#jason todd x y/n

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

panty stealing perv jason around puppy! reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

perv!jason x puppy!reader

smutty

a/n: this may possibly be part 1 bc i wanna have them FUCK but lmk

part 1 (currently) | part 2 |

jason todd didn’t have much of a social life, working away in the garage with nothing but his own thoughts was slowly driving him insane. one day, he came back from the garage and saw a moving truck outside the house next door. he knew new neighbors were coming, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon.

not that it mattered anyways, he didn’t even socialise with anyone.

next morning when he was making his early cup of coffee the doorbell rang, who could it possibly be? there was no one that cared enough about him to visit him at his own house. when he opened the front door he was met with a giant beaming smile. a younger girl, her eyes staring at him expectantly as she held out a tray of cookies.

“for my new neighbour,” she spoke happily, her smile as sweet as the scent of the cookies under his nostrils. “i don’t eat cookies,” jason grumbled, preparing to close the door on her until her foot stopped it.

“come on, it’s delicious, i baked it myself,” she grinned placing the tray even closer to him. it was very clear that she never heard the word ‘no’ through her actions of acting like a little pestering puppy. jason grabbed the tray before slamming the door in her face.

later that night jason was preparing to sleep early due to heavy work at the garage. the last thing he expected to see was you changing right in front of your window, curtains open. clearly, you were unaware of your current situation, stripping down from your mini dress where you were only in your tiny baby pink bra and panties. jason knew it was wrong to stare, god he probably looked like a pervert right now, and his thoughts further reinforced that.

he admired the soft delicate curves on your body, wondering how it would feel under his calloused hands. everything stopped the moment you removed your bra and panties before walking to the bathroom door. jason tried his best to not feel guilty about the whole situation, though the strain in his pants didn’t help the situation.

next day he left his house as early as he could to avoid you from knocking on his door again, despite his guilt his mind was constantly replying to what he saw from the window. though jason couldn’t even make it to the truck before he heard your voice calling out.

“hey!” you beamed skipping towards his truck in the driveway, wearing the tiniest two-piece pyjama set he as ever seen in his life. jason groaned, this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen.

“heard you are a mechanic and like to fix things,” she smiled, completely unaware of the effect she had on him. jason raised his brow, “what do you need that has to be fixed” his arms crossed around his chest and he swore he saw her checking his muscles out.

“my drawer broke during the moving process, so i got a new one but i don’t know how to build it.” it was a bad idea, a really really, bad idea. going to her house, let alone her bedroom after last night was something he shouldn’t do, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“sure.”

**

it was going well, for the most part, building furniture was like child's play for jason, which was why he had finished the drawer pretty quickly. however, she insisted that she baked him something to eat as a ‘thank you’, despite jason’s protest it became pretty clear she always got what she wanted. trying to stay away from her jason offered to help build her other furniture after seeing all of the boxes in her room. he started to build her vanity, quickly working on placing it together.

however, one thing caught his attention. in the pile of clothes she had dumped he saw the same baby pink panties slightly hidden by the pile of other clothes, anyone else would’ve overlooked it but he couldn’t.

“jay! cookies are ready!” her voice breaking him out of his trance. he knew he shouldn’t, it was wrong, so goddamn wrong. before he could even think rationally he took the flimsy piece of fabric and shoved it into his back pocket.

he felt guilty, you were so blissfully unaware as you rambled on about the moving situation, jason’s mind clearly not listening as he thought about the fabric in his back pocket. “i should go,” he grumbled standing up, you pouted at how quickly he wanted to leave.

“you sure? you can stay for dinner,” you smiled in an attempt to brighten the mood. jason didn’t care, already making his way to the front door. “no, it’s all good. thanks for the cookies.”

you quickly followed him, your bare feet padding down the hallway. “wait! at least take the cookies with you,” you pouted as your hands held out the tray. “it’s fine, really.”

did he hate you that much?

**

answer is no. jason was currently jerking off with your panty, the fabric covering his dick as he strokes it with his hand. “f-fuck,” he groaned as his head falls back on the pillow, his eyes shut. the material was soft, he wondered what it would feel like to have him rubbing his cock against your clothed cunt, maybe you would be so soaked that he could basically see the whole damn thing.

he wasn’t a saint when he went to your house even after stealing your panty, the way his eyes focused on your ass when you pranced around shorts that were so short leaving your cheeks exposed. he watched as you squeezed the syrup sauce on your drink. the way you frowned when you squeezed it and nothing came out, so you decided you point the nuzzle toward you, as you inspected it and squeezed it. once it finally worked, the thick sugary syrup squirting on your cheek slightly he wondered how you would react if it was his come painting your pretty little face when you sucked him off.

would you have giggled as you did with the syrup? grabbing the sugary liquid off your face with your finger before sucking it off with a ‘pop’?

god he didn’t even want to talk about how your tits shook when you pumped the syrup out. the tight shirt with no bra meant he saw every little movement. the way they moved with your hands as you shook the bottle.

as much as he didn’t want to admit it, you following him around as a little lost puppy was adorable. you were so obedient when he had asked for extra syrup on his drink purely because he wanted to see your tits move as you shook the bottle you were eager to comply. he was pretty damn sure that if he asked you to ride his boot you would with no hesitation.

the moment he had returned to his room he sniffed the material that was shoved in his back pocket, it was wrong, so wrong but he couldn’t stop. maybe if he stole all of your panties you would just prance around with your bare cunt. if he went by to your house to help with the remaining furniture and you were so dutifully adorable by baking him something sweet, he might catch a glimpse of your bare cunt bent over the kitchen bench as you baked. he also didn’t miss the way your tits were pushed together when you squeezed the icing on the cupcake you were baking for a party, he wondered what it would be like to hold them in his hands.

it wasn’t long before he came on your panty, his thick liquid spilling out tainting the material. god he was done for.

[adorephina]

Omg this is sooooo good!!! It’s too addicting I keep rereading! Love the way you write Jason!💚💚

The Alchemy vol. I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

vol II

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all. 

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative. 

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water. 

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury. 

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat. 

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?” 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door. 

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes. 

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand. 

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his. 

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not���ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on. 

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.” 

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not. 

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.” 

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.” 

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse. 

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?” 

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over. 

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.  

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.  

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.  

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly. 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.  

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles. 

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.  

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no. 

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch. 

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated. 

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar. 

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.” 

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.” 

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second. 

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.    

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over. 

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?” 

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.” 

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.” 

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing. 

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself. 

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces. 

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

 You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.” 

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.” 

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it. 

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.  

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”  

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at. 

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?” 

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”      

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down. 

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut. 

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?” 

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly. 

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.  

Alright, one step at a time.   

vol II

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Hi Rae!! Congrats so much on the 1.5k!! Been a longtime fan of this blog and I'm always blown away by your works.

For the event can I ask for domestic life/married life headcannons? Or just hear you yap on how Jason and Arkham Knight Jason act in those situations? I personally think Jason would act as a doting, head over heels almost worshipping his darling spouse. Whereas Ak! Jason would kinda be the dark romance almost mafia archetype instead, but on the more quiet obsessive devotion and acts of service galore side with a dash of occasional bordering on if not yandere-ism because of his paranoia and being very overprotective but his spouse has a general idea of what their husband does.

Once again, congratulations and you deserve every follow and reblog and like.

- Rosa🧸🤎

Domestic Headcanons

Hi, thank you so much! Hope you enjoy!

