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ms-nesbit · 9 months

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Empire records (jason todd x reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: masturbation, reader is female, reader is bisexual, Jason Todd is not red hood, plus size reader

Summary: Jason is a cam model and is killing it, so he heads to the record store where he sees y/n.

Notes: honestly, i loved the idea of this one. Let me know if you want me to continue with an additional chapter or something.

ao3

“God…” Jason exhaled, a slow flow of cum spurting from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing labored as he came down from his orgasm, Jason revealed the mess he made to the webcam. “Fuck, that’s so much cum.” he spoke half-heartedly, the tone masked by faux sensuality and confidence. “What do you want me to do next, hmm?” he sat up in his computer chair and bit on his bottom lip. “Let me know, Babe. I’ll be here again next week. Till next time.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his tricep exposed to the camera. He flashed his signature winked before ending the livestream, shutting off the comment section and logging off from his administrative account.

Wiping his hand clean on a nearby napkin, he remained silent, his presiding persona crumbling with each minute after the stream ended. Jason hadn’t bothered to glance at the comments - only the tips, which he gratefully appreciated; they accounted for his rent and utilities, above other expenses, including the impromptu trip to Vanity Records he was getting ready to make.

After a quick shower (graphic details spared) and his skincare routine consisting of serum and spf moisturizer, Jason adorned his already-attractive figure with dark washed jeans and a simple black tee, which was layered by his black and red-striped leather biking jacket.

Once he tied his boots, he set out the door to the record store, walking to the parking lot - riding helmet in tow - to his motorcycle.

—

“I’ve told you how many times that we don’t carry that bullshit?” y/n spat into the landline phone, wrapping her cord around her finger. “Seriously, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass that your old town carried Tom Petty. We don’t do campy bullshit. Got it?” Before she gave the voice on the other end to even respond, she abruptly hung up, rolling her eyes and wiggling her finger free from the twisted cord.

She crossed her arms and sat back in her velvet mustard lounger behind the register, pulling an inventory sheet from the cluster of papers scattered on the surface. Clanging of bells attached to the entrance door temporarily distracted her enough to drone, “Vanity Records: if we don’t have it, your music taste sucks.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. Do you have Foo Fighters?”

The voice was sardonic, but it didn’t stop y/n from giving a judgemental look to… a tall man whose black tee matched his (mostly) black hair, the white patch in the front pairing fondly with the low white collar on his leather jacket. He awaited her answer with playful eyes, though they seemed heavy. “If you’re talking about Nirvana, yes.” y/n began, crossing her arms in front of the keyhole cutout on the chest of her long-sleeved black blouse, which was coupled by black and red plaid pants, and a scowl on her face. “If you’re talking about the Louise Post-worshipping Foo Fighters? Also yes.” she stood from her seat and leaned over the clutter of paperwork, ignoring it completely in an attempt to flirt with the handsome stranger. “But if you’re talking about the mock-punk, dads-in-a-cluttered-garage-with-a-pipe-dream Foo Fighters? We don’t carry it.”

The man smiled down at her. “Could you show me?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if he wasn’t a regular customer already.

With a click of her tongue, y/n left her station, showing the man to a collection of vinyl organized alphabetically. She scanned at the waves of albums, distraught by the poor penmanship of the poor schmuck who had a stroke labeling the aisles, but made her way to the ‘dad rock’ section, reaching over and thumbing through different albums behind a poorly-enunciated letter ‘F’. In between all this, she failed to notice the man - who had been walking behind her - ingesting her outfit, and how the blouse accentuated her.

“Ah! Here we go.” She pulled out a plastic-slipped album titled The Colour and the Shape, and handed it over to the man, who grinned at her. “Anything else?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from commenting anything creepy, he chose safer words instead. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m kinda new here, and I don’t really know what to listen to.”

Y/n pondered for a moment, before asking a series of questions: “What do you like to do on a Saturday afternoon? What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you have any siblings? And…fight or flight?”

The man was taken aback by the questions, confused by the randomness of the inquiries. As he thought carefully about his answers, he zoned out, unaware of the chewing of his lip that allowed a dimple to present itself to y/n. If she wasn’t committed to her shrewd demeanor, she would have swooned. “If it’s sunny, I like to watch tv, but if it’s raining, I’ll read and take a walk; I fucking love an unhealthy amount of baklava, but I will settle for eclairs if necessary;” the man began rambling, passion strong in his voice, “I do have adopted siblings, but no blood relatives that are living, and; I suppose fight. I don’t really know when to quit.” the man smiled embarrassingly at his own confession.

Responding with a hum of affirmation, y/n skimmed over the vast selection in the compact shop. She then briskly walked to a middle aisle, dusty tile floor scuffed by her combat boots, before stopping at an unmarked section, fingering through the untouched vinyl. She pulled one out and whipped around, presenting the album cover to the man on the other end of the crates. “Human Bloom. They are fusion jazz from Chicago, but have a nice tone to it. I would give them a try if I were you.” she handed the man the record. “Need anything else…?” her question hung on a cliff, dangling in hope for a name.

“Jason.” he replied, “and no, I think that’ll be all.” he tried to look for a nametag, but found a newfound attraction to chest-placed keyhole cutouts instead.

“Y/n. The checkout is something I’m supposed to take care of with a register, not with you and your eyes.” she admonished, quirking a brow before heading back to her post behind the counter, hips swaying with each step she took.

Jason watched, unable to speak by the way he was called out. He took larger steps to the checkout, head down as he did so. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” he stammered when he finally reached the register, patting his jacket pockets for his wallet before finding it in his pec pocket (or, as he calls it, tit patch). “How much would those be?”

Y/n clacked at the old register buttons, its labels washed out from abuse. “$52.75. Cash, card, or number?”

“Pardon?” Jason opened up his wallet.

“Y’know, you could tender with cash, a credit or debit card, or your phone number.”

Jason smiled widely at y/n, finally acknowledging her forward attempt at flirting. He set his wallet down on the counter and asked quietly, “Can you do that here?”

