#red hood x gn reader
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niphredil-14 · 1 year ago
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Hey babes!! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Jason Todd x reader where the reader gets hit on by a stranger, which leads Jason to become somewhat jealous and a little possessive (a healthy amount of course... 😭). Reader wears a necklace with a J on it which he specifically points out to stranger to sort of prove a point that they are indeed taken, that's when he sort of leaves them alone.. Jason on the other hand has a lot in store for reader, specifically in the bedroom.. breeding kink??? Sorry, my mind is all over the place right now 😭
Sorry it's my first time writing a request I don't really know what I'm doing.. but have a great day!!
Sorry this took so long to write, I've been struggling with writer's block, burnout, and some mental health stuff, also my job sucks ass and is super draining. gotta love retail, huh? anyways I hope you enjoy and also sorry that it is so short. I am trying to clear out my inbox on a random boost of motivation so that I can move onto accepting requests for a new fandom!!
White was creeping into the edge of their blurry vision, and their hands, placed against the full body floor mirror for some semblance of support, were shaking about as much as the rest of their body. Their feet had been kicked apart so that Jason could stand between them as he pistoned in and out of their hole, a rough ebb and flow giving them chance to catch their breath. One of his hands rested on their hip, and the other one on their shoulder. They had been stripped entirely, except for a simply, dainty necklace hanging around their neck. The charming J pendant rested just between their collarbones, and was being forced to swing away from them before falling back onto their clavicle, like a single pendulum taken from a Newton's Cradle and being left to swing alone.
"You look so good like this, sweetheart." Jason drawled, his Gotham accent made thicker by his arousal as he left the 'arr' sound in 'sweetheart' to hang in the air, separate from the rest of the word's syllables. "Such a shame your friend from earlier won't get to ever see you like this, since you're all mine." A whine left their throat as they tilted their head to the side, letting it fall limp. He could feel them clench around him. "Oh, you like that, huh?" He asked, though it sounded more like a taunt. "You like bein' mine, dollface?" His teasing only grew more eager. "You like belongin' to me?" They let out the most pathetic sounding whine of affirmation, which was met with a dark chuckle from their lover, followed by the index and middle fingers of his hand, sliding from their shoulder underneath the chain of the necklace, and pulling it into their neck, until their skin puffed out around it. The sigh they let out was pure filth. "You're so fuckin' desperate to be mine, I'd bet you'd let me breed you right now."
"Fuck! Please, Jay!" They called out, and his hips stilled. He tugged the necklace a tiny bit more, and leaned so that his head was next to theirs, their eyes met in the mirror, and Jason parted his lips.
"Are you sure, hon? 'Cause I will, and at that point, there'll be no goin' back, you know? I'd fill ya until I was sure it took, and then I'd go out and buy you a ring first thing in the mornin.' You sure you want that, Y/n? For us to have a family? For you to really be mine, forever?" They nodded breathlessly. "'S not enough, Darlin,' I need to hear ya say it, I'm not gonna take any chances here." His voice was rushed and breathy, and with all of his emotion, his accent made him near unintelligible, but they knew him, knew what he was asking for. They turned their head, fighting against the necklace cutting into them near painfully, and moved one of their hands off of the mirror to place on Jason's cheek.
"I'm sure, Jason. I want to be yours completely, I want it to be us forever." The softest smile graced his face, as his eyes became visibly glossy, and releasing the necklace, letting its pendant rest gently on their skin, he moved his head down to slowly kiss them as he began to move his hips again.
I meant for this to be kinky I swear, I fully blame my shitty day for how fluffy this is. lmk if you want me to write another where its rougher or something.
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chosokamosbf · 8 months ago
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(N)SFW JASON TODD / RED HOOD HCs.
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☆ 18+ only/no minors.
WARNINGs: 18+, gn (gender non-implied)! reader, daddy/mommy kink, mentions of abuse (jason nor reader are doing it), minor mention of blood, sub/dom, pain play, fear play, "prey/predator," brat taming, reader is referred to as "prince(ss)" and "sweetheart" once.
WORD COUNT: 900-ish+
Based on canon, I firmly believe he's on the ace spectrum, specifically demisexual. And even then, he rarely experiences sexual attraction at all for his partners. This isn't because he doesn't love them (enough) or any other assumptions similar to that; it just doesn't happen much.
Furthermore, as much as he'll indulge you here and there if you do, (sexual) intimate moments with Jason would be far and few between, making them all the more important to him.
He's a switch, leaning on dom and top. Mostly because he likes the control and is more comfortable that way. Getting him to be submissive instead is a gradual endeavor. He doesn't hate it; it just takes a lot of patience and trust.
First and foremost on actual kinks, I think Jason has a thing for "daddy," both on the receiving and giving ends. He likes the title, and he's definitely the type to whisper something like, "C'mere, sweetheart. Give daddy a kiss." in even private, innocuous moments just to mess with you.
(Note: I don't think he'd have as much of a mommy kink because—y'know.)
Rough sex is a top favorite of his. This goes hand in hand with play wrestling as a form of foreplay, breathing heavily down on his partner just to continue that energy into bed with sweat-slick bodies. It's less about "winning," and more about being allowed to confide in someone in a way and the fun that can come with it. He wouldn't be against being the sub in this situation either, even if his partner is weaker than him, because he knows how important control can be in bed, so he'll let them win. Sometimes. He trusts you, and he wants you both to feel good.
Degradation/praise wise, he'll give either out depending on the moment. He's going to tease and utter dirty shit like, "C'mooon, prince(ss). You're sounding like a real whore for someone who didn't want it a couple minutes ago—" if you tried to struggle against. It depends more on the moment than position because he could be pounding into you and huffing out praise right next to your ear with what little air he's catching, to riding you, telling you to keep up while his head is already thrown back.
He enjoys pegging a lot, but as always, it's going to take some convincing to get him to comply.
Brat taming is another go-to of his, along with sub/dom. On the other end, it seems to be a near equal opposite—he's not into it, and it can get uncomfortable real fast. There's a few times he'll indulge himself, and they're all after more intense days to sort of solidify the trust he has in you. You're not going to hurt him; he's still in control in a way.
He doesn't seem like he'd like being on the receiving end of any sort of pain play. He already deals with chronic pain on a day-to-day basis. To have it overwhelm one of the few aspects of intimacy that he loves and simultaneously take his head off things for once just doesn't seem like it'd be enjoyable for him. No, on the giving end—
(Note: I'm not into pain play myself, nor do I even know what even makes it enjoyable for people, so I'll be segmenting this with fear play and "prey/predator.")
It wouldn't be something he'd ever bring up, far from it, but if it's what you like, he'll gladly take a knife in a steady hand to softly trace it down from your stomach to your underwear. In a smile almost cruel, he'd drag it across just enough so a few drops could be licked back up if you asked nicely enough again.
Jason knows you're just asking for it if you're weaker than him and bring up the idea of a different kind of foreplay. He'd pick a place, somewhere with a lot of spots you could try to hide away and run to (an abandoned office of sorts is the best go; he's not going to risk infections).  Just for him to stalk, pin you down with ease. If the spot he found his little prey in isn't satisfactory (or clean) enough, he'd have no qualms settling you over his shoulder like a sack and manhandling you where he wants it.
He definitely isn't going to go too far, though. As well-trained as he is, he's going to be especially attentive after any scenes involving that. Sadism isn't a big one for him. He'll enjoy it in the moment but then feel real guilty afterwards, so, just as a reminder, aftercare goes both ways.
I don't know why some people think he's into "dark" (ex. pedo stuff such as ageplay and actual rape.) kinks when he's canonically and literally has hunted down murdered several (sexual) abusers before. If you try to break boundaries, he's going to be reconsidering the relationship, and quite possibly if he even knew you as a person.
On a lighter note, consent is a big thing for him, and he's also big on aftercare. A go-to would be a bath for the both of you (stuffing the sheets in the washer right before and bandaging any "scratches" if need be.), then cuddling. Depending on whether he has the energy, he'll pop something in the microwave real quick. (Takeout is usually a last resort because the last thing he wants while enjoying the afterglow with a partner is social interaction with a stranger.)
If you wear make-up and it gets ruined by the end, like in the latter part of the previous section, if he can, he's going to help you wipe off the mess and maybe help you reapply it as a form of care.
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prismuffin · 2 years ago
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Hey, I saw that your asks are open.
What if Jason Todd got really hurt doing a mission, and had to get a bunch of stitches and surgery.
How do you think he would react waking up, seeing Reader cuddled up to him in his medical bed?
Like Reader was very worried about him, so would sleep cuddling Jason, just incase something wrong happens. In his past, he died and he when he came back alive no one was there to help him out of his grave. So Reader never felt his side, so Jason could wake up knowing he wasn't left behide again.
This is so depressing 😭 but I think that-
Jason wouldn’t notice you at first. As soon as he awoke he’d just stare at the ceiling, coming to terms with everything that just happened to him. It’s only after you twitch that his eyes shoot down to see you hunched over in a chair that could not be comfortable, your arms resting on the side of his bed, weakly holding his thigh.
He’d watch you for a while, being both stunned and confused before nudging you awake as best he could in his condition. Seeing you slowly open your eyes and recognize his, now awake, self was gratifying. He felt a sense of warmth after seeing how happy you were to see him awake.
He most likely would ask why you were there which prompted you to embarrassingly tell him that you didn’t want him to wake up alone. He’d be shocked but grateful that you didn’t leave him. Let’s you hug him if it doesn’t hurt much and as you leave to get the doctor his eyes are definitely watering. He doesn’t cry, especially not in front of you, but he gets very close.
( all my power was out this morning so I'm not exactly sure when this came in but sorry if it took a minute? )
———
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ivysangel · 8 months ago
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Jason Todd has a raging size kink. He tries not to make it too obvious in public, tries to pretend that he doesn't notice how standing next to you really highlights just how large he really is. But it's always on his mind, always front and center, even when he doesn't want it to be.
He'll have a hand on your back as he ushers you through crowded parts of Gotham, trying not to think about how large his hands are and how one of them can cup an entire asscheek when he's fucking you.