Honestly, I could ramble about whether or not I think AK would ever get married, but it's not about that rn ~700 words

Jason

His favorite thing in the world is waking up next to you. Really, he doesn't think anything beats opening his eyes and seeing the morning sun glint off the metal bands around his and your ring finger. He'll ignore the growling in his stomach and the alarms about to go off for as long as he can, just for another moment to hold you in his arms, warm and tucked away from the world

Speaking of wedding rings, Jason is constantly twisting or fiddling with yours. It's mostly because he's just in awe that it's there, real and cool, and glittering on your finger. He likes to take the opportunity to tease you about buying a bigger rock, even if you tell him anything bigger would look ridiculous and just get you mugged. (He can handle a mugger– or five– so he doesn't think that should be an issue)

Nothing feels like a chore when he's doing it with you. Folding laundry to your favorite tv show, washing dishes while talking about everything and anything, making meals while your music fills the kitchen– he loves it all. Just being in your space, lingering in the mundane, day to day tasks feels special when he gets to see you smile and laugh at whatever joke he's made 

You share the same blanket when you're sitting on the couch, always. He made a point of buying the largest, softest one he could find in your favorite color, more or less for the excuse to have you close. Neither of you mind cuddling together, of course, but it's still an unspoken rule that if either of you comes to sit next to the other, you lift the blanket for them, even when you fight

Matching Fuzzy Socks for every occasion. Neither of you necessarily wear them out of the house, but when you're home and Gotham is cold, there are, in fact, heated debates and competitions over who gets to pick what set you're both going to wear that day. (Yes, his favorite pair are the Red Hood ones, and no, he doesn't think that says anything about his ego. They're just the fluffiest and therefore, the best) 

AK!Jason

The Arkham Knight comes from a crueler version of Gotham, but he is by no means cruel to you. There are nights where he's sharper, tensing at every noise and bump that sounds too close to your windows and doors, but it only serves to make him hold you closer, ever watchful for danger that could cause you harm– threats that would take you from him

He doesn't go out with you often, but he tries to make up for it in his own way. Public dates are rare, if they happen at all, but he doesn't hesitate to try and make you feel special when you do go out. Entire theaters are rented out in your name, museums and galleries are closed just so you can walk arm and arm through marbled halls without anyone else around 

When you're both together, he's always in your space, always finding an excuse to touch you. He only ever softens under your gaze, only ever feels at home when your hands hold his. He'll fixate on the ring you wear often. He likes pressing a kiss to the cold jewel that catches light so perfectly on your finger. It always feels so big, knowing you said yes, knowing you willingly tied yourself to him for eternity 

He constantly comes home with gifts– whether it be flowers, food, jewels, clothes, or trinkets– he rarely comes back empty handed. It's less out of a love language, but more out of a desire to show you he's worth being with. The Arkham Knight– before, during, and after he held the name– always has something to prove. But that doesn't mean the thanks you give, the kisses to his cheek and the smiles you offer, are any less special to him (or that his actions mean any less) 

He finds comfort in the long moments of silence. Don't get it wrong, he loves to listen to you talk, but there's something about just being in each other's presence without the need for words that soothes something fragmented deep in his soul. He likes to listen to you breathe, feel the rise and fall of your chest against him while he reads whatever book you're flipping through over your shoulder. Those are the only times he ever really feels peace anymore

[fawnindawn]

Jason Todd is sure he's never met someone as good as you.

In a city as vile as the one he crawled out of, he's gotten near bullseye on the portfolios he makes for every single bastard that breaths and sins in this city. He thinks he's got it narrowed down, and he's all but decided that there isn't a single living person he will ever let his guard down for again- till he meets you.

Technically, you've all but forced yourself into his world. He thinks it's a cruel joke sometimes, how the world forced everything he had out of him, forcing him to forget how to love, how to treat every word as just that and not an underlying threat, how to have a proper relationship with anyone- before they tossed you into his path. Like a whirlwind, it was impossible not to grasp onto you when you were so good, so unlike anything in him.

"I want to be so good for you, baby." He breathes into your skin, wrapping you into his arms and holding onto you, hoping that if he somehow engraves his promise into this moment, he'll hold it forever.

"But you already are." Then, you look at him with that look of yours that reminds him that he's still alive, because his heart near leaps out of his body to land right into your palm. You treat him with such tenderness he couldn't have even envisioned in his dreams. You're nothing he could've come up with. When he looks into his own reflection, he thinks he sees what everyone sees. A failure of a project trying to make some good in this world even when he has nothing good in him. A madman trying to fix what can't be fixed, whether that be the city or himself. Then he looks into your eyes, and he can't see all that through the adoration so evident in your gaze.

Sometimes, you look at him and he thinks that if anything he knows about love, it's all just you. What is love, if not the utter devotion that runs through his blood, night after night where he cleanses the city, knowing that the very next night, some other thug or crook will replace the one he's gotten rid of. It's a never ending process that seems to see no end, but when he comes home to you, and oh god, does the idea of going to a home with you in it push him through everything.

He still struggles to word it, how your existence seems to shatter every concept he's had of the world, how he's never felt hope the way he's had since he started daydreaming about a future with you. He doesn't think the simple word, love, can capture what he sees, thinks, and feels about you. You're everywhere in his fractured mind.

The long-minute hugs standing in the kitchen, the way he goes silent when you rant about your latest discovery on the internet because he's hit with the sudden thought that he's here with you and you exist, the kisses he presses on the indent near your shoulder as he presses himself into that very spot, the way he always finds his way back home to you no matter what because he refuses to leave you afraid and waiting for him to come home. He'll always come home to you, because you are his home.

[marigold-field]

Okie do you have any head canons for maybe Jason with a reader who is like maybe burnout /exhausted

…I’m projecting but that’s ok

If you don’t I totally get it and hope you have a good day !!! ✨✨

a/n: thank you for your request! i definitely got carried away…slightly self indulgent 😭. i’m obsessed with jason being a softie

- jason todd was no stranger to the overwhelming feeling of being stuck in a position of little to no upward movement. that feeling of consistent failure to find joy in the things that should be enjoyable

- so, it didn’t take long for him to notice that you, his loving girlfriend, was going through a rough patch

- you had been drowning in work—either from school or from your job—and felt as though the pressure was 100% on you

- with no motivation whatsoever, that work continued to pile and it got harder and harder to get through the days

- fearful of adding onto the burden you knew Jason carried on his shoulders, you did your best to hide it

- over the last week and a half he had came home to you with your face in your hands, crying like there was no tomorrow, more times than he felt comfortable

- you’d immediately sit up, wipe your face, and chuckle as you said it was just because you’d watched a sad movie or finished a sad book

- he could see right through you (i mean, he was trained to be an expert at analyzing situations and he wasn’t born last night)

- instead of asking you a multitude of questions, he’d just hug you and assure you that he was there to comfort you

- on the third instance of this, jason had concocted a plan to try and make you feel better

- he’d leave gorgeous flower arrangements in the vase on your desk, complete with a note card in his scraggly handwriting

- he’d began leaving messages in the margins of notebook paper strewn across your desk, saying things you’d only ever read in Jane Austen novels

- every night he’d hold you tighter than he usual does, allowing you to completely melt into the warmth of his strong and muscular embrace

- one night during dinner he’d finally muster up the courage to ask you what it was that had been bothering you

- slightly hesitant, you let the flood gates open and began rambling off all the thoughts you’d been holding in

- though he struggled with vulnerability, he knew he had to be strong for you. while powdering you with light kisses, running his calloused fingers through your hair, and holding your hand tightly, you eventually dozed off with your head resting against his broad shoulder

- he looked down at you with a lovesick look and vowed to do whatever he could to never have you go through struggles like this alone, ever

i love him so much AHH!! i hope you enjoyed <3 critiques and comments welcome!

[marshiewritesfics]

The Batboys When You Wear Their Clothes

DICK GRAYSON-

- he loves when you wear his clothes

- you’ll steal his hoodies or his shirts and you’ll be lounging in them once he gets home

- “Stealing my clothes again, love?”

- you’d smile and give him a cheeky grin and kiss on the lips in response

- Dick had some clothes that he specifically leaves out for you to wear and adores when he sees them on you

- it honestly makes him go crazy for you (in the best way possible)

JASON TODD-

- Jason thinks it’s so cute when you wear his clothes

- He loves when you playfully wear his shirts around the house

- “Looks like someone’s ready to kick butt!”

- “Just don’t get too used to my style.”

- He’s sure to tease you just a bit about wearing his clothes

- He’s secretly in love with it though

- Practically begs you to wear his clothes when you’re alone together

TIM DRAKE-

- Tim is shy and sweet when he sees you wearing his clothes

- “You pull that off way better that I do, y/n!”

- Tim is seen blushing around you and gets all shy when he sees you wandering the house in his clothes

- It makes him happy to see you wearing his hoodies and t shirts

- Tim even had a custom shirt made for you that’s modeled after one of his suits which you cherish

[maj-b-s]

Jason: I'm sexy .

Y/n: Yes, and a lot.

Jason: Tasty.

Y/n: Aham.

Jason: And handsome.

Y/n: Yes, I'm glad you know, dear! And cute too.

Jason: Then why doesn't anyone flirt with me?

Y/n: ....

Y/n: The person's density can't be put into words, I'll pretend I didn't hear this because I feel like my flirting skills are trash right now.

jason: Were you flirting with me?

Y/n: Yes.

Jason: Oh.

[cl0v3risn0td3dy3t]

He misses u :((

y r u ignoring him? :( </3

I hc that he's needy and will assume ur mad at him <3

[gatawoman]

What Cat?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Latina!Reader!Fem!Reader x Red Hood

Quick Summary: You are Selina Kyle’s adopted daughter, dating Jason Todd. You’re not adopted legally, but she secretly took you in as a child. You avoid the chaotic life your mom and boyfriend live, but a fluffy little creature has other plans.

