#jason todd/plus size reader

[ms-nesbit]

title: magical realism (jason todd/reader)

rating: 18+

TW: eventual violence, smut, language? idk what else. political talk as well

words: 1.3k

summary: jason can't enjoy himself at a showing.

ao3

Jason reclined in the dusted and stained theatre seat, his shoulder blades kissing the brim of the back. His eyes struggled to stay open as his breath deepened, chest rising and falling in greater lengths than usual. His heartbeat slowed and softened, an unusual feat for a paranoid vigilante. Still, Jason posted the exits in the back of his noggin, in the event that his enemies (or siblings - not far different from his foes) presented themselves to him.

It wasn’t the theme of the show that bored him - in fact, Jason purchased tickets as soon as they were readily available online; it was the sleep cycle, however, that burdened Jason’s physical health, in his endless feat of good versus bad, him versus himself.

Crossing his arms, he felt his breath push through his nostrils, a few locks of his salt and pepper hair falling to his face like a blanket over his eyes, that now surrendered to his growing need for slumber. His head fell forward until his chin met his collar, where his head bobbed then stopped.

In the row behind his, a woman continued to quietly critique his poor etiquette, beginning with his attire. “I mean, look at the holes in his jeans.” she spat, disgust firm on her silver tongue, “It’s like a rat gnawed and got too grossed out by the taste of the denim.”

“Jesus, Clarice, it’s not that big a deal.” another muttered. “Besides, I saw you gush over a pair that looked just like that at Urban Outfits the other week. What were they you called them?” She stopped and proceeded with a tone heavy in mockery. “Distressed.”

“That’s different, y/n.” Clarice excused. “Besides, a stylist took care of those jeans and carefully designed them…”

“Uh-huh. And then that designer shipped off the prototype to god knows what country for little kids to recreate. With cheaper material.” y/n replied truthfully.

Clarice huffed. “At least I’m not wearing them right now.”

Y/n let out a stringy breath on one side of her mouth, the minty-booze-infused scent carrying to Jason’s seat. “Yeah, but you paid fifty dollars for what this guy did for free.”

The comment made Jason chuckle to himself, still half asleep. The conversation entertained - and bothered - him, but he was, more than anything, drawn to the thick voice of y/n as she continued to fire insults and snippy comments to her peer.

“You don’t understand the pained artist.” Clarice concluded with an exasperated huff belonging only to the wealthiest of the state of New York.

Y/n shook her head, kicking back in her seat and using the one beside Jason’s as a footrest. Her pointed black stilettos displayed in contrast to the darkness of the theatre, still playing despite the most compelling conversation in the balcony where they sat. “S’pose not. Though those children’s fingers and empty bellies do.” Y/n kissed her teeth, annoyance spelled out clearly, even to Jason. “And the artistry of exploitation among shareholders gambling on the success - or fail! - of a multimillion-dollar corporation that will, inevitably, fall, joining the destruction of those it conquered during its time of glory.

“Unless exploitation is not art, but a mere weapon, for these vipers to dig their fangs underneath the skins of proletariats, sinking their poison to further drive these poor people into a far greater debt, to sell their faith for another dollar to stretch for their families and their own health, which will in turn be spent on the poison, that will sink into them again, and again, and again.”

“Marx?” Jason asked drowsily, turning his head only slightly to pay mind to the conversation behind him.

“Close.” y/n replied. “Engels. Co-author, if you believe it.” She shrugged and murmured while fixing her top, “Not that there are a fair amount of female political philosophers.”

Jason hummed in agreement. “Depends on your definition.” He turned fully now, his arm over the back of his seat, baring his muscular arm to the women behind him. “I mean some may, with her association with Cuban’s communist movement Trotsky, note Frida Kahlo as a political philosopher; her political art was not only a pivot for Mexican-American art assimilation and inspiration, but she was an active member of Mexico’s communist party, and refused to back down from it when not even her old-ass husband agreed with her actions.”

Y/n nodded, useless as it was a dim theatre. “And most abolitionists should be heavily regarded as political philosophers,” y/n added, “given their often ambitious ideology for a racially integrated poly-economic country.”

“I’m Jason.” With ferocity, he stared at y/n through his messy locks that draped over his eyes. His attire matched his dialect, blunt and lax, but his appearance was too fixated. Intense. It was almost paranoid, if y/n had to put her finger on it.

“Y/n.” she replied, ignoring Clarice, who puffed at them. Jason shot Clarice a warning glare, causing her to retreat into her seat with a sharp exhale, before he returned, then softened, his gaze to y/n.

“Would you like to continue this debate somewhere more appropriate?”

Y/n grinned cheekily at Jason’s direct question. “Show ends in…” she glances at her watch, “...fifteen or so minutes. After that, I’m all yours.”

“Can’t wait.” His eyes glossed over, while looking y/n over, intent heavy in his look.

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[blond3ang3l]

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Jason loves it when you ask him to show off his muscles. He bulked up pretty often just because the fear of not being strong enough hit him pretty hard so. But more importantly you loved cooking for him and you did it damn well so he couldn't ever refuse. Loves it the most how obsessed you are with his arms. It was your favorite place to be. Often whoever was looking for you found you being cuddled by the big man. Arms either wrapped around you or your face literally dug into his muscles. He's so used you and your weird obsession with his arms. All the biting and teeth marks you would often leave on him when you were bored. You weren't the only one that loved when he bulked, but he did as well. He loved it because it made him feel older, like he wasn't the same child that waited for help that never came. Lifting you on his shoulders with ease when you needed to reach something, messing with Damian and Cass by picking them up like dogs being lifted by the scruffs of their neck, and more importantly being able to carry whenever you were tired. He did everything he could for you. How could he not when you made him the man he was? Better.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

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Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

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Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

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"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

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Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

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[lxvvie]

You and your never-ending quest to make Jason Todd blush.

And it's working, gorgeous. Christ, it's working.

If it isn't the gifts you spring up on him out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, it's the compliments. He's every kind of pretty, hot, gorgeous, stunning, everything that lets him know he's the most beautiful thing you've ever laid your eyes on, and fuck if his cheeks aren't flaming hot.

And if it isn't either one of those, it's the way you remind Jason that he's better than he thinks he is and while he may not be the quintessential paragon of virtue, he's what the city needs, and you can't imagine a world without him. That and he makes some good ass coffee in the morning.

Gee, thanks, baby.

But what really gets Jason is the way you look at him, the way you see past the scars and tough exterior and he can't help but wonder if he looks as lovestruck as you do whenever he sees you because he feels it—feels you—with every fiber of his being.

And then you surprised him with flowers one day—"I saw them and they reminded me of you, Jaybear."

And not only is his entire face on fire, but he's a puddle of fuckin' goo.

He'd be a fuckin' liar if he said they didn't, either.

[trashland-llamas]

Body Pillow

x gn reader

Jason who comes home after patrol, just wanting to cuddle up to y/n in their shared bed, in their shared apartment. There's a wooden bench with a few milk crates underneath it for him to strip out of his gear. A sorta makeshift mud room. His helmet, masks, and weapons are the first to go.

Jason groans as he bends down to shuck off his shoes, not bothering to even unlace them. His pants follow suit as he sits back up. Jason basks in the moonlight for a moment, letting himself feel the soreness of his muscles, before bracing his hands on the wood to stand up. His loud footfalls echoes through the hallway.

'Oh, sweet cheeks,' Jason croaks, spotting his lover koala bear hugging a body pillow. Clad in underwear and a t-shirt that does nothing to cover their ass. Gently untangling their limbs to take the pillow's spot. It's not a difficult task with y/n still deep asleep.

'Cuddling you is my job, not some damn pillow.' Jason's words have no bite to them. 'Hmm,' y/n sleepily hums, nuzzling their head into his chest akin to a cat. 'Jay?' The familiar smell of gunpowder tickled their nose.