He grabs things off of tall shelves at grocery stores when you can't reach them. Comes up behind you and picks them up with ease while he's pressed into you from behind. He's peering down at you, a soft grin on his face as he thinks about you on your knees, struggling to take him in your mouth.
When you're playing twister at a Wayne family function, and you end up falling on each other during a wrong move, he watches you break out into a fit of laughs while he turns red in the face. Not from embarrassment, he couldn't care less about that, but because the first thought that popped into his head as you were pinned under him was how much he wished you could stay there.
For a split second, an image is projected into his mind of you squirming beneath him as he puts all of his weight on you. All 200+ pounds keeping you firmly in place as he fucks you good and deep just how you like.
He's scrambling to get off of you now; a shade of crimson akin to the one he dons at night colors the visible parts of his body, and he clears his throat awkwardly as he helps you to your feet.
"In hindsight, he should've played with one of us," Dick says from the couch. He's gesturing toward you when he continues, "he's just too big in comparison. Throw's everything off."
Jason doesn't hear the second part. His ears start ringing the moment he's reminded that everyone else is aware of how big he is next to you, and he's very quickly calculating how many more rounds of twister he has to go before the two of you can politely duck out and head home for a more...intimate version of the game.
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porcelian · 1 month ago
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“It’s currently—” Jason leans back on the counter’s edge to glance at the clock, “—five in the morning.”
“We talked all night?”
The refrigerator’s light glows in the kitchen, casting its hue on you and Jason. You stay seated stubbornly on the counter. The cool surface biting into the bare skin of your thighs.
“I’m freezing.” You groan.
Jason coos. He moves to stand between your legs. Your head instinctively falls to his shoulders.
“Poor baby.” You can imagine the smug grin on his face. “Weren't you the one who decided not to sleep tonight–”
“But–”
“–to eat, what is this again?” He picks up the Ice-cream carton placed next to you.
“Ice-cream. I was craving something sweet.”
“No wonder you're freezing. Plus, we need to address your sweet tooth.” He laughs.
“I have a weakness for sweet things.” You place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Jason snorts. The corners of his lips curled.
You snatch the carton from his hands. Grabbing the spoon you take another bite. You can feel your mouth freeze as the cold spreads in your mouth.
“Oh no, poor baby–”
“Shut up, Jay.”
“Want me to warm you up?”
You give him a faux glare.
“How do you stay warm, anyway? You hog all the blankets, maybe that's why.”
He gasps. “No, I do not.”
“Take responsibility, Jason Todd. Warm my hands for me.” You reach out your hands in front him, fingers wiggling. The smile on your face reaches your eyes.
With a tender grip, he wraps your hands in his, the warmth of his palms spreading slowly into your cold fingers.
“I spoil you too much.”
“Kiss me,” you whispered.
He smiled, a pearl-iridescent grin that lures you in. “You always order me about.”
“Kiss me.”
“Now you want a kiss? Are you sure?” The corners of his smile curled, turning into a teasing smirk. “Because once I do, I might not be able—”
Your hands grasped the fabric of his collar and yanked him down.
His lips danced around yours. The taste of him seeped into you akin to honeyed nectar. His hands encircled your waist. Calloused hands fleetingly ghosted over your skin.
“I love kissing you.” You murmured.
“Spoiled.”
“Shut up. You love me.”
© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.
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allllium · 2 months ago
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Jason's love language is 100% touch
I don't care what anyone says I know this man has been craving a nice cuddle under a warm blanket for so long
At first he'll put firm boundaries in place, asking you not to touch him in any intimate way, not unless he initiates it
Which makes total sense considering everything he's been through, all the scars on his body that makes him sick to touch
But over time, surprisingly not a long time, he warms up to your touch and even finds himself craving it
It starts small with an arm around your waist and a warm hand placed in yours, but it quickly turns more intimate
Something he never thought he'd have is suddenly there whenever he wants and he doesn't know how to feel about it
He gets more comfortable with things he never thought would be so nice
He lays his head in your lap as you lay on the couch watching TV, showing a kind of vulnerability neither of you ever expected
He starts sleeping without his shirt on and continuously pulls you closer to him
He almost always has a hand on you now
Now that he's comfortable he's not even gonna think twice before keeping his arm around you or laying his hand comfortably on your thigh
He can't even begin to understand why he feels the happiest he's ever been when you do something as simple as playing with his hair or placing your lips to one of his many scars
Safe to say once he gets to this stage, there's no way to go back
p.s he will totally pout the entire day if you lean away from his touch
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jaythes1mp · 5 months ago
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Here, Kitty.
Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH1
12609 words, 71519 characters, 719 sentences, 224 paragraphs, 50.4 pages Next chapter
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You can't recall exactly when or how you first came into contact with the billionaire and his sons, but if you could, you would go back in time and prevent that meeting from ever taking place. In a heartbeat.
Sitting obediently on a glass table tucked in the center of a crowded Wayne Enterprises boardroom, you find yourself ensnared as Bruce Wayne diligently delivers a familiar presentation, each sentence having been painstakingly practiced during the car ride over. Having overheard his repeated rehearsal with Alfred, you find yourself unconsciously mouthing along to every word. The tight black and green collar around your neck only worsening your discomfort, its stiffness constricting your movements and snagging on your freshly groomed fur.
The man continues on with his presentation, his polished demeanour and authoritative tone captivating the attention of the surrounding investors and executives. However, you find it difficult to focus on his words, the ridiculous knitted Nightwing sweater pressing against your back causing an uncomfortable itch. You shift slightly, wincing as your freshly combed coat brushes against the stiff fabric.
The weight of Bruce's unwavering gaze lands on you like a furnace, and you can almost picture that infuriatingly fond smile plastering his face. Just the thought of it made your stomach churn with disgust. Your tail swishing side to side in distaste.
He continues to drone on and on; and you find yourself struggling to stay still, the uncomfortable position, itchy sweater, and the heavy weight of Bruce's stare making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything he's saying. The only thing you want to do is scratch the infuriating itch, but the tight collar around your neck and Bruce's looming presence ensure that you remain obediently still. You know better than to cross them. How willing they are to punish you, so you stay still.
Your thoughts drift to a time when you were still unburdened by this enforced domestication. A pang of longing and bitterness settles in your chest as memories of your previous life come flooding back. You remember the simple freedom of being able to move about unmonitored, the comfort of lounging in the sun, unbothered by the Wayne families suffocating grasps.
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Your paws effortlessly propel you across the icy rooftops, leaping and bounding with a careless grace. The cool night air brushes through your untamed, unhindered fur, the wind whistling past your ears. A bag is clenched between your sharp teeth, the fabric muffling your breathing slightly as you scale each building with purpose.
The city's neon glow stretches out beneath your paws, the distant lights casting a soft, surreal hue on the urban canvas. Free to go wherever you please. You could spend minutes, hours or even days just wandering under Gotham’s starry sky, with no one to tell you what to do or where to be.
You pause your journey and arrive at the edge of a dark alley, peering down at the scene below. A woman holds two teens hostage, a pistol pressed against their shivering frames. Your tail involuntarily fluffs up, matching the tension in your body as your slitted eyes dart to each potential escape route. A hiss escapes past your teeth, and you set the package down at your side before delicately pawing at a loose brick in the wall. You slide it from its position just enough to create a domino effect, the brick falling directly onto the woman's gun-holding hand.
A small, satisfied mewl leaves your throat as the woman wails in pain, her broken wrist cradled protectively in her grip. The two teens immediately seize the opportunity to make their escape, scrambling out of the alleyway. The gun slips from the woman's grasp, and she drops to her knees clutching her wounded hand. Your ears fold back and a low hiss escapes your lips at the sight, but you remain perched on the roof-top, unmoving. You slowly lower back down to take your package, then turn away. Your paws hitting the nearest rooftop with a small thump.
Your paws carry you further and further away from the robbery, the events replaying in your mind like a vivid, disjointed dream. You launch yourself from roof-to-roof in a series of quick dashes and leaps, your body seemingly on autopilot as you weave through the city's darkened backstreets. The silence of the rooftops envelops you like a comforting blanket, the city below finally at rest. A cool night breeze caresses your untamed fur, rustling its unkempt strands. Balancing the package carefully in your mouth, you bound toward your home’s familiarly cluttered balcony.
Your eyes scan over the cluttered balcony, taking in the random assortment of books, clothes, and trinkets strewn across the small space. Your padded paws land quietly on the rough wood, a subtle thump breaking the silence. Your muscles relax ever so slightly as the familiar surroundings wash over you. Without a second thought, you make your way to the edge of the balcony, lowering the package with your paws before curling up beside it, your ears folding back in an almost contented manner.
Your eyes had just shuttered closed as you basked in the soothing midnight breeze, when the sudden crash of metal yanks you from your reverie. Your ears perking up and pivoting towards the source of the disturbance. A low, frustrated huff escapes your snout. You stretch out your limbs, your tail flicking in annoyance as you lower yourself from the edge of the balcony and peer over the side.
Peering down from your perch on the balcony, your eyes widen in surprise. It’s...a boy? Wearing a skin-tight red and black bodysuit with a vibrant yellow cape. A flicker of familiarity sparks in your brain; you’ve seen this one before. Red Robin.
You observe him silently from your vantage point, tilting your head to the side as your eyes rove over his frame. He lets out an exaggerated groan, grappling awkwardly with an unfamiliar piece of gadgetry. A low, scoffing hum leaves your throat and your tail lightly thwaps against the wood, twitching in amusement. You had only seen him in pictures before, but damn, they didn’t lie. He looked absolutely ridiculous.
You lower yourself with a single, fluid motion onto the metal stairwell, feeling the rough surface scraping against your little paws. A small hiss of displeasure escapes your throat, but you brush it off and continue. You approach him curiously, taking a moment to inspect him. Your nose twitches as you sniff at his cape before finding a comfortable spot to sit and look up at him expectantly.
He doesn’t immediately notice your approach, his mind seemingly occupied by the malfunctioning gadget in his hands. You watch as he fiddles with the device for a few moments before his attention finally snaps to you. He visibly jumps, startled by your sudden proximity. He lets out a startled breath, eyes widening. You had gone to him.