“For you? Sure.” y/n remarked, her ‘sure’ accompanied by a survey of Jason’s tall figure with her eyes. She tore a piece of paper and opened a drawer by her hip, grabbing a pen and jamming it shut before sliding the pair to Jason.

Pen in hand, Jason jotted down his number and passed it back to y/n, who already removed her phone from one of her pockets and entered the number into it. Jason watched her every move, impressed, albeit flattered, by her determination; until, of course, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked it briefly: new text: you are as tall as you are hot, buddy.

Jason gaped at the text before looking at y/n. “I must be pretty short then.” he snickered, earning a scoff from the woman on the other end of the counter.

“Short on time? Patience?” she dipped her voice an octave. “...Self-control?”

Before Jason could respond, y/n’s coworker, Jade, greeted him. “Hey, Jay! How was work today?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. Y/n dropped her seduction tactics, returning to her guarded expression. “Yes, Jay, how was work today?”

Both employees stared at Jason with terribly different intentions, one with genuine curiosity, and the other with vehemence. “It was okay, I guess. Made some tips, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Good.” Jade chirped. “I would have stopped by on the livestream, but I dunno…camwork really isn’t my thing. Wish you all the best though!” She finished with a beam before walking away from the counter and to the back of the store, away from whatever tension she sensed.

“I can explain-”

“Over breakfast. Tomorrow.” y/n decided Jason’s fate for him, which he was happy was spared. It was rare he was forgiven for white lies, something that he was awfully rung out for. He accepted his dues with a nod and snuck out of the record store with his tail tucked between his legs.

—

Jason and y/n exchanged details on their confirmed date, so it was rather disappointing to Jason when he arrived at the Gotham Diner to…nobody. He checked his phone when the waitress seated him at a booth, and again after she poured him a cup of coffee. Nothing.

“Good morning, Jason.” y/n greeted out of nowhere, bringing Jason’s attention from his desolate thoughts to the woman now scooting herself on the abrasive booth cushion. He must have smiled, because y/n added, “Got your uppers for today?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Good to know your chipper attitude isn’t just your customer service voice.” he critiqued, to which y/n stared at him. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I think I stepped on dog shit on the way over.” she glanced underneath the table at the underside of her boot.

The silence between them was too agonizing for Jason to handle, despite it being short. “So, about yesterday, I didn’t really mean to lie like that, and I just wanted to say I’m-”

“Seriously don’t worry about it, man. I like that you’re not put off by me, y’know? A lot of guys are; usually it’s the chicks I hit on that admire my decisiveness.” y/n tore open a few packets of stevia, shaking its contents into her coffee before stirring it with the wooden stick. “Jade gave me intel on your job though.” Jason frowned, awaiting the imminent rejection he expected with the acknowledgement of his unconventional line of work. “I’m all for sex work, dude, so don’t sweat it, but camwork? Really? Isn’t that, like, outdated now?”

Jason allowed his shoulders to slouch as his nerves settled, pleasantly surprised by y/n’s reaction. “To be honest, I know a lot of people do shit like modeling, but it feels so…forced.”

“And camwork is different? I’m not sure how it is for guys.”

“No, you…you have a point.” y/n saw through him, and saw something he hadn’t quite noticed in himself; it was, to a degree, a facade. He didn’t want to jeopardize his vulnerability to the dark caves of the internet, so he simply hid behind something he wanted to be, rather than completely himself. Perhaps that was why he admired y/n so much, despite knowing so little of her.

The pair was interrupted by a waitress, who took their orders. “An egg-white only omelet, please.” Jason politely asked.

“And could you get me a large stack, please? With extra blueberries on top.” Y/n asked with wide eyes, clearly ecstatic by the antioxidant properties of the garnish.

After the waitress left, they returned to their conversation. “I do pretend to enjoy some of the stuff I’m requested to do, but I dunno.” Jason hid behind his cup of coffee, an absurd sight for y/n seeing a tall, broad figure hunched over. “To be honest, I’m kinda turned on by the idea of someone watching me. Plus it pays the bills.”

Y/n mirrored Jason’s shrug in rapport. “I see what you mean. If I had the body, I think I’d do the same, but there isn’t much of a market for stocky punk chicks.” she stated, a sliver of disappointment in her voice.

“I’d watch.” Jason blurted, before covering his face with his large hand. “Sorry, I-”

“One omelet, egg whites only.” the waitress returned, huge tray balanced in her palm. She distributed the plates and utensils. “And a large stack for y/n, our favorite regular.” the waitress beamed at y/n, who returned the sentiment. “Hope you two enjoy.” she left with a wink.

“Thanks, Wanda!” y/n called from her booth, giddily dancing in her seat when returning her attention to the stack of round, golden pancakes in front of her.

“You come here often?” Jason inquired skeptically, offended that she hadn’t indulged him in the information prior to their scheduling.

Y/n nodded and gave a “mmhmm” that was muffled by pancakes in her mouth. “You know, I used to come here in my college days.” y/n explained once she swallowed her first bite of the delectable breakfast treat. “I’d stop by with my study group - which was usually just me - and I’d sometimes order a few rounds of the stacks. Wanda there joked that my veins are probably pumping syrup more than blood, and I’m afraid I have to agree with her on that one.”

Jason let out a chuckle while cutting his omelet with a knife and fork with minimal scraping. “At least the vampires will get a tasty dessert if they bite you.”

“Maybe you’re right!” y/n stifled her laughter. “Maybe they’ll pour my blood over some waffles or something.”

Hand over his mouth to prevent omelet from flying all over the table and y/n, Jason chortled and mocked Dracula, “Mmm! ‘Vou must try this breakfast! Ze blood is vunderful!”

Y/n gasped jokingly. “How dare you mock vampires? They don’t all sound like that.”

They each took turns smacking the table and giggling, exchanging niche vocal impressions until Wanda returned with a warning. “You two are causing a distraction to some of our other patrons here. Try to keep it under control, okay?” she gave them a lambasted look. “Here is the check, since I know you two will probably want to continue your date.”