Taking a few deep breaths. 'I'm here, go back to sleep hun,' kissing the top of their hair. Rubbing circles into their skin, his fingertips traced along the stretch marks he finds on their sides. Y/n heeds his words, closing their eyes. Safe in the city that was Gotham.

Jason almost questioned if this was real. He fought against the phantom sandman, desperately not wanting to wake up to an empty bed. Yet the warmth of their body told him this was real. That they were really here and this simply wasn't a dream.

'Go to sleep Jay, m'not going anywhere...you's stuck with me.'

[presentmacandcheese]

(softer than your) favorite t-shirt

plus size gn reader x jason todd

summary: reader is used to being too big for their partner's clothes. this concern arises in their relationship with jason too. luckily, he's got a solution.

or 4.2k of how i derailed from that plot to write a love letter to jason todd

a/n: first time writing DC, please be nice! Keep in mind this was written with WFA Jason in my brain. Also note that reader does not know about the vigilantism. With all that said, please enjoy!

also on my ao3!

The first night you ever spent at Jason’s apartment was lovely. Well. It was emotional, but it was lovely.

You’d been seeing each other for a few months, most always going out for meals and activities together or cuddled up in your apartment. It was nice enough, having him in your space, surrounded by your cozy blankets and soft atmosphere. It couldn’t be denied that he looked beautiful in the glow of the fairy lights you’d strung up, delicate in a way the harshness of Gotham rarely allowed him to be.

You’d gotten to fall in love over the gentle hum of your broken refrigerator and the finespun threads of your favorite blanket wrapped snuggly around you both. Your apartment felt intimate in relation to your connection, somewhere safe. for you to exist together, to learn each other, to love each other. Not that you’d said the words aloud yet.

Jason’s apartment felt... Unfamiliar. It was a place you’d yet to be invited, a hidden tomb where it felt like all his secrets had been buried.

It was clear he valued his privacy though, his space. You’d never wanted to rush him into having you over or step on his boundaries, being endlessly patient and understanding while also curious. There’s a lot to be learned about someone based on their home and you realized that was exactly why Jason had yet to show you. He wasn’t ready for the vulnerability.

Until he was.

You’d been out at a diner.

“No, you did not!” You laughed, picking a fry from your plate and popping it into your mouth.

“Swear it, I was a borderline magician back in my street days.” Jason smirked, shrugging as he leaned back on the booth, his elbows raising to rest on the seat’s back. It made his muscles flex, the outline of his arms drawing your attention.

You wanted to bite his bicep like an apple. He raised a smug brow at you.

You cleared your throat, eyes returning to his face. “I think they go by “pickpockets” based off what you’re describing.” Your teasing came out much breathier than intended, eyes trailing back to his arms and the confident posture. His strength was displayed so casually like this, the implication of raw power sending a tingle up your spine.

“You seem a little distracted there, sweetheart.”

“I have never been more focused.” Your eyes slowly followed the hem of his shirt bulging around his muscles as his arms remained propped up.

You could make out a few scars from here, a couple you knew the stories of and a few you didn’t but wanted to. You wanted to know the stories to all his scars, his memories, his life. You wanted to know him.

“That so?” He shifted positions, leaning over the table with his arms crossed now. You caught a whiff of him, musky and smoky with an almost hidden note of vanilla. The essence of mahogany surrounding every one of your senses. Like an old beloved book ready to be cherished after decades tucked away.

You reached out a hand for your milkshake, something to physically cool you down and make you relax before you jumped across the table at him or declared your love, probably both.

Your hand promptly landed in the milkshake, fingers now coated with the semi-frozen delicacy.

“Never been more focused.” You repeated, smiling stubbornly as you stared into his eyes, hand still nestled in ice cream.

His responding laugh was better than your favorite song.

It wasn’t much longer before you were back out on the street, fingers intertwined as you held hands and began to walk.

The night air was brisk, nipping at your nose and making you shiver as you leaned closer into Jason’s side.

“Let me give you my jacket.” Jason moved to let go of your hand and take his jacket off.

There it was, the ever chivalrous offer that made your stomach drop.

It was a sweet gesture, as it was each time he’d made it, but your heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of your throat.

“Oh, that’s okay! I’m just fine, baby! Thank you, though. Not that much further ‘til my apartment.” You smiled reassuringly, the fire pit of insecurity in your mind sparking up.

“I was uhh, actually thinking we’d go back to mine?” Jason suggested, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was a nervous tell, one you found hopelessly endearing.

“If you’re sure, I’d love to. Lead the way.” You squeezed his hand gently, leaning in so your arms pressed as you walked, ignoring the flames beginning to stoke.

Caught up in the task, your hesitance to wear his jacket fell aside.

Crossing the threshold into his apartment set you off-kilter, so many aspects of the new environment demanding your attention.

The living room seemed a hodge podge of bookshelves and simple furniture. The wooden coffee table had a slightly askew stack of coasters on it, one separated from the rest with a Wonder Woman mug on it that made you smile. Your smile growing wider as your eyes flicked to the couch and found a blanket you thought you’d lost.

“When’d you steal that? How didn’t I notice you leaving with an entire blanket?” You laughed, confused and impressed.

“Master magician remember?” He locked the front door, turning around to step up closely behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

His hands settled on your stomach and some of the amusement died on your lips. You couldn’t let him linger like this too long, didn’t want this much attention on your belly or your body right now, not with the insecurities dancing around your mind.

“You can’t pickpocket a blanket, Jay.” You stepped out of his hold, taking one of his hands in yours and pulling him further into the apartment.

“You can’t.” He laughed, letting himself be dragged along as you toured his belongings.

The kitchen was lived in, well used and well loved. You could see signs of his time in there; dishes in the drying rack, water stains on the backsplash, a small scorch mark on the wall just behind the stove.

“Who tried to burn the place down?” You joked, leaning closer to look at it.

“I asked Dick to keep an eye on pasta for the one minute it took to go to the bathroom.” Jason shrugged, his tone holding the fond indignation that was always there when it came to his siblings.

“It’s a special skill how bad he seems in a kitchen.” You laughed.

“You have no idea.”

You wanted to though. Wanted to know Dick well enough to have your own stories of kitchen mayhem, wanted to know Tim and his dry wit that Jason continued to laugh about after the fact (not that he’d oft admit so), wanted to know the names of Damian’s animals and the reasoning behind his choosing of them. You wanted to know Bruce’s smile around his children, the exasperated wrinkle of his eyes and to know what Alfred’s famous cookies tasted like.

You wanted to know Jason’s family, the extension of the man you love that he’d worked to find his way back to, yet another aspect of his life you found yourself desperate to learn about.

There was so much about Jason your heart ached to know, as if your soul was begging to absorb his and become one.

Somehow standing in his apartment for the first time; feet on the tile of his kitchen floor and admiring a classy “no bitchin’ in the kitchen” fridge magnet, didn’t feel like the right time.

Instead you turned to offer him a smile, one that Jason could realize held far deeper emotion than either of you were willing to say quite yet.

He smiled back.

The candle on the bookcase. The shampoo in the bathroom. The matchbook on his nightstand. Only a handful of the items around his apartment that you noticed and inquired about.

Jason’s posture seemed to relax as he answered. The candle was a gift, the shampoo smelled of nostalgia, the matchbook from a hotel full of fond memories. Everything about him dripped ‘relief’ as he spoke, as though all he’d ever needed was your validation.

Standing among the belongings that bared his soul, it was all too easy to give.

Gently running your fingers along the spine of the book on his nightstand you sat down on his bed.

“You have a beautiful home, Jay.” Your tone achingly sincere.

He sat beside you, leaning his forehead into your shoulder.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t see his expression, but if you listened right you could hear the relief in his voice as the last of his worries were calmed.

