#slade x jason

[lisholoz]

Sketchin

[daisyapples]

“You think I’m a monster now?” He snarled, teeth snapping in Jason’s face. “I gave you a room. Free rein of my castle. Agreed to use the goddamn game room. And for what? So you can run whenever you decide? You think I won’t lock you back up? You think I won’t leave you to rot?” He leaned in so close that his hot breath warmed Jason’s skin. “I will put you back in that cell, boy, and I will feed you nothing but raw meat until you beg me to let you out. Do you understand? I haven’t even started to act like a monster.”

A sharp tooth traced the taut lines of Jason’s neck. He shuddered, fear making his knees weak.

“Now tell me you understand.”

He couldn’t nod without piercing his skin with the fang. He tried not to swallow. Not to breathe too deeply.

“I understand,” he whispered.

“Good boy,” Slade said as he pulled back. “Let’s get back to the castle before those wolves come back for a rematch.”

Jason nodded, tongue heavy in his mouth and followed Slade back to the castle.

[anawrites3]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne (implied), Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Omega Jason Todd, Alpha Slade Wilson, Manhandling, Teasing, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slade Wilson is a Dick, Jason Todd is a Brat, Secret Relationship, no beta we die like jason todd Summary:

Jason couldn't even lie to himself because most of his chest was purple and he'd have to be fucking blind not to see all those marks.

They were the result of the knights' training, something Jason absolutely shouldn't even come close to, let alone take part in but he still did - he sneaked out whenever he could to train alongside the best warriors their army had. Because Jason was an omega, an omega prince at that and nobody sane would ever put a sword in his hand so he just... he had to do that himself.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ Do You Think We'll Be In Love Forever? ㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!DC Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 ♡ ｡ ゜

​𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

He's mesmerized by the sight of you between his arms. Definite little doll smiling up at him through tear-soaked eyes. He floods your essence with saccharine kisses, sweet vows, and anguished 'I love yous' all paying testimony to his sugar-laced obsession. He's desperate to taste your sweetness on his tongue, lick through your flesh like a lollipop, and unravel your bones with his teeth.

He had been so young once, chasing virtue and strength into every dark alleyway, following bats and hope into vicious nights. Back then, he hadn't understood his mentor's desperation for paper-thin kisses and phony love. But now feeling the push of your body beneath his fingertips makes him understand how satisfying real love can be. To observe you in the sun's gentle rays. To feel your body curled next to his on cold nights. He plays hero under the moon's watchful gaze only to return home to you upon daybreak.

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب قرمز - جیسون تاد

He glides your fingers across his scars, shuddering under the weight of your touch. Stardust cauterizes ancient wounds, licking away the rotten grime. Jason clenches his teeth, there's something so intimidating about the softness of your touch. It stings worse than any crowbar or bullet wound, intruding, harrowing. It's almost like you're plucking the constellations of his past from under his skin, trying to rearrange the stars into something cathartic.

He can't help the hapless way his nails scratch across your bones, the gurgling laugh that escapes his throat. You're Elizabeth Lavenza and Ophelia trying to mend a broken boy, with your wry smile and terrified eyes. Jason traces his lips across yours, his kiss is ravenous, frantic. Faux-hero desperate for an inkling of love, of bliss, of softness.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

He likes to think he's shed his human skin long ago. Left it to die in that burning warehouse with his old mask and youth. But when he hears your laughter, that haunting echo reverberates off the edifice walls. He can't help but think maybe, just maybe a trace of humanity still lingers beneath his armor. Your smile glares at him in every carmine puddle he treks through. He dreams it's your blood marring his gauntlets, syrupy sweet as he licks them clean. Daydreams about your ethereal face painted in reds and purples by his iron-clad hands.

His kisses are razor blades cutting through your lips, forcing his love down your throat, and watching as you choke on the rust and ache. He's trying to merge two bodies into one void, to engulf you. Mirror his scars upon your flesh with dull knives and jagged fingernails. He kisses you again, you swear you're going to drown in his sea of red. Maybe that's all the love he has left. He

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

He plays hero in the night, little bird chasing villains and evil by moonlight. When he blinks it's you he sees lying on the couch watching TV. He's starting to think you're his favorite show, afterall your window is about the size of a flat-screen TV and he's always too eager to peak through for the next screening. Episode 84, you're hugging your favorite teddy bear, lost in euphoria as your knuckles turn white around the controller. Tim watches heart in his throat as you claw out the boss's eyes. Sanctimonious champion vying to save the holy princess.

Tim bites his fingers, addresses each tooth mark to you. He pens his love letters upon his own skin, sealing them in red when he finally punctures through. Maybe life is just a video game, an endless kaleidoscope of cutscenes. And he's just a besotted hero dying to kiss the precious princess who doesn't even know he exists.

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

His heritage pounds between his bones. The deja vu of an ancestral lifetime runs rapid through his veins as he chases you across the rooftops. His father, his mother, his brothers, always chasing, running after things they know they'll never reach. Your blades clash against his and Damian can't help but wonder if this is the closest he'll ever get to kissing you.

You leave him with paper cuts that feel like venom, like saying 'I love you' while chewing on his bones. He ponders, does his father have the same scars, if Damian pulled away Bruce's skin what would he find? Kittycat claws and dragon bites engraved in the nth-wielded ivory. He feels legacy clawing at his throat as he pictures your fingers between his teeth. Tears blooming in your eyes as he uses diamonds and ceremonial knives to engrave his name upon your flesh. Dotting the I with a heart and entwining each letter. God, he's so tired of being lonely...

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

He can't help but pick you apart, chip away at the bones and flesh until he reaches your essence. Dissecting your heart with his tongue and savoring the ichor between his teeth. He's the world's greatest detective and yet he can't unravel his own ardor. This mania, this addiction festering within his crux gnawing at his sanity until every thought is consumed by the cadence of your voice and the stars scintillating in your big doe eyes. This desperate need burning inside of him are you really divinity? Will you bleed glod, if he tears you apart with his teeth?

