."

All you can do is stare. She's alive. She's back. She's yours.

"Jay..."

She pries off her helmet and your breath hitches. God, she's beautiful.

"What is wrong with you? You could've fuckin' gotten shot."

Your legs start moving. Your arms part. You expect the feel of a soft cape between your fingers, black curls to tickle your chin due to a height difference you never let her forget.

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

"You're alive," you choke out.

Her eyes are wild. A mix of blue and green. More green than you remember. Her irises have swallowed her pupils and her curls are knotted and frizzy. You feel inexplicably hunted.

"How dare you?" she spits. "How fuckin' dare you come here?"

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

"I could've shot you," she says. "You could be dead right now."

"You're a good shot."

You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

"I have to be. I'm the only one keeping myself alive," she says. You make a weak noise in your throat.

"I should've looked for you," you say.

She scoffs. "Don't say stupid shit. You're smarter than that."

"I should've," you insist. "I should've found you. I felt you."

"Yeah? Feel how I could tear you apart? It comes so easy now, you have no idea. 'M fuckin' soaked with blood."

You stay silent. Jay's eyes flash. She leans in, breath hot on your ear.

"Are you scared?" she asks like she knows the answer.

But she doesn't.

Your legs part further so she can kneel comfortably. You shake your head.

Jay snarls. "You should be. I've killed people. I'll keep killing."

"It's okay," you say. "You're angry. It's okay to be angry. I don't blame you. No one does."

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!"

"But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

"No, you don't," she snaps. Her voice is mocking, brittle. "You know your fancy publishing job in a big shiny office, away from this shithole, and-and fuckin' Paul from Marketing who brings you banana pancakes from the diner."

Your breath comes out in a careful exhale. "You've been keeping tabs on me. How long have you been back?"

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first."

"It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

"You—" Jay growls in frustration. Her hands squeeze your wrists. "This isn't how it's s'posed to go. Hate me, hate me. I'm a monster."

"You're not."

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat.

"And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

You try to pull your hand free, and to your surprise, you do. Jay lets you slip out of her grip. You use your free hand to hold her scarred cheek, wipe her tears with your thumb.

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest. She shakes into your skin, kneeling between your legs.

You hug her head, smell her new-old smell, and let her curls tickle your chin once again.

#rae's fic recs #jason todd x reader #fem!jason todd

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eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove · 6 months ago

Text

Bruce Wayne fucked his partners through the mattress—and it depended on who and why. If you know he’s Batman, then he’d fuck for stress relief, to uncoil the sickening knot in his belly. However, if you’re unaware of his nighttime activities and believe you’d just lucked up meeting Bruce Wayne, then he’d fuck for ego. He’s got a point to prove: all those years as a recluse hadn’t dulled his ability to grant a lady a good time; that the stories of his youthful adventures are true. (Though his ego bleeds over into Batman as well since he wonders if he’s too old to still be the Dark Knight. If he’s lost his edge).

Bruce’s stamina is insane. He’d have you spread on your belly while he drove his cock into you. One hand enclosed around your throat, the other encircling your waist, and his lips grazing over your ear. Warm gusts of air caressing your cheek with each huff and grunt. The faint scent of his cologne lingering within the atmosphere, though it had been toppled by the aroma of sweat and sex. “Fuck,” he gritted out,” so tight f’me, doll. Only for me. Mine, aren’t you?” There was pride in being the one to undo Bruce Wayne, to make him cuss and grunt like a caveman, to draw out his Gotham accent. He was usually so put-together and driven.

Time warped and melted whenever Bruce had you beneath him. Despite his age, (don’t let him hear that) he could fuck for hours, content to drive his cum back into your hole until he came again. In fact, he enjoyed the slickness. There was something about keeping you beneath him that soothed the territorial monster caged within him like Mr. Hyde. Rarely could you lure the possessive, emerald eyed, envious beast out; Bruce was old and had dealt with his fair share of women seeking an emotional response. But with the perfect concoction of circumstances could you shatter the manacles binding the dominating, jealous, spiteful side of him—and it was wonderful.

Dick Grayson (Dixon’s version) preferred to let his lover work for it. There was a tantalizing element to gazing at his partner while she straddled him, and attempted to sink down into his cock. Dick wasn’t girth-y like Jason or Bruce (nor as unshaven). No, Dick was slim and long—and pretty. Dick was shaven and trimmed, smooth and hairless if he could help it. He never liked to offer up unshaven goods; he thought it was rude.

“God, you. . . you ride like a pro,” he breathed out, nigh gasping as though he’d run a race beside Usain Bolt. A sheen of sweated coated his toned physique, and a scarlet blush left a fiery trail from his cheeks down to his neck. “Don’t stop till I say.” Dick is more selfish in bed than Jason. Unlike Jason, Dick knows he’s cute—pretty, even. He’s confident both in himself and his ability to be selfish and still make you cum. . . hard. He won’t hesitate to assume control if he’s not liking your rhythm, or if he just wants to be a little shit and knock your orgasm off kilter. “Oh, were you going to cum? Sorry. Didn’t notice.”

Speaking of orgasms, Dick cums beautifully, even when he’d rather be described as ‘’manly’’ and handsome. He couldn’t restrain the tremble of his muscular thighs, or quell the furnace roaring inside his belly, or freeze the stars bursting behind the paleness of his eyelids. “I know, pretty baby. I know. Tight, aren’t I? Let it out for me,” you cooed, caressing his sweat-slick, inky black curls. Dick nodded quick and desperately, coal black lashes falling over his oceanic eyes. “Yes. Yes. That’s it. Gonna cum again. Just keep going.” The power he’d stolen returned with a vengeance. He’d gone limp beneath you. Fucked out, his breaths tremulous and stuttered. Naturally, Dick’s palms found purchase upon your breasts, pinching and flicking your nipples before he exerted the last of his strength to lean forward and suckle one into his mouth.

(There’s hints of a mommy kink if you squint hard enough).

Jason Todd loved to see his partner deep-throat his cock. It’s a personal pleasure of his, the one time he allows himself to be selfish during sex. He’s not sure why it’s fascinating to him. Perhaps the sheer primality of watching you struggle to swallow his thickness intrigues him, excites him, causes the hairs on his forearms to stand at attention and the nerves within his body to buzz like a million bees trapped beneath his skin.“That’s right, baby, keep going. Till I see tears,” he murmured, as his large hands slithered up into your nape and tightened in your hair.” Show me how much you love me, baby.”

“What a beauty.” Jason’s chocolate smeared irises tipped backward, his slender hips bucking upward into the warm cavern of your throat, his cock spewing viscous ropes of pearlescent cum. Jason’s frame fell slack against the sofa. Sated. Only you could loosen the tautness in his shoulders like a ball of yarn. Boy, did he adore you.” I hope you can go all night. Cuz I got some steam I been needin’ t’ blow off.”

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