You let out a snort of derision. Him, a vigilante? A detective? Unlikely. The thought of him trying to solve a case or outwit a criminal is absolutely absurd. You let your gaze wander over his costume once more, imagining how differently he would react if you were in your human form right now.
He slowly lowers the gadget, his eyes fixed upon you as you recline before him, behaving like an awaiting house cat. He observes you with quiet, analytical interest, his gaze roaming over your small form, taking in your twitching tail and reasonably-groomed fur. He seems to ponder the sight of you, weighing in on your not-quite stray, yet not-quite pampered appearance.
You gingerly shift closer, standing on your hind legs before pawing at his pants. A small indignant huff of disappointment escapes your lips as the material refuses to tear, the tightly-woven fabric holding firmly against your claws, unable to even tear the slightest thread, but you mask it with a small, almost cute "mew". Nevertheless, you are determined to make the most out of this situation. Planning on coaxing all the pets you possibly can out of this man.
He shoots you a curious look, tilting his head to the side. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. He then slowly reaches out a gloved hand, hovering it over your head hesitantly, waiting for your response.
The end of your tail gives a happy flick, betraying your eagerness for his touch. You press your cheek against his knuckles, enjoying the sensation of his fingers against your fur. Instinctively, your ears fold back, granting him better access to run his fingers further through your soft fur. Sucker.
A soft, delighted purring sound fills the air as your eyes flutter closed, your purrs becoming a constant, steady low rumble in your chest as he continues to gently stroke your head and down your neck. Oh, this is heavenly. Your tail swishes contentedly, and you lean into his touch, almost shamelessly seeking out more.
His gloved hand is much bigger than your entire head, the soft fabric of his suit brushing against your fur. Yet, his touch was gentle and deliberate, slowly tracing the outline of your ears and down your spine, causing a blissful shiver to run through your small body. Your eyelids droop further, nearly closing completely, your purring becoming louder as you relax into his touch. You don’t notice the pleased knowing grin that crosses his face.
The weight and warmth of his gloved hand was almost soothing, his fingers weaving between your fur with a sort of rhythmic motion. You let your body go limp, your head rolling back to further expose the underside of your chin, silently begging for more of those slow, careful caresses. Your eyes are almost completely closed now, a small rumble in your chest the only sound you remember how to make. God, you haven’t been pet in weeks.
His hand moves from your spine to the base of your tail, and a low sigh of pure contentment leaves your mouth. He seems to sense your delight and focuses his attention there, running his fingers through the base of your tail, causing you to involuntarily arch your body towards him, purring in approval.
He seems to know exactly what to do, his touch deliberate yet tender. A little too well. It's as if he's somehow mapped out each and every spot that you secretly adore and is now exploiting it to great effect. The constant caresses, pets, and scrabbles have worked you into a sort of euphoric, almost trancelike state, your mind becoming blissfully devoid of conscious thought. All you can focus on is the warm, firm touch of his gloved hand.
The moment is shattered, however, as deep voice from his comms shatters the sweet, blissful moment. Your little pointed ears perk up, instinctively responding to the sudden intrusion of sound. “Tim? Why does it say you’ve stood still?”
You pull yourself from your blissful state with a reluctant huff, the sound of the deep voice in his comm jarring you back to reality. Your ears flick back, annoyed at the interruption. Tim��� Red Robin seems to tense up, his hand frozen in mid-pet. He lets out a small, nervous chuckle, looking down at you. "Sorry, I got…distracted."
Your tail lazily swishes against the stairwell, silently expressing your irritation at having been interrupted. You can practically hear his sheepish, nervous chuckle, can practically sense the tension in his frame. "Distracted?" The voice in the comm questions, but you huff, tuning out the conversation.
You let out a small, frustrated huff before turning your focus back onto Tim's still form. Ignoring the man's comm conversation, you push your little, fluffy face against his leg, letting out a needy demanding mewl to regain his attention. You're not done yet, damn it.
His eyes flick back over to you, a mix of apology and amusement evident in his gaze. He resumes his prior motions, sliding his hand down your spine with a soft, comforting caress, tracing the same path he'd followed before. All the while, his other hand is fiddling with the comms device, probably replying to the man on the other end. Good. As long as his hands are still touching you, you don't particularly care what he's doing. “You found them?”
You sigh and let yourself relax once again, the soothing motions of his fingers against your fur quickly working you back into blissful indifference. You let your eyelids flutter closed, sinking back into the soothing rhythm of his touch. The only sounds you can focus on are his breathing, the soothing rasp of his glove against your fur, and the low hum of the comm conversation. This is nice.
He continues this motion for what feels like an eternity, the blissful sensation of being pet taking over your senses and dulling your brain into a euphoric, mindless state. You find yourself leaning heavily against his leg, the steady rise and fall of his chest and the low rumble of his voice against the comms acting as an oddly soothing background noise. Damn, you could get used to this....
Gradually, you become aware of him shifting, his hand leaving your spine. A low whine escapes your throat, your eyes opening to look up at him with a mixture of annoyance and pleading. Come back. You meow, demanding.
You let out a low grumble of complaint as he stands and picks up the device once more. Irritated at the interruption of your moment, you bat at his leg with your small paw, then quickly scamper away, leaping back onto the balcony from before. Now alone, you let out a sigh and circle the small space multiple times. The wood scraping against your claws sharply.
With a quick shift, you transform back into your human form, the small package clutched delicately in your hands. Turning, you slide open the door to the balcony and step through, the cool night air rustling against your clothes.
Tossing the small package onto the countertop, you drag yourself over to the couch. Your limbs ache with exhaustion as you collapse into the cushions with a thud. You bring the well worn blanket with you, wrapping your tired body in its familiar comfort. Your muscles are screaming out for rest. Which you happily oblige.
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You're wrenched out of a fitful sleep, eyes fluttering open as the familiar, infuriating sound of construction greets you. Fuck. A loud, frustrated groan escapes your chapped lips. You pull a nearby couch pillow over your head, desperately trying to muffle the noise. With bleary eyes, you squint at the digital clock reading 5:42. You want to die.
The relentless hammering, banging, and drilling outside the thin walls of the apartment pierce your eardrums. You swear you can feel each blow of the hammer, every screech of the drill, deep in your bones. Make it stop. You press the pillow more firmly against your ears, trying in vain to block out the incessant din. You silently promise yourself that if you ever meet the city planner responsible for approving this construction, you'll kick him square in the nuts... Or right in the vagina– whatever. Now is not the time to debate over this.
With a groan of irritation and an abundance of hissing, you force your tired body into a sitting position as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You take a moment to rub your temples for some relief from the dull ache forming behind your eyes.
You open your red rimmed eyes and swing your legs over the side of the couch. The exhaustion from last night feels ten times worse now after being woken up prematurely by the construction racket. You mentally curse whoever’s in charge here, and their entire bloodline. Silently wishing for the noise to stop. Maybe you can sleep in the bathtub later...
You brace one hand against the side of the couch as you use it as support to rise to your feet. A series of satisfying cracks and pops resonate down your spine. By the sound of it you’re a chiropractors wet dream.
You let out a low sigh of relief as you straighten, your back now less taut than it was a few moments ago. Small mercies, right?
With your hands clamped tightly over your tender, sensitive ears, you stumble into the kitchen. You begin searching through each cabinet with a desperation that borders on violent. Your mission? Find the strongest headache pills you have.
After hastily flinging open each cupboard and shelf, you finally find what you’re looking for. A small, white bottle filled half way with little white tabs. With a quick twist, you pop the lid open and pour two pills out into your palm, before downing them dry.
You lean against the kitchen counter, eyes squeezed shut as you press the heels of your hands firmly into your temples. Come on. Work already..
You wait in silence, only the buzzing of the refrigerator and occasional hammering outside filling the air. You press your palms against your temples, as if physically willing the pills to work faster. The tension between your shoulders tight as piano wire.
You let out a frustrated groan, turning the tap on, lowering your head under the rushing water. You gulp down a few mouthfuls, letting the water run over, through, and past your lips. The noise of the tap muffling the sounds of the construction. The coolness of the water temporarily soothes the ache behind your eyes.
You let the water slide past your lips, closing them to savor the cool sensation. Your mind grows blank as you lose track of time, lost in tranquility despite the racket outside. Then, with a shaky hand, you turn off the tap, stepping back as you reach for a tea towel to dry your face and neck. The cloth rough against your tender skin, but the motion is calming, and your shoulders loosen the slightest bit.
You lean back against the counter, the cold marble seeping through your shirt, almost numbing any sensation on your skin. You take another moment to towel dry your hair, the rough material scraping against your scalp, and sending a pleasant shiver down your back. The small action temporarily distracting you from the pounding in your head.
You drop the towel, letting it fall onto the counter behind you. A long exhale escapes your mouth, your shoulders dropping as you relax. For a moment, the water seems to have worked. Unfortunately, the relief is short lived as the headache slowly creeps back in. A low growl escapes your lips. Ugh.
You scan over the bottle, reading the small print. Only twenty minutes before the damn things start to kick in. Shit. You shove the container back inside the cupboard, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. You drag your body over to your room, every step a tedious task.
You stumble into the room and collapse onto your bed, face first. You let out a low groan as your body lands on the soft, fluffy mattress. It welcomes you with open arms. You let yourself go limp, letting the comfort and softness of your bed lull you into a quiet state of half numbness. You can’t tell if it’s the lack of rest, or the pills finally starting to work, but you’re suddenly feeling incredibly woozy.
With a sluggish effort, you shift your head up, wincing at the sharp, persistent thrum in your skull. Despite the throbbing, you slowly extend your arm to reach for the pair of shorts laying on the edge of the bed.
With a weary sigh, you shuck off yesterday’s cargo pants and pull the new shorts up your legs. The simple motion feels like climbing a mountain. Deciding that the headache pounding through your mind was too much to change your shirt, you collapse back onto your bed. The sheets cool against your overheated skin.
You lay there for a moment, letting the comfort of your bed take hold. Despite the headache still pounding through your head, exhaustion slowly starts to take hold of you. Your eye lids flutter as sleep slowly creeps in. But just as you’re about to doze off, your stomach lets out an obnoxious gurgle, the sound piercing the silence. Great.