A/N: The reader uses some Caribbean Spanish slang:

• Micho (means kitty)

• Bodega (corner store/deli)

• Coño (fuck)

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆

For as long as you can remember, ever since you were “adopted” by Selina, she has tried to keep you away from the vigilante, anti-hero, and villain lifestyle. It wasn’t just her decision—it was mutual. You wanted to live a “normal life,” as normal as Gotham could get. The one thing that connects you both is your love for cats, which leads you to your current predicament: chasing an injured, homeless black cat through Gotham’s docks at 1 a.m.

“Micho, Micho, come here, cutie,” you coo in the sweetest voice you can manage.

“C’mon, gatita, I have food for you.”

With a deep sigh, you place a can of sardines on the cold, concrete, grime-stained ground. What were you even thinking? It’s the middle of winter, and you’ve been chasing this cat for 30 minutes. You have no idea where you are. All you know is that you’re in the docks—in Gotham—at 1 a.m.—in the freezing cold. And as the chill seeps into your bones, all you can think is, If I’m cold, the cat has to be colder. So, you do what anyone with a heart would do. You keep chasing it.

“I’m gonna leave this precious new can of sardines here, okay?” you call out, a teasing edge to your tone. “Hopefully, no one takes i—”

Your sentence is cut short by a buzz from your phone.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out the glowing device, its brightness stinging your eyes, now accustomed to the dark. The caller ID reads Cat Mom.

“Hello?” you answer, attempting your best “I’m-totally-asleep” voice.

“Explain to me why you’re near the Gotham docks at 1 a.m., Miss,” Selina’s sharp, sassy voice cuts through the line.

You cringe, instantly feeling like the little girl who once got caught stealing candy from the corner bodega. Even though you’re 23 now, she still has that effect on you.

“What are you talking about? I’m in bed right now,” you lie weakly.

“WE share locations, remember?” she snaps.

Caught red-handed.

“I have a logical reason,” you admit. “A cat was cold and alone, and she looked so skinny. I had to help her.”

You know you’ve got her there—she is Catwoman, after all.

“Listen, I know you want to help, love,” she says, her tone softening. “But it’s freezing, and you’re in a dangerous area. Do you even know where you are?”

Her concern makes you uneasy. Selina doesn’t usually sound this worried unless something is serious. Taking the hint, you decide to head home.

“You’re right. I’m going ba—”

A loud bang echoes from one of the nearby shipping containers, cutting you off.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? What was that? You need to get out of there!” Selina’s voice rises in urgency.

Before you can respond, you feel a sharp object press against your back. Of course, this has to happen now, when you were just trying to do a good deed.

“Hang up the phone, doll,” a gruff, menacing voice orders.

Doing what anyone in your position would, you elbow the man in the stomach. Your phone clatters to the ground as Selina’s voice fades beneath the sound of the struggle.

“Bitch,” the man snarls venomously.

He lunges at you, slamming you against a shipping container. The impact makes your head spin, but you swing your fist, landing a punch to his face. As he stumbles, you seize the chance to run—until he yanks you back by your hair.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, doll,” he growls, his voice dripping with malice.

Just as you muster the strength to keep fighting, a heavy thud echoes behind him. A dark figure looms.

“Now, you should know who guards this place by now,” a familiar voice growls.

You freeze, torn between relief and fear. As crazy as it sounds you now don’t know who to be more scared of, the guy or the person you know very well who’s voice that belongs to. And you knew you were in for a long night.

Jason grabs the man by the neck and slams him to the ground with brutal force.

“Scum like you shouldn’t even be alive,” Jason snarls, his fists pounding into the man.

“Red, that’s enough!” you plead. “Come on, he’s not responding.”

When he doesn’t stop, you reach out, resting your hand on his shoulder. He finally halts.

Without a word, Jason walks away, which you took as a cue you should follow. So you walk for like 3 minutes without a word being said. And you had enough of the silence, you have already been walking the whole night.

“Jay, I’m sorry, okay? I saw a little cat, and it was cold and—”

“Injured, yeah, I know. Selina called me. If she hadn’t, who knows what could’ve happened, do you even know you’re in The Hills Y/N?” he snaps, cutting you off.

You glance around, realization dawning. The fog, the docks, the 30 minutes of chasing the cat—you’re in The Hills, one of the most dangerous areas in Gotham. No wonder Selina was worried and why Jason is mad at you right now. Ever since you and Jason started dating, he’s warned you about the areas in Gotham that are red zones for crime—places he didn’t want you near, especially with a war between crime lords raging on. Things weren’t exactly stable, and all he wanted was to keep you safe. He’d always said that losing you would be unbearable—not just because it’s his job to protect, but because he can’t imagine a life without you. Those are words he can’t bring himself to say right now, though; there’s already too much hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I wasn’t thinking I truly didn’t know I was in The Hills ,” you say, guilt weighing on you. You were tired and now just wanted to go home to your shared bed.

Jason sighs, his anger softening as he sensed the feeling of you being overwhelmed with the events of tonight. He wraps his arms around you, and you melt into his embrace and let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s just go home. I just want you safe.”

You look around to scope the scenery and make sure no one is around. You make eye contact with Jason and he already knows what you are asking for as he simply does a small nod in response. Your hands find their way to his mask where you take it off and now see his face with the Domino mask only hiding off the top. And you lean in to give him a quick little kiss. As you pull back from the peck he leans in again wanting more. And who are you to reject this beautiful man?

“Meow.”

You pull away, startled.

“Oh my God, Micho! I knew you’d come back!” you exclaim, scooping up the fluffy black cat.

Jason smirks. “So, you weren’t delusional after all.”

Despite the events of the night , you head home with the love of your life and a new addition to your humble family. As you hop into the back of Jason’s bike with your cat in your bag you realize something.

“Coño, I forgot my phone, Jay.”

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:

A/N: Hi cuties! As always, if you have any requests, let me know—I’ll gladly write them. Hope you enjoyed!

[l-starlight-l]

The love of a hero

Two worlds collide

Previous: Masterlist

A/n: the gala chapter will def be the next one, this one is more of a filler chapter while I work on that one. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: moody Jason

Description: Dick gives you some wise advice about your messy love life and the boy in question gets alittle jealous.

Pairing: dick x reader (platonic) Jason/Red x reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt nothing but confused these past few days. Jason was on a business trip and you hadn’t seen the red hood since he kissed you. You didn’t know what to do, who to pick. You may have been mad at red but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel that spark between you two. So in your mixed up mind, you did the only things that would make you feel better and called dick.

You two were meeting up at a bar in downtown Gotham. You had heard good things about it from coworkers but you were more excited about seeing your best friend. When you got there, he was already waiting outside like the gentleman he has always been.

When the two of you got settled, with no hesitation, he asked what was wrong. Was it that obvious, you thought to yourself already embarrassed. You weren’t sure where to start this long, confusing story., so you start with “I like this boy”. He raised a teasing eyebrow at you. A loud sigh escaped your mouth as you admitted, “and I think I like this other guy”.

He laughs and your body flinched with more embarrassment. “You don’t know who to choose?” He asked already knowing the answer.

You take a big sip of your drink before starting, “yes” you confessed, “there’s the one, my neighbor, he’s so sweet and kind and I actually feel like I know him, but the other guy” you smiled to yourself, “he’s kind of a mystery but he’s been opening up. The problem is I invited my neighbor to Bruce’s gala, so I thought we were like, I don’t know”.

He nods as you spit out all of this important, “together”.

“Well not together but getting there” you sigh with a flush creeping up your cheeks, “but the mystery guy kissed me, a few days ago and I think it changed things”. Guilt starts to work its way back into your mind, “I don’t want to hurt either of them, I just don’t know what to do”. Your eyes feel hot as tears start to prick your waterline. It didn’t seem so real until you said it out loud.

Your eyes close, on a verge of a meltdown when you hear that familiar laugher from dick. “You’ve only been in Gotham what, a few months and the men seem to be surrounding you”. You shoot him a dirty, but light hearted look. “Hey, I saw just let it play out, bring this neighbor boy to the gala and see how you feel after. You’re not dating either of them so it’s not like you’re cheating.” He orders you another drink seeing as you finished yours fast, “give yourself a break, you’re to overworked to be crying about boy drama that isn’t even boy drama”

Your shoulders relax as you take in his advice. He’s right of course, it’s not like the kiss was cheating. There was something about him that always made you feel better, maybe it was how long you’ve known him, his great advice or his annoying whit. Now knowing how pent up you’ve been it’s his mission to give you a good night out. You order way too many shots and by midnight you’re bother pretty wasted, you more than him. “Let me walk you home” he offers standing but sways a bit as he reaches for your hand. You interlock your arms to help steady you both and let him lead you back to your apartment. It’s such a normal touch between you that you think nothing of it, your interlinked arms make you seem like a sort of couple from outsiders. Even though that would never be the case no matter what state of mind the two of you are in.