You're so ethereal squirming beneath, kicking and screaming vying desperately for freedom. He's fought this love for far too long, tried to preserve you in the light. Cover your eyes and ears and make you forget about the monsters that roam in the dark. But he can't not anymore, maybe he never could. Maybe the only way he knows how to love is by trickling his darkness like nectar between your lips and watching as it paints you in his shades.

ᯓ★ Superman - Clark Kent | سوپرمن - کلارک کنت

His kisses melt into your skin sweet like molten sugar drizzled on jasmine rice. Like lava smothering roses, leaving a trail of fragranced ashes. Clark smiles and he notices how you cover your eyes. Like you're staring directly into the sun. Like you're scared of being burnt. Clark can't help but bury his head in the crock of your neck, inhaling your ather. Molten roses and floral ashes he likes the amalgamate of your scents. Like how his presence lingers upon you.

He holds you like a doll, like the little straw dolls his mother used to make. It's easy to be gentle, coddling when everything is so fragile compared to you. He kisses down your neck, your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your soft skin, trying to earn a giggle a gold star. Trying to wipe the fear from your eyes. He kisses you again, mumbling cloying words between your lips, wishing he could just push his love between your fragile bones.

˚✶˚ Superboy - Conner Kent | سوپربوی - کانر کنت

He's fighting back the urge to peel your heart from between your ribs. To trail kisses across it and marr his lips with your ether. He wonders if your heart beats as frantically as his. He wonders if your ribs rattle when he enters a room.

He wants to push little superboy earings into your ears, to lay upon you the piercings he could never have. It'll be his way of telling the world you belong to him, that you belong to Superboy. And yet he settles for draping his leather jacket across your shoulders when senses a shiver run up your spine. He settles for the friendly hugs and airy hello-kisses. He wants to say he's he loves you. he can't. It's all so annoying, tasting the dead words on his tongue.

𓂃✮ Superman - Jon Kent | سوپرمن - جان کنت

He's scaping his nails along the Hershey's kisses re-aligning the red blue and gold wrapping. It'll be obvious, right? If he leaves them in your locker you'll understand the colored metaphor you'll answer the question he can never ask. You'll know it's him, everyone always does, for the byproduct of the world's greatest hero, he's terrible at keeping his identity a secret.

He blames it on the legacy flooding his lungs. On the promises that beat in his blood. He's born to be a hero, to play the role of savior, but aren't heroes promised love too? Aren't they meant to save the girl from burning skyscrapers and crumbling sidewalks, to fly above the skyline and kiss her in tune with the setting sun? He's so desperate for the sweet fairytale ending, so desperate to kiss the girl who always knows just what to say. He leaves the chocolate in your locker before making a dent in the metal door.

˚｡⋆🪙⋆ ˚｡ Two Face - Harvey Dent | دو چهره - هاروی دنت

He can taste your pain on his tongue, swallow the barbed wire, and relish in the familiar sting of hope, expectation, responsibility. Maybe that's why he can't stop himself from chasing after you. Burning the world demanding you stop him, desperate for a silver of your deficit attention. God, you're so ethereal with his gun aimed at your head, his pretty little girl with big starry eyes laced with dread as they follow the cascade of his coin. 'I know' he wants to scream 'I know what it feels like' but the words never quite spill out that way. And Harv only laughs at his foolish attempts to play hero once more. Sanctimonious bastard, the words reverberate in his skull.

You may claim to be a hero but Two-face knows you'll fall, plunder to the ground like all the rest, that's what happens when you reach for the sky, deem yourself Icarus, and let the flames of glory engulf you until there's nothing left. 'You can't save them' Harv screams only for Harvey to hear. They want to get closer, to slip the coin between your lips and make you taste defeat, maybe then you'll understand why he's so keen on fighting you out of your crusade. Maybe then you'll take their hand willingly, letting them sprinkle kisses across your knuckles like dying stars.

˙⋆☠︎︎⋆˙ Black Mask - Roman Sionis | نقاب سیاه - رومن سیونیس

He wants to cut out your big heart and sink his teeth into it, engrave himself in every vein, and chew on the heartstrings. HIM he needs to be the only one in that plushie heart of yours. The only one with the right to be graced by your ethereal smile. He wants to awaken to your soft nimble fingers tracing hearts and stars across his chest. Pretty pink lips weaving feathery kisses across the scar of his pacemaker. Giggles tickling his neck as you bid him 'good morning' in that all too cheery voice of yours.

Roman almost moans as he hears his name spill from your mouth, each letter cradled carefully between your lips he can't help but want to push his thumb inside your mouth, to feel your purity and shock. There's so much he wants to call you so much he wants to whisper in your ear as he watches your cheeks glow red. To hold you in his lap and trail his fingers across your legs, to dress you in pretty dresses and short skirts and skin-tight tops. To taste the fear and dread on your tongue palpable like the blood he draws with every kiss.

༄✩༄ Scarecrow - Jonathan Crane | مترسک - جاناتان کرین

He likes the stars in your eyes, the mini constellations spelling out your greatest fears. The tears blooming in the corners of your dopey eyes have his lips twitching. You're so gorgeous like this, curled up on the floor trying to make sense of such an eerie world. Jonathan doesn't anoint himself a fool, he knows it's chimeric to think that you'd love him without the toxin, without the heavy drugs he's spilled into your veins. That's why he keeps you like this, scared and depressed. Always in need of him.

What's your greatest fear? He wonders when you tuck your head between your knees and sob all so quietly as to not disturb him. Is it him you see in your grandest nightmares? Is it the mask jumping at you from within the darkness, or is it Professor Crane abandoning you in such a macabre world? Mask on mask off it makes no difference. He just hopes he's the star of every nightmare, as long as you fear him as much as he fears losing you.

｡??｡ Riddler- Edward Nygma| ریدل - ادوارد نیگما

It's frivolous to think he will not solve this riddle. That he will no unearth this plague you have bestowed upon him. This fixation, this obsession, he needs to understand you, to peel away your skin and glimpse at your inner clock workings. To undo your screws one by one and find out what exists between that haunting laugh and those knowing vicious eyes. To rip apart your wires, and feed upon your mind. To understand, he needs to understand you.