You let out a frustrated sigh as you shift up from the bed, grimacing as you do so. Your untamed hair sticking up in random directions. You rub your temple, as your stomach lets out another loud grumble. You let out an annoyed whine as the realisation sinks in. You’re out of groceries.
With a disgruntled huff, you haul yourself up for the second time. Reaching for your jacket as you quickly make your way towards the front door. This time choosing to forego the balcony and just walk like a normal person. You swing open the front door and step out into the hallway. The fluorescent lights buzz annoyingly overhead.
You step into the hallway, your shoes slapping softly against the tiled floor. The sound of the construction is no longer muffled, the endless banging and grinding now clear as day. You wince as the onslaught suddenly becomes unbearable. You quickly make your way to the staircase instead of the elevator. You can’t handle being jammed into that tiny space with the sounds of hell right now.
You take the steps of the staircase two at a time, just wanting to get out of this damn building as soon as possible. Each step echoes with a rhythmic thudding against the cold concrete as you make your way to the ground floor. The headache pills have finally started to work, but the pounding construction outside is slowly undoing their efforts.
You stride past the workers, shooting each of them a murderous glare. It’s not their fault they’re just doing their job. But goddamn it, the headache is worsening and it’s all you can do to not snap at them. Instead, you settle for shooting them a glare that could rival Batman himself.
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the angry words building within you. Just keep walking. It’s fine. They’re not at fault here. It’s stupid to be angry at them. You repeat the mantra in your head like a broken record as your legs carry you further down the street. Further away from that blasted construction noise.
You keep walking, your shoes thumping against the concrete as you go. The further away you get from the construction, the more the headache starts to abate. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief as you glance around at your surroundings. Barely anyone was out at this hour, the streets still mostly asleep.
After walking another ten minutes or so, you pause in the middle of the street and let out a string of quiet curses under your breath. The stores won’t be open for at least another four hours, and your stomach is starting to demand sustenance again.
Frustration builds inside of you, your teeth clenched tight together as you shuffle in place. You can’t go back to your apartment because of that goddamn noise, and all the stores that aren’t run by mobsters are closed.
You sigh, resting your tired body against the graffiti-filled wall behind you. There was another option you could try. But whether or not you were desperate enough to do it was something else.
You chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. You hadn't eaten much more than a small yogurt cup yesterday, and your stomach was protesting it's emptiness in a loud, gurgling complaint. You release a long sigh, doing a quick glance around to ensure no one was nearby before shifting into a cat.
The transformation is swift and graceful as you shift into the form of a sleek cat. Your body shrinks, limbs elongating and changing shape as soft multicoloured fur sprouts from your body. You stand on four paws, tail swaying languidly. You give yourself a quick shake, licking your little paws for good measure before looking around again.
You take a moment to get used to the new body you’ve assumed. Everything felt a tad bit more sensitive in this form. Your ears swivel around at minuscule sounds as you sniff the air with your sensitive nose, picking up on the various scents floating through the street.
You decide to try your hand at pity first, before resorting to thievery if your first plan fails. You slink down the street, your paws silent against the pavement beneath you as you search for some poor unsuspecting soul to assist you.
You stalk down the street, ears pricked and head tilted as you listen for the sounds of anyone making their way through the quiet street. You make yourself as adorable as possible: wide, begging eyes and sticking out your chest. A pitiful meow leaving your little cat mouth every so often, just for good measure.
You make your way through the city, heading towards the more upscale side of Gotham. You sway your tail idly behind you, the appendage brushing against the concrete and gathering the dirt that sticks to your fur. You make sure to rub up against some objects, gathering enough dirt and debris to make yourself appear slightly disheveled, but not enough to set off your instincts to want to groom yourself immediately.
You reach a neighbourhood of opulent high rises and well manicured lawns, plush houses and gated communities starting to become more frequent, a stark contrast to the graffiti-filled blocks you had passed before. Your fur is dusted with enough dirt to look untidy without feeling uncomfortable, and you let out a small meow as you glance down the street, scouting for a likely target.
You spot a man of considerable height, around 6 foot tall, with an intimidatingly built physique. His shirt clings just slightly too tightly against his chest, leaving little to the imagination. A scar mars the side of his face, making him look even more menacing. But you’ve seen far scarier looking men loitering at the end of your street. Saying that, doesn’t mean you’re any less scared of his imposing figure. So you quickly duck under the nearest parked car, attempting to conceal yourself beneath it.
You watch in trepidation as the man begins strutting towards the vehicle you’ve hidden yourself beneath. He kneels down in an unhurried, smooth motion, and peers right under the car. His gaze instantly locks onto you, your eyes widening in response to his intense stare. For the briefest of moments, you could have sworn there was a look of softness in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected to see you.
“A cat?” The man lets out a small huff, shaking his head in what seemed like disbelief. His gaze drifts to your disheveled appearance, taking in the dirt that clings to your fur. He lets out a low hum, continuing to watch you with a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His muscles slowly relax. A smirk appearing on his face as he studies you closer.
Your tail sways behind you, your ears perking up at his relaxed gaze. A sly little grin of satisfaction threatens to rise to your face, but you hold it back, instead letting out a pitiful meow as you slowly shuffle closer to him. He doesn’t move away, watching your every movement with unwavering eyes.
You lower your head, slowly moving towards his boots. You let your body press against the soles of his shoes, a soft purring sound escaping your little feline mouth. The dirt from your fur slowly coats the previously clean material of his boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind the mess.
You continue to press your body against the hard leather of his boots, leaving behind a dusting of dirt. He crouches down, gently reaching out a big hand, careful not to scare you off. You can see the muscles in his arms flex with the action, the veins prominent on his knuckles. He gently runs a finger over your head, scratching just behind your ears.
The feel of his big hand against your head is gentle, his touch unexpectedly tender as he lightly scratches at the skin behind your ear. You let out a rumbling purr, unable to fight the comforting sensation that slowly starts to take over. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s surprisingly sweet towards you.
He’s a hard-looking man, his appearance disheveled and weathered, a white streak through his jet black hair. His wide physique is almost intimidating, but you can see his heart already start to soften after a few moments. It seems even he isn’t immune to the charm of a pitiful stray cat begging for food and affection.
"What are you doing all the way out here, kid?" The man's deep, slightly grating voice calls out as he continues to gently scratch behind your ear. He's staring down at your small form with an odd expression of concern on his face, his eyes drifting over your disheveled fur.
Your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. Something suddenly seems terribly familiar about it. You tilt your head, glancing up to get a clearer look at the man’s face as you try and place where exactly you’ve heard his voice before.
You look closer at the man, studying his features with a furrowed brow. There’s no mistaking it now, you’ve definitely seen this guy somewhere before. You’re sure of it. But there’s no way you’d ever know anyone this big and intimidating before… right?
The man stands, gently scooping you up into his arms. He gives you a light pat on the head before he starts to move. “Come along then, I don’t need that little shit on my ass for leaving their little obsession stranded so far from home,” he mumbles, as if he’s talking to himself and not you.
You’re left blinking in surprise as you’re lifted from the ground, cradled in the man’s arms. You look up at him as he starts walking down the street with you, a bewildered look on your face. Obsession? Stranded? What the hell is this dude on?
The man continues walking, his stride even and unhurried. He glances down at you and scoffs, as if he’s amused by the sight of you. He mutters something under his breath as he walks, something that sounds like “God dammit, B.” He brings his hand up to give you a gentle scratch under your chin, the gesture almost affectionate.
Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to let out a loud grumble, the sound amplified by being so close to the man’s hand. You can feel his hand twitch against your belly slightly, and he lets out a low chuckle.
“Hungry, huh?” The man drawls out. He stops his stride for a moment, pulling out his phone as he keeps you cradled in one arm. You can’t see anything from this angle, but you can hear the sound of him making a phone call.
It’s only a few rings before someone picks up on the other end. You can faintly hear a voice chatting softly on the other line, even though you can’t make out what they’re saying. The man lets out a small huff of annoyance before holding the phone up to his ear, shifting you in his arms to keep you comfortably balanced against his chest.
“Hey,” he says into the speaker, his voice gruff but surprisingly soft. “Yeah, I’m out on the east side. I found something.” There’s a pause as the person on the other line responds, and you can faintly hear them say something, although it’s muffled and indistinct. The man snorts, his eyes drifting down to you for a moment before he continues.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m bringing ‘em back. Relax,” The man responds to the person on the other side of the line, rolling his eyes. You watch the side of his face as he talks, your ears pricked, ears catching snippets of the conversation. Relax? What do they mean by that? Are they talking about me?
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” the man says, shifting you around again as he begins to resume walking. “I’ll be back in an hour.” The person on the other end says a few more words before there’s a beep signifying the call’s been cut. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before bringing his hand back to keep you cradled against his chest.
You huff softly, feeling a strange mix of irritation and intrigue swirling inside of you. In an attempt to distract yourself, you reach your small paw up, lightly tapping it against the man’s cheek.
It’s a small action, intended to be nothing more than a curious little jab. But against the rough, scarred skin of the man’s cheek, your tiny little paw seems almost affectionate. He glances down at you at the contact, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.
He studies you for a moment, a look of almost curiosity on his face. It’s a far cry from the gruff, hardened exterior he had been portraying up until now. He stops his stride for a moment, lifting you closer to his face to look at you more closely.
He seems almost… fascinated by you. His eyes rove over your soft fur and little face, taking in every detail. He lets out a low hum, slowly reaching out a hand and gently stroking your back. “The kid’s is gonna kill me for letting you get all dirty.”
The hand stroking gently down your back is surprisingly soft, despite the callouses and ridges of his fingertips. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, probably trying to deduce what to do. “You’re a mess,” he mutters, his gaze drifting over your disheveled coat.
You can feel the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s words, the comment practically begging for a sarcastic reaction. But you hold it back, reminding yourself of the delicious meal you’re hoping to get out of him. Better hold back on the sass, for now.
Instead, you let your tail flick idly, trying to appear as innocent and pitiful as possible. Come on, man. Have a heart. Feed me.
The dude glances down as your tail continues to flick against his arm, almost as if you’re trying to lure him into doing something for you. A light snort escapes his mouth, his fingers trailing down to give you a little scratch on the head. “You’re a sly little bastard, ain’t ya?”