Date. Y/n blushed at the word. “Thank you, Wanda. And tell that rigid couple in booth twelve that we’re sorry, and we’re not real vampires.”

“But we will bite if needed.” Jason added with a cheap smile.

Wanda sighed and walked away, murmuring something incoherent.

As Jason was about to snag his wallet, y/n slipped a couple of bills in the receipt card. “I’m holding you hostage, so I’m paying. Don’t worry, pretty boy.”

Though the action was assurring, it was confusing when paired with y/n’s nickname for Jason. He found himself amused at the woman, and had to ask: “What are your answers, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“Your answers. To the question you asked me yesterday. You never gave me yours.”

Y/n grinned innocently, sincerity splayed across her face. Jason wished he could have taken a photo of it - her eyes were just pretty. “Gimme a sec to think,” she sat back in the booth, head hitting the backrest with a thump. “So I usually don’t do anything except listen to music and read, I have two siblings - but three if you count the imaginary turtle I had when I was six, I love a good bowl of soup and some tamales, and I’m not wearing any.”

Jason cocked his head, perplexed by the final answer. “Not wearing any? Any what?”

“Underwear.” y/n blinked innocently, despite being well aware of her suggestion. “You asked if I’m wearing underwear, right? I’m not.” her smile grew bigger with each word, and her eyes dimmed darker with lust.

So did Jason’s. “Oh, uhm.” he was indecisive, unable to choose how to respond. It wasn’t that Jason was inexperienced the art of flirtation, it was that he hadn’t quite been this interested in someone in a long time, and it showed by the way his cheeks reddened (and cock hardened in his pants) at her reveal.

He refused to indulge, his pride in the way. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t the reaction y/n was hoping for, and her tone fell with it.

They stood and exited the diner together, loitering in the parking space where Jason had left his motorcycle. Jason noticed that y/n’s spark died off when he hadn’t taken her bait, and although he felt guilt, he knew he wanted to explore the relationship more prior to sleeping together. He feared that y/n took it personally;

She did. “I’ll text you.” she said, backing away before she gave a brief wave of her hand and disappearing into the crowd of Gothamites.

—

“Jesus, what is wrong with me.” y/n sighed when she re-entered her loft, littered with old clothing on the ground, and walls decorated with mismatched posters. As she untied her boots, she replayed the rejection in her head: Jason’s nose twitching, eyes shifty, and mouth open, pausing to choose whatever denial he believed was appropriate.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, but she neglected to check it; instead, she hovered to her bed on the other end of the studio flat, and tumbled onto it, her sheets making a punched ‘oof’. Deep breaths calmed her worried mind buzzing with defeat, and she wondered if perhaps she was, in a word, bamboozled.

It didn’t make sense: the flirting beforehand, way his eyes wandered too freely on her body like a dog to a treat, yet he rejected her…why? Was it what she wore that day? The borderline offensive vampire impressions? Or was it, in the end, her determination that hammered the final nail into the coffin of the potential of their relationship?

Heels digging in the sand, y/n set off on her research, beginning with Jason’s business venture. She sat up in her bed, fixing the pillows to better suit her needs, and reached over for the laptop on the ground. Y/n opened it and waited for the startup operation sequence, the fan vibrating over y/n’s lap as it whirred.

“Alright, Todd, let’s see what camwork you’re doing.” y/n murmured as she entered the site info, creating an account to access the lewd media. “A $7.99 subscription? I didn’t know these cost money nowadays.” she chortled at the virtual pricetag while entering her card info, reluctant to provide sensitive information on her archaic device.

Upon granted access, y/n’s eyes widened, blurred images revealing themselves to her, and she was, well, intrigued, to say the least. The first uncensored media on the site feed was Jason in a public dressing room, unclothed; his hooded eyelids and smirk enhanced his smitten look; his chest was naked, gleaming from the shop lights, and his shoulders were broad, leaned back into the wall of the dressing room; his torso was chiseled, the contour of his muscles shaping into a v near his pelvis, almost as if they were a sign from god for y/n’s eyes to point to his carefully trimmed pubic hair, which failed to hide the base of his thich, uncut cock.

Y/n hadn’t even looked at the caption, so when she finally managed to strip her eyes away from his holy figure, she grinned at the words, “Imagination - life is your creation, Doll.”

A fucking Barbie reference, and she dropped the ball? Y/n scrolled to drown her distraught, searching for a video she could watch.

A notification popped on the page: Robin Hood started a livestream. Click to join. Y/n scrambled to find her dreaded wired headphones, shoving the plug into the jack on the side of the laptop. She then clicked on the notification, instantly refreshing the screen to bring her to a livestream starring the man she had just joked with about Transylvanian vampire genitalia.

The irony. “This is unreal.” y/n muttered to herself as she stared at the tall man sat back on his bed - different than his usual post in his computer seat - as he flicked open a cap of lube, applying it to his hand before he spread it on his erection. He exhaled as he did so, toned chest rising as his fingers moved along his sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, this feels good.” Jason moaned, hips bucking into his hand as his eyes remained closed. Y/n rubbed her thighs together at the sight. “I’m already so close. I wanna come so bad.”

Y/n let out a low moan deep in her throat, mouth watering at the filth transmitted through her earbuds. She watched as Jason’s hand moved from the base of his cock to its head, his wrist twisting. He searched for a speed, but was indecisive with the way his hips shot up sharply, thrusting into his hand. The wet skin sound filling y/n’s earbuds was fucking dirty, and she knew she had to shower right after finishing the livestream - she wanted to see him come, hear the euphoric, obscene noises leaving his mouth.

“Fuck” Jason grunted, holding his cock with one hand, and the other roaming his torso and thighs. “Oh, shit, you feel amazing.” his words were so intent, sincere, as if he imagined someone actually riding his cock - or it was y/n who was projecting her desires onto him, wishing she could straddle his lap and be the source of his pleasure, bouncing on his dick until she milked him dry.

