#graverise

[brainrotss]

lost things and lazy days 🍯

jason todd x gn!reader

jason todd fluff + suggestive content towards the end

Jason had declared a day off, a rare phenomenon in itself. It was the kind of occasion you’d once thought would mean indulgent, lazy hours together: coffee in bed, a nap in the sunlight streaming through the windows, maybe even some takeout for dinner. But Jason wasn’t particularly good at being idle. He’d lasted exactly an hour before retreating to the fire escape with a book in hand and a cigarette between his lips, leaving you alone to your own devices.

And so, naturally, you’d filled the time by cleaning. The laundry was folded and tucked away, the sink sparkled, and your jewelry box—which hadn’t been touched in months—was finally getting its due. You’d made an afternoon of it, wiping down necklaces, untangling chains, and polishing earrings you’d forgotten you owned.

It wasn’t until you came across your nose stud—the tiny gold one Jason had always complimented—that you paused. Next to it was the new one he’d given you, sleek and crimson, the faint outline of his Red Hood emblem carved delicately into the design. You turned it over in your fingers, smiling faintly. It was so uncharacteristic of him to pick something so refined, but somehow, it suited you.

With a determined nod, you decided to make the switch. Carefully, you unscrewed the gold stud, balancing it between your fingers—only for it to slip, hit the floor with a faint plink, and vanish.

“Shit,” you muttered, dropping to your hands and knees. The jewelry couldn’t have gone far. You swept your hand under the dresser, the nightstand, even the edge of the rug. Still, nothing.

“Should I be concerned?” Jason’s voice cut through your muttering, tinged with amusement.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder. He stood in the doorway, his broad frame backlit by the pale winter light streaming through the living room. His arms were crossed, and he wore the kind of smirk that promised trouble.

“Jason,” you sighed, exasperated. “Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

But he didn’t move. His gaze swept over you slowly, deliberately, taking in the sight of you on all fours, hair falling in your face, your body arched in a position that was clearly making it difficult for him to focus.

“Help you?” he repeated, tilting his head as his smirk widened. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve got it under control.”

You huffed, pushing back a strand of hair and fixing him with a glare. “I dropped my nose stud—the one you like. If I don’t find it, it’s gone forever. So stop staring and do something.”

Jason stepped into the room, crouching down beside you with a casual ease. His grin didn’t waver; if anything, it grew sharper. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I kind of like this. You, on your hands and knees, asking for my help.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, though you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the floor.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “If you wanted me to walk in on this, you could’ve just said so. No need to drop expensive jewelry to get my attention.”

“Jason,” you warned, the edge in your voice tempered by the faint tremor of amusement.

“What?” he asked, innocent as ever. “You can’t blame your boyfriend for appreciating the view.”

You sighed, crawling toward the dresser. “If you’re not going to help, you can leave.”

Jason chuckled, finally lowering himself fully to the floor. “Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist—unless that’s part of the plan too.”

“Jason.”

“Fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s find your precious stud before you combust.”

For a while, the two of you searched in relative silence, Jason occasionally tossing out comments about how nose studs were designed to torment people or how you should consider wearing something less tiny next time. You ignored him for the most part, though your cheeks stayed warm, his earlier words echoing in the back of your mind.

“Got it,” he said finally, fishing the stud out from under the bed. He held it up between two fingers, the gold glinting faintly in the light. “See? I’m a goddamn hero.”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly, reaching for it. But Jason pulled his hand back, his grin returning in full force.

“Hold up,” he said. “You’re not getting this back for free.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jason, give it to me.”

“Not until you thank me properly,” he said, his tone dropping into something warmer, darker. “You know, for saving the day.”

You arched an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait. “And what, exactly, would a ‘proper’ thank-you entail?”

Jason leaned closer, his free hand brushing lightly against your jaw. “I think you know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You met his gaze evenly, though your heart betrayed you by skipping a beat. “Tell you what,” you said, snatching the stud from his hand before he could react, “I’ll give you a proper thank-you after I clean up the mess you’ve been leaving all week.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard for a split second, before a slow grin spread across his face. “We're about to make a bigger one baby, cmon” he purred.

“don't care, you aren't getting out of this,” you countered, standing and brushing off your knees.

Jason stood too, stepping closer until there was almost no space between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you gently against him. “You’re lucky I like it when you fight back,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

“And you’re lucky I have the patience of a saint,” you shot back, though your voice softened as his fingers traced lazy circles against your hip.

Jason laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained, before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Careful, sweetheart,” he said, his grin turning almost wolfish. “I’m not as patient as you.”

[brainrotss]

jason todd x gn!reader

heavily inspired by this

Jason slipped into the apartment like a shadow, careful to keep his steps light despite the solid weight of his boots. Patrol had been manageable—if by manageable you meant chasing down some street-level punks who couldn’t tell the difference between bravado and stupidity—but the tension still clung to him. It always did. He dropped his helmet on the counter with a faint clunk, shrugging off his jacket in one practiced motion, and glanced toward the bedroom. The faint amber glow of the bedside lamp leaked out through the crack in the door, the only sign you were still awake.