His statement is more of an off-handed comment rather than an actual critique. He continues to scratch behind your ear, seemingly unable to resist giving you a little affection. His gaze drifts over your disheveled form, taking in the dirt-matted fur and slight exhaustion in your eyes.
He lets out a soft grunt, his touch gentle as he runs his hands through your fur. You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head, his eyes never leaving your disheveled appearance. “How long you been out here all alone, huh?” he mutters, his voice gruff but strangely sympathetic.
The man lets out a low huff, glancing down at you with an almost sympathetic look on his face. “It’s earlier than we planned,” the man mutters, a hint of regret coating his words. His hand still softly stroking through your fur. “But the renovations are nearly ready,” his eyes taking in your exhausted form. It’s hard to say if he’s talking to you or to himself, a note of assurance in his voice. “So soon, kid.”
You look up at him with a bewildered expression on your face, your little mind still trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about? Renovations? Who’s he talking to? Who are the people he keeps mentioning? What is even happening right now? But you quickly cover it up and let out a tired-sounding meow, hoping he won’t notice the hint of confusion in your little feline face. He glances down at you, his hand slowly rubbing a soothing circle on your back.
“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmurs, his voice still gruff but the tone softer this time. “You’ll be safe soon enough.” He gives you a gentle pat on the head before resuming his stride. You can feel his arms cradling you against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost lulling you into a sense of security.
Even as your mind races with unanswered questions, the beat of the man’s heartbeat seems to soothe you, acting as a strange form of comfort. His warm arms keep you tucked against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest steady and unhurried. It’s an almost reassuring presence.
The man carries you down the street, the rhythmic sound of his footsteps and steady rhythm of his heart slowly lulling you into a trance-like state. The exhaustion from the past few days is finally catching up to you, a small yawn escaping your little mouth before you can try to fight it.
You can feel your eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion taking over your small body. The steady rhythm of the man’s heart combined with the gentle rocking of his arms as he walks send a wave of fatigue through you. You try to fight back the overwhelming tiredness, but another small, squeaky yawn escapes your little mouth.
With a soft contented sigh, you stretch out your little paws, making yourself comfortable in his arms. The man lets out a low chuckle as he watches your little legs extend, giving you a gentle pat on the back.
It’s strangely comforting, being held in the man’s strong arms. The sound of his laughter rumbles through his chest, and you can almost hear a hint of affection in the gesture. You feel the weight of your fatigue start to increase, your eyes slowly blinking shut against your will.
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You blearily blink your eyes open, suddenly finding yourself lying on a soft cushion. The fabric feels luxurious against your fur, the plush material enveloping you in a comfortable embrace. You dazedly look around, trying to recall how you ended up on this soft surface.
Your little ears fold back as you look around, slowly taking in your surroundings. A brief moment of confusion washes over you as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the man’s arms. But seeing him still here, you let out a relieved sigh, your entire fluffy body moving up and down in the process. Thank everything that he didn’t leave me on the side of the road.
He glances over at you, noticing that you’re now awake. “You finally back with the living?” he says gruffly, his voice tinged with amusement. You can see a hint of a smile on the man’s face, betraying his hard exterior.
You lift your chin up in a defiant huff, letting your tail flick against the soft cushion as an additional statement of irritation. The man lets out a snort, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter at your small act of feigned irritation.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he mutters, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone. He reaches a hand out to give you a small pat on the head, his rough fingers gently stroking your fur.
Your chest lets out a soft rumble, purring at the feeling of his hand stroking through your fur. Your gaze drifts around the room, your nose twitching as you pick up on a delicious scent. Food, your stomach rumbles. Please, be food.
The aroma is tantalizing, making your little stomach grumble loudly in response. You wonder if it's your imagination, or if the man actually has food nearby. The man lets out another amused huff as he notices your nose twitching and your stomach rumbling. “Impatient little thing, eh?” he mutters, lifting his hand from your head to look at you with a slightly entertained expression. Your little paws twitch slightly, as if you’re preparing to go searching for where the wonderful scent is coming from.
He chuckles at your eagerness, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Calm down, bud,” he says gruffly. “Food’s coming in a minute. Ain’t gonna starve ya.’” He gives you another gentle pat on the head, his hand large enough to practically cover your entire body.
You let out a dissatisfied huff, your gaze still darting around to try and find the source of the delicious scent. You want to rush out and find the food immediately, but the man's large hand keeps you pressed firmly on the soft cushion. You squirm a little impatiently, your tail flicking idly against the fabric. Your cat instincts taking over.
He lets out an amused laugh at your squirming, your restlessness making it hard for him to keep you in place. “Hold still,” he says gruffly. “You're making it hard to keep you in one place.” He reaches his hands out again and gently holds you down, preventing you from moving around any further.
You’re not a fan of this guy keeping you down, your instincts flaring up in defiance. Despite the delicious promise of food in the air, you’re tempted to lash out and scratch him just for holding you in one spot. Release me, your inner self growls.
You pause in your struggle, your little ears perking up and your whiskers twitching as the clink of dishes and the soft sound of footsteps approaching comes from nearby. Your nose twitches with anticipation, the delicious smells in the air becoming more concentrated. Food.
You crane your head to get a better look at the approaching figure, your little body shifting slightly on the cushion. The man holding you down also looks up, watching as someone walks into the room carrying a tray of food. Your little mouth starts to salivate, the enticing scents wafting over to you and making your stomach rumble loudly.
The guy releases his grip once you stop squirming, letting you move freely again. You can feel your instincts taking over your little body, your tail curling around your side as you focus your attention on the tray of food being presented in front of you. “Here you are, Master Jason.”
Your eyes are almost glued to the tray, filled with the most tantalizing smells that you've come across. The man– Jason watches you quietly, amused by your little display. The person holding the tray sets the food down in front of you, the various dishes arranged in an almost tempting manner.
You want to purr in delight as you look at the food laid before you. Thank god there’s none of that dreadful cat food in sight. You've had your fair share of people trying to feed you that horrible kibble in the past, and you're definitely not a fan. This food smells a million times better than anything that ever came out of a can. Meat.
You shoot him a glance of appreciation before hopping onto the table, greedily pouncing on the food in front of you. You dive right in, devouring the food with gusto, your little tongue lapping at the meat hungrily.
You pay no mind to him as you feast on the delicious meal laid out in front of you. The smells, the texture, the taste; it’s all absolutely heavenly. You eat like you've never eaten before, your little body almost shaking with contentment. This might just be the best meal you’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.
Meanwhile, Jason watches your little display with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn’t say anything, just watching as you devour the food on the plate in front of you with relish. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, quickly taking a picture of you digging into the food to send to the family in case they ask how you're doing. He lets out a soft huff of amusement at your behavior, a hint of fondness in his eyes.
You're so lost in the food, you don't even notice the older man taking a picture of you. All your focus is singular, eating as much as you can before it’s taken away. The man watches you with a mix of amusement and something else that you can’t quite place. Too absorbed in your meal to notice his reaction.
Once you’ve practically licked the plate clean, you finally feel a sense of fullness, your little belly pleasantly satisfying. You give yourself a little shake, a little bit of food still stuck to your whiskers. Jason chuckles slightly, watching your little satisfied display. He breaks the silence as you finish cleaning yourself off.
“Had enough?” he asks in a gruff voice. His words are gruff and blunt, but you can sense the touch of amusement within them. You let out a little huff, feeling satisfied but also a little bit embarrassed at how fast you had eaten. Too much food, you think, your little stomach feeling a bit bloated.
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The next thirty minutes pass by in a blur, your mind fuzzy and filled with the sensation of being inside Jason’s leather jacket as he mounts his bike. He doesn't have a bag or carrier to keep you secure, so you cling onto his shirt for dear life, your little claws digging tightly into the fabric. The wind whips through your fur as the bike roars to life, the force of the breeze making you instinctively cling even harder.
You had assumed that Jason was simply taking you back to the spot where he had found you under the car. After all, there was no chance in hell that you were going to poke your head out of the top of his jacket to check yourself. However, as he stops the bike and unzips the jacket, revealing your familiar surroundings, your tail begins to fluff up in surprise. Your eyes widen as you realize you’re at home, as in, right outside your apartment. The fur on your back bristles, ears folding back. You’re quick to jump off of the vehicle, backing away. What the fuck?
You scramble off Jason's lap and onto the sidewalk, your little paws almost slipping in your haste. The moment you land on the pavement, you take a few stumbling steps back, your tail puffed up and your fur standing on end. How could he possibly know where you live? You hadn’t given away any indication that you lived here, or anywhere for that matter. You had been so careful to stay out of sight, blending into the shadows. There was no way he could have known. And yet… here you are, outside your home. You take a tentative step back, your little feet moving instinctively. Your instincts are screaming at you to run, to get away from this guy who seemingly knew too much about you.
Your eyes dart from the man to the building behind you, your mind racing. Everything inside you is telling you to run, to flee and go hide. You were supposed to be so careful, so cautious about keeping your identity a secret. And now this man standing in front of you, this guy you barely knew, had just pulled up right outside your home. How the hell did he know where you lived? Run, your instincts yell. Run, run, run.
You take another jerky step back, your little paws almost slipping on the rough pavement. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You almost trip over your own feet, your mind flooded with a mix of fear and confusion. How does he know? How the fuck does he know!? You’ve been so careful, covering your tracks, making sure no one followed you home. But here he is, standing in front of you, looking all too calm and collected. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he knows where you live or how calm he seems about it.
You don't waste another second, your little feet moving as fast as they can. Your instincts are screaming at you to run and get away as fast as possible. So that's what you do. You take off like a shot, darting away from the bike, from the man, from everything. Your focus is on nothing except getting away, getting somewhere safe, somewhere away from this guy who apparently knew more than he should. You dart upstairs faster than you thought physically possible, breath coming out laboured as you panic, not bothering to check if anyone’s nearby as you shift back to human, unlocking your door and slamming it closed behind you.
Jason let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as he watches you scamper off. "Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, watching as your small form quickly disappears from sight. "I didn’t think that through." He scowls, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He hadn’t expected you to panic quite that much.