He got close once when he had your neck under his shoe, but the evil lith of your laughter rings across the room and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't unnerved. He doesn't know what question to ask first. 'what have you done to me'? 'why do you think you're better than me?', 'Why don't you love me?' Instead, the silence shatters with your voice, proud melody rivaling his own, your eyes lock on him and he can't suppress his shutter. "Well Eddie, riddle me this. What can kill any man, but isn't even alive itself?"

⁺♡⁺ Deathstroke - Slade Wilson | مرگ سکته - اسلید ویلسون

You're like a shooting star, dancing across the night as you stalk his latest kill. Little asssasin, you know your stuff but he finds your thirst for ineage and morality both exhausting and honorable. Most people grow up and spit out their morals with blood and broken teeth. Let the world's cruel realities claw and gnaw at their skin until it's hardened enough to survive. He's yet to see you extend such a courtesy to the world, makes him think that pulling the trigger on you would be some sort of mercy. Bullet through the heart leaving your body coated in his essence and one final kiss pressed onto your paling lips.

He dosen't notice the inkling of you rattling around in his brain until he realizes that this is the eighth him he's seen you smile at the end of his barrel. Pretty little girl chasing after morals and sand, hoping to escape the endless night by spilling just a little more guilty blood. You look like some sort of ethereal doll, immortal in your innocence and vicious in your virtues. He can respect that, truly but Slade isn't naive enough to think you have what it takes to survive. Maybe that's why he wants all so badly to feed you his victim's hearts and eyes and livers, to push them past your pretty lips, staining them the deepest red. Watching your delicate throat constrict as you swallow everything he gives you. Reveling in the sensation of your greedy little tongue swirling around his fingers licking up the access gore. Can almost picture your smile and stupid little head tilt as you thank him for the 'candygrams'.

⭑.ᐟ Respawn | احیا

Respawn drowns in his love. Pulling apart his heart to lay at your feet. It's all he's ever known, broken boy built to harvest spare parts. But you don't look at him like that, you don't even look at him like an assassin. No, you smile fondly as you nuzzle his neck with your nose. You look at him the way his father used to, like he's actually worth something more. He's never quite kissed you, he's not even sure he knows how. Instead, he holds you close to his chest making sure you hear the dull patter of his jagged heart.

He's born from greatness, left to rot in the dark. He refuses to play pawn, anymore. So maybe that's why, when he finally kisses you -with all the grace of a schoolboy's first kiss- it's so desperate and erratic, clumsily licking your lips and nicking his tongue along your teeth trying to think what his father would do. His fingers dig into your arms, preassing prayers into your flesh, screaming 'Don't leave me, you're all I have left'.

⭑☽ Ghost-Maker - Minhkhoa "Khoa" Khan | روح ساز - مینه خوا "خوا" خان

There's nostalgia in your essence, in your presence, something he can never wash away. He's grown addicted to the erratic reverbate of your pulse between his teeth. Kissing the bites he leaves marring your perfect body.

Why can't you just love him, let him haunt your every thought, and erode those pesky creeds, until he is the only thing you'll ever need? Khoa hates to admit it but he sees something in you, something so reflective of the little boy laying in the sand of the gobi desert, shooting phantom bullets and mocking stars. You scream every time he kisses you, recoil your tongue, and cry at the bitterness sweeping in. But Khao loves the challenge, the fight, loves forcing you into submission, even as your knife digs between his ribs. He's only ever content when your pith floods his mouth and your melodic voice rings through his ears. His precious little princess tucked away between his arms forever.

☾⋆ Phantom-one | روح یک

he never shows you his face. He blames it on his upbringing too used to old rules that he can never escape their clutches not even for you. His kisses are always clouds dancing across your skin, so light and airy they may as well be the wind. But tries to leave traces of himself with every kiss. Desperate pleas for you to look at him, to touch him, to love him back. All so he knows he's alive, still real enough to love.

He's always trapped between the land of the living and the realm of the deceased. Always so gentle with the love he's stolen, so careful to not break his lover, as his mentor did to him. He laces his fingers through your hair, sucks gently on the length of your neck, all while pushing 'I love yous' into your soul, marking you as his forever.

🎀𖹭🎀 : @your-yandere-kiss @fancyfeathers @yandere-writer-momo @nxdxsworld @lilyalone @neverano @natsukicookies @googeecat44 @starrydollita @mune-writes @a4g3lstarfire @yourhornysister @froggy-voidd @rissareader @6helpneeded9

@blacklunardice @princesstrunkz @mona1704 @testification

[got-the-cheese-touch]

shoutout to my insane, sociopathic, asshole fictional boyfriend. i love him so much

[gilverrwrites]

idk if this is your thing but i've been thinking about reader and breastmilk. specifically, ak!jason finding out bat!reader has breastmilk after he rips off their chest uniform and then sucks the milk like a starving man and you could hear him gulping it down

Haha, BatBrat? Hero? Parent? Nah, now Jason’s got his hands on you he’s gonna turn you into his personal hucow, or maybe it’s a mommy thing? Who knows, you pick. Tbh, lactation isn’t a kink I’ve explored before but AK!Jason could do anything to me. ANYTHING! An’ I had fun writing something a lil different, so much fun in fact that it turned out way longer than I'd intended, so thanks for the ask, anon <3 Warnings: Dub/coerced-con, lactation, captivity/restraints, mild angst

At first, he’s just trying to antagonise you, at least that’s what he tells himself when he notices the discomfort in your stance; the way you keep awkwardly shifting, causing the chain around your neck to echo and clang as you gently pet your breasts, trying to hide the moisture seeping through your shirt with the backs of your hands until you finally plead; “You have to let me go… I… I need to pump.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” He spits, mouth-watering as he approaches your spot on the floor. There’s no chance he’s letting you go, but he’s certain he can solve your problem if you ask nicely enough.

“Please J-“ You hesitate for a moment, your doleful eyes searching his blue ones, unsure how to address your predecessor gone ‘bad’ before you fall on the same term his men have been using out of respect, or more likely fear. You’ve spent so many hours yelling and screaming at him that your voice cracks even as you attempt to sound softer. “Sir.”