You say your good byes and make him promise to text you when he gets home before going up to pass out or perhaps throw up. It’s a 50/50 at the moment. As soon as you make it up the stairs a massive figure appears in front of dick. “What are you doing” Jason’s deep, angry voice demands.

Dick is unbothered by his brother’s temper, he’s always mad about something or someone. He’s usually mad at him though. Lately dicks noticed TAHT hasn’t been the case, he’s caught the broody man smiling down at his phone or even just to his own thoughts. “Walking my friend home” he responds like it’s obvious.

A violent snarl escapes Jason’s mouth, he’s wearing his hood but from his voice dick can tell this isn’t the usual red hood anger. “How do you know her?” He barks out accusatory.

Dick takes a step back, sobering up now, “she’s my friend Jay, why are you so mad?” The seriousness in dicks voice calms Jason’s nerves. He just scoffs before disappearing back into the alley. “The fuck is his problem” dick mutters to himself before heading home. In the back of his mind he thinks about what your neighbor is like and hope that he has a better temper than his younger brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ditzydoe444]

Jason sucking on your tits and fingering you at the same time while you squirm and cry and he doesn't stop cause he likes it so much 🙏🏼

MDNI 18+

mean! jason x reader

jason todd smut

jason had you perched up on his lap, withering and crying whilst he was knuckles deep into your cunt. “such a pretty little thing,” he cooed softly, as he left wet kisses on your neck before going down and sucking your tits. the sensation was too much, you were squirming and bouncing trying to get away, tears streaming down your face as he did. jason noticed, his grip tightened around your waist, while the other hand continued abusing your cunt. “don’t even think about runnin’ away doll.”

you were a mess, literally. damp spots soaked jason’s grey sweatpants as you continued to coat his fingers with your slick, your tits covered with marks and saliva from jason sucking on your nipples. “you can take it sweet thing,” he mumbled, against your swollen buds. you shook your head, “too much jay,” you whined as you clung to him for dear life.

the moment jason slapped your clit you whined, immediately you tried squirming away from his lap. “shut up and take it, you were talkin’ so much you can't even keep your word?” he spat out harshly, as one of his hands gripped the back of your neck tightly as the other one abused your cunt. “you’re gonna cum on my hands and it’s final.”

jason loved seeing you cry during sex, there was just something about watching you wither on his lap whilst he abused your cunt and pretty tits. the soft flesh of your tits was slightly pink from his bites and constant sucking, whilst your cunt was making the most lewd sounds.

“j-jay!” you whined as your hips buckled up, your entire body going limp. “shh, sweetheart,” he whispered softly as he squeezed your neck. “you don’t wanna back off from your words do you? you know how much i hate that and what will happen.”

you won’t come if you back down from your words. jason had been busy for the past week, the garage needing his attention more than ever, and obliviously you felt neglected. you weren’t, he made sure to show his affection by cooking breakfast and making sure you for fucked in the early mornings. obviously, you were a brat and were acting out. jason never tolerated brats.

hence why your cunt was all swollen and puffy same with your tits, “whiny things need to get disciplined,” jason said firmly as he focused on how your folds took his fingers.

“actin out so much i don’t even know if ill let you come from how you spoke to me,” he grunted as his hand around your waist dug in painfully. his lips sucked your left tit harshly, wet sucking sounds filling the room, whist his fingers pumped in and out of your cunt.

“jay!” you shouted with tears streaming down your face from overstimulation, you tried to shove his head away from your tit, only to have his hand around your waist going up and slapping the right one. “don’t you dare,” he glared as he sucked even harshly, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clit.

it was going to be a long night.

[figutii]

capo! jason todd. inspired by the g0dfather.

introduction.

exile is what could describe the situation best. in reality, no one knows - he's a dead man after all. that's what the slow waves of the turkish riviera remind him of again - of the fact that nobody misses him here nor anywhere.

"here, here," a thick accent appears behind the squealing seat. jason is quick, too quick when he turns his head to the fragile frame of a tanned man. gentle orbs dissapear behind heavy lids as he points at the red liquid in his hands - black tea or çay as the locals call it.

two cubes of sugar sit at the bottom of the saucer. "thanks..," he mumbles, not even considering to imitate a few phrases in their native tongue. for that, he has lived too long in a city like gotham. damn it, there he goes again.

a layer of steam covers the glass, little clouds ascending. it's a huge cultural shift but anyone here needs cooling - something he has to get used to for the meantime. he takes notes of the hot beverage for future missions in warmer surroundings.

ashes tickle down the lace tablecloth. the man across him exhales a few times, mustache yellowish from where the cigarette comes in contact. white collars and a thin sweater vest - probably knitted by the grandmas who've been giving him weird stares from their balconies and terraces as if he can't see them.

"brother," is what they have been calling him in turkish since hours and he honestly can't express how lowkey irritating it is. he collects himself and releases the pressure from his fist.

mustache tells him that his demands have been met without disturbances. good, he tells himself. went much smoother than he thought. normally, he would smash his way through his destination, but things outside of back there work different.

high demand for extortion money by the mafia and neglectance of villagers tell him otherwise. yet, he can't allow himself to be an eyesore in new territory too early on. the warm beret grinding against his hair shouldn't be in vain.

"… wanna drink?" the blonde man next to him wiggles around after mustache hits him on the neck. as much as he tries, he can't make out any of his words. by the looks of mustache's index finger, he definetely isn't conviced by the guy's drinking habit.

he apologizes. jason doesn't mind. they have finished today's task and that's all that matters to him. the blonde has been knocked out, hair swimming in the sheer white subtance when both of the men stand up without further words.

suddenly the café's owner appears in front of them, a little upset. jason is slightly taken back. is it the money? have they caused havoc? mustache approaches the little man. "he wants us to stay longer. mister çiçek doesn't want you to go yet," after some wild gestures made by the tanned owner, jason slowly understands his burden.

he doesn't let his guests go before a piece of baklava.

again, jason would have loved to return to his own room and search for comfort in his perusal. a piece of anatolian literature, a new space for him to explore. the book of my grandfather korkut. the view of the dusty oak bookshelf that was once covered by an embroidered piece of cloth somehow excites him more than it should. he remembers the roses and milk thistles with leaves on the rope.

when the crushed pistachio pieces on top of the golden brown pastry appear, mustache in the meantime drags the drunkard by his shoulders. both share a knowing look. the aroma of sugar penetrates his senses. he watches and watches. is he supposed pick it up with his fingers? he holds a little fork in his massive hands. he swallows. he can't bring himself to eat it.

so, he drops the fork.

fuck, he breathes out. he can't get a grip on what it is exactly. his eyelids queeze shut.

and before jason knows, he is already beneath the branches of almond trees, gone from the little white houses of clay. slowly, the earthy mist and dancing halms make him come down from the overwhelming weight.

damn you bruce.

it's the treat that alfred had served him on a polished fruit plate. souvenir from bruce wayne's business trip.

jason clenches his eyes shut.

make it go away. make it go away.

minutes pass until he is met with olive trees and the blue ocean again.

and you.

a monotone countanance staring right back at him. despite the modest distance, he couldn't spot judgement. jason though perceived it as intrusion, like those old women pushing their white curtains to the side whenever he walked down the road. would anyone grand him some privacy perhaps?

right then was the perfect time to let his frustration out and scream and shout but for some reason it wouldn't come out.

instead, he was too busy with the question of why in hell another villager was eyeing him, at his most vulnerable at that. it's when he observes how you move some hair strands out of your face, blinking when another set of breeze follows from the shore's side and washes particles against your legs. he lets his gaze slide further and takes the sundress in, how modest yet flattering it fits your body.

it the day when he realizes that your gaze has never been intruding to him.

✧　hi, my acc is new and i'm craving contact with this fandom hshs. my request box is open, so if you like the intro pls give me your opinions & requests! this will be similar to the mich. corleone's role. comments and reblogs are appreciated, they help us writers a lot.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

In A Moonlit Garden

AKA A Blood Bag side story (The DC vs Vampires AU) It didn't really fit within the flow of the main story, but the night where it all became too much, weeks before the fated ball, you tried to run. You didn't get very far. ~2k words

There's a weight on your back. It's heavy. Unyielding. Pushing you down. Down. Down. Something sharp rests at the base of your throat. It threatens to puncture your skin. You can't see it– you can't see anything really, but you know you're in danger. It presses you down harder, suffocates you with terror and it's steady pressure. The sharpness at the base of your throat pricks at you harder, nearly breaking into your flesh. 