Sincerity and affection flooded your veins, thrumming deep throughout your body. This man, this beautiful man had let you into his home. His soul. The trust needed for him to do so you knew was massive.

Instead of voicing the all encompassing emotions you felt and spooking him, you placed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Of course.” Like there’d ever been a doubt you’d love his home any less than you love him.

You’d sat snuggled together awhile longer, peacefully enjoying one another’s presence. Your hand found its way into Jason’s, a decision no longer conscious but a result of being magnetized to him. One day it switched from a decision to touch him to sheer instinct, a mindless need to be near him.

His head raised from your shoulder, your thumb stilling where it rubbed soothingly at his hand as you turned your gaze to give him full attention.

“I’m gonna get changed. Want to borrow some clothes?” He looked sleepy, voice just as calm and soft.

Your heart panged uncomfortably, the edge you’d been feeling when he offered his jacket returning.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you.” Your smile doesn’t quite meet your eyes. Jason holds your gaze a beat longer than feels necessary before nodding and getting up.

Part of you wants to cry. Because you want. So badly you want to wear his clothes. Nothing sounds better than being wrapped in his favorite t-shirt, the well worn threads soft against your skin and his scent surrounding you, the safety of having him pressed to your skin from all angles. You want to be the cute partner who looks hot in their boyfriend’s sweats, the material falling low on your hips, enticing until he can’t keep his hands off you.

But you can’t.

Because Jason’s a smaller size than you.

Because his clothes would make you look like biscuits popping out of their tube.

Because there’s not an ounce of comfort to be found squeezed into an item you wouldn’t feel secure in. The constant worry of him deciding he wants someone smaller, someone more “delicate”, it’d loom over your every action, thought, breath.

So you can’t. For the sake of your mental health and your relationship you can’t and don’t want him to see you in that light. The light a majority of the world tends to see you in.

It crushes your soul to consistently turn down his offers. The gestures always thoughtful and kind. You can see that he wants to question it and it’s only a matter of time before he does, but for now he leaves you be. A gentle kiss pressed to your forehead as he walks away to change into pajamas, unknowingly leaving you to wallow in a wish you can’t be granted.

Sunlight peeking in through the blinds coaxes Jason awake in the morning, eyes cracking open to briefly check that all is calm and safe. The room is empty, no other sounds in the apartment beyond the faint hums of electricity and your steady breathing.

You.

Jason’s focus latches onto your sleeping form with the confirmation all is safe. You’re tucked into his arms, face nuzzled into his chest as you drool on him. He knows it embarrasses you when you wake up, but he finds himself endeared that you feel so comfortable, that your subconscious is able to rest that deeply around him.

He wishes it would translate to your conscious mind.

Jason has noticed your hesitance over the past weeks. When the relationship was new he thought possibly you were being some form of polite? But as time passed and your reluctance only grew he began to wonder if turning down his chivalry was a deeper problem.

He could see it in your eyes when you rejected his jacket on cold nights. The slight furrow in your brow when offered a change of clothes. It left a sinking feeling in his gut. Was it that you didn’t want to wear his clothes? Did you hate how he smelled? Jason tried to smell nice, a leftover paranoia from living on the streets when he so rarely had access to proper hygiene.

Or was it worse? Did you not want what wearing his jacket represented... Did you not want him? He’d yet to work the courage to ask, but each time it happened the fear rooted deeper within him.

A soft hum and the shuffle of sheets interrupted his spiral.

“Five more minu’es.” You mumbled, smothering your face further into him.

Jason laughs, the storm in his mind easier to weather under your adorability. “No one was waking you up.”

“Shhh, sleep time.” It comes out muffled, your hand lightly smacking against his face in an attempt to scold.

“How are you supposed to sleep if you’re talking to me?”

He swears he can feel your responding eye roll.

When you wake it’s to an empty bed, the sight makes you equally pouty at losing Jason’s warmth and impressed he managed to escape your koala-esque cuddles.

You lay back against the pillows, spreading out into a starfish as you stretch your limbs. You allow yourself one more moment in the comfort of Jason’s bed before standing up, casting a longing look as you make your way out of the bedroom.

Your senses, both sound and smell, lead you to the kitchen. You step closer watching Jason at the stove, he’s concentrated but at ease. His simple confidence and overall competence are wildly attractive.

“Good morning,” He looks over his shoulder, cocky, like he’s amused to catch you staring. He definitely is.

“Mornin’, handsome.” You approach him. “Am I okay to touch?” Your hands hover at your sides, itching to wrap around him and properly greet him.

You learned rather quickly that Jason isn’t always the biggest fan of touch first thing in the day. The nightmares that plague him occasionally leave him startled by ghosts you’ve yet to see.

You woke briefly earlier still in his arms so it’s likely fine, but you still prefer to check in.

“You’re okay. I’m okay.” There’s a sparkle of appreciation in his eyes as he leans in for a kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist and sinking into the affection.

You hum into the kiss, content filling your body as you stand with him.

“You should focus on breakfast, your kitchen doesn’t need any more scorch marks.” You tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jason reaches out and turns off the burner, removing the skillet from the source of heat before directing his full attention to you.

“Problem solved.”

Your laughter fills the kitchen for a moment, cut off by his lips meeting yours once more.

One make out session later (okay, maybe it was two and a half), but who’s counting you sit down to your meal together.

Jason has a dining table. It’s clearly old, weathering the scuffs and damage from a family well-loved. The chairs are mismatched, not a set but each blending together to create a unique harmony.

“This is a cozy set up, very homey. Was it yours growing up?” Your eyes hold curiosity, patience. You don’t imagine Bruce Wayne would’ve had something like this in his mansion, but you can’t know certainly without asking.

“No. It’s what I wished I had, though.”

You continue to look at Jason, encouragement for him to continue written all over your face.

“Before being taken in by Bruce, I... didn’t have the best life. I used to imagine one day I would. I wanted a home. A place that felt like me, even when I wasn’t sure who I was. I’d spend hours thinking about what my dream home would look like, the furniture, the knick-knacks, the character of it all. Some of that dream died a long time ago, but... I always wanted a table like the ones I saw happy sitcom families sitting at. Someone to share that table with.” Jason looked down at the table, his fingers running over one of the small notches brought on by time, he seemed shy and wistful.

It made your eyes water.

“You are such a beautiful man, Jason Todd.” It slipped out reverently, a secret spoken from your soul.

Jason’s gaze met yours.

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” His voice was full of surprise and confusion.

“Almost. I can’t help it! I’m sitting next to the kindest soul I’ve ever encountered. That’s enough to make even Batman emotional I’m sure!” You missed the twitch in his eye at the mention of “Batman,” too busy wiping at your own.

Jason’s hand met yours, thumb soothing both you and himself with comforting swipes over your skin.

He was speechless, words unable to form as his heart sat in his throat.

You thought he was the kindest soul? That he was a beautiful man? He was choked up on how delicately you saw him. No one had ever seen him like this, maybe they’d gotten close before, but since he died? Not a chance.

He was used to being perceived brashly, harshly, dangerously. Watched, but rarely seen. Somehow always too much, yet never enough. Constantly chasing the flashes of normalcy he was treated with in an attempt to feel whole again.

But then there was you.

You, who held him through the nights and checked on him in the mornings (patrol permitting.)

You, who laughed and teased and made him smile like he hadn’t in years.

You, who saw a sweet but suffering soul and cupped it in your hands as gently as a wounded bird.

You, who picked up a long wounded Robin and truly saw him.

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing softly and looking into your eyes.

He may not have the words to say it yet, but Jason knew his actions would speak the truth of his love as loudly as he felt it.

Shortly after cleaning up breakfast, you sighed.