You’re making an effort to appeal to him, looking up at him as non-threateningly as you can muster.

He pins it on your demeanour, not the fact that he’s lecherously enthralled by the way your tits are slowly leaking right before his very eyes. Whatever he wants to blame it on, it’s working. Nevertheless, his stance doesn’t change, he stands above you forebodingly, that same stern, unfriendly expression on his scarred face as he attempts to suck back his salivation.

“Please, I can’t stop it.” You continue. “It’s painful, I need relief.”

The irony isn’t lost on either of you, that you’re complaining about the pain of your overfull breasts, as you sit before him broken and bruised.

“Can’t let you go.” He reaffirms as he crouches down onto his haunches, almost eye to eye with you, but he’s not looking at your face as he reaches forward, hooking his fingers into the neckline of your shirt and pulling. “But since you asked so sweetly.”

“N-no! Wait. Not like this!” Your hands wrap around his forearm but with little purchase. Your cries are ignored, your feeble grip does nothing to slow Jason's strong hand and in seconds he’s running his gloved thumbs over your aching nipples, rubbing the damp cotton of your bra against the sensitive skin with a dreamy, far-off look on his face.

You swat at him until he retracts. For a moment a weight is lifted from your chest until you realise he’s simply removing his gloves. Unease quickly returns as he snaps open the centre of your bra, and despite yourself, a groan of relief escapes your lips. You fight the urge to relax into his strong hands as he begins to massage the underside of your heavy breasts.

“You don’t have to do this.” You try once more, but he looks up at you with a quirked brow, and a smile on his lips. He doesn’t have to, he wants to.

“I thought you were hurting.” He challenges, as his hands roam higher, finally, his bare, calloused fingers dig into the fat of your tits, he barely even has to squeeze before your milk begins to drip onto the backs of his hands. You squirm and grunt, staring at the ground, unable to make eye contact with him, too ashamed to accept the respite his hands are offering. “Thought you needed it.”

His voice is scathing, a taunt, despite the fact that you can see the outline of his throbbing dick, and the hunger in his eyes. The sight of you, all tired and timid, engorged tits exposed, is doing it for him. He wants this, bad, but what he wants even more is for it to feel like he’s doing something for you, a favour he can lord over you. Whatever keeps him in control.

“I can help you out.” Speaking slow and concise, his proposal could never be construed as kind. All the while he keeps palming at your chest in tender, measured motions, getting far too much of a kick out of the way you try to fight how his actions soothe you. “Or you can keep on suffering.”

He watches you expectantly, titling his head as a third suggestion comes to him. “Or, hey, I could invite some of my militia in here, I’m sure they’d get a kick out of watching B’s favourite brat spilling her milk everywhere. One of them might take pity and help you out. If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No.” Obviously. He deliberately isn’t giving you a real choice in the matter. “Please help me.”

If he was thinking straighter, he might have spared you a snarky comment, or gone through the effort of making you beg explicitly for him. Something to really get under your skin, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. With your permission he locks his lips around one of your nipples, cradling your breast in both hands as he begins to suck with a force far stronger than you’re used to. His teeth sink into your skin painfully and he closes his eyes, savouring the moment, the taste of your sweet milk. It’s like a switch is flipped, how his harsh features soften, his body slowly relaxing against yours as he greedily gulps down every drop he can squeeze out of your teat.

“Feeling better yet?” He asks at one point, speech slurred by his refusal to detach himself from you.

He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he awaits your answer, whispy black lashes only fluttering closed once more when you nod, only somewhat reluctantly. “Yes. Thank you.”

Though you’re sure his teeth might draw blood if he bites down any harder, your body does start to unwind, mitigated as Jason alleviates the internal pain. Neither of you really realise the change in yourselves until Jason is draped across your body, your arms around him in a cradle-like fashion as you stroke his hair; some kind of maternal instinct seemingly kicking in as you idly observe how The Big Bad Arkham Knight is pacified by your milk.

As soon as the well dries, however, his nails puncture your sore skin, and he glares up at you until you remind him; “The other one.”

He has the decency to look sheepish for his near-outburst, only for a second before he kneels back to change position, stopping briefly to remove the upper half of his armour, revealing how the scars don’t stop at his face. His torso is expansive, built with muscles and littered with taut, pale, overlapping lines. There are holes in his nipples, punctured at mismatched angles that have you suspecting they’re not from being pierced, at least not professionally.

What happened to you? You want to pry.

I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there. I would have done something. Any consolations die in your throat, killed by the fear of how he’ll react. You’d learned quickly that the past was a touchy subject for him, a thread that when picked at can trigger a volatile reaction.

Before you can spend too long following that string, Jason distracts you. His jaw is locked tight, eyes judgemental as he watches you watching him until he starts to trail the tips of his fingers down the centre of his chest. The nervous edge of having your eyes on his marred body easing once you allow your gaze to be drawn to his crotch where he deftly unbuckles his belt and slips a hand into his boxers, squeezing at his needy cock.

“How about you milk me when I get done with you, huh?”

[daisyapples]

Look how amazing this is!!!

Inspired by Pretty Bird, a wonderful Jayde Pretty Woman AU by @daisyapples 🖤

[punkeropercyjackson]

'This character is gay' and 'This character would never be attracted to their family members and people too young or too old for them' are two statements that can,should and do co-exist

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason meets Deathstroke in the worse exchange.

Rose Wilson (on the phone): Jace?

Jason: I’m busy!

He fired his gun at his assailant, but the figure nimbly avoided the shot.

Rose: Sorry, sorry, but I have good news-

Jason (screaming at the assailant): Quit dodging! Damn it, you made me sound like Batman! — Rose, what’s up?

Rose (happy tone): I found that vape juice you like! There’s a smoke shop near my place that carries it, so I picked up a couple of packs for you.

Jason (surprised but pleased): Oh… wow. Thanks.

Rose (coyly): You can make it up to me later. I got a wine I want to try with you.

Jason (to the person attacking him, then Rose): If you shoot me, I will fucking shot you back! —Sorry, again Rose. That sounds like a great date.