“Oh,” Jason barely pushed through gritted teeth, “Keep going, y/n” he whispered, brows furrowing. Y/n stopped and blinked at the screen, doubting what her senses told her she heard. “Please, please, y/n…” he said it again, this time in a plea that sent y/n’s mind reeling into another dimension as she wanted to touch herself, but wanted, more than anything, to drive Jason over the edge.

His breaths fell staggered, jerking at his cock hard as his bottom lip trembled. “God, I wanna come. Your pussy is so good,” he admitted, eyes screwed shut, “so fucking good.” his speed became erratic, frantically searching for God in a moment’s release, and y/n was right there with him, her panties soaked from the heavenly torturous sight in front of her. She wanted to tell him to come, tell him how good he feels driving his cock into her, continuously, and how badly she wanted to sit on his pretty face until she screamed.

“Shit! Oh, fuck, god.” Jason exclaimed, profanities slipping him like a ghost leaving his vessel as spurts of cum erupted from his cock, body stilling. He thrusted into his hand once more before finally relaxing, catching his breath in a laugh.

He looked down at the mess of cum he made on his pelvic bone and torso, a splash landing all the way to his neck, and he shook his head. “Wow. Hadn’t had that much in a long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you later.” Jason smirked, propping himself on his elbows and biting his lip before the livestream ended.

Y/n sat in front of the computer screen with glossy eyes. She was his spank bank. She was. The reality set in, and it finally clicked.

But before she could allow herself to feel relief, free from the shackles of rejection in which she imprisoned herself, y/n quickly moved to her feet and grabbed her phone from the other side of the room to check the notification she dismissed earlier:

Jason. Hey, I hope I wasn’t too rude, but I don’t want to pursue any- (½) Y/n opened the message, careless of the read receipt that would be sent to him. -anything sexual, since that’s my job, and I’ve been used before. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, because I do think you’re special, but I understand if it does. I’m here if you want a second date.

Y/n skimmed over the text, and reread it to check if her senses failed her once more. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, she repeated. I do think you’re special. Y/n smiled widely as she opened up the keyboard to reply:

I thought I was too much. Usually am.

She rested her back against the wall, waiting for a response. Already, it shown as read, and the bubbles appeared at the bottom of their chat.

It’s not your fault, I should have clarified from the start. Are you free this weekend?

Y/n felt the melting of the glacier in her chest, and the cooling of the heat between her legs. She gathered her thoughts for a response:

I think I am on Sunday.

Jason’s reply was instantaneous, and y/n was thankful games were off the table for them.

Meet me at the Gotham library?

Y/n smiled. Fuck yeah.

It’s a date. Jason replied, the three words launching y/n into orbit.

So much of an orbit that she hadn’t proofread her response. Btw, saw your livestream.

Y/n regretted it instantly, eyes blown wide and apprehension rising in her.

The bubbles came up on the phone screen before disappearing, then reappearing again. Y/n cursed to herself as she waited. Finally: Good. You looked absolutely stunning at breakfast. Wanted to eat you instead of the omelet.

Maybe y/n could get used to this, after all.

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psychovigilantewrites · 1 year

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It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

#jason todd #dc comics #red hood #jason todd/reader #y/n #jason todd x reader #red hood/reader #batman #batfamily

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supeson · 1 year

Text

i should be pullin' you close to me, and not explainin' why

this is my ode to a fic i read YEARS ago! it was also about a fat reader being clueless as hell, which i found to be very personally real lmao

You're lonely, you'll fully admit that. You have your friends and your family, for sure, but it's not quite the same as romantic entanglement. You've been on the apps, started and stopped chats with people who seemed interested until you refused to give them whatever disgusting thing they wanted. You can honestly say you've tried, but it's not like people meet each other in real life anymore, so you've resigned yourself to being alone. It also doesn't help that you're fat.

You've always been fat with big hips and arms, a stomach that rolls over itself. You've always been realistic about the way you look, and you try to treat your body well, despite how many people have told you you're abusing it. Of course, this came with childhood teasing and bullying. You could count on two hands the amount of times people tried to insist someone liked you, only to have the person in question shaking their head vehemently, horrified that you might think they consider you romanceable.

So, in short, you've closed yourself off to romance, finding fulfillment in your friends and family. Until you're at the library and you meet him.

The library is running a trade in event where people can bring their old books in and put them into a pool for equal exchange. It's a hot September afternoon, and you've come to the library with a stack almost as high as your head. You're almost all the way up the frankly stupid amount of stairs that lead up to the main branch's doors when your flip flop doesn't quite make it all the way to the top of the next stair and you trip.

"Oh fuck me," you say, clinging to the books in your hands, fully expecting to meet the pavement. You hear some of the books hit the concrete in front of you and brace yourself. You open your eyes a full 20 seconds later when the impact doesn't come, and feel hands on your shoulders.

"I'm not trying to be in your business or anything, but why are you carrying so many books at once?" A voice behind you asks.

You let out a long breath and set down what you have left, and turn. "Because I forgot my little red wagon at ho....me," you trail off, staring upwards. A man, about 6'1'' if you were to hazard a guess, stands there in tight black jeans and a red tank top, the small patch of white at the front of his otherwise black head of hair shaking as he snorts, his blue eyes looking at you appraisingly.

"Well then, let me at least help you inside," he says, moving past you to pick up whatever you had dropped.

"Alright," you say dumbly, unsure of how to refuse his help. The two of you make quick work, collecting everything and getting it safely inside. You start perusing the other books, deciding if any were worthy of your time. The man watches you with his hands in his back pockets.

"So why did you bring so many? Books, I mean," he asks, taking a look at the titles you've brought in.

"I was finally cleaning out my apartment and these were the ones I didn't find to be too memorable, or I've had them since high school and I like to think I've grown as a reader since then. Had to get 'em out today or I never would've. I get that from my mother." As soon as you say that, your cheeks start to burn. Why would I say that to a stranger?