“I should probably get going soon. I’m starting to feel icky in this outfit.” You’d been feeling gross in it for awhile, but voicing it was bound to bring up--

“You want to borrow something and stay longer? I’m not sure I’m ready to give you up yet.” His playful tone and charming smirk made your heart preemptively break, knowing you’d be dampening it with your next words.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. After his vulnerability of letting you into his safe space and sharing himself with you, you felt the least you could do was offer your own vulnerability.

“Jay, I can’t. I can’t borrow your clothes.” His crestfallen expression gave you pause. It was all the opening Jason needed.

“Do you not, um, want to?” His eyes trailed away from you, insecurity clear in his tone.

“I want to, gods I want to so badly you don’t even know.” You stepped closer, putting a hand on his arm, sensing he needed touch to ground him in this moment.

“Then why?”

“Because I’m fat, Jay. I’m not going to fit into your clothes and I don’t want you to see that struggle. I don’t want to feel that struggle and feel like my body, like I’m not good enough for you. I know it probably sounds stupid, but I don’t want me failing to fit into your clothes to change the way you see me.”

You focused on the floor, wiggling your toes in your socks and locking in on the sensation. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, not when your anxiety was trying to convince you that you were about to lose him.

“Hey.” A firm, but gentle hand had your head tilting back up to meet his gaze. “Your size will never change the way I see you. The way I feel about you. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this insecurity. Does it come up every time I offer my clothes?”

You hazard a nod, trying to take his kind validation at face value.

“No wonder you like to change the subject when that happens. That’s a shitty way to feel.” His hand cups your cheek, concern swimming in his eyes.

“Thank you. For telling me.” The appreciation in his voice lifts most of the weight off your shoulders.

“Sorry I kept turning down your chivalry.” The attempted levity falls flat with the shake in your voice.

“I’m just glad it’s not for the reason I thought.” He pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with his hand.

“What was the reason you thought?”

“That maybe I smell bad. Or that you didn’t want to be representing me like that because you were ashamed of me or something.”

The speed in which you raise your head to look at him knocks his hand away.

“What? Jason, I could never be ashamed of you. You’re the best thing in my life. I am so proud to call you mine and if I could fit into them I’d have pickpocketed all of your hoodies by now.”

Jason laughs at the inside joke, but it’s easy to see how serious you are. As he pulls you back into his chest, a simple solution comes to mind.

You walk through Jason’s front door, pulling off your jacket as you enter and toeing off your shoes.

Being back in his place for the first time in a week makes you smile, fingers adoringly tracing the dining table as you walk past it.

You feel Jason’s eyes on you.

“Watching me, weirdo?” You chuckle, turning your gaze to him.

“Just appreciating how gentle you are with my things.” With me goes unsaid, but the implication of it lingers like electricity in the air.

Stepping closer you lay your palms on his chest, his heart beats beneath your skin and it’s easy to imagine it’s beating only for you in this moment. Your eyes lock, a promise of always lingering in yours. You tap a finger over his heart three times, breathing a sigh of contentment, the taps scratching the itch you have to confess your love.

You linger in the moment for a few more seconds, gazing into his eyes and letting yourself find comfort and belonging in his company. Finally you press a peck to his lips, taking a step back and breaking the bubble.

“Come on, you big sap.” Taking Jason’s hand you guide him over to the couch, plopping down and pulling him into a cuddle.

Your hand strokes through his hair as you hold him, asking him to tell you about the books he loves. You let him talk late into the night, listening and adding comments and questions that set him on new tangents. You get the feeling his passions are not often met with such sincerity, something you’re more than happy to remedy.

When Jason’s voice tires and he releases a yawn you nod.

“I should probably head out, this outfit isn’t necessarily sleepover comfortable and I didn’t think to grab something else.” You smile apologetically, shifting to let him out of your hold so you can stand.

“Wait! I- I have something for you.” He stumbles getting off the couch, body lax from the calm affection. It’s cute, warming your heart as you giggle at him.

When he comes back it’s with a piece of cloth. Your brows furrow curiously.

“Jay? We talked about this-”

“No, no, I know! But trust me, okay?” He waits for you to nod before stretching out the fabric he’s holding to reveal a t-shirt.

A t-shirt that definitely looks too large for him.

“What is this?” It comes out as a whisper, not quite daring to have enough hope to be excited.

“After our conversation I got an idea. I figured if the only thing stopping you from being able to wear my clothes was them being too small... I’d just get some bigger clothes. I’ve been wearing this one all week so it’d be softer and smell like me.” His tone gets shyer at the end, smile unsure as he waits for your reaction.

You could cry. It’s such a glaringly simple solution that you’d never thought of, but here was Jason, having enacted it immediately.

Here was Jason, caring enough about your comfort and desires to ensure you could have this moment and this joy.

Here was Jason, seeing you.

“It’s perfect.” You met him where he stood, voice breaking on the emotion of the gesture.

As you took the t-shirt from his hands, fingers smoothing over the softened threads, you’d never felt more loved.

Next part in the series!

[jasontoddsthickbabe]

Baby daddy Jason todd 😍 I would do anything for this man

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

For the Halloween requests

Fem!reader painting Jason’s face for a costume party? Maybe he’s flustered by how gently she handles his face while she works on him

Jason's eyes were fixed on the kitchen table, where you had emptied your makeup bag and the face paint you had bought for today.

For a second, a brief stupid second, he considered telling you to forget about the paint for himself. 'Doll yourself up, baby,' he wanted to say; but the words died down in his throat as he looked up at you.

Your pretty face was bare and freshly moisturized, and your eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of painting his face.

It wasn't the first time you would work on him like this, you had covered bruises with makeup for Jason more times than he was proud to admit. But this was different — this closeness felt new, incredibly intimate in the lack of rush on your behalf.

You held his chin, lifting his head to start on his forehead. He barely felt the sponge as you dabbed paint on his skin, movements as gentle as your touch.

His skin grew hot as you continued. Transfixed, he watched every twitch in your face, every tilt of your head as you found different angles.

"I'm gonna change color now," you announced, using the clean side of the sponge on the next color. "Need a water break?"

"No."

You didn't say anything else and simply resumed. Jason couldn't stop himself from gently resting his hand on your hip, making you smile softly. Your attention didn't stray from the task, though, you were committed to making him look just as he envisioned his costume one morning after an exhausting night as Red Hood.

"Close your eyes," you instructed him gently. The sponge hovered over his left eye, patiently waiting for him to comply.

Jason only closed his left eye, watching you with the right one. You gave him an amused look. As you carefully painted his eyelid, he found himself flushing once more, letting out a long sigh. You were so gentle with him, so patient — he could feel your love in the way you made sure not to rub at his skin, in the concentration lines etched on your forehead.

Once his other eye was done, you put the sponge away and picked up a brush. Before doing anything else, you gave his lips a sweet peck. His heart skipped a beat at the gesture, his hold on your hip becoming firmer, silently asking for something more, at least another little kiss.

You humored him, pecking his lips one, two, three more times. The last time your mouth lingered against his. "Gonna paint your lips now, okay?" you asked, giving him the chance to say no, to maybe kiss you until you were breathless first.

He found restraint within him, knowing you still had to get ready yourself. He only gave your lips a peck of his own, a silent reminder that kissing you was still his favorite thing in the world. He squeezed your hip for good measure, in the far-fetched case it wasn't clear, just to reassure himself he was putting effort into showing you how important you were to him.

The soft bristles caressed his lips in long strokes. When you were finished, you studied his face, resting your hand on the side of his neck.

"You look so handsome," you finally said.

"I'm supposed to look scary."

You stared at him, lips twitching as you tried not to smile. "Honey, I don't think that's possible."