Rose: I knew you'd agree, stud. My bad for interrupting your mission, but I wanted to also tell you that Raven and Kara wanted to take me to a club tonight. She’s trying to set me up with some guys—

Jason: Why the hell do they keep doing that? Oh, right because they don't like me and they're clearly jealous of our chemistry.

He kicked the attacker back, when he started laughing at him in a mocking manner, but Rose sighed agreeing with Jason.

Rose: Pretty much with Kara. Raven means well though... Sort of. I mean, the place has amazing wings, and I wanted to go for that, but if you’re not cool with it, I won’t go. I know we agreed to keep our relationship open, but I’m not in the right headspace for that and no man seems to make me feel fantastic after having sex with them. You do though, my body needed that last night.

Jason tried not to get distracted by Rose's words as the assailant, Deathstroke tried to punch him. He blocked the hit, then successfully punched the man in the nose.

Jason (jokingly): Rose, I think you're getting a little soft.

Rose laughed softly.

Rose (her usual jaded tone replaced with a loving tone): Guess I am. Hm, worth it. I want to be with you because you're like the most stable boyfriend I've had since I was 15.

Jason paused, taken aback and pleased by her admission; he felt the same way about her. A smile spread across his face as he swiftly kicked Deathstroke in the jaw, preventing the man from firing his weapon.

Rose: Jace?

Jason (keeping his eyes on Slade's gun): Sorry, I just remembered why I like you so much. I… I don't want to force you, but could you… not go if they're going to do that for the sixth time? I promise to be back, but a little late.

Rose (agreeing with Jason): I’ll be at home waiting for you then. I just want to chill, drink and smoke. You being there is a plus.

Jason (smiling): Definitely better than a pottery class.

Rose: That's what I'm talking about. I’ll be ready to rip those clothes off whenever you get here. Stay safe, stud.

Jason: I will. Bye.

Rose (flirtatiously): Bye.

He ended the call, turning his attention back to Deathstroke, who had a gun pointed right at his chest.

Deathstroke (incensed): What the hell was that?

Jason: What do you mean?

Deathstroke: I know that was my daughter on the phone. What were you talking about? Where’s she going?

Jason: You're not exactly on good terms with Rose, so I’m not telling you anything. For all you know she's at church.

Deathstroke (enraged): Do you want a hollow point in your chest? You think you can dictate her life? THAT’S MY JOB!

Jason: You’re the kind of parent that treats their kid like garbage and then wonders why they can’t stand you when they grow up, aren’t you?

Deathstroke: Stop judging me! I'd rather she be with Nightwing than you. See what you've made me say?! You have no respect for authority.

Jason: Respect is earned.

Deathstroke: And yet, you work for Batman!

Jason (counter argument): You slept with a teenager.

Deathstroke (running out of insults): Your helmet looks ridiculous!

Jason: Your wife stabbed your eye out when Rose's brother died, and your other son is mute because of the enemies you made. I’ve done my homework on you, jerk. I could do this all day. Not exactly how I wanted to meet her father, but I'm strangely enjoying it.

Deathstroke: You remind me of Nightwing and Batman combined with a drop of Black Mask. I will not let my daughter date some bat brat.

Jason (not taking the threat seriously): Sure thing, champ. If I care about your opinion— Heck if the woman you abused cared about your opinion I'd be worried you could end our relationship. I'm not though. I don't fear you, because at the end of the day you're nothing but an egotistical awful father with an awful face mask and memorized the consent laws in Asia.

Deathstroke (clenched jaw): It’s too bad I have to kill you. You could have been a loyal ally—

Jason: Not to a pedophile.

Deathstroke (doubling down): Last I checked, 15 is the legal age of consent in most states and countries, which I just happened to know and didn't memorize!

Jason (mocking): Last I checked, it’s pretty creepy for an adult man to know that or say it out loud.

Deathstroke: Hey, the girl wanted me!

Jason: The mentally troubled 15-year-old? Oh yeah, victim-blaming, real nice. You see, when I was a crime lord, I eliminated scum like you, those who exploit, manipulate and harm children. But you’re not worth it. Rose told me that when the time comes, she’d be the one to put a bullet through your brain, so I won’t pull the trigger today.

Deathstroke (keeping his gun pressed against Jason’s chest): Isn’t that generous? Another reason you’re pathetic, and why you’ll never be with my daughter.

Jason (waiting for Roy to get a clean shot): The daughter who almost lost her mind being around you? Who sacrificed an eye hoping to earn your approval?

Deathstroke (his finger loosening on the trigger): Proving her loyalty to me? Yes, she’s smart. A child of mine knows better than to date a former Robin.

Jason (tight smile): And here I was thinking my biological mother was terrible… and she is, but you take the crown for the worst parent. And while I’d love to keep this debate going, you have an arrow in your leg.

Deathstroke: What are you rambling about—

Deathstroke suddenly felt a searing pain in his leg as the arrow struck, and he screamed, collapsing to the ground. Jason quickly delivered a swift kick, knocking him unconscious, and seized his gun.

Roy: Got him!

Jason: Took you long enough!

Roy: I couldn’t get a clear shot! Is he down, or do you need me to shoot him... five more times?

Jason: Nah, he’s out cold. Thanks.

Roy: Yeah, it's on sight for child abusers!

Jason (yanking the arrow from the man’s leg): Agreed! You're not going to tell Dick I'm with Rose right?

Roy (leaving his hiding spot and walking over): No. When you do tell him though please take pictures.

Jason (handing Roy his arrow): Shut up... but I probably will.

[owlarchimedes]

I've only read like three Jason todd/slade Wilson fics so far on my dive into this ship but is it a common trope for slade to kill the joker for jason???? Am I gonna get more?

[lisholoz]

[daisyapples]

The Knight only had half his armor on. He was stripped down to the waist — that godamn waist — but still had his thick thighs wrapped in tight trousers. Bare toes, misshapen from how often they had been broken stuck out under the material.

Every inch of him was covered in scars; HA HA HA scrawled up his arms, interspersed with burns, from electricity and fire, and knife slashes. They trailed over his chest, leaving dead nerves and dark, ugly marks. Slade knew the scars covered his legs and ass. Even his pecs were thick with them. Only his waist was untouched. There was a mark here and there but nothing compared to the rest of him.