Your knees suddenly give way, and you collapse to the floor with a thump. Your hand instinctively moves to press against your chest, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. Your mind is racing, your body shaking from the adrenaline and panic of the situation. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your own breathing, your chest heaving as you gasp in sharp breaths.
You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest, the adrenaline pumping through your veins making it feel like it’s about to explode. You can barely breathe, your gasps for air coming in quick, sharp pants. Your head is swimming, the world around you seeming to spin and tilt with each jerky movement. You can’t think straight, your mind filled with a swirling mix of panic and confusion. It feels like everything is closing in on you, the walls of your apartment suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
You try to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths come out ragged and uneven, each one feeling like a struggle. Your chest is heaving, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you’re starting to wonder if it’ll burst. You drop your head down, resting your forehead against your knees, trying to steady yourself. Your mind is racing, thoughts and questions and doubts swirling in a confusing mess.
You desperately try to calm down, to ease the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing seems to work, the panic and confusion making it nearly impossible to think straight. Your head spins as you struggle to take deep breaths, each one catching in your throat like a lump. You can feel your body trembling, your muscles tense and coiled like a spring about to snap. The thought of the man outside your door, the man that knew where you lived, makes your stomach twist in knots.
It feels like your privacy has been invaded, your safe sanctuary no longer feeling so safe. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a small, trapped animal. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan, some kind of solution to this messed up situation. But you’re too lost in your own head, too focused on calming your panicked breathing to come up with anything coherent.
You feel like you’re drowning, your body overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and the physical response. You need to get yourself under control, to get your thoughts sorted out and figure out what the hell to do. But it feels like your mind and your body are in a constant tug-of-war with each other, neither one willing to give in. It’s like being stuck in a nightmare that you can’t wake up from.
You’re suddenly aware of the silence in your apartment. It’s an eerie stillness that seems to echo the chaos in your mind. The only sound is the soft rush of your own breathing, the beat of your heart a steady drum in your ears. It’s too quiet, and yet it’s almost deafening at the same time. You stay slumped on the floor, your head still against your knees, too overwhelmed to even think about getting up. You can’t breathe.
Your lungs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a struggle against the tight feeling in your chest. Your body is shaking, the adrenaline and panic having physical effects that you’re powerless to stop. You try to focus on calming yourself down, to get your breathing under control, but it’s like trying to hold onto water. Your lungs seizing up with each gasping breath. You try to focus on your breathing, trying to steady the erratic rhythm. But it’s like your body won’t obey, each inhale sharp and uneven, each exhale ragged. You can feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, echoing the desperate rhythm of your heart. You need to get yourself together, to calm down. You need to calm down.
You try to mentally force yourself to calm, to slow down your breathing, but it’s like every part of your body is working against you. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, swirling around in your head like a storm. Your heart is still racing, the panic and fear making it almost impossible to concentrate. You try to focus on something, anything to try and control the chaotic mess that is your mind. But your thoughts keep slipping away, dancing just out of reach every time you try to grasp them. You can't think, you can't breathe, you can't move.
You’re trapped in your own mind, your own body. You feel so small, so helpless, so utterly alone. The silence in your apartment is deafening, adding to the feeling of isolation. You try to will yourself to move, but you’re stuck, paralyzed by your own fear and panic. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, the erratic beats echoing in your ears as you try to force your lungs to take slow, steady breaths. You need to calm down. You need to.
You force your shoulders to relax, your eyes fluttering open. Okay, okay… You can do this. You try to remember the steps you learned for managing panic attacks. Breathe in for four, hold for… You can’t think. Your brain is fuzzy, filled with a jumbled mess of thoughts and memories. You try to remember the proper way to do it but your mind refuses to cooperate. Four or seven? Or was it nine? Exhale for eight. Fuck, I can’t think.
Your mind is a blur, your thoughts chaotic and tangled. You can’t remember the step-by-step process. Something about breathing in for a certain number of seconds, holding it, and exhaling for another number of seconds. But the details are a hazy mess, your panic making it impossible to remember clearly. You try your best, sucking in a shaky breath and holding it for what you think is the right amount of time. But your heart is still racing, your hands still trembling. It’s not working. Why isn’t it working? Why the fuck isn’t it working?
Jason stands against his bike, his gaze fixed on the window of your apartment. He's on the phone with Bruce, his voice low and filled with frustration. "I know, I know…" he mutters, raking a hand through his hair. "I fucked up," he admits, grimacing at his own carelessness.
He listens as Bruce responds, his eyes never leaving the window. He can feel the weight of his mistake sitting heavily on his shoulders. He should have known that you'd react the way you did, and he should have stuck to the plan. But he didn’t. He just acted, without thinking. Just like always, his conscience needles him.
Jason sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as Bruce continues to speak. He knows Bruce is right, he always is. He’s good at saying the things that are hard to hear but desperately needed to be said. It’s part of what makes him great, but it also makes him irritating sometimes. Like right now.
"I know," Jason replies, his voice slightly sharp. "I get it. But what am I supposed to do now?"
There’s a pause as Bruce replies, his voice muffled over the phone. Jason’s face tightens, his jaw clenching as he listens. Yeah, yeah. Be patient. Easy for you to say.
"I know,” he repeats, his voice strained. "But the kid bolted before I could even get a word in. Now they’re probably scared shitless in there."
There's another pause. Jason can hear the steady timbre of Bruce’s voice on the other end, his words blending in a stream of low, soothing murmurs. He rolls his eyes, bristling at the older man's calm, steady tone. It always makes him feel like a kid being lectured, even though a part of him knows it’s not entirely untrue.
He lets out another sigh, his body sagging against his bike. "I’m trying," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up, alright? I’ll give ‘em time to cool off." He glances back at your apartment, a pang of something he can’t quite identify tugging at his chest.
He nods along to whatever Bruce is saying, his eyes flickering back to your apartment window. He wonders if you're watching him from behind those blinds, if you’re scared, angry, confused. Probably all three, his mind supplies.
He winces at the thought, his hand tightening around his phone. He hates the thought that he might have screwed this up before it even really started. Bruce is probably right, he should give you space. But the thought of just leaving you alone and confused chafes at him, makes him want to just go in there and fix things already. He knows Bruce can feel his tension, can sense the turmoil roiling beneath his stoic exterior. Damn Batman and his stupid emotional intuition.
"Yeah, I get it," he mutters into the phone, his voice tight. "I’ll back off, give them space. But I don’t like it." There's another pause as Bruce responds, his voice low and steady.
It soothes something in him, a part of him that still yearns for guidance and approval, even though he knows he’ll never admit it. It’s a part of him that he usually denies, pushes down, but moments like these have a way of bringing it to the surface.
He's silent for a moment, letting Bruce speak. The older man's voice is steady, a low, grounding murmur that somehow manages to both soothe and irritate him at the same time. He's always been good at that, somehow finding the exact words needed to either calm him down or piss him off even more.
Jason clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’s torn. Part of him wants to just march up there, kick down the door and force you to talk to him. But he also knows that would just make things worse. He’s not good at the whole patience thing, but he knows that just charging in like a bull in a china shop is only going to make things more difficult. Damn it. He swings his leg over his bike, settling onto the seat. He takes one final look up at your window, his gaze lingering there for a moment. He can almost feel the weight of your fear and confusion from here, like a tangible thing. It makes his stomach twist into knots, his hands clenching on the grips.
But he knows he needs to let you be, to give you the space you clearly need. So, with a heavy sigh, he revs the engine and pulls away.
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You wake up with a start, your body jerking out of a fitful sleep. Your body is covered in a cold sweat, your clothes sticking to your skin in an unpleasant way. You sit there in the darkness, your breathing heavy and your heart thumping hard in your chest.
Your room is still, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft sounds of the city outside your window.
Three long weeks have passed since you last saw Jason. The days have slipped by in a blur of routine and monotony. You go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. It's like you're living your life on autopilot, your thoughts often drifting to the man who showed up at your door that night.
Since that night, you haven’t shifted. Something deep inside you, some instinctual feeling, tells you that it’s not safe to do so. So you stay human, your animal form buried deep within you, a constant low hum of unease. The feeling of something bad happening if you shift is a constant nagging in the back of your mind, a feeling you can’t shake despite your attempts to dismiss it as paranoia.
The longer you stay human, the stronger your instincts become. You catch yourself acting cat-like in subtle ways: tilting your head to the side when you're listening, twitching at sharp noises, even finding yourself kneading at your shirt when you’re frustrated. It’s a constant internal struggle, your instincts demanding to be let out while your rational mind tells you to keep them contained. You know it’s not healthy, not sustainable, but you can’t shake the feeling that shifting is just too risky right now.
You’re acutely aware of how unhealthy this is. You can feel the tension building within you, the constant battle between your human side and your animal side wearing you down mentally and emotionally. Your thoughts are constantly consumed with the need to shift, the need to be in your animal form, the need to let your instincts take over. But something inside you is holding you back, some primal fear that won’t let you let go. It’s a constant struggle you can’t escape, a constant mental strain that's slowly but surely eating away at your sanity.
You groggily stumble out of bed, the cool night air hitting your skin like a refreshing splash of water. It’s late, the digital clock on your bedside table reading 2:47 AM. You shiver slightly, your muscles tight and cramped from your restless sleep. Despite the chill in the air, you can’t help the feeling of relief as you step out onto your balcony. The city is quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of the day replaced with a soothing, almost eerie calm.
In a moment of clarity, you realize you’re being ridiculous. You’re tired, you’re frustrated, and damn it you’re tired of living in constant fear. You’ve been tormenting yourself for weeks over this, letting your instincts fester and your body ache from the strain. And for what? What's going to happen in the middle of the night on a Wednesday? Nothing, that’s what. And you’re not going to keep making yourself ill over some bastard stalker.
With a rush of determination, you finally give in. You let your instincts take over, your body shifting and contorting into your animal form. The relief is immediate, the tension in your body melting away as you shed your human skin. The cool night air is even more refreshing in this form, your senses heightened as you take in the night around you. Finally, you feel like you can breathe again, the weight of your human anxieties falling away like a heavy coat. You felt free.