[mtcloudsworld]

ᙃ𝙄𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | oh he BIG mad, he mad mad...but do you really care? Nope, not at all.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | +18, mdni, fem!reader, AK!Jason Todd, rough sex, backshots, knife play, deranged situationship, toxic, both got some issues but like each other's crazy, got a sick twisted mind, lowercase intended edited but in case you see any errors ignore it, ty. Enjoy lovebugs! 🦠🩷

I could play the doctor, I can cure your disease If you were a sinner, I could make you believe Lay you down like one, two, three Eyes roll back in ecstasy I can smell your sickness, I can cure ya (cure) Cure your disease

"aww you mad?"

your body was slammed down on the desk, face first.

"don't." he warns. you smirk, speaking in a mocking tone.

"oh I've made you mad huh?"

your voice was silky, sultry and dangerous, your laughter taunting and teasing, it pressed all the wrong buttons at the right time.

your attitude had the upper hand in this argument, and he didn't like that one bit. It drove him insane actually.

his hand pressed against the side of your head, you smell the mint from his breath as it hit your ear.

"shut. your. gotdamn. mouth." he spoke roughly, clearly not in the mood to be played with.

hands tied behind your back, your eyes were glued to the glowing mask right by the side of your head.

it stared at you with a certain hum of a phone call ringing through the coms but he doesnt bother to answer.

he was too sexually frustrated and vexed with your ass to deal with other important, stressful matters.

your face grows annoyed but was still amused, feeling him pull away. you could still sense him standing right behind you, his heavy cologne and gunpowder lingers as he starts to shuffle, fabric ruffling and then a zipper...

the next thing you knew, you were getting your treatment handed to you.

"always got some shit to say," he murmurs, fucking you recklessly from behind.

sounds of the desk creeking and skin slapping skin echoed between the office space as clear as day.

you were loud, shamelessly, loud.

to the extent that if anyone were to come down that hall, they would hear how good he was making you feel. but neither of you would care, you'd be too busy getting your shit rocked.

you'd think, being disciplined for that disrespectful ass mouth would get you to learn... something, right?

naw, it actually enhanced the problem.

you hummed pleasingly to his hips snapping against your ass, watching the fat jiggle-- fingertips digging into your sides, had him cursing underneath his breath.

his gloved hand pulling at your hair, you sit up with a whimper, jaw unclenching as you gasp at the quick tug.

the lukewarm air hitting your exposed nipples sends a shiver down your spine.

a smug smirk rises to your lips when he starts talking crazy in your ear, feeling something cold and sharp at the base of your throat.

"seems like I've shut that ass up, don't have nothing else to say huh?"

nothing he was saying came off as a threat, intimidating or scary. if anything it turned you on even more. even the feeling of his knife pressed at your neck made your pussy throb around his lengthy dick.

"you're such an asshole." You sneered, laughing hysterically, "but damn, do you fuck me so good. Though this knife feels nice around my neck, I'd rather your hand be there instead." your grin grew wide. something so evil, so sinister and sickening about it, made jason believe he wasn't the only deranged person in this room. With a messed up past and twisted mind, you had it too.

and fuck, you had him.

the way he was so quick to just give you anything was mind blowing.

you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger, and it fucked with his mental, badly.

and as you whimpered and moaned his name like a pathetic. little. bitch, not caring that this knife was so close to slitting your throat while he fucked you with little regard to the brink of tears spilling from your eyes-- made him come to the realization that... you were crazy, psychotic.

you fed off of his crazy because you yourself was crazy. the way he roughly manhandled you, spoke raunchy words of vulgarity at you, drove you insane.

even when you talked crazy, he knew how to handle you.

you were so close to cumming.

gripping the edge of the desk, mouth gasping for air. your eyes darkened when you made eye contact with him. his hips rutting into yours. there was no warning that you were cumming but he felt it.

he felt the way your body tensed and quivered, knees buckling as you clenched around and cum all on his dick. his own hips stuttered against you. grunts deeply within the confines of his chest, he huffs, cumming right after you.

looming over you with his hands placed flatly on either side of you on the desk, his chest heaved heavily.

trapping your vulnerable body between his strong bulky arms, his face buries into the crook of your neck. beads of sweat cascading down the sides of his temples. you reach up to brush through his dark locs, feeling his lips trail up around your neck to the underside of your jaw.

his mouth leans in to give you a sloppy wet kiss, vigorously feverish, his hand wraps around your throat dangerously. the pulse of your heart beating quickly beneath the pads of his fingers causes his grip to tighten, secretly enjoying the way he can feel it so visibly.

moaning into his mouth, you begin to perch up against him. your ass grinding onto his hardening dick, he groans.

"more, baby. I want more." you beg, whining, feeling his hand go back onto the desk for the other to be fondled with your left tit, groping at the flesh and pinching at its sensitive nipple.

he curses underneath his breath tiredly, shaking his head at your resilience.

"fuck, you'll be the death of me woman."

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hii !! From the smut prompts (stop rolling your eyes, I know Im predicatable!) could I request "Accidentally Sending Nudes", "Sexting" and... a secret third thing (the choice is yours, go hogwild) for Jason x Fat Fem Reader? I'm leaning more towards sub!reader but shes def a little shit about it :3

Thank you in advance if you write it !! 🌼

See, this is why it pays to send in a request with me, because even if I don't answer it right away, I keep requests in my inbox for months and come back to them later!!! (This is from December 2023)

(Also this request is just plain fun) (because Star knows exactly what buttons to push to get me lmao)

DC Titans Requests - OPEN

How would Jason react to you accidentally sending him a nude?

(Jason Todd x Fem!Thick!Reader)

Warnings: set specifically in the Titans!verse - set during season 3/mentions of season 3 plot points; spoilers for major plot points of Titans (including character deaths on the show); this is kind of enemies to lovers? (enemies to fwb, I guess); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader is described as being fat/plus sized; passing mentions of Gar x reader (I couldn't help myself); dubious consent - because of the nature of the trope, Jason sees the reader naked without her explicit consent, and he decides to keep the picture without her consent - but it does spark a consensual sexual relationship between them; passing mention of using nudes for blackmail (that does not happen); this isn't really proofread; (generally, I consider this post to be a fucking mess because it was written in Tumblr but I was still trying to have fun with it lmao.)

...

Jason is minding his own business when it happens.

(For once in life, he is fully, completely, minding his own business.)

He's back in Gotham and he hasn't seen you in months - and if asked, he would say that he hasn't thought about you. He doesn't have time to think about you because he's been too busy with this therapy bullshit, training, trying to get back his title of Robin. Trying to get back in the cape. (And trying to get back in Bruce's good graces.)

But that's not exactly true. He's thought about you a lot.

(Most of those times have been with his hand around his cock, but again - he won't admit that.)

There is an occasional time that you cross his mind and it's because he's wondering genuinely how you're doing - wondering if you're well, how your training is going, wondering if you're doing okay under the Dickhead's reign. But he can't ever pluck up the courage to text you and simply ask. Because that would be admitting that he cares, and that would make him look like a weak little prick.

And that's why he's so damn surprised when you text him first.

He hasn't heard from you since he left the Tower (well, since he stormed away from Donna's funeral in what you called a 'toddler fit' - something that ended in a rather vicious text argument between the two of you). In fact, the last thing in the text history between the two of you is you calling him a 'giant, petty, whiny baby who can't deal with his own emotions'.

(You had no clue what had happened between him and Rose, so that did inform a lot of your opinion on the matter.) (And that was probably the reason why Rose still had all of her teeth after you had seen her at the funeral.)

But all of that was aside from the point.

The point being - Jason found himself smiling when your contact name popped up on his phone.

He has you in his phone as 'Pretty Girl' - along with a contact picture of you sticking your tongue out at him in response to having his phone shoved in your face with the knowledge that he was taking a picture of you. (That tongue always makes him think certain things, so even though you intended for it to be some rude thing to ruin the picture, it makes it so much better for him.)

(1) new photo

That instantly catches Jason's attention.