Then there's nothing. You turn, you shouldn't, but you do. You turn and there's nothing there at all. You turn again. You can't stop yourself from doing it, a prisoner in your own body, even if you know what's coming.  

And then there's pain. Blinding pain in your chest that steals all the air in your lungs. You shouldn't look down, but you do. A familiar gloved hand holds your beating heart in its grasp, thrust out of your chest. It pounds once. It pounds twice. And then it goes still. 

A gasp leaves your lips as you're startled awake. It's the same dream. The same one that's been haunting you for weeks, ever since you saw what happens to Blood Bags that don't follow orders. The shocked face of the unfortunate, doomed Blood Bag is still seared into your mind, The Vampire King's gleeful laugh still rings in your ears, but it's never his hand that snaps you awake from your haunting nightmares.

You push yourself off the bed, groggy, exhausted, still drained and weak from the last time Jason– no, Red Hood fed on you. It's almost morning. Or maybe it's just past sunset. It's hard to tell. You've been sleeping a lot, locking yourself away in your room for a false sense of safety in this forsaken crypt. 

The sun isn't visible over the horizon, but streaks of orange and pink still linger in the sky. It's beautiful, too beautiful for the horrid world it's gracing. If you had any tears left to cry over it, maybe you would. But you're tired of mourning the end of the world, tired of the sting of betrayal that comes every time The General is in your presence. 

You have nothing, no one, besides memories now, and even those are fleeting when your nightmares hang heavy over your waking and sleeping hours. You linger by the window, eyes locked on the colors and light that paint the clouds. They're all that seem familiar, sometimes. 

Your room, even with its views of the well tended gardens and ever changing skies, does nothing to help you forget that you're a prisoner. No matter how soft your sheets are, no matter how fancy the clothes they dress you in are, no matter how high above everything your balcony seats you– it is all just part of a play. Set pieces that come and go at The Vampire King's whim, and, if he sees fit, Red Hood's. 

The thought only makes you more miserable. Jason– Red Hood. Red Hood hasn't said a word to you since you were taken to the fortress. He only comes to your room to feed, and only sees you outside of it on the rare occasion he drags you to a ball or festivity at court. 

It's all just so suffocating. You miss talking to him people. You miss wearing whatever you wanted to and going wherever you felt like. You don't have that in this death-filled castle. You don't have a thing but the few measly privileges that belonging to Red Hood offers you. 

The sky starts to darken. Sunset. It means the halls will fill with laughter and music and the sharp, rotting smell of blood. It makes your chin wobble. Even your room– furthest from the ground, stowed away in a wing where no one dares to go without permission– cannot keep the sounds and smells at bay. 

You want to scream. To tear everything apart. To climb up on the railings and stones of the fortress and wail as the sky fades from clear blue to shimmering stars against black. But you can do none of this. It would only lead to some form of punishment, after all. 

Your skin starts to itch at the thought. The bites that litter your skin suddenly feel all too fresh and raw. You don't think, just turn from your window and start to run. You don't have a plan, you just need to go.

Another second in this hell, another moment faking smiles and watching sharp nails split open warm wrists, you just can't take it. You run, run until your heart is in your throat and dirt and grass push between your toes.

The garden. The only place that seems to have any solace for you. But it's not right. It's too dark and the last of the sun is disappearing behind the cold, stone wall. You can't let that happen. You need its light, need it to keep away the monsters that creep in the dark.

You know that it doesn't make sense, that your thoughts are frayed and scrambled and far too stressed to be rational, but you just need a break from it all. One more moment in the sun.

You dart for the wall. Maybe if you climb high enough you'll never lose the light. Maybe if you're fast enough, you can chase the sunbeams forever, always out of reach of the night.

And then fingers curl around your wrist, and you're pulled to a stop, mere feet away from the garden wall. The last of the twilight fades, and the moon takes its place, its once soothing light now eerie among the flowers and bushes. 

You whirl around, you don't know who– or what you want it to be. But it's Red Hood. (It's always him) He doesn't say a word– he never does anymore– he just stares at you, almost bored, from under the crimson hood that used to actually mean something. His eyes glow unnaturally as he tightens and loosens his hold on your wrist, as if he's debating what to do. 

It's silent except for the sound of your breathing. And your hopelessness– your desire to just be free– melts into anger. "Let me go," you snap, tugging your wrist from his grasp. 

He lets you go without a fight, eyes sharp and calculating as he watches you. His gaze makes you feel like a cornered animal, and maybe that's all you are now. Maybe you are nothing more than a prized Blood Bag to be pranced around like some sort of show dog.

"How could you do this to me," you snap, voice catching and venomous all at once. He doesn't ask for you to elaborate, doesn't even tilt his head to indicate for you to do so. Why would he need to? The scars and fresh puncture wounds that mark up your skin so visibly are enough of an accusation alone.

His lack of words– lack of anything– reignites your fury all over again. Your face wobbles and you step forward, thoughtless, and hit your fist against his chest, "How. Could you. Do this. To me," you ask again, nearly begging for an answer, an explanation for everything that's happened, every horror you've witnessed under The Vampire King's roof.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't even move, just lets you bang your fists against his chest again and again until you feel like they're going to bruise.

"Jason! How could you–" But then he tenses, cuts you off by catching your wrists. There's a flash of something dark behind him. You don't quite get a look at it, too distracted by the way one of his hands grabs at your waist to pull you closer.. He tugs at your clothes, exposing your shoulder to the night. Goosebumps rise over your skin at the cold air. It's all the warning you get before he bites.

Sharp fangs pierce your flesh, pain shoots down your shoulder from where he sinks his fangs. His hands dig into your waist, the back of your head, keeping you still as he drinks. You feel warmth dripping down your skin, small trails of blood pooling into the fabric of your clothes. 

He shudders, and pulls you all the more closer. You want to keep hitting him, want to shout and fight and make him regret ever choosing this for you. But you're tired. So tired again. Your eyes find the pale white light of the moon. It blurs, as Red Hood continues to drink from your life blood. But it's pretty, almost numbing.

You fixate on it, lost to its false light, in the desire to just close your eyes and drift away, you don't register the shadows that seem to close in around you, only kept at bay the threatening, glowing pair of eyes hovering over your skin.

You're The Vampire King's favorite Blood Bag. Not for the same reasons as his favoured general, of course. But because you're so, so stupid. All the answers are right there at your fingertips. Everything you could want is laid out right in front of you, but you're too blind to see it. You tried to run from it instead. Dick could tell you, of course, in honor of the vague friendship you used to share. But that would spoil it all. 

He has to bite back the giggle that wells in his throat as he watches his little brother drink from your veins. He can almost feel the disgust, the self hatred and loathing permeating from him. But you don't pick up a thing. And that is so, so funny! It's the most entertained he's ever been, watching the soap opera that is Red Hood and his Blood Bag.

Dick knows Jason would do anything for you, but watching him corrupt himself from the inside out, seeing him truly become the most capable vampire in his court, all for the cause of keeping you safe? It's sweeter than any blood The Vampire King has ever spilled. And it's all the more delicious that you just. Don't. Know.

You don't know what his general has done. You don't see the mask for what it is. But Dick does. He knows Jason is just playing his part, that he doesn't mean any of it. It's not an issue yet. But The Vampire King hates loose ends. 

Soon enough, though, he's sure his finest general will forget that it's a mask, that the role was never truly real. Red Hood will learn to love what he's become, embrace every malicious bite and deadly scratch he delivers to his foes. Dick will have to use you to do it, of course, but you should be honored to serve a part in his plans.

He watches you both for a moment more, watches the way Red Hood keeps his claws from breaking the skin of your waist (always so careful with you, his general is, even when you've been given completely to him). He listens to the weakening whimpers that escape your throat as Jason licks away the path of blood from your skin, soothes the sting of his bite with his tongue. It's so falsely romantic, and almost sickening if he wasn't partially invested in his brother's love life. 

The Vampire King turns to leave, once your consciousness seems to fail you. He wouldn't want to overindulge in his favorite little comedy, after all, and it's hardly interesting now that you've stopped fighting. 

Besides, he has rebels to execute, parties to throw, punishments to deliver to his more unworthy spawn. He allows himself one last glance, vaguely wondering if his smile is too borderline sadistic when he's supposed to be cheerful. He's pleasantly surprised to meet Jason's gaze, and The Vampire King flicks his gaze down to where you're cradled in his generals arms. 