The world looks different through your animal eyes, the details sharper and more defined. Your ears twitch, picking up sounds you'd never notice in your human form. Your muscles twitch as your animal instincts kick in, a low purring sound rumbling through your chest. It's been so long since you've let yourself be like this, since you've just been. It's exhilarating, freeing, like coming up for air after being stranded underwater for too long.
You pad over to the edge of the balcony, your paws making almost no sound on the wood. You look out at the city, the glittering lights and silent streets a stark contrast to the chaotic hum during the day. It’s quieter, calmer, a sense of peace that you haven’t felt in ages. You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs and making your fur stand on end. You feel more alive here, more yourself, than you have in weeks.
Your muscles ripple under your fur as you stretch, arching your back and tilting your head back. A low, rumbling purr vibrates in your chest, the contentment filling you almost overwhelming. You close your eyes, letting the sounds and smells of the city wash over you. You’ll deal with everything else in the morning. For now, you’re going to stay like this and enjoy the freedom.
You sit there for a while, enjoying the cool night air and the sensation of being so deeply in tune with your instincts. The city sounds become a soothing background noise, a comforting hum in the air. You roll onto your back, stretching out your body and letting your limbs go limp. Your tail swishes lazily back and forth.
You roll onto your stomach, your muscles coiling as you prepare to spring. With a powerful leap, you propel yourself onto the nearby roof. Your paws touch down silently, the soft pads muting any sound. Your heart is racing now, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you break into a run. Running as an animal is different than running as a human. It’s more instinctual, more right. You can feel the ground underneath your paws, the muscles in your legs bunching and releasing with every step. You tear across the rooftops, feeling more alive than you have in weeks. The night air whistles in your ears, the city passing by in a blur.
Your stride is effortless, muscles straining as you push yourself faster, the wind ruffling your fur and making your tail fan out behind you. You leap effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop, your body a blur of motion. You’re not even thinking about where you’re going, your only focus is on the sensation of speed, the feeling of freedom. Gotham flashes past you in a dizzying array of lights and shadows, your world narrowing down to your heartbeat and the rhythm of your paws hitting the roof.
Time seems to blur together as you run, the hours flying by like seconds. The city blurs past you in a wash of colors and sounds, the lights of Gotham like stars in a night sky. You don’t focus on how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, or even where you’re going. For once, none of that matters. All that matters is the wind in your fur and the feeling of freedom coursing through your veins. Your body is sore and your heart is racing, but you feel alive.
You're so focused on the run that you don't notice the black boots in your path until you're upon them. You slam on the brakes, your body slipping and sliding as you come to an undignified halt in front of a pair of long, outstretched legs. You hiss in surprise and frustration, your heart racing from the sudden stop. You glare up at the figure towering above you, tail lashing.
Nightwing chuckles, a soft, amused sound that you can hear clearly even over the pounding of your heart. He lowers his eskrima sticks, holding them loosely by his side as he kneels down to your level. The hero's eyes are sparkling with mirth, his smile slightly crooked.
"Well, hello there." he says, his voice smooth and rich.
He tilts his head to the side, studying you with a curious gaze. You're still panting from your run, your body tense and braced for a fight. Nightwing's smile widens at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.
"You're pretty fast," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice. He extends his hand towards you, the black, latex covering his fingers gleaming in the low light. He stops just millimeters from your face, allowing you to sniff and inspect him for a moment. His scent is clean and crisp, a hint of something sweet mixed in.
After a few seconds, he starts gently petting you, his gloved hand scratching behind your ears in a soothing motion. “You’re even prettier in person, kitten.”
A wave of unexpected pleasure washes over you as he starts petting you. His touch is firm yet gentle, just the right amount of pressure to soothe the tension in your body. His hand moves from behind your ears to scratching behind your chin, the soft hiss of latex against your fur the only sound in the quiet night. The petting feels ten times better after not shifting after such a long time. You lean heavily into his palm.
“You’re a runner, huh?” Nightwing murmurs, his voice a soft rumble. “Bruce isn’t gonna like that.”
His words are casual, almost conversational, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness to them. He continues to pet you, his hand moving in a slow, soothing rhythm.
“Running around Gotham like this,” he continues, his tone dropping lower. “It’s dangerous. You should stick to the rooftops, little one. Makes it harder for the baddies to get to you.”
As your attention is occupied with looking up at Nightwing, you don’t recognise the second pair of boots that approach. You’re jolted out of your thoughts as another pair of warm hands suddenly scoop you up, grabbing your stomach and lifting you off the ground. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that you don’t even have time to react. A startled yowl escapes you as you’re lifted off the roof and held against a broad chest.
Your body stiffens in surprise, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth. Your instincts are screaming at you to flee, to lash out, to fight, but the hands have you in an unbreakable grip.
Nightwing straightens up, sliding his eskrima sticks into their holsters with a practiced flick of his wrists. He casts you a glance, his eyes softened with concern as he looks at your tense form in Robin’s arms.
"Careful, Little D," he says, a slight edge to his voice. "The kitty hasn’t been out in a long time."
Damian just scoffs in response, his grip on you tightening. His body is tense, his hands clenching in your fur, but there’s a gleam of curiosity in his eyes that betrays his indifference. His voice is as haughty as ever, a touch of impatience in his tone. "I know that, Grayson. I'm not a child."
Nightwing hums at Robin’s attitude, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby AC unit with a slight sigh.
"Sure you're not,” he responds back to Robin with a playful tone of annoyance.
Damian just huffs, tightening his grip on you, causing you to let out a surprised, muffled meow in response. His eyes dart down to you, a slight flicker of fascination in his cold, calculated gaze. He loosens his hold subconsciously. Petting your head in a silent apology.
The younger boy doesn’t respond to Dick’s remark, motioning for him to hurry up already.
With a grin, Dick holds his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. He reaches into his utility belt and procures a small, emerald green and black collar. A symbol you can’t recognise embroidered onto the back where the latch is.
This isn't any average collar that you can find at a pet store. This is high-tech, bordering extravagant. There's a small, golden bell hanging from the front, jingling softly with every little movement made, and there’s a silver, gold-edged tag already attached with some information you can't see yet. But what catches your eye, and fills you with a sense of dread, is the blinking red light on the centre, where it latches onto your neck. With these hook-like latches all around the inside that look all too much like they’ll pierce into you.
Before you can even think to react, Nightwing's already moving. He's faster than you can even register, the collar snatching around your neck in the blink of an eye. It tightens automatically, locking into place with a soft click. You can feel the hooks pierce into your fur and you let out a strangled whine.
As the collar locks into place, the bell on the front gleams in the low light, a soft jingle sounding as you jerk your head back in surprise.
Nightwing steps back, taking in the sight of you in the collar with a critical eye. He reaches forward and gives the bell a couple of light taps, the sound chiming softly in the night air.
"Looks good," he comments, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "Tim did good."
Damian hums in agreeance with a slight nod, his grip on you still firm and unrelenting. He casts a scrutinising glance over your form, his eyes lingering on the collar for a moment before moving back to you. He brings his thumb to the latch, pushing into the embroidered symbol. “What was the cast?”
As Damian brings his thumb to the latch, pressing into the embroidered symbol, you hear a soft click, followed by a low chime. You feel the collar loosen around your neck, but it still stays in place. For a moment, you consider trying to tear it off, but a warning tug from the collar's hooks and a glare from Damian stop you short.
Dick grins. “It’s our kittens name, D.”
Damian scowls, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his eyes studying your form intently. It's almost unnerving, the intensity of his gaze.
He presses his thumb against the seal harder, his voice a murmur as he utters your name. When you feel the collar tighten around your neck, you try to jerk your head back out of the way, but the collar holds fast, the hooks attaching themselves deeper into your fur. You try to resist, but the more you struggle, the more your mind grows fuzzy. An intense drowsiness rushes over you, your eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Your vision starts to swim, the world around you growing dark at the edges. As the collar locks into place, the hooks latching more snugly into you, you suddenly feel trapped. Your legs buckle underneath you, sending you sprawling into Damian's arms. The latch on the collar is gone, replaced by a solid, unbreakable ring. There is no way to take it off.
The collar appears deceptively normal, made of a thick dark green leather-like material with a simple golden buckle to secure it. The only thing that gives away its high-tech design is the absence of a latch to clip it open. Most people would overlook it, mistaking it for a regular, ordinary collar.
As you black out and lay heavily in Damian's arms, Dick coos softly, bringing a hand out to rub along your fur. His touch is gentle, his tone affectionate.
"Aren't they so cute asleep?" he whispers, his gaze softening as he looks at your unconscious form.
Damian nods silently in response, his embrace around you tightening just slightly, tugging you closer against his chest. He brings his face down, gently nuzzling his chin into your soft, multicoloured fur, hiding the hint of a smile on his lips.
Dick steps forward, a smile on his face as he watches his younger brother hold you close. He reaches out to ruffle Damian's hair affectionately, before speaking up.
"Let's go home."
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Guess who spent three days working on this
Anyway, it’s finally out! Send a comment or msg if you would like to be @ in chapter two and for any anon answers that I do for the fic
I had milk and warm cookies while making this, like a child.
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midnightorchids · 6 months ago
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Jason is clingy. To him, you’re a breath of fresh air. The soft breeze that cools his sweltering and tormented life.
There are days where he will sit on the bathroom floor while you shower. He’ll lean his head against the door and will silently listen to you hum. It soothes him and puts his mind at ease. Occasionally, he’ll pull you out of your melodic trance and ask a question. Sometimes, it’s about what you want for dinner, other times it’s to simply hear your sweet voice.
If Jason isn’t in the mood to speak, he’ll sit there with a book in hand, not quite interrupting your routine. He’ll silently stare at the words on his paperback, while enjoying your company. He’ll read until the humidity from your shower engulfs him with its warmth.
Then, there are times where he’ll ask to join you, it’s never sexual really, it’s just to be near you. He lets you wash his hair and pepper his face with kisses. He’ll help you wash your back while leaving soft pecks across your shoulder. It’s endearing, intimate and sweet.
Jason spends almost all night fighting and protecting people from the tragedies of Gotham. But when he comes home to you, you become his personal hero. You keep the disturbing thoughts away. With you, Jason always finds peace.
Jason can’t help but be clingy, he basks in your presence. Being with you feels as if he’s sitting under the safety of a large willow tree.