The man pulls a deep purple book from the stack and reads the inside of the jacket sleeve. "Aidan Gray was a strange enigma, to be sure..."

You whip around and snatch it from his hands. "Look, this was right after the Twilight boom, okay? I can't be held accountable for 15 year old me's tastes. It was a difficult time for the YA industry."

He holds his hands up. "Alright, that's fair."

He looks through the stack again and pulls out a small chunky book, about 400 pages, but with a beautiful cover of a sundial in a garden, dyed by the sunset behind it. You pipe up. "Oh, that one kicks ass. It's about two sisters that inherit this huge mansion right before the stock market crash in the 30's, so the older sister steps up and does what she has to do to protect her family home, becoming the mistress to one of her father's old business associates, but then she eventually-"

"Whoa, whoa, as you gonna let me read it for myself, or explain the whole plot?" He asks, turning it over in his hands. It's clearly well loved, for sure. "Why are you turning it in, then?"

You rub the back of you neck. "I, uh, didn't actually mean to. I must've been cleaning off my bookshelf and forgot to put it back."

The man adopts an easy smile. "Tell you what, let me borrow it, since you love it so much. I'll return it when I'm done, scout's honor," he says, raising his hand.

It's your turn to snort. You shove your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. "How can I be sure of that when I don't even know your name?"

He nods, acquiescing. "Touché. I'm Jason. Here, gimme your phone and I'll put in my number, so that you can pester me until I finish it and give it back."

You give him a suspicious look, but finally dig your phone out of your basketball shorts and hand it to him. You put in your info, adding the melting smile emoji next to your name. "If you don't respond to me, I swear to god I'll take legal action."

"Duly noted. I have a feeling this is the start of something beautiful."

You fully expect to never see Jason, or your book for that matter, ever again, but lo and behold he texts you two days later at an ungodly time, to tell you that he's enjoying it so far. You reply at a much more sensible 7AM, after you've been awake for a little bit, and are surprised when he asks to meet you for coffee. You're even more surprised when you find yourself agreeing. You throw on a t-shirt and jeans, and meet him half an hour later at some hole in the wall place he insists has the best coffee on earth. You dash his hopes to be praised when you order a smoothie, citing a sensitivity to caffeine. The two of you chat for what feels like forever, and you're hesitant to, but eventually you break it off, telling him you have to go to work. He lets you go with a two finger salute.

You leave the interaction smiling to yourself. You've finally made a new friend.

Convinced that he's strictly there for friendship only, you let yourself get comfortable with Jason pretty quickly. You invite him over to your house for pizza and movie nights, he takes you out to all of the seediest restaurants in the city, where the people seem to know him and the food is incredible. He's seen you in your rattiest pajamas, unshowered, apartment on just the wrong side of needing a cleaning. There are a couple of times you think you see him staring at you with less than friendly intentions, but dismiss the notions immediately. This isn't a rom-com, get a grip, you always tell yourself.

But the longer your friendship goes on, the more your resolve starts to crumble. Over the months he's gotten more comfortable touching you, which has always been one of your biggest insecurities. Not that you hate to be touched, but you've gotten so used to going months without a friendly one that every time Jason puts his hands on you, you resist the urge to flinch. It started with simple hands on your shoulders to guide you somewhere, or a hip bump if he took a turn too sharply while walking somewhere with you. One time, he pulled you by the hand across the street and you immediately wrenched it from him as soon as you were safely across, citing a smashed bug on your palm. You were too busy trying to calm yourself to notice the look of hurt that flashed across his face.

The culmination of it all is his hand on the small of your back as he grabs something you're reaching for in your kitchen cabinets. "Let me," he says, flashing you a smile. You just nod dumbly and stand down. He pats you again as he retrieves the microwave popcorn bags for you.

You mentally gather the evidence in your mind, trying to look at it from all possible angles. I'm putting too much stock into it, he can't mean anything romantically. I mean, look at me, you reason. Maybe he's this affectionate with all of his friends. He mentioned that he has a big family, right? Maybe they're just like that? Besides, he probably has people throwing themselves at him all the time. It's fine. I can do this. I can be his friend. You start to cry, trying to wipe away your tears before they can fall, failing when they come too quickly. This is fucking stupid. I caught feelings and I know he'll never want me. God.

You suddenly remember that you're supposed to have plans with him that night and dive for your phone, texting him a flimsy excuse for why you need to cancel. He just sends you back a thumbs-up emoji, and you start to cry harder. You have a lot to sort out before you can see him again.

Roughly two hours later you hear a knock at your door. You look out of the peephole to see Jason standing there, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding a huge takeout bag in the other.

"Jason, I'm sick," you yell through the door.

"Yea, I know," he retorts, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. "And I brought you some of your favorite ramen, so let me in."

You try to wipe away the salt trails on your cheeks as best as you can, take a deep breath, and undo the locks on your door. You walk away as he swings open the door and immediately toes his shoes off, settling back down on your couch, legs crossed as you hold a pillow. He sets down the bag in your kitchen and starts taking out spoons and bowls. "So what is it today? Your stomach again?"

"No," you squeak. "Why did you still come?"

"Because you feel bad, and it's my job to help you feel better." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and it wrenches your heart in two.

"You're too good to me. Way past your job description as friend," you try to joke. Jason drops the container full of vegetables he had been spooning into the broth and looks at you as if he's been struck.

"What?"

"It's too much, Jason. It's above and beyond the call of duty for a friend. Even a best friend, I would say." You squeeze the pillow tighter, preparing yourself for you next words. "You don't have to do all of this just for me. I understand my position."

Jason comes and sits down across from you, concern evident in his eyes. "What are you talking about? What position? Since when are we friends?"

"What do you mean?" You ask brokenly. "I thought that's what you wanted from me. Friendship."

Jason says your name incredulously. "What are you talking about? We've been dating for 7 months. Ever since I first asked you to the coffee shop three days after we met.""

"What?" Fat tears starts to roll down your cheeks again. "I thought...all this time...we were just becoming close friends."

Jason clutches at his hair. "I met you mother!"