Slade wondered why the Joker had ignored all that perfect skin. Why he had ignored the dip of the kid’s waist that led up to those broad shoulders. Why he hadn’t claimed that as well.

It looked almost virginal.

Slade wanted to bite it. Mark it. Own it.

[bartyssimp-riley-16]

Punches and donuts - Jason Todd x Wilson!reader

Bruce had hosted this year's holiday party at Wayne Manor and invited his entire extended found family, plus several members of the Justice League and their extended families in turn. Jason had been invited too. He hadn't really wanted to go, but his brothers had convinced him.

Well, it hadn't been. People had spent the night whispering about his presence. His brothers had all shot him apologetic looks. The air had grown tense. Jason had stood up mid-meal and left without a word. He'd probably made things awkward at the party, he didn't care.

"Stupid dinner. Shouldn't have gone." He wasn't surprised that the streets were nearly empty. The snow was coming down heavily now, and a fierce wind had picked up, blowing a flurry of white into his eyes. He blinked the snowflakes away and pulled his jacket tighter wrapped around him.

"F*ck me," he cursed, furious. The night kept getting worse. He didn't have a ride. Everyone was at that stupid party. He'd have to walk back.

A soft rustling behind him was the only warning he got. Jason spun around and his instincts kicked in, the adrenaline from his earlier anger propelling his fist forward. His knuckles collided with the persons face, sending his attacker staggering backward.

Wait. That wasn't an attacker. "Oh, sh*t. Uh." God, tell him he didn't just break someone's nose. "F*ck. I'm sorry."

i hiss holding my nose, "fuck, Todd!"

"Oh, sh*t. You're bleeding."

Jason's annoyance with the fact that he'd just assaulted a bystander vanished in an instant, replaced by guilt and panic. He stepped forward to get a better look at the person in the dim streetlights. His brain had registered that it was a woman. Her hood was pulled up, making it difficult to see her face.

He gently took her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face. "Lemme see."

"Jason", i hiss softly, "careful"

It took a few seconds to register that he knew that voice, but when it clicked, Jason's eyes widened in horror.

"YN? F*ck."

He'd punched her. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It could have been worse, but it didn't change the fact that he'd hurt one of the very few friends he had.

Jason held her chin in his hands, tilting her head up to inspect the damage. "I didn't see you," he started, trying to rationalize, his eyes filled with remorse.

"yeah, figured", i chuckle

Jason let out a heavy exhale, relieved that she seemed calm and not, say, homicidal. She was making light of the situation, which probably meant she was okay, but he still felt awful all the same. "I didn't mean to, I thought you were—well, you know what I thought."

There was no point in trying to explain himself. He'd f*cked up. He just hoped he hadn't done any lasting damage and winced when he saw the blood dripping from her nose.

i smile, "its fine Todd"

"It's not fine."

If anything, her being so casual about it made him feel worse. She was being so nice, and he'd hit her. Punched her in the face. If she was anyone else, they'd probably be furious right now.

"I hurt you, Yn. I should've—I should've been more aware."

He released her chin and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Here." He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her.

"thanks" i place the handkerchief against my nose," yah alright?" i huff softly.

He nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I'm fine. I'm worried about you more than me right now."

He watched as she pressed the handkerchief to her nose, feeling the guilt gnaw at him. He'd always had a short temper, but this incident was downright unacceptable.

"Is your nose broken?" he asked in a low voice, still watching her with a worried frown.

"nah, itll be fine, aint my first rodeo"

There was something about the casual, lighthearted way she talked about getting punched in the face that concerned him more than anything else.

"Yn," he said, his voice taking on a tone that was half-exasperated, half-serious. "This ain't funny, y'know. You just walked into a right hook. A heavy one, at that. It's probably not good that you're laughing right now."

i try holding back a smile, "aww are u concerned about me Todd?"

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks feeling a little warmer. "Don't make me regret worrying about you, Wilson," he shot back in a gruff voice, but there was no real annoyance behind the words.

"I punched you. This isn't fun and games. You—"

He stopped himself just in time before the word "deserve" spilled from his lips. He was grateful she was being so casual, but the fact remained that he'd hurt her.

""you" what?"

He froze for a moment, mentally kicking himself for letting the word almost slip out. He clenched his jaw, trying to find the right words.

"You...deserve better than this," he said finally, his voice low and quiet. "You deserve better than someone who can't tell the difference between you and a..."

An attacker. He swallowed the word down, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. He didn't want to explain why he'd been on edge, not that it would justify punching her in the face.

"can u stop? u sound like some sappy teenager, im fine, really - i am, okay?"

His shoulders slumped a bit, the tension leaving him as he realized that she wasn't going to let him beat himself up over this. He sighed, a hint of irritation in the sound. "Fine," he begrudgingly agreed. "I'll stop, but can you please stop acting like getting punched in the face is just another Tuesday?"

"-but it is, being a vigilante isnt easy, u should know"

He gave her a deadpan look. "I know that, Yn" he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not some newbie vigilante who hasn't taken a punch or two."

His expression softened a bit. "But just because we're used to getting hurt, that doesn't mean it's okay to brush it off when we do get hurt."

i smile," im okay, but are u? u left the dinner very...abruptly"

He averted his gaze, trying to act casual. "What's there to be okay about?" he quipped, shrugging. "Dinner was dull, the people were dull, and I had a damn headache. Had to get out of there."

"cmon, lets go be gloomy on a rooftop", i say in a mock deep voice

He couldn't help but snort at her silly imitation of his usual demeanor. "You're so damn annoying, you know that?" he said, but there was no genuine annoyance in his words.

"Alright, let's go be all brooding and edgy on a rooftop," he agreed with a light chuckle. i watch him amused.

He noticed her amused expression and shot her a reproachful look. "Stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. "like what?" i poke his arm

He sighed at her playful poke, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. "Like you're enjoying this, like you find it amusing that I'm bothered,” he said. “I accidentally punch you, and you just laugh it off. Anyone else would be angry. But not you. You just find it funny."