Perhaps you were sending him a picture just to flip him off, or sending him a picture of a dumpster to ask him if it reminded him of home - a common joke you used to make when he still lived at the Tower.

Jason grabbed his phone and opened the message, expecting another tired joke, and-

Holy fuck.

The last thing he was expecting - your naked body. Your gorgeous naked body.

(He likely would have expected a nuclear blast or for the Joker to clean up his act and actually become a decent, sane citizen before he expected this to happen.)

Jason brought his phone closer to his face, making the picture full screen in order to examine it better - he needed to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or that this wasn't some weird dream. But fuck, he definitely wouldn't be able to dream up this.

You were so perfect - so fucking perfect in a way that was so very real.

The picture was a fucking stunning side profile of your body - rolling curves, lacy underwear that could clearly barely contain your impressive hips with sweet little stretch marks jutting out from the fabric (jagged little marks across the softness of your skin that made Jason want to act up) - soft fat for him to grab onto, and the perfect teardrop shape of your breast, now bared to his eye in a way that he had only dreamt of before. Something that he had stared at through the oversized tee shirts you wore to bed without a bra, just wondering what you looked like underneath.

And fuck, this was so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.

Jason's cock began to harden almost instantly, and laying in bed, he reached over to his nightstand for some lube, ready to milk that picture for all it was worth, when-

His phone buzzed again.

Pretty Girl: 'Delete that.'

Jason hadn't even considered that you had sent it to him by mistake. He had been far too busy enjoying to even consider the intention or the psychology behind it.

So, he took his hand off the waistband of his sweats and texted back the first thing that came to mind.

'No.'

(He didn't hear your annoyed growl on the other end, frustrated at his downright typical Jason behaviour.)

'It's not my fault you made a dumbass mistake. Besides, it's the least I get after all the nagging from you.'

Then, something else came to mind as the bubbles popped up, meaning you were busy formulating a reply - an annoyed one, no doubt.

'Who did you mean to send it to anyway? Who are you fucking whose name starts with J that's not me?'

(You hesitated.)

Pretty Girl: 'I didn't type in J.'

'???'

Pretty Girl: 'I typed in G. And it turns out the first contact that popped up was Giant Baby. That's you.'

Jason felt annoyed and insulted on all levels. The fact that you were going to Tiger Boy for dick instead of him, and the fact that you had used such a mocking contact name for him. But when he realised that such a pathetic string of events had caused him to accidentally see you naked, he couldn't be too upset.

'I'm still keeping the picture 😈'

Pretty Girl: 'You're such an asshole' Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me one'

'Fine, I'll owe you one'

Jason shrugged it off, thinking he had won, until -

Pretty Girl: 'No, you owe me a cock.'

This made Jason's stomach jump. You couldn't possibly mean-?

Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me a picture of your dick. You know - an eye for an eye type stuff.'

Jason wanted to ask questions - what did you plan to do with the picture? Should he shave his balls first? Did you want more than one?

But his cock got even harder at you asking for a picture, at you demanding to see his cock, and he couldn't properly think - he couldn't even reason that you might later blackmail him with the picture.

No, instead, he found himself ripping down his pants and turning on the bedside lamp for good lighting, pumping himself up to peak rigid hardness and grasping the base of his cock in hand. And then, without hesitation, he snapped a picture for you. He made sure to get his abs in the photo - a collection of his best assets, with his pants pulled down to mid-thigh, showing off his tight stomach, the deep V leading down to his dick, and his thick seven inch cock in hand surrounded by some well-kept dark pubic hair.

(He was proud of it - and that ego was one of the things that annoyed you most about him.)

He sent it without hesitation and then you began typing several times and stopped once again. Jason's stomach churned with nerves until -

Pretty Girl: 'Fuck you' Pretty Girl: 'I thought it would be smaller'

Jason had no clue how to respond to that, and he was busy racking his brain for some clever reply, when -

Oh. Oh fuck.

(1) new photo

You had sent him another picture. And this time it was definitely on purpose.

It was a view between the plump, beautiful thickness of your thighs - your hand was inside the pretty lace of those panties, and your fingers were visible working on your clit while your needy hole dripped wetness onto the fabric.

So you had liked what you had seen.

Pretty Girl: 'What would you do if you were here right now?'

Jason's brain short-circuited then. He thought of so many things - eating your pussy until you screamed, flipping you onto your stomach and fucking you until you begged him to stop, gripping onto those gorgeous thighs, pinning them to your chest and pounding into your cunt until you finally surrendered and said that you had liked him all along, fucking your smart little mouth to finally shut you up-

Pretty Girl: 'Come on, Jay. Don't disappoint me.'

Oh, he won't.

(Another thing Jason won't admit - he came back to the Tower just for you.)

...

DC Titans Masterlist

[ms-nesbit]

moulin rouge (chapter 2 of empire records)

a jason todd x reader fic

summary: reader and jason embark on their second date at the Gotham Library, where Jason indulges reader on a secret.

rating: 18+ (minors kindly fuck off)

warnings: masturbation, sex worker!jason todd, cam model!jason todd, reader is plus/mid size

ao3

note: please support by reblogging, and don't be a dick by reposting elsewhere! thank you so much!

Whistling wind carrying Jason’s loose strands of hair to and fro on his head, mimicking a wind vane atop a tall barn, he strolled peacefully toward the brick building’s double doors, pulling them wide open (without the assistance of the turbulence - wretched equinox) before entering.

Jason was no stranger to the library, and he nodded to the librarians at the circulation desk, who (uncharacteristically) stopped to all wave at him; he was a frequent patron, and attended whatever event he was able. “High noon, Fred!” he beamed at the security guard upon passing through the theft-deterrents that failed to draw up to Jason’s figure, making it to his torso.

Fighting his instinct to tread to the third floor and sit in his unassigned seat near the retired fireplace, Jason planted his steel-toed feet to the ground, second guessing his outfit choice. “Oh, look at you!” A librarian walked by, commenting on Jason’s attire. “Are you going out this evening, Mr. Todd?”

“Just have someone I’m seeing in a few minutes, Luz.” Jason replied, wiping down his mahogany button up. “How ya doin, though?”

Luz stopped her mission to the circulation desk, various media in hand, as she pondered, sticking out one of her mustard flats. “Probably nothing as exciting as what you’ve got going on. Oh, to be young!” she suspired jokingly, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thank you!” From a young age, Jason was taught by his adoptive father’s butler to speak to elders with respect, especially in a formality such as the library. He disagreed with many of his father’s views, eventually leading to the pair having a final quarrel before Jason’s departure from Wayne Manor and into the Gotham flats.

In fact, it was why Jason stumbled into camwork in the first place: he found himself quitting each and every dead-end shift, arguing with the boss or co-workers. Jason was a hothead, escalating otherwise mundane and calm situations simply because he was tired of feeling trapped by others. 

Perhaps y/n felt that way, too. Even if she hadn’t, it seemed she respected his space, something that most close to him refused to do. “Jason?” he responded to the voice behind him like a dog upon his owner’s arrival, tail wagging. When he turned, his eyes laid on y/n, wearing knee-high platform boots, sienna tights underneath an umber A-line skirt decorated with paperclips, a rust-colored top under a leather jacket, and a thick knitted scarf in deep brown.

Y/n was an angel rejected from heaven, bestowed upon Jason, and he could not shake the downright corrupt images that projected in his mind. “Wow.” he said, hiding the other words under his tongue for later.

Y/n checked him out unabashedly, licking her lips. “I could say the same, Jaybird. What do you wanna do here? Read me a bedtime story?” she wiggled her eyebrows comically, triggering a blush from the tall man before her.

“Well, you chose somewhere you go to often, so now it’s my turn. May I?” Jason extended his elbow for y/n to take, and led them to the elevator, where Jason punched the Four that was missing its vowels on the button.