You wave dismissively. "All my friends meet my mom. She's the most important person in my life."

Jason stares at you, dumbfounded, before he starts to laugh. He laughs for a full two minutes before he wipes a tear away, and finally looks at you. He inches closer to you on the couch and pulls your pillow away, leaning in. "Can I kiss you?"

You tentatively nod. You take one look at his lips before they're on yours, and then you're looking at his face, eyes latching onto the small scar on his right cheek as you turn your head for him. He pulls back for just a second to breathe in before he comes back, and you've exploded mentally. He starts feathering your face in kisses, and you can't believe that this is happening to you. This never happens to fat people like you. You don't realize that you've said that last part out loud before he pulls back and looks at you strangely.

"Babe?" You heart clenches to hear him call you that. "Is that really what you think of yourself? You can't be loved because you're fat?"

Your face feels hot as you nod.

Jason shakes his head slowly, taking both of your hands in his. "Then it makes sense why you flinched every time I touched you." As if on reflex, you flinch hearing him say that. "I've found you attractive ever since I saw you at the library that day, I swear. That's why I gave you my number. I wasn't trying to initiate a friendship. Sweetheart, I was trying to initiate a relationship."

You throw your arms around him, essentially trying to make him melt into you. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sob. You feel like you're going through the whole human spectrum of emotion at once. Elation, grief, mortification.

Jason gently peels you from him. "It's okay, really. Now that we've got that sorted out, can I finally finish making your ramen? The noodles are still good, I haven't put them in the broth yet."

You laugh and nod as you try to wipe away your tears again.

#dc #jason todd x reader #red hood/reader #jason todd/reader #red hood x reader #reader insert

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minnieearsposts · 1 year

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I need to start drafting for summer updates y’all so help a homie out 💕

#jason todd x reader #night hood #red hood/reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #ao3 writer #minnieears on ao3

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mostly-imagines · 21 days

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Guard Dog

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist and yours resting on his thighs as you tell him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

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chikaras-garden · 8 months

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Batboys as your sugar daddy

What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋

“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.

With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.

He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.

“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.

When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw.

There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”

Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.

“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.

“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.

His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”

You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.

But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”

“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”

“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”

JASON TODD 💋

Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”

You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”

“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.

In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”

You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.

“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”

When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?

TIM DRAKE 💋

“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done.

Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”

She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.

“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.

So when you get back to your car, you call him.

“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.

“Tim—”

“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”

“Tim—”

“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”

🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05

#bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batman x reader #nightwing x reader #red hood x reader #batfam x reader #🌸— mine.#🌸— bruce wayne.#🌸— dick grayson.#🌸— jason todd.#🌸— tim drake.

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merletka · 3 months

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pov: you give him a valentine

Hope yall are having a great St Valentine's day! 💖

#dc #jason todd #batfam #red hood #dc comics #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #art

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martiniluvr · 2 months

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minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

thinking about that tiktok trend where people call their boyfriends “my husband” in front of them to see their reaction, and how if you did that to dick grayson, his ass would not hear a word you said after calling him that. just a big ole grin. ringing in his ears. butterflies in his stomach, flustered as all hell. he’d think about it for the rest of the week with a small smile, wondering if the idea is really so far-fetched.

now, jason todd wouldn’t even blink. like, yeah, he’s your husband. you’re his wife. obviously—he’s felt that way since about two months after you started dating, when he realised he couldn’t wake up next to anyone else ever again. he’d recall the jewellery store he passed a couple of weeks back with the emerald-cut, gold-set ruby in the window. well…all that’s missin’ is the ring, right?

that’s all.

#just yappin #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #dc comics #batman #batfam #martiniluvr #jason todd fluff #dick grayson fluff #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader

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jaysgirlx · 4 months

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You, while playing with Jason's hair: Do the scars still hurt?

Jason: All the fucking time.

You: Do they hurt, when I touch them or-

Jason: No no no, it's more of a mental thing…sometimes when you touch them they bring back bad memories before I…

You: Then why don't you ever pull away?

Jason: Because I know you're not trying to hurt me, I know that you're safe? I don't know the fucking words for this…

*He rests his head on your shoulder*

Jason: Just don't leave.

You: I never will Jay.

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millyhelp · 2 months

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Jason had just woken up. the large arm stretched out so he could pull you by the waist and snuggle you into him. Your side of the bed was empty and cold. Your cell phone wasn't on the nightstand.

Where are you?

Panic broke out in Jason's mind, making the post-sleep haze disappear. You never wake up before him.

Jason stood up with only his black Versace underwear on his body. He went to the bathroom, you weren't there, he went to the office and you weren't there. He always kept weapons hidden around the apartment and this was a time when he picked up a 9mm that was under a corner table in the apartment's hallway.

"Where are you?..." Jason's voice sounded shaky. His hands were tight on the gun in his hands.

He went to the kitchen and walked through the living room, guest room, you were nowhere to be found.

Did she leave me? Could it be that she abandoned me? What did I do wrong?

Jason ran his hands through his hair. No sign of you. Not your purse, not your keys, nothing. For a moment he thought you were just a dream, but no, the nail marks that burned on his back and the hickeys along his chest and abs proved otherwise.

The sound of the door unlocking made him alert at the front door. It opened and there you were. A sigh of relief left Jason's lips. He ran over to you and pulled you towards him.

"Jay-oh, hey..." The bags that were in your hand fell to the floor and you struggled to close the door and hug Jason then. Thick tears that Jason had no idea he was shedding before you arrived wet your shoulder.

"Where-" a sob left Jason's lips "Where were you?"

"I just went to buy things to make you lunch, babe..." You ran your hands welcomingly along Jason's back. He was holding you tight to his body. "You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you up."

her smell. she is here. she didn't leave. I'm not alone. it's her. she is here.

"I'm here now, it's okay." You kissed his neck sweetly and he whimpered. "I'm here..."