He pushed the door open softly, leaning his broad frame against the doorway. You were nestled under the covers, your head propped on a pillow, entirely absorbed in the glow of your phone. The faint blue light reflected off your face, catching the flicker of your eyelashes as you stared at the screen. You didn’t even look up.

Jason narrowed his eyes, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Still awake?” he asked, his voice low and familiar, gravel-soft with the lingering chill of the night air.

“Mhm,” you replied, barely acknowledging him, your attention still locked on whatever was playing on your phone.

Jason huffed a quiet laugh, stepping inside and letting the door creak shut behind him. He leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the bed, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “No ‘Hey, Jay,’ no ‘How was patrol?�� Just... this?” He motioned toward your phone with a tilt of his chin, his voice carrying an edge of mock indignation. “What’s so important that I don’t even get a kiss?”

Still, you didn’t look up. “It’s nothing,” you said vaguely, brushing him off.

Jason’s brows furrowed as he shifted closer, the springs of the mattress dipping under his weight when he perched on the edge of the bed. “What are you watching?” His voice was sharper now, playful but probing, and before you could stop him, he reached over and plucked one of your earbuds free.

The sound hit him immediately—a voice, low and accented, dripping with theatrical seduction. “Mi amor... step closer, and let me show you the eternity you were destined for...”

Jason froze, staring at the tiny screen as though it might explain itself. Then his head snapped toward you, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “What the—are you listening to some guy pretend to be a vampire?”

“It’s ASMR,” you said simply, as if that clarified everything.

Jason’s eyes narrowed further. “ASMR? This guy’s seducing you like it’s prom night for the undead, and you’re calling it relaxing?”

“It is relaxing,” you said, finally glancing up at him with an amused smirk. “He’s got the whole vibe down.”

“The vibe down?” Jason repeated, his voice pitching higher with mock outrage. He pointed at your phone accusingly. “This guy couldn’t vibe his way out of a coffin.” His tone turned defensive as he straightened up. “I could do better.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” Jason shot back, leaning in slightly as if to prove a point. “I got range. Watch this.” Clearing his throat, he pitched his voice low, adopting a softer, more deliberate cadence. “Mi amor... come with me into the night, where the moonlight... uh, whatever.. shines? No, wait. Shadows. Shadows are better.” He faltered for a second, but recovered quickly, his expression deadly serious. “Together, we’ll... I don’t know, drink some wine? Dance in graveyards or something”

You tried to stifle a laugh, but it broke through anyway, soft and breathless, filling the quiet room. Jason’s confidence cracked as he leaned back, his brow furrowing with mock annoyance. “What?” he demanded, though the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him.

“You were doing okay,” you said, barely managing to get the words out between laughs, “until you mixed up goths and vampires dancing.’”

Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair as he fell back against the bed. “Whats the difference?” he muttered, though the faint blush creeping up his neck said otherwise. “At least I don’t sound like Señor Sparkle over there.”

Still laughing, you leaned over him, grinning as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry,” you teased, your tone light and mischievous. “I’ll only choose him when you leave me all alone.”

Jason’s head snapped toward you, his expression caught somewhere between shock and betrayal. “You did not just say that.”

Before he could protest further, you reached over and clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness as you giggled uncontrollably. “Goodnight, Jay,” you called sweetly, burying yourself under the covers.

Jason groaned again, though you could hear the faintest trace of a laugh in his exasperated tone. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, sliding into bed beside you. “I save the city, and this is what I come home to.”

Still grinning, you nestled against him, feeling the tension ease from his body despite his grumbling. “You’ll always be my favorite,” you murmured, your voice soft now.

“Damn right I will,” he said, pulling you closer. “But don’t think I’m letting this go.”

[brainrotss]

okay but imagine batdad!bruce who is continuously trying to prove he is not as old as you make him out to be, especially since you’re his younger spouse.

The batkids see you as their second parent and constantly join you when you make fun of his age all the time, calling him old man or grandpa and imitating those old man grunts. Bruce usually ignores it until one night where you call him grandpa and everyone chimes in with their own insults.

“oh yeah? I’ll show you what this grandpa can do” in trying to prove his point he picks you up first before picking up the babies of the family, cassandra and damian. This causes a chain reaction as the rest of the children gather and start piling onto Bruce, who seems to be doing just fine holding all of you. That is until Dick and Jason join in on the fun, climbing on top of Bruce wherever they fit. You can feel the strain on Bruce but as stubborn as ever he denies it, until he sets all of you down before taking a step and grabbing his lower back with a strangled yelp.

The old man had pulled a muscle and had to be carried by you, Dick and Jason to drag him onto the couch. Where you all climbed onto his back, pretending to give him a madsage while telling him that it's for his own benefit as he grumbles an excuse that if he stretched before he would’ve been fine.

His back remained sore until he saw a proper masseuse the following week.

[brainrotss]

the way i just took the biggest fall from the smallest chair is exactly my reason why i dont want to live anymore

[brainrotss]

I understand that life has accepted me with open arms, but I am not ready to accept life just yet.

[brainrotss]

CEMETARY COUTURE !

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