If it wasn’t for the guidelines previously set, y/n would have jumped his bones in the elevator, ignoring the security cameras that would have recorded the uncensored evidence. “So you come here often?” the sentence was worded deliberately, a juxtaposition to her compassionate voice.

“I have since I was little. Helped a lot to just disappear in a story, as much as it sounds like a line for a goddamn Hallmark greeting card.” Jason rolled his eyes at himself.

“What did you read?”

The elevator dinged and doors opened, gesturing for y/n and Jason to vacate the confined space. Jason led y/n past the rows of encyclopedias and historical archives and into a crossroads of shelves divided by a set of armchairs. He walked at a sharp angle with y/n, leading her away from the world and into his nook, where his lounge chair waited for him.

And there it was, in front of the decommissioned fireplace. Jason pulled out the other chair for y/n, which she sat in, before pushing it lightly and sitting in the one adjacent to hers. Immediately, as if at home, he reclined and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Y/n watched closely as he made himself comfortable. His lips parted and adam’s apple bobbed, reminding her of the videos she stared at the night before, Jason’s hand slowly stroking his cock, head thrown back, letting out guttural, obscene noises. Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat, moisture collecting in her underwear.

“When I was a kid, I thought librarians lived here.”

The confession came out of nowhere, and it drew a chuckle from y/n. “Like with teachers?”

Jason nodded. “Yep. And I, for some fucking reason, built this fort in the corner by the fire exit. I remember my dad and Alfred looking for me for hours, even calling the police because they thought I ran away again.” he smiled, eyes still closed, and it warmed y/n’s bosom. “One officer came right by me and put out his hand for me to take, and I was freaking out, y’know? ‘Cause fuck cops, right?” Y/n nodded in solidarity. “And I bit his hand. I bit it.”

Y/n erupted into laughter, which was quickly hushed by Jason. “No fucking way.”

“Way.” Jason’s eyes shot open and looked directly at y/n with as much seriousness as he could. “And he cussed and swore, saying ‘fuck’ this and ‘fuck’ that, and it was the funniest shit I went through. Though at the time I was scared shitless because I just wanted to stay and sleep in the librarians’ home and see what they did after the library closed.”

Y/n gazed at Jason. She swore she heard a harp playing. “That is so dorky, but so…fucking romantic.” The response caused Jason to grin at y/n shyly, smile lines forming on his cheeks. “What happened?”

“Al‒my butler‒found me and talked me down from it. A couple of weeks later, he spoke with the district director, and they arranged for me to have a sleepover.”

“And?”

Jason took y/n’s hand in hers, bringing it to his lips to place a small kiss on the underside of her hand. “I pissed my pants in the sleeping comforter.”

Falling forward, y/n laughed silently, wheezes and snorts disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. She couldn’t contain herself, and why should she? Jason adored how pleasantly she felt in her skin, and it showed in that moment: her bright smile, full cheeks, broad hips wiggling in her seat…she’s an open book, and it inspired him to do the same.

But he hesitated. It was the battle he faced, him and his fears: he didn’t want to repeat the past, spend another week isolated and hiding from the sun in an attempt to starve and deprive himself from sanity. Jason knew he was attractive - his followers and bank account reflected it - but he was used for it. Misled, and then taken advantage of, and for what? Momentary bliss? Clout?

A cloud formed over his head as he began to swim in the pool of decrepit thoughts that gathered in him. Why was he used? Why wasn’t he enough? Would y/n treat him the same way? Paranoia was his kryptonite, but it was hardwired in him from his early childhood years spent in the streets, abused by his biological parents.

Y/n saw the gloominess ruminating on the tall man beside her, and she halted her laughter, cupping his chin with her hand. Jason felt the touch, skin burning hot, as he faced her. “I once was jealous of Ally Snow, the horse girl of our fourth grade class, so I accidentally committed arson to her camp bunk site.”

Jason’s jaw dropped, skies in his mind clearing before a funnel cloud could form. “Arson?!”

“Mmhmm.” Y/m hummed. “I was lucky that: a) Ally’s camp counselor bailed that night, because I may have miscalculated and lit fire to the counselor’s bunk, and b) nobody found the culprit.” her eyes may have been the blaze of fire itself with the way she glared at the ground in immense passion.

Jason patted her hand, her nails now clawing at his cheek. He temporarily thought of her nails digging into his back while he… he blinked away the thought. “So you weren’t caught?”

Y/n shook her head. “And I got to watch my best friend, Yessica, punch her in the fucking face the following fall.”

They sat in their chairs, alighting the fireplace with their embarrassing stories, taking turns laughing and poking fun at each other. Before they realized, the library announced its closing time soon, and they gathered themselves, exiting the library in a fit of giggles. The librarians at the circulations saw this, and exchanged knowing looks, telling without words being spoken.

“Can I see you again soon?” it was y/n’s turn to ask when they stepped down from the platform of the library.

Jason stepped forward, closing the gap between them as he pulled her into a kiss, their lips locking instantly. “Anytime.” he grinned when he pulled away, their faces mere inches from each other.

—-

One notification. 

Y/n checked her phone as she closed her loft door, tossing her keys on the kitchen table nearby. Do you want to do something specific for our next date? Food? Entertainment? Guns? Riots?

Y/n smiled and rolled her eyes at the question. I’m down to clown at a riot. Maybe a clown riot? Dunno how that would go though.

A reply appeared. Fuck clowns. I’d rather be dead than be seen with one. How about a cemetery for our next date? Picnic?

Abso-fucking-lutely. y/n agreed, her heart fluttering at the idea of a moonlit picnic at the Gotham cemetery. She spun as she held her phone close to her chest, before another notification appeared.

Robin Hood is now live! Tap to check in now.

Thoughtlessly, y/n tapped the badge on her phone, opening an app she downloaded a few days ago to streamline Jason’s webcam streams.

The stream began in a dimly lit room with tools hung on the wall in the background. Y/n squinted at the array of tools, recognizing the brand. “You gonna make me beg, Baby? Make me beg to come? Hmm?” the words shook y/n, no longer distracted by the Craft tool kit hanging neatly on the wall, and eyes fixating on the tall brunette stripping himself from his button up and slacks.

Y/n watched closely, so closely, she worried, she didn’t blink - she soaked in the sight of Jason’s fingers finagling with his own clothes, revealing himself to her in an intimate way as he spoke so titillatingly. For a man with an intimidating figure, he was so submissive, and y/n wanted to explore it as much as he allowed.

Right now, it was about him though, and Jason was already stripped from his slacks, which gathered by his ankles on the ground, his shirt unbuttoned, but still worn. “Come on, Princess. Make me come, please.” the begs were earlier than last time, and y/n hoped she was the source, listening with open ears for her name to be called, chanted so beautifully like last time.

He didn’t stroke his cock this time, either; he thrusted into it, head tilted back to expose his neck, the adam’s apple bobbing again. He donned a flushed face that was so euphoric, y/n wished he could open his eyes so she could swim in his glossed over irises. “‘M gonna come, fuck.” his breath wavered, thrusts methodical but ruthless.

It was obvious he wanted y/n, and the feeling was mutual, y/n resisting the urge to touch herself until after she saw him reach his breaking point. And it was soon. “G-god,” he whispered shakily, “y/n” he was louder with the name, calling to her as if she was watching, “please let me come.” the words carried so much weight, so heavy as they fell into y/n’s ears, as if he wanted her to tell him to come.

And she opened up the chat, which was flooded with comments about the ‘mystery girl’ Jason was thinking about, or sexual compliments that made her blush. Wanting the command to be more intimate, she opted for a text message instead: come for me, Jason. Let me see you come.