"Dont leave me... please..." he whispered

"i won't. im sorry for not waking you up." Jason looked into your eyes. The arms were still around you, you felt cold metal on your back. "What is that?"

Jason remembered he still had the pistol in his hand. He showed you and you looked at him in surprise.

"I thought someone took you from me." The face, red and wet with tears, spoke with melancholy. "I would kill anyone who tried to take you from me."

your heart pounded in your chest. He really thought someone had taken you or that you were gone. You took the bags in your hands. "Come with me. Let's leave this in the kitchen and I'll go back to bed with you, put that gun away, it's not necessary." You said sweetly and kissed Jason's cheek.

Jason nodded. He still had one hand on your waist, he wasn't going to let you go anywhere soon.

you walked to the kitchen and placed the bags on the counter. Jason put the gun next to the things and hugged you from behind while you took the things you bought out of the bag.

his large slender fingers caressed your belly while he watched you attentively and in silence taking things away. Jason's thoughts were lost on you and only you. the way you moved, everything about you gave him peace of mind, his mind wasn't an enemy when you were present.

"a penny for your thoughts." You said with a smile on your lips.

"You."

"Me?" You giggled and felt Jason nod and then felt him rest his chin on your left shoulder.

"Yes." He whispered. "What will you do?"

"a brazilian dish. feijoada is the name." You sigh when you manage to finish taking everything out of the bags.

"hmm." Jason mutters. "can we go to bed now?"

you took Jason's hand and guided him to the bedroom. You only realized that he was only in his underwear when you took off your dress and lay down in just your bra and panties.

You opened your arms to Jason and he buried his face in the middle of your breasts. "Would you kill a kidnapper with just your underwear on?"

"Mhm..." He muttered and you giggled. Jason squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, if that was possible.

"Don't ever do that again..." he said quietly "Never leave again without at least telling me, please..."

"I promise." You kissed Jason's forehead and he buried his face in the valley of your breasts again.

he was finally at peace again and could go back to having a peaceful sleep while in your arms.

#millyhelp thoughts~#jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader #jason todd oneshot #red hood x reader #jason todd smut

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lealdern · 3 months

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Can I request 2 swf with jason please?

This is so very late for halloween! My asks are open, especially to write more in established stories like ghost, vampire, eldritch, Talon (she's not ready yet) or maybe start new ones 🔞 blog

Ghost!Jason Todd x gn!reader / SFW

He was a ghost, you knew that much.

Gotham had enough ghosts that they were a whole other population in and of themselves, not that anyone else really saw them. You don’t pay them mind, you’d learned it was better to do as you did with the living of Gotham, and that was mind your own business.

But this one, this burly tank of a man was… persistent. He’d seen something in you, some micro movement or a too-long lingering glance his way and he knew instantly you could see him.

“Please.” He said with the dead (hah) air of someone who wasn’t used to saying please at all.

You ignored him and shuffled your groceries onto the counter of your small apartment.

“I know you can hear me.” He grumbles, frustrated, as he comes around your side; you turn away to slot a box of cereal into the cupboard. You’ve avoided looking at him since he caught sight of you as you’d walked past the alley he lingered in, but his voice is handsome and rumbly and you feel like his face will also be handsome, the temptation for a peek isn’t too much though.

“Listen, I’m a ghost, I can do this all day: I don’t sleep I don’t eat I could just talk and talk, I wonder how long it’ll take for you to get sick of hearing me talk? It’s not like I can run out of breath-“

“What do you want?” You seethe, slamming down a packet of fancy cheese, the kind with holes in it.

“Hey, there we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smirks and your heart skips a beat as you take in his handsome features, deep eyes with dark brows, cupids bow lips dinted with a straight scar. You sigh looking him in the eye.

“What do you want?” You grab the cheese packet and toss it in the fridge, feeling tired already. It was going to be a long night, no doubt this ghost had unfinished business to be fixed.

“I- I don’t feel dead.” He sounds unsure, a turnabout from his cocky attitude.

“How do you not feel dead?” You ask, squinting as you try to think about how being dead does feel.

“I’ve been dead before, this ain’t it.”

“How would you even-“ you put up your hand to stop him from answering, “I don’t want to know, actually… And you need me because?”

“I don’t know who I am, I need to- to know. Something isn’t right.” He huffs, making the mistake of leaning against your counter and slipping through it after a moment.

“You need to believe you won’t slip through, then you won’t slip through,” you advise, setting up some water to boil so you can have tea, because you’re sure it’s going to be a long night.

“How would you know?” He asks smartly, a frown pulling his dark brows down.

You look up at him with a glare and he near-smirks, “I see dead people, jackass, you think I haven’t picked up a few pointers from them?”

You make your tea as he perfects leaning against things. You don’t point out he’s already doing it considering he’s not fallen through the floor into the apartment below, since it would make him fall into the apartment below.

You grab your tea, and sit on the couch, pulling your old beat up laptop out, and Jackass follows you, sitting precariously on the couch. He’s mastered it quick at least.

You open google and look to the handsome ghost, somehow balancing on cocky and unsure at the same time, and sigh. “So… tell me about yourself.”

#Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd/reader #Jason Todd reader #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood/reader #Red Hood reader #halloween drabble #my writing #ghost!Jason x reader

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ms-nesbit · 9 months

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jay and the glass elevator (jason todd x reader)

rating: 18+ (minors fuck off)

summary: jason and reader go on a date, but jason is too tempted.

warnings: smut, masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, reader has a softer body

Ao3

word count: 1.5k

There is no such thing as a wrong answer.

There is no such thing.

Jason echoes the statement as he adjusts his shirt collar with one hand, his other anxiously clutching the bouquet of wildflowers. He then knocked on the apartment door.

“Too-daloo!” y/n sang from the other side of the door, hooking her hoop earring through her ear. “I’ll be right there.” she tweaked the heel of her boots, the burgundy vaguely complimenting Jason’s blood red button-up.

Y/n opened the door, and she was met with the assembly of wildflowers, varying in size and texture, and an ecstatic Jason beaming down at her. “Uh, these are for you.” he held out his hand holding the bouquet, which y/n exchanged for a peck on the cheek.