"it is funny". His expression darkened at her nonchalant response. "Funny? It's funny that I hurt you? What's so funny about that, Yn?" he demanded, his voice rising with frustration and disbelief.

"u were so caught off guard" i chuckle softly, i nudge him playfully, "im okay"

He grumbled, letting out a long sigh. "Yeah, I was caught off guard, but that doesn't make it amusing." He looked at her, his expression still showing traces of irritation.

"I just...I don't like the fact that you're so casual about it. You didn't even get mad at me. Any other person would've been furious."

"want me to yell?" i ask jokingly

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her offer. "No, don't be ridiculous," he retorted. "I just...I don't get why you're not angrier about this. You're just so...calm."

"if u wanna make it up to me, u can buy me donuts"

He raised an eyebrow at her request, surprise mixing with irritation. "Donuts? You want me to make it up to you by buying you donuts?" He shook his head incredulously. "Seriously, Wilson? Donuts? That's all it takes to make you not mad at me?"

"jelly filled, raspberry" He rolled his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips. "Jelly filled, raspberry, fine. Any other requests? Want me to tie a bow on the box too, while I'm at it?"

"sure", i muse

He could have strangled her with how blasé she was being, and now she had the audacity to demand a bow too. "You're insufferable, you know that?" he growled, a hint of a smirk on his face. i smile, "of course"

He shook his head, fighting back a sigh. "You're lucky you're cute," he muttered under his breath, realizing he was begrudgingly enjoying their banter. I grin at him, "think im cute?"

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but a hint of a flush crept across his cheeks. "Don't fish for compliments, Wilson," he grumbled, looking away from her gaze. "You know damn well you're cute."

i smile "damn right"

He rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the hint of a smirk that tugged at his lips. "Arrogant, aren't you?" he retorted, but there was no genuine annoyance behind it.

"arrogant? me? yes" i joke.

"...can u buy me my donuts...tomorrow morning?"

[gunabug]

Fic Search!!

Looking for any well written JayRoy fics, especially along the lines of the Batfam realizing that JayRoy is a thing. (Bonus points if Dick takes psychic damage from it) . They can be funny or serious, just so long as there's at least a hopeful ending. Thanks!

I've already read (and enjoyed) :

Oh by AlexaAffect

Dick Grayson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Two To Three Weeks (But Who's Counting) by dietpudding

another try not to cry christmas by fadinglight123

P.S. To anybody saving this for their own recs, these are also some favorite JayRoy fics, they just don't have the theme of the Batfam finding out. Enjoy!

raised in the tall grass by SafelyCapricious

4 am at Denny's by bittercape (JayRoy + Slade!)

And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet, but I think I shot the gun by Daisyapples

the halfway home for washed-up sidekicks by moth_tille (JayRoy + Kyle!)

[arkhamtknight]

JASON TODD X READER PROBLEMS

Here’s my issue

I’ve seen way too many Jason Todd x readers/ Red Hood x readers that push towards the daddy side (not that he isn’t because that boy got stamina im suuuuure of it) but I know for a fact this boy is a lover boy. He is a book worm for crying out loud! Give me love, romance, sweeping off my feet!

Deciding to take a new look at a jason todd x reader/ red hood x reader. (No hate to current writers, I thank you and kneel for what you have fed us and still feed us 🙂‍↔️)

I live for drama, twists, angst, love, possessiveness, jealousy and all that yummy stuff and if you do too, stay along for the ride!

*also medical inaccuracies, weapon inaccuracies, exaggerations, everything made up fyi (; *

She’s not an x reader but an OC (sorry not sorry but definitely here and there)

What happens when Isabella, a current surgical intern at Gotham City Medical Center, meets Jason Todd, outlaw and hot head who isn’t really feeling happy about being back alive?

If you’d like to follow me on this rollercoaster!

You have no idea what you’re in for 🌚

Love the post and follow me for Chapter 1 of Die For You soon!

[gilverrwrites]

I know they’re not an older man per se, but lately I’ve been thinking about Jason or Dick having a good cop-bad cop dynamic with Slade, where Slade is just incredibly mean to you but then Jay or Dick is there to coo sweet words at you

I know the obvious here is Bad cop Slade, good cop Dick or Jason. And I love that. Good cop Dick especially is MWAH! 💕 and I absolutely need to write actual smut for this, anon you beaut! Like Slade pistoning into your puffy, swollen, cum-filled sex, calling you ever name under the sun. Spanking your red raw ass, and calling you weak when you start to sob. But its okay baby, shh, shhhh. Dick is underneath you, kissing your tears, stroking your hair telling you how good your doing as if he's not contributing to your overstimulation, fuck!

But I implore you to stick with me here when I say, AK! Slade and Jason - bad cop, WORSE cop.

Specifically: AK!Jason/Bat!Reader/Slade

As per, Slade is loyal to the money, but this is definitely a darker portrayal of Jason.

Warnings: Dub-con, swearing, interrogation kinda, choking, restraints, humiliation. No smut, but maybe I’ll write an extension.

The first thing you notice is the smell, you're underground somewhere for sure. Then you feel the cold, a chill across your warm skin, making your hair stand on edge. From that, you register very quickly that you’ve been stripped down to your underwear.

Appalled, you shoot up, reaching to cover yourself but only manage to make it an inch before cold, hard metal cuts into your body. You're tied to a chair by a multitude of pressure points that both hurt and rouse something salacious.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You can’t believe you fucked up this bad. Bruce had told you to get out of the city but you’d refused. You had to be on your top game but you’d fucked it, caused more problems.

Accessing your surroundings your eyes dart around the room until they fall on your captor. Deathstroke is sat a few feet away, leaning back on his chair, seemingly examining something on a tablet. It's hard to tell, the one eye hole in his mask shrouded by shadow. You hadn’t expected him to be at the militia checkpoint. He’d taken you down easier than you’d like to admit, but you’d put up a fight. Tooth and nail. So seeing him so relaxed without so much as a chip in his armour is a little disheartening.