His phone chimed and he read the notification, his hips increasing with speed. “You like seeing my cock like this? Want me to come? I’m gonna come so hard for you.” his grip tightened around his cock as he pistoned his hips, mouth falling open as moans filled the room. “Oh, y/n,” he whined, “yes!” he whimpered, voice unsteady as his hips finally slowed, cum spilling from his cock. His orgasm was powerful, taken from him too soon - yet not soon enough for him - and the sight of his blissed out state was too much for y/n to handle, who rushed to her bed to rub her clit at the thought of him.

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bruce Wayne had you on your knees between his spread thighs, his fingers threaded through your hair. “Behave,” Bruce commanded before pressing his thumb down onto the pad of your pink tongue, testing your gag reflex. Always experimenting, always testing and tweaking. “I see you’ve been practicing the pharyngeal exercises I’ve provided. You didn’t even gag this time,” he murmured, more-so to himself, though the soft smirk that crawled onto his lips was for you. Satisfaction shimmered in his naturally icy gaze. His thumb traced the curve of your bottom lip. “Impressive. Well done, honey.”

The affectionate name was a nice touch, right? Right? Or was it too. . old-fashioned? Or worse, was he too forward and made himself look like a desperate creep?

“You look exquisite on your knees. Beautiful, like a painting.” *Not trashy or filthy, but elegant and tasteful,* Bruce had nearly added, but he understood how the words could be received coming from the lips of a wealthy white man.

(I was ovulating when I hurried and threw this together lmao)

. . . That’s how you’d ended up stuffed full of Bruce Wayne’s cock, bent over the examination table of his home lab, his hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck. He analyzed your facial expressions, every twitch and moan, in your reflection off the metal equipment.

Chest to back, he panted against your ear, “How does this feel? You like when I go deep, doll?” Bruce placed a hurried, sloppy kiss against your cheek before planting his palm between your shoulder blades, holding you in place.“Use your voice, honey. I want to know what you like. How do you want me to play with you?”

Dick Grayson had planned the perfect date . . . except he forgot how prone to rain showers Bludhaven was.

On the rooftop of a rain-slick abandoned building beneath the neon glow of restaurant lights and advertisements on the Jumbotron, takeout containers were hastily shoved aside along with the spandex of your super-suit, so you could straddle him. A crisp drizzle dampened his hair. In between ravenous kisses, you could hear the patter, patter, patter of rain droplets hitting the plastic of your takeout.

Dick was the first to break the kiss, gasping for air. “We’re gonna have to be quick, baby, or it’s gonna get wet around here. And I don’t mean just you.” His skin was damp with mist, and a florid blush sprouted on the apples of his cheeks as he watched you sink down onto his cock. Lips pursed in a wince, you wobbled, your balance not the greatest.

Dick was the acrobat, not you. You preferred the safety of gravel, the promise of a next step.

“Oh, come on, just a little more,” he dared you,” I know you can take it. You’ve done it before.” Dick’s gloved hands slithered around your waist, pulling your chest to his, then he bucked his hips upward, bullying the rest of his cock into your hole. “There we go. Just like that,” he half cooed, half murmured into your cheek and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Look at you. . .” Jason Todd said, almost reverently, his breath fanning your slit from beneath you. You’d been sucking his cock after every patrol, no questions asked. It made Jason feel a bit guilty, like things were unfair, so he let you ride his face. He’d been teasing all night because he was still Jason. Thigh kisses, kitten licks, his breath ghosting over your core.

The smirk that crept across his lips could only be described as sardonic, smug, shit eating. “Worked up yet?” Jason raised a scarred eyebrow. “Aww, you poor thing, needing me to take care of it.” Jason pressed a kiss to your mound, right above your puffy clit, the special place he was needed most. Your stomach was flooded with warmth, your thighs were as tense as violin chords. You needed to cum.

“Should I cave?” Jason considered, tilting his head and screwing his lips up. “Nahhh. You look too good all soaking wet and desperate.” He himself was rock hard and leaking within the confines of his jeans. Never mind that, teasing you was one hundred percent worth whatever torture he might suffer. Though, you knew the game of teasing would be a lot less fun when his turn came around.

“Y’know you could beg and I would be a bit more. . . forthcoming.” Jason paused and gave you time to cave and beg. “No? Nothing? Then I guess you’ll just have to get your own self off, sweetheart.”

A string of saliva connected his top and bottom row of teeth when he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Well, baby, if you want to it so bad, you better start taking it. I’m set to go all night.”

[blond3ang3l]

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Camboy! Jason todd who had no clue his best friend, you, found about what he was doing. He wasn't embarrassed by it he just didn't care to tell you because he saw no point. When you confronted him he acted like he didn't care. He was so cool about it. Giving you nothing more than a shirt and a "yeah, so?" It was when you asked if you could join was when you got his attention. But fuck it. Why not?

That thought quickly left his mind during his next live stream when you held a vibrator to his flushing pink tip. His head lulled back with a deep moan. Dick twitching every time you ran the toy around his cock. The camera was angled to only see you guy's lower body. He had you placed on his lap, hand gripping your ass Every time he felt the harsh vibrations against the sensitive vein on the underside of his dick.

His viewers were loving your sudden appearance. He never had anyone except himself in his videos. Most were people were obsessed with his body, the scars, his rough voice, how thick his dick was. All of it was fascinating. And how you were there, a stark contrast in your two that drew people to the camera.

They could have sworn they heard him whimper for a moment. His tip was leaking profusely, making a mess on both you and him. Moving both of his hands to grab your ass and spread it, showing you off to the camera. A smirk on his that they couldn't see. But you could. And you didn't know just what you were in for but he planned on putting you through that damn mattress.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Just. Jason who's on his knees for his chubby girlfriend.

I know my man likes 'em thick, I JUST KNOW HE DOES.

Fat, plus size, chubby, pudgy, fluffy, soft, squishy.

He loves all of it, and I'm obsessed, I fear.

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Jason MF Todd:

Your relationship with Jason is, to the outside world, the definition of the word frenemy. In truth, you two absolutely love to rag on each other as a pastime while, y'know, being a couple.

Jason gives as good as he gets and vice versa. You can and have gotten the better of him, though, and all he can do is snort, go, "Holy shit," and try to play it off like he's not fucking dying of laughter. Good one, baby.

You and Jason complaining about how the other takes up space... but that's all you two do. You don't do fuck all to change it, you just complain for the sake of complaining. While all up in each other's space and enjoying it. This usually occurs in the bed or on the couch. ("Did you mean to sleep up under me, Jay?" "Sure did. Get used to it.")

Jason talking maaaad shit about your tastes in TV, music, what have you, but somehow seems to know just as much, if not more, about said things you indulge in. Call him out and he'll call bullshit.

Similarly, you talking cash trash about Jason's "old man" tendencies. Very funny, sweetheart. Drinking your coffee black can be good for you. ("That's not what I'm talking about and you know it, Jason.")

Conversely, also encouraging Jason to rest comfortably in his basic bitch™ era which he claims is nonexistent (embrace the basic bitch within, Jason!) but the way he uses your Stanley cup more often than not says otherwise lmao.

Intimacy (not sex) being one of the deliberately slow and steady aspects of your relationship. Sure, Jason is a very touchy-feely when it's you two by yourselves but affection and vulnerability were two things that took some getting used to, especially on Jaybird's end.

Ironically enough, he's like a fucking cat when he's with you. Affection? Cuddles? Disgusting. Give him more, baby. Scritches on his scalp? Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Side eyes of epic proportions? Don't mind if he does.

Jason being in the doghouse whenever he comes home banged and bruised up. Yeah, baby, he promised he'd be careful but shit. Even though you're mad—it's more anger born of worry—you're always there to help patch him up. He doesn't give a fuck how much pain he's in, he still wants his cuddles, though. ("C'mere...")

Being banned from watching Jason exercise because you always make shit sexual and he's trying to concentrate and not get hard and/or laugh. You fuckin' tease. What the hell would he do without you?