Dick nods to him, ever impressed at the show Red Hood continues to perform so flawlessly. It's nice, he decides as he walks away and leaves Jason to his own devices, to have someone so capable of delivering exactly what he wants without the need for words.

Entertainment, unfortunately, is so hard to come by once you've taken over the world, and you and Red Hood really are the most interesting toys he has. 

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: descriptions of grief and explicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

----------------------------------------------------------

“You were too good to be true …”

     He stood on the rooftop, surveying the street before him. It was deserted at this time of the night - no thanks to the curfew that had been implemented on the streets of Gotham ever since the appearance of the notorious Red Hood - but the building across from him had been sealed up anyway, sectioned off in preparation of its demolition. Jason dragged his gaze away from the broken shutter swinging off the window of the second floor apartment and glanced down at the empty market square. How … Why … What if … He sucked in a breath as a wave of incomprehensible thoughts flooded his mind and his heart squeezed in his chest as he watched the ghosts of a little boy and a little girl playing in the square. The girl was small and cute and completely aware of it, playing up her adorableness to gain attention and get some spare change from passers-by in the crowd surrounding her. The boy was thin and quiet, practically invisible as he snuck around picking the pockets of the people too busy paying attention to the little girl to notice. But the girl saw - she always saw him, no matter the size of the crowd, no matter the distance between them. Jason straightened suddenly when he heard the sound of soft footsteps landing on the rooftop behind him, but he refused to turn around. 

     She wrung her hands together, her nerves growing tighter and tighter with every second that he stayed frozen in place. But he’d kept his tracker on; he’d let her find him even though he clearly hadn’t forgiven her for rejecting his offer last night. She took a step forward, but hesitated when he still didn’t turn around. “Love?” 

     His jaw tightened at the sound of her voice; soft and pleading and … so sweet, always so sweet when it came to him. But he didn’t deserve such sweetness. Jason stood his ground, stubbornly ignoring the way his heart pounded in his chest, begging him to turn around and pull her into his arms and never let her go again. But then she continued. 

     “I need you,” X whispered, her voice so desperate - the same kind of desperate that had curled around his heart and squeezed when he’d woken up that morning without her soft curves filling all the empty spaces inside of him. Jason clenched his fists, struggling now to maintain his resolve … but somehow, he managed to stay in place. 

     She forced down a shallow breath, doing her hardest to breathe around the lump in her throat. The relief she’d gotten from talking to Dick had quickly turned into determination after he’d hung up and it had only taken her a few minutes to put on her vigilante outfit and follow the tracker Jason had let her put on him back to his old apartment. But if he shut her down - if he pushed her away and disappeared like he’d never even been there at all … 

     “Please?” Her voice cracked as she said it and the pained sound ripped his heart right down the middle. Jason sighed and turned around to face her, unable to hold his ground any longer. He walked over to her, his steps slow and careful, and stopped a few feet in front of her so there was still a bit of distance between them. X waited as he studied her from behind his helmet, but her body trembled as she looked up at him, her hands noticeably shaking despite her best efforts to disguise it. And suddenly, Jason felt all the hurt and the anger leave him. He closed the distance between them and lay his hand on her lower back, nudging her in the direction of her apartment. And this time, he was the one stopping to place a hand on her back every time they scaled another building or landed on another rooftop. 

     She gazed up at him as he took his helmet and jacket off and lay them on her dining table, too scared to even blink lest he disappear. So, Jason took a step closer to her and reached up to tug her mask off. He sighed when he saw the expression on her face. 

     She looked so scared. Helpless and vulnerable and terrified as she clutched her hands to her chest, curling into herself like she was trying to physically hold her heart together. Jason took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs across her skin, trying to soothe her. But she was still shaking. He guided her hands to his chest, laying them there so she could feel his heart - his warmth and the solidness of his body beneath her fingers - then he slid his hand along her cheek. 

     She whimpered softly when his lips landed on hers, his tongue brushing against her mouth to seek entry. She parted her lips for him, trying to drown herself in the taste of him - in the feeling of his body surrounding hers as he held her close to him - but her muscles were still tense with nerves. Jason kissed her slow and sweet, seeming to understand what she needed from him right then, and X tried to let herself relax as his hands travelled across her body, stroking her tenderly. She slid her hands up his chest and gripped his shoulders tightly as he began walking her backwards to her bedroom, and his fingers moved to undo her clothes, peeling them off one by one until she was standing in her bedroom, completely bare before him. 

     He sucked in a breath as he ran his fingers up and down her sides, still unable to get over how beautiful she was, then he took her hands and brought them to his waist. Her hands continued to shake as she started to remove his clothes, so Jason covered them with his and guided her patiently, unbuckling and unzipping until there was nothing left between them anymore. Then he lowered his lips to her shoulder and began walking her to the edge of her bed. 

     His lips swept across her bare skin, licking and tasting her while his hands kept her pressed up against his body, and X felt herself relax even more as she breathed in the comforting mint and grass scent of him. But she startled when her legs hit the edge of her bedframe and the panic quickly rushed back into her body. Jason straightened when he felt her tense up, one arm still wrapped around her, and cupped her cheek in his hand to bring her mouth back to his. He brushed his tongue against hers as he sat her down on the mattress, trying to bring her focus back to him, but she continued to tremble even as he lowered himself to his knees and settled himself between her legs. 

     He trailed his fingers along her curves, trying to ignore the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole at any second: he didn’t deserve her sweetness - her sweet, sweet, sweetness - but his feelings didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that she needed him and what mattered was that he was there. Jason leaned forward and flicked his tongue across her nipple, teasing her to a peak while his hand gently kneaded her other breast, assuring her of his presence. He licked and sucked on her slowly, making sure she felt every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his fingertips and finally, her heart slowed a little. 

     She sucked in a breath as a healing warmth bloomed in between her thighs, finally easing some of the tightness in her belly, then she lifted her hand and slid her fingers into his hair as he began trailing his lips down her abdomen. X scratched Jason’s scalp lightly, focusing on the familiar feeling of his soft strands catching beneath her fingernails, and her best friend let out a contented sigh before pressing soft kisses to the inside of her thigh. Then … oh god, then he licked a line right up her centre and her entire body shuddered violently in response. 

     He lifted her thighs and wrapped them around his head, holding her steady as he licked and sucked on her pretty little nub. She was so sweet and so lovely and he wanted to beat himself up for hurting her so badly last night - for being so cruel to her when all she’d ever done was love him entirely and without question. He didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve her. But it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t deserve: what she needed was him. Jason delved into her core, begging for her forgiveness with each brush of his tongue until she was gasping and moaning with pleasure, her fingers digging into his scalp to hold onto him as she rocked her body against his mouth. He pulled back only when she’d finished, her soft pants slowing down as she caught her breath, and regarded her with a cautious expression. Her eyes were glazed over as she looked at him - filled with lust and desire - but her body still trembled slightly as she came down from her high. 

     He sighed as he stood up, but she couldn’t read his expression as he held his hands out to her. X swallowed down the ball of fear still trapped in her throat and placed her hands in his, letting him pull her to her feet. She waited as he trailed his fingers down her body, his touch so gentle, so apologetic, then he lifted his gaze back to hers. Her best friend lifted her up onto his waist and held her close as he crawled onto her bed and X gazed up at him with wide eyes as he lay her carefully down onto her mattress. He settled himself on top of her, sliding his bare skin against hers, and X reached up to cup his face in her hands, tracing her fingers lightly across the faint scars along his jaw, his cheekbone, his lips … 

     He sucked in a breath when she brushed her thumb lightly across his lips and her eyes glazed over again at his reaction. Shit, she was beautiful. Jason covered her hand with his and brought her fingers to his mouth to press a soft kiss to the tip of each. Then he guided her hand to his shoulder and pressed his lips to the inside of her elbow. He continued making his way across her body, licking and sucking under her arm, across her breasts, along her shoulders, down her abdomen, until there wasn’t an inch of her skin left untouched, unmarked - unloved - by him. 

     Her back arched off the bed, her body responding with excitement to the tender way in which he absolutely worshipped every square centimetre of her skin. God, she didn’t think she’d ever felt so beautiful before; so appreciated and admired. Her best friend made his way back up her body, his lips and tongue lingering on her soft curves - on the parts of her she’d quickly realised granted him the most solace - and she relaxed into his touch, letting him take what comfort he needed from her. 

     “X …” She opened her eyes when she heard him murmur her name and found his eyes gazing down into hers, the beautiful moss-green of his irises swallowed up by his desire for her. X shivered at the intensity of his expression, then she reached up to cup his cheek in her hands. 