“And who said vigilantes resurrected from the dead couldn’t be romantic and thoughtful?” y/n mentioned, pinching Jason’s cheek.

Jason linked his arm to y/n’s, mildly puzzled by her comment. “...Someone said that?” he muttered.

Y/n only chuckled in response, planting another peck on Jason’s cheek, as they filed together into the creaky elevator. While y/n planned her outfit three days in advance, she - as usual - made last-minute arrangements, trading out her dress for a pair of dark, hip-hugging jeans, and a low-cut, maroon satin camisole, layered underneath a pleather jacket;

Jason, however, noticed the moment she flung open the door. He was greeted by his favorite person in his favorite outfit. She knew how the jeans tempted Jason - her curves accentuated in the dark indigo shade - but paired with the camisole? His color on her, especially in a top so teasing? Jason’s mind darkened, and it only progressed when they stepped into the rundown elevator, allowing space only for the couple.

“Are you excited?” Y/n asked, skipping in place. Jason’s eyes peered at her as her body bounced slightly, resisting his urge to pin her against the wall and take her then and there. Y/n noticed his inattentiveness to the conversation. “Or are you excited?” she turned to Jason, resting a hand on his broad chest as batted her eyelashes at him. “Are you thinking about me, Jace? Like what you see? Want to…” she lowered her voice, leaning in to whisper, “...have a bite?”

In one quick motion, Jason reached over and pressed the elevator button, halting it in its passageway, and pinned y/n against one of the walls, his lips attaching to her neck. Y/n released a shy moan. “Here, Birdie? Really?”

Birdie was ironic - an ex-Robin, Jason never forgave himself for being so caught up in the cowl; yet y/n broke him from his own cage, finally a free bird, and he was using his freedom wrapping himself around y/n’s finger, or in this case-

“Fuck,” y/n gasped as Jason, with two hands, reached around and grabbed y/n’s plump ass, kneading it as he left sloppy wet kisses wherever he could. He wanted more, anything y/n had to offer, he would happily accept, so when y/n moved her hand to undo her jean button and unzip it, eyes batting up at the black-haired man, it would have been foolish for Jason to simply not explore what lay underneath (though he had before - it wouldn’t hurt to check).

He slid a hand underneath the jeans, and over her panties, middle finger slipping near her dripping core, and circling lazily, tauntingly, as an imprudent smirk ran across his face. “Jay…” y/n whined quietly, in a way Jason could never get tired.

“What’s the matter, Baby? Got you all wound up already?” his neck craned so he could whisper in y/n’s ear, playfully nibbling at her ear in between statements. “You’re already soaked, Princess.”

Y/n bit down on her lip. “Of course, Jason.” she turned her head so their eyes would meet again, and she gave him a look of damning temptation. “I’ve been waiting so long for you, y’know? While you were on your way, I was thinking of maybe…” she reached down to where Jason’s hand was still making small movements against her clothed cunt, “...touching myself, thinking of you.”

“Fuck.” Jason groaned, yanking y/n’s jeans and panties down to her knees - just enough for Jason to dip his head and flick his tongue against y/n’s slit, parting them with his tongue to access her aching core. Y/n’s eyes screwed shut as she felt Jason’s breath on her skin, fanning her as he dragged his tongue along her sensitive bud, knowingly holding y/n’s reign of pleasure hostage until she gave in to his demands: beg.

Y/n’s teeth punctured her bottom lip from the pressure of the bite, but she paid no mind to it, all too tunneled on the wet brush on her cunt. “Please,” y/n managed, “please.”

Jason smirked under her. “I won’t give in until you ask politely.” he reminded huskily, basking in the sight before him. Although it hadn’t been long since their last encounter, it felt like eons to Jason, whose cock was choking underneath his own clothing; despite this, he was patient enough and waited, sitting on his knees with feet tucked underneath his ass. Love was a language that was foreign to him until y/n taught it to him, and after that, he wanted to speak it any way he could.

“Please- can you please make me come?” y/n asked, bloody lip pouting. Whether it was the heat of the moment or the confined space of the elevator already restricting what filth in which they could indulge, y/n was out of breath, heart racing.

Jason returned to her pussy, wasting no time as he flicked his tongue on her, as if he were parched. One of his hands rested on her thigh, moaning at the soft contour; his other snaked between her thighs, sneaking up to her heat, waiting to be touched.

The moans y/n released were pornographic, so when Jason inserted two fingers, instantly bending them upon entering, y/n’s back caved from the stained elevator wall, body trembling as she neared her orgasm. “That’s it, Baby.” Jason glared at y/n with intensity, the sounds leaving y/n’s lips sending waves of pleasure to Jason’s clothed erection. “You like that? Hmm? Your tight pussy likes this attention, doesn’t it?”

Y/n could only manage a nod, too overwhelmed. “You’re so good, so fucking hot.” one hand quickly left y/n’s thigh as it untangled Jason’s pants, freeing his cock for mere moments before he tightly wrapped his hand around it, tugging it. “Fuck, you look so goddamn perfect falling apart for me. All for me.”

The possession ran over his voice, haunting him. Y/n’s moans were met with Jason’s, which rapidly escalated into higher whimpers as he shelved his own release until he heard y/n’s. “So close…” y/n warned, though from her tone, it sounded more like a question, waiting for Jason’s approval for her to come.

“Y/n,” Jason’s brows furrowed, meek whines leaving his lips between words. It was his turn to beg. “Please come for me.”

Y/n looked past Jason’s eyes and saw his hand twisted around his cock, which was smeared in pre-cum, his cheeks a hint of lustful red. It was all she needed to stumble over the edge, head thrown back as her hips rocked, and Jason’s name leaving her lips in a strained scream. Jason guided her through her orgasm with his tongue on her clit, and fingers still pressed inside her, before he allowed himself to come.

Once y/n was too sensitive from her state, Jason moved his shoulders back, relaxing them as