“Trackers in your suit, right?” His deep voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “I would’ve just patted you down, but the boss man didn't want to take any risks.”

His head turns, and you can feel his eye raking across your bound and exposed form. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You recoil into yourself, disgusted by his blatant perversion, and the warm flush it sends through your body.

“Tell your ‘boss’ to come face me himself.” You spit between gritted teeth. His response only adds to your unease.

“Don’t you worry, pet. He’s on his way.” It’s infuriating, the name, the way he words things so tenderly but laces it with obvious, sickly amused derision. If you could feel any smaller, that would do it. “And between you and me, I get the feeling he’s pretty excited to get his hands on you.”

As if on queue, the piercing sound of an opening door creaks behind you. Despite the squeaky warning, you nearly jump for a second time when it slams shut once more. Heavy boots forebodingly stamp against the concrete floor. As much as you want to, you refuse to crane your neck to get a better look. It’s all you can do to maintain even a little bit of power.

“Well, well, well.” The modulated voice is even more sinister in person. His hand grabs the back of your chair, pulling you back a few inches, no doubt just to prove that he could. To instil fear. He leans over you, close enough that the cold metal of his helmet brushes the side of your face, but still, you refuse to look at him. “If it isn’t Baby-Bat.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your venom surprises you. You haven’t heard that nickname in years and it brings out a visceral reaction. It’s what Jason used to call you in jest. Baby-Bird and Baby-Bat, heroes in training.

“Or what?” He challenges, shaking one of the wrist shackles, as though you’re not already well aware of your less-than-ideal predicament. “You’re in no position to be calling any shots, babe.”

“Not for long. Batman will save me, he’ll save the city.” He has too. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Ha.” Deathstroke’s sneer is dry. When you look over to him he gestures his head toward the top dog but you remain resolute in your refusal to look at him. “I’d keep that name out of your mouth, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Wh-“ The words are cut from you before you can get them out. The Arkham Knight, either pissed at your pitiful attempt at a power play, or the mention of Batman's name; lifts you and your chair completely by your throat, turning you mid-air, then placing you back down, precariously balancing you on the seats back legs before getting in your face. All the while his tight grasp on your neck never waivers.

Face hidden, tall, broad, he’s an intimidating sight. The whole display makes your heart race.

“He…” Red-hot rage drips from every word, and you feel your body temperature rising to meet it. “Can’t. Save. Shit.”

The sound of his ragged breathing is amplified by whatever tech he’s using to distort his voice. Each pant sends a shockwave through your body. And you press your legs together to suppress its effect.

“Get fucking comfy.” He barks as he releases you and stands back, watching as you heave for air and teeter wildly before willing the chair to balance on all fours. “Cause he’s not coming for you. Nobody is.”

“Case in point.” Deathstroke finally approaches. It takes his long legs less than 5 steps to reach your side. He stands about half a foot taller than the already gigantic Knight. The way in which they both tower almost impossibly tall makes you tremble, and you’ve no idea if they notice. You can’t stand the added authority they possess simply by being clothed and masked while you sit practically naked for them. Fear is one thing, you can handle being afraid, you’ve been trained for that, but their deliberate show of power, how they make you feel so fragile is awakening something you don’t know how to curb. “Take a look at your hero.”

A screen is thrust into your face, a live feed of a rooftop somewhere in Miagani Island. Batman is on his knees, fists pounding the floor. His mouth is moving but you can’t lip-read him from the angle. Clearly, he’s not okay. This isn’t like him, he must be dosed up on something. In the depths of your brain you know he’ll overcome it, he’ll save Barbara, you, everyone. But you can’t deny how dire things are beginning to look. The doubt must show on your face because The Arkham Knight's robotic voice lets out a short, cold laugh.

“Now you’re getting it.” The wicked pleasure he gets from teasing you is ten times worse than Deathstroke’s blatantly false niceties.

“W-why am I here?” You internally curse yourself for the way your voice breaks. It sparks you to muster a little more spunk as you keep questioning them. “You could have killed me, why didn't you? What do you want?”

“Bring us up to speed on what he knows.” Deathstroke poses. “His new hideout.”

“How he’s getting his gear patched up.” The Knight continues. Neither are looking at you, having turned the tablet back to themselves. “We know you know.”

When you don't respond The Knight slants his helmet upward to consider you, slowly cocking it to the side as you stare him down.

Eventually, Deathstroke follows suit. You wait until the device is tucked away, until you're certain you have their full attention to speak. “I won’t give in that easy.”

You keep your chin up as they turn to look at each other, but despite your bravado, you flinch when Deathstroke sharply drops into a crouched position. The rough fabric of his tactical gloves scratches the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wedges his fingers between your legs. You’d been pressing them closed, hiding how their interrogation had inadvertently been siring your arousal, but he pries them apart, shattering what little dignity you had left.

“Looks like he owes me another 10.” He nods at you before he turning back to the man in question. The Arkham Knight returns the look. Assholes, they’d bet on you. Now they’re having a silent conversation one in which you are the subject, but aren’t important enough to be privy to. Humiliating.

Finally, Deathstroke removes his hands, tracing them along your torso as he saunters behind you but before you can clasp your thighs back together The Knights boot comes down on your crotch, in a fast, precise motion. Pressing hard enough to make you keen and squirm. The chair rocks unsteadily beneath your withering.

“I thought you were better than this Baby-Bat.” No voice distortment can disguise his zeal. Something in the back of your brain suspects he’d been expecting, even hoping for this. And while you certainly hadn't been, you can't deny the sick intrigue you feel for whatever they have planned.

In shame you turn your head, screwing your eyes together as though blocking them out might make it all disappear. The grate of Deathstroke’s gloves on your face keeps you in the moment however, keeps your moral compass spinning.

“Gettin’ paid to break a cute thing like you.” He sounds wistful, gruff voice sinfully musing in your ear as he forces your head forward once more. “That’s a good day's work.”

“And you will break.” The determination in the Knight’s tone, the loudness of it has you peeking through your lids at his mask which is now inches from your face. Fear and excitement invoke a shiver that runs down your spine. “We’ll make you come apart, piece by piece, and we’ll enjoy every second.”