     His eyes flickered down to her lips and stayed there, watching intently as they moved closer and closer to his. But he didn’t rush her - he wasn’t there to take anything from her, he wouldn’t ever take anything from her … But give; he wanted to give for once, give good and nice and love and sweet. But how could he ever give her such sweetness like she’d given him? How could he ever give her such good when there was none left in him at all? His best friend pressed her lips to his and traced his tongue with hers … but even when she was kissing him - even when she was licking and sucking and drinking up the taste of him - she was still giving him all of her. Jason swallowed down a sob and crushed his lips harder against hers, taking and taking and taking everything she would give him - every nice touch and every sweet taste and every loving stroke - in the only way he knew how. He didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve her … but like the damned fool that he was, he would take every precious scrap she threw his way.

     She wrapped herself around him, holding him close to her as he kissed her. She could feel the apology in every movement of his mouth, every swipe of his tongue and every pained tear that dripped down his cheeks and onto hers. X slid her hands along her best friend’s body, stroking and rubbing him and letting him know that it was okay; it was okay, it was okay, it was okay. It was okay, because she loved him, she loved him in spite of it all - because of it all. She’d loved him when he’d agreed to split his stolen coin with her, when he’d convinced Bruce to bring her into his lavish lifestyle, when he’d fought with Batman for being too harsh on her and then spent the time after tending to her wounds and bandaging her up carefully. She’d loved him when he’d left her for The Joker, when he’d abandoned her in favour of his stubborn righteousness and infallible morals and even now, when he was too trapped in his grief to realise that he was about to put her through it all over again. She’d always loved him and she always would - she couldn’t remember what it had been like to live in a world in which she didn’t love Jason Todd and she didn’t think she could ever go back to one. 

     He rolled his hips against hers as they continued to kiss, his body begging, begging, begging to take even more from her - to take all of her, until there was nothing left of him at all, but her. Her, her, her. Jason pulled his lips away from hers, separating himself from her just long enough for him to line his tip with her entrance. Then he delved back into her - his tongue diving into her mouth, his length burying itself inside her body. X held him tighter as he thrust himself into her, giving, giving, giving him everything he asked of her, even when he was pressing her deep into the mattress, trapping her between his arms - even when he was so f*cking greedy for her. Jason wrenched his lips away from hers and hid his face in the crook of her neck, trying to wrestle back control of his thoughts: for her, he was here for her. Not for himself - not for anything else but to give her anything she asked of him. 

     Her hips pressed up against his as he grinded himself into her, his strokes deep and desperate, his hands travelling all over her body as he soothed her with his touch. “J-Jay! J-Jason … Jason …” 

     “I’m here, baby,” he assured her, murmuring the words softly into her hair before pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m here, dove. I’m here for you, X, my nightingale. I’m here.” 

     She bit her lip as his words lifted her to the peak of her pleasure and held her there, the firmness in his voice bathing her in safety and warmth and love. Love, love, love, so much love. Then she tipped over the edge and fell into his arms, already waiting to catch her. She bucked her hips against his, pushing herself to stretch out her high until he came too … and then he was filling her up with more love - more warmth and more safety and oh, the love. 

     He tucked her against him as he finally gave - as he filled her up with everything he wanted to say to her, everything he wanted her to make her feel - and finally, finally, she stopped shaking. They lay there for a minute, an hour, an eternity, then Jason rolled onto his side, giving her some space to move. 

     She curled up against him as he propped himself up on his elbow and he brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers continued to make their way down the side of her neck, his touch careful and appreciative, and she watched quietly as his eyes flickered over her, taking her in entirely. His hand landed on her breast and he cupped it gently before flicking his thumb across her nipple, causing her hips to press against his. X held her breath as Jason’s breathing grew shallow, but she waited patiently while he gathered the courage to say whatever it was he wanted to say to her. “Are you still gonna take his side?” 

     “I’m not taking his side, Jay,” X sighed, knowing exactly who he was talking about. She sucked in a breath as her back arched off the bed in response to his long fingers brushing against her sensitive skin, then she turned onto her side, facing away from him. Jason moved his hand to her arm as she curled up in the bed sheets and continued to stroke her ever so gently. Her breathing grew heavy as she thought about her next words, the panic flooding her chest until she felt like she could drown in it … but then her best friend wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He slid his other arm under her neck and rolled her back around to face him, holding her close to his chest. X buried her face in the crook of his neck and pressed gentle kisses to his skin until she was sure that he was there and that he was safe. But her voice still cracked when she spoke. “I can’t- I can’t lose you again, love.” 

     She gulped down a breath, forcing some air into her lungs to stop a sob from escaping her throat, and Jason’s chest tightened with guilt all over again: he didn’t deserve her. He pressed his lips into her hair and rubbed her back gently, calming her down until she was able to breathe again. 

     “Somewhere out there,” X continued, “are two little kids, wandering the streets of Gotham, promising to defend each other no matter what happens.” She paused to tilt her head back and look up at Jason, but his expression remained neutral as he met her gaze. 

     “I can’t let them get hurt, Jay,” she told him, the tears starting to gather on the edges of her eyelids as she spoke. “I can’t - I can’t - lose you all over again, my love.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders, waiting for him to respond. But still, he stayed silent, his keen moss-coloured gaze fixed on her in an unreadable expression.

     “I promised you I’d be your nightingale, Jason,” X reminded him quietly, “why can’t you be mine now?”

     His heart squeezed at her plea and his fingers resumed their careful brushing of her skin. He trailed his fingernails along her back, scratching her skin lightly, and continued to gaze at her long after she’d fallen asleep, her features relaxed as she clung onto him tightly. His eyes travelled over her arched brows and her long eyelashes and the perfect curve of her lips, committing them to his memory. Then finally, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep in her embrace.

Tags: @stormz369

[entitled-fangirl]

Kill 'em.

Jason Todd x reader

Summary: Jason receives a playing card under the door of his shared apartment. He reluctantly gets help from his family.

Warnings: talks of torture and such, cursing, Bruce's guilt, PTSD, etc.

A/n: Not canon with anything- I made everything up as I went along but I used some of the Arkham Knight backstory of Jason

Masterlist

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"Sometimes I just wanna kill 'em," Jason mumbles as he places kisses against her jaw.

She was used to this by now. Jason often had those moments, the pain coming back and the grief of it all clouding his emotions. His time there, with him.

"You don't really want that. Do you, Jay?" She whispered back in an attempt to ease his mind. Sometimes reassurance was the best method.

His lips paused against her neck. "I dunno," he responded. "It'd make things easier."

"Sometimes, life is better with... challenges." Jason was a lover of challenges, and proposing life as one could be a positive spin to the dread she knew he was feeling in his stomach.

He nipped at her. "Maybe."

"Dick invited us over for dinner at the Manor. Said something about... training? That mean anything to you?" She asked.

A hum rose from deep in his throat, tickling her neck. "We're trying to get a guy and it's… not going too well."

She leaned away as much as his grip on her hips would let her, getting a good look at Jason. She cupped his cheek, thumbing over the 'J' carved under his eye like always. The look in Jason's eyes was a bit concerning. "What kinda guy, Jay?"

He sighed and leaned into her touch. "Just a guy. Don't worry 'bout it."

"Sorry things are hard right now," she said, almost hinting back at his original thought.

His hands squeezed her in response. "'S fine. Part of being who I am, I guess."

She gently pushed his chin up with her fingers until his eyes looked up into hers. "I can drop you off if you want. If you don't want me there."

"Didn't say that," his deep voice grumbled immediately.

"Well, I'm offering," she said in a different approach. "I can stay here and bake or read or something until you come back."

For a man so hardwired to hate everyone and everything, he was soft sometimes. He groaned and rubbed a hand over half of his face. "I don't want you alone tonight."

"You don't have to make everyone happy all the time, Jason. If you don't want me there, just say it," she spoke with a firmer tone. Though, for her, firm just meant speaking a tiny bit louder.

"No, baby," he growled. He tugged her hips as close to him as possible and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Can't have you by yourself tonight. You're going to the Manor."

She stiffened at that. "Jay…?"

"-And pack a bag."

Fuck.

"What-"

"I don't want questions. I want you to do what I say. Trust me, alright?"

"Am I in danger, Jason?"

There was a long silence. The dread swept through the room, rising in both the people in it.

"I won't answer that."

…

Jason opened her door, helping her out of the car and grabbing her bag from the back. He slung it over his shoulder, his head on a constant swivel as he walked her to the large doors of Wayne Manor.