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fcthots · 7 months ago
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Jason is absolutely obsessed with skin to skin contact when he fucks you. He needs to be fully pressed against you with his hands touching anything they can reach. And 99% of the time it manifests in the sweetest and nicest ways you can imagine.
But sometimes he’s so mean about it. Sometimes he just wants to feel you jolt as he twists your nipples. Sometimes he just wants to feel you writhe against him as he overstimulates you. Sometimes he just wants to feel your moans and sobs in his chest. Sometimes he just wants to feel the way you press into his touch even when you know that touch will be a pinch or a grab or a bite.
Of course after, his touches will be feather light and he’ll press the most gentle kisses on every part of you that might sting come tomorrow. He will hold his hand over year heart and feel it beat. He will hold you to his chest for the sake of protecting you.
But for now, he likes the way you squeal when your back is against his chest and his hand presses against your stomach so he can feel his dick in you.
There is of course something to be said about the way you trust him like this, and the way it drives him insane, but that will be a thought for tomorrow in the lazy morning light. Right now, his goal is fucking all the thoughts out of your head for the night.
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indulgentdaydream · 8 months ago
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headcanons with attractive things jason does 😭🫶
anon i have GOT YOU
When he sits on a couch, no matter if you’re on too or not, that man is SPREAD
Arms wide and resting on the back of the couch. Manspreading his thighs wide open. A relaxed expression on his face. Maybe a book in hand.
When moving in for a kiss, he cups your face with his left hand first. Then strokes his thumb on your cheek twice while actually kissing you.
Every. Single. Time. Doesn’t matter where or when. If it’s just a peck or y’all are making out, that’s what he starts it with.
Kisses on the back of your neck if he’s walking past you and you’re looking down.
Also will keep his hands resting on your hips if standing behind you.
He’ll swear UP AND DOWN that he means nothing by it. That it’s just a habit. But will keep a hand on your thigh while driving a car. Not even sexual. Just comforting.
Opening doors for you and guiding you through with a hand on the small of your back
You’re both sleeping in the same bed? He’s dead asleep. Usually isn’t. But with you, for sure he is.
And if you slip out of his reach while he is dead asleep, he’s reaching out and dragging you back like a lost teddy bear. And he’s asleep the whole time
When you’re out eating or at a bar and he’s getting a bit anxious with all the people around, he’ll play footsies with you under the table
Got so intense once he accidentally knocked the table over and you two got kicked out
This man LAUGHS
No one talks about how Jason’s laugh (may have a fic in the works about it. I’ll finish it if y’all ask)
I’m not talking “he chuckled” or “he grinned” or “his shoulders shook with silent laughter”
I’m talking about how this man tosses his head back before leaning forward, clutching his stomach with one hand, the other reaching for some part of you to grasp as you laugh along with him. How his laughter is deep and BOOMING. It takes up a whole room. Echoes across the street. Enters your ears and melts into your blood stream and goes immediately to your heart which picks up its beating to make sure to get it to the rest of your body. How he straightens up again, his face split in a grin, eyes opening again while he has to wipe away tears of laughter, his body still shaking with it.
I want to make jason todd genuinely laugh and if the sound makes me go deaf then so be it because at least i was able to hear the most beautiful sound in the universe
I’m sorry this got off topic but
He wears glasses when he reads and that’s hot too i guess
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shortnsweetsposts · 12 days ago
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Jason: Cooking together is NOT romantic, MOVE the fuck out of my way.
Reader: I'm tempted to stand in your way while you cook now.
Jason: I'll boil you next.
Reader: When he's a cannibal 😍🥰💖
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guummy · 1 month ago
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“what the fuck are you wearing?” jason asked in amusement when his eyes met your approaching figure.
ever since moving in with jason, you coincidentally found yourself clad in his clothes more often than not. it started with his jackets, the fabric seemlessly enveloping your body, the smell of his fragrances radiating through the seams. a few of them ended up on your acclaimed section of the closet after jason charitably offered them.
from such an occasional thing, it quickly turned into an everyday affair once you began to wear his shirts around your homely, shared apartment. they were undeniably suitable for the circumstance ( and jason had confessed many times about what lustful acts he wanted to do to you whenever you wore them ), and soon all of his clothes smelt like you.
so, the fact you were stood in his black boxer briefs, he simply had to accept it.
"'m wearing clothes," you shrugged with a small smile, standing beside him as he prepared a cup of coffee for himself, "is there a problem?"
his gaze graced over your playful grin, his entire body sighing at your teasing.
"clothes, aka, my boxers," he corrected, leaning against the cold counter as his olived hued irises practically stared at your body without any hint of shyness or shame. "we might as well not have two seperate closets."
"i like my clothes though," you hummed, closing the already small proximity between the two of you, your head tilting up to meet his gaze.
"but i can't wear yours?" he joked, his hand now resting against the surface of your back.
"i can't wait for the day i get to see you in lace," you grinned, your cheeks warm at your bubbling laughter as he leaned down to mash his bruised lips against yours, your body weakening at his touch. his lips enveloped yours in a heated embrace, his exhales untamed. after a few more moments, he pulled away in a mess of hushed inhales before planting a kiss to your temple.
"you look good in them though," jason hushed, his prodding fingers dusting shapes down the valley of your spine.
"i do? well, maybe you could help me take them off later," you teased, earning a uncomposed laugh from the vigilante.
"lets have breakfast first ── ."
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lxvvie · 1 month ago
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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.
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prismuffin · 2 years ago
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how do you think Jason Todd would react to a reader that can’t swim. Like they’re at the beach or a pool and the readers super anxious for some reason and that’s when he finds out that they can’t swim
—👑
I'd call you King or Queen but I dont know nor do I want to assume your gender! Anyways I think that-
Jason would probably suggest a pool date out of the blue one week and because he seemed so excited you completely forgot about the fact that you can't swim. It'd probably be night when you both went, a public pool with blue LED's lighting up the water, honestly it's super pretty but then the anxiety hits you after Jason does a cannonball into the water. He resurfaces and tells you it's your turn to jump but you brush him off and go to sit your stuff by the lawn chair before sitting in one next to it. He'd probably swim around alone for a while before he starts to miss you and that's when he'd start asking you to join him. You're using every excuse in the book and he's just like ???
It only hits him when he gets out and tries to carry you in the water, you're just freaking out and begging him to put you down and that's when it slips out that you can't swim.
Honestly it wouldn't change his opinion of you at all he'd just question why you allowed him to take you to a pool of all places. If you'd told him earlier he'd have suggested a different place for a date. Offers to teach you to swim and then your date turns into swim lessons. If you didn't want to learn or you just got tired of trying he'd carry you bridal style in his arms while he swims in a more shallow part of the water.
( what do you think swim lessons with Jason would look like? )
———
Directory
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in-som-niyah · 9 months ago
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ok another floating thought:
Jason Todd does not tolerate bad eating habits.
Iced coffee for breakfast? Absolutely not.
6pm and you had not a single sip of water? Forget it.
Having a single slice of toast for lunch AND dinner? Naur babes.
You will be eating 3 square meals a day will allowance for snacks and 'happy foods' as he likes to call them.
As soon as you complain about a headache, stomachache, light-headedness, fatigue he will tell you to go fucking eat something with a glass of water, not coffee.
Its even worse if you live together like i strongly believe he would wake up early just to make you a balanced breakfast before you go about your day.
GOD BUT IF UR IN UNI??? babe be ready bc he will break into your dorm to bring u food that he cooked u himself. (he's a loverboy duh)
no time to cook or order? He's gotchu
too tired? already on the way
exam season with barely any time to take a breath? already on it babe he'll spoonfeed you while you revise your textbook
and plus, how else are you supposed to grow as big and strong as him when you're only eating half a meal a day?
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I WANNA MUNCH ON HIS MOOSCLES SO BAD FUCKKKKK
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porcelian · 1 month ago
Text
Your hand moves lazily across Jason’s taut back, tracing circles over the muscles that coil like overstretched ropes, each slight movement sending waves of tension rippling through his form.
A persistent throb pulses at the base of Jason’s neck, radiating outward into his shoulders like an invisible weight, pressing down with every breath he takes. Your fingers gently untangle the knots, gliding upward from his spine to the sensitive curve of his neck.
“Why are we even doing this?” He mumbles into the pillow, his voice muffled by the fabric.
You hum above him, your palms moving with a practiced grace over his shoulders. “You need rest, baby—and this is the only way I can get you to listen.”
He snorts, his voice low. “So bossy.”
“Shush. Enjoy it,” you tease, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
Jason melts under your touch, his body surrendering to the soothing rhythm of your hands. You work his muscles like a familiar melody, your palms spreading the oil across the expanse of his scarred back. The liquid flows like golden rivers, tracing the crooked contours of his body.
His eyelids flutter, heavy with the weight of sleep, as your fingers weave deeper into his back. The softness of your touch, the warmth of your palms, drapes over him like a gentle cocoon, lulling him toward a peace he hasn’t known in weeks.
Your fingers land on a knot in his back, and with a subtle pressure, it unravels—like a tightly wound coil snapping free. Jason exhales in a soft rush, the sound of relief music to your ears.
“You sound heavenly under me,” you murmur teasingly, your voice low as you hover near his ear.
“Shut up,” he groans, burying his flushed face into the ivory pillow, his embarrassment hidden beneath the soft fabric.
“Look who’s blushing. Do I make you nervous, baby?” You can’t hide the smirk in your voice, amusement dancing in every word.
In response, he swats your bare thigh.
“Hey!” You squeak, surprised, but then give in with a playful surrender. “M'kay, fine. No more teasing.”
Jason hums, a small, content sound, his hand reaching back to gently squeeze your thigh, a quiet reassurance.
“Wanna try a different oil next? Or maybe body butter?” You murmur, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin.
He doesn’t answer, and you pull your thoughts away from his warmth, noticing how deeply his features have softened as he drifts further into slumber.
He’s asleep. The realization brings a quiet smile to your lips, and you lean down to press a soft, chaste kiss to his forehead. Laying down beside him, you let the embrace of sleep pull you in as well, your mind quieting in the peace you’ve both found in this moment.
© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.
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