They'd visited a few times before- mostly when Dick wouldn't stop harassing Jason about meeting his girlfriend (as if Dick hadn't already stalked her)- but this time felt different.

The doors opened, Alfred smiling widely at the sight of formidable Jason and the sweet girl practically swallowed by his large arm around her waist.

…

Dinner was quiet. They didn't know what to talk about. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Cass, Y/n and Jason. 

Bruce was a naturally quiet man. There was no surprise that he ate in silence. But the others? Y/n had remembered an all-out food fight happening the first time she was here. Albeit, Dick started it and Jason finished it, and it was a full-fledged war that had Jason shoving his girlfriend under the table for protection- still, an aggressive meal felt better than a silent one.

Judging by the way Dick and Jason spoke with their eyes to one another, it was all but silent to them.

Alfred interrupted, leaning over Y/n's shoulder. "Is the food not to your liking, Miss Y/n? I can have something else prepared-"

"No," she mumbled. "No, this is fine. Thank you."

Jason's eyes finally broke from Dick and set on her. "Eat."

"Yeah, you've been picking at your plate for five minutes now," Dick tried.

Jason set a glare to him that made him shut his mouth immediately and go back to eating his own food. Jason's arms stretched over the back of her chair and he leaned down to speak softly to her. "What's wrong?"

"Shouldn't I ask you that?" she whispered.

Jason's eyes hardened, his tongue roamed over his teeth and his eyebrows quirked up in a 'you're probably right' fashion before he huffed. "Eat and we'll talk."

"Why don't we talk now?" She tried, louder so the others could hear her clearly.

Bruce leaned forward. "Listen-"

"-That's enough from you," Jason warned him, a finger pointed in his direction. In another setting, that would have been humorous. Jason always was at his limit of Bruce in general. He turned back to her. "Eat and we'll talk," he said again.

She sighed, giving a desperate look to Cass across the table as a silent plea. A small twitch of Cass's lips said she found it all a little funny. 

Silence settled, followed by the scraping of Y/n's fork against the plate. 

Tim decided this was his moment. "You know-"

Jason hit the table with his fist. "I think," he growled, "that I should get one peaceful meal in this house. One." He let his eyes roam dangerously over each person at the table, save for his girlfriend. I think I'm deserving of that. Don't you?"

Bruce let out a sigh. Jason knew exactly how to play into his guilt, and did so every chance he could. 

Jason hand gently roamed up onto the back of Y/n's neck, his thumb rubbing back and forth. The motion was probably supposed to be comforting to her, and certainly was and seemed to do so, but it grounded him all the more.

"I want to speak of it all now," she muttered.

Jason's hand tightened ever so slightly. "I want you to eat."

Bruce gracefully stood from the table, rolling his sleeves up with a sharp expression. "Dick, Cass, Steph, Tim." His head tilted to the side, a gesture to follow him from the table.

One by one, Bruce's young proteges followed him out, muttering excuses of sorts as they did so.

Soon, that just left Jason and Y/n. His hand wandered up into her hair and rubbed at her scalp. She whined and leaned into his touch. He cooed softly at her. 

"Finish this and we'll talk," he encouraged. 

She huffed at him, but did as he asked. The only sound in the dining room was the scraping of her fork on the plate once again.

…

"I've traced it back to here," Dick pointed out on the map as Jason and Y/n entered the Batcave. "And the traffic cams match it. But I don't understand how he-"

"-Let's discuss what we did today," Tim awkwardly when he noticed them enter. 

The screen switched to their screensaver of Batman asleep in the Batmobile with his mouth wide open. Damian had taken it one night after a long patrol. Bruce hated the picture- which made everyone else love it more.

Steph slapped Tim's leg under the table with a pointed look.

Jason huffed and pulled a seat out for his girlfriend. "Let's just get this over with." 

"Okay, great." Dick changed the screen back, revealing the map again. He pointed back to the spot from before. "But if it traces back here, then are we guessing there was a decoy car?"

"We need to follow both," Steph pointed out. "We should scout out that spot tonight."

Cass signed and Tim sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. Steph, we need to all stay put tonight. If he finds out she's here…"

Y/n shivered at his vague words and turned her head to Jay questioningly.

"Jay," he continued. "If he finds out she's here… we're done for. Covers completely blown."

"He won't," Jason assured. "She and I will stay in the BatCave while you go scout tonight."

They all looked at one another until Dick nodded. "Alright. Alright, we leave in 10."

Each one stood and left, leaving Jason and Y/n once again.

Her mouth opened with a question that he cut off.

"I should probably get in uniform, too. Just in case."

She stood in anger. "Just talk to me for once!"

An anger rose in his eyes that he had to physically keep down. "And what if I don't want you to know?"

A heavy scoff came from her throat. "That's bullshit, Jay. Tell me or I'm leaving."

"Do not." His voice was low and menacing, yet desperate. The mere thought of her out there caused a fear in him that he could only remember feeling one other time in his life. That time. With him.

"Then start talking."

The sight of her standing there at her wit's end made Jay decide to finally give in. He gestured for her to sit down before giving his back a good stretch and settling into his seat again.

"I received a menacing note last night. And attached was a card. A… playing card." He couldn't even bring himself to say the name. "It came to the apartment. He knows who I am, and now he knows where I live. And the letter…" his voice trailed off. "Just… You're a target right now. A big target."

Her stomach dropped into her feet. "Is it-"

"-Yeah," he whispered. Tears polled in his eyes. "Yeah, it is."

She took a long, jaded breath and pushed her chair out in an attempt to get space. Her eyes roamed the BatCave but never set on anything in particular. Her eyes were glazed over in thought. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want you to worry. I thought I could deal with it indiscreetly but nothing about him in indiscreet. And trust me, if I knew you were 100% safe here by yourself, I'd be out there beating him with my bare hands until he's dead." He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Bruce insisted that I stay. Maybe he was right about it."

Bruce had left after dinner, supposedly picking up Damian from a playdate and then the two were on patrol for the night while the others scouted. What an odd fucking family.

"Wouldn't that be what he wanted, though? For you to go after him? Set a trap or something?"

He immediately froze. His shoulders tensed as his eyes were purely focused on the table. Clearly, there was something he was thinking through. In another situation, she would have joked about smelling smoke from an overworking mind. 

His chair rolled across the floor when he stood up. "Fuck!" He yelled, the deep sound echoing off the cave walls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Get up. We have to leave. Now."

"What are you-" 

He pulled her up, his grip gentle but firm. "We have to leave." He pulled out his phone, cursing under his breath when Dick didn't pick up. He proceeded to go through every number until finally managing to get Bruce to pick up. He proceeded to explain his worry to the Bat. "Wouldn't he expect me to be at my dad's manor? I mean… think about it, Bruce. Do- Do you think he knows I'm Red Hood or is he just expecting a retired Robin to show up in his sweats? W-" He pauses, listening to the other side of the line. "No, you're right. Then he expects me to get Batman's help while me and my family wait at the Manor theoretically." Another long pause. "Alright. Alright. I'll- yeah. Well, you tell Dick to fucking- fine." He hung up the phone without a goodbye. "You're staying down here in the BatCave. I'll have Alfred keep you company."

"Please don't go," she pleaded. "Jason, please don't do this. You've been doing so well. Seeing him isn't going to fix anything-"

"-Breaking his skull with my fist will help tremendously," he argued in a rough tone.

"It won't. The best help is staying here."

He immediately shook his head. "Not a chance."

She was growing a bit more desperate in her attempts. "Then it'll help me best."

That got him. He paused. She watched his chest expand and fall a few times. "I can't," he whispered. His eyes watered and there was a slight shake to his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

She watched him grab his bag that held his uniform. His fingers played with the zipper for a moment as if truly contemplating whether he was really doing this or not.

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[marshiewritesfics]

Jason Todd The Man On a Mission

Jason Todd.

The man who will stop at nothing to protect you.

His pride and joy. The love of his life.

He cherishes the little things about you.

Jason loves when you lazily run your fingers down his back after an exhausting day fighting crime.

You had started to fall asleep while helping him to relax after he’s been fighting crime all day.

Jason loved your kindness and your compassion for someone like him who’s seen so much in his life but you still cared for him.

Him. Jason Todd. The man who doesn’t even know his own limits but tries to push them everyday he works. The man who knows no boundaries. The man who would do whatever it takes and stops at nothing to keep you safe.

He gets weak in the knees when he hears your half asleep voice beg him to come back to bed when he has to leave for a mission.

Jason is tempted to stay in bed with you but he knows that he has work that needs to be done.

There is always work that need to be done.

Justice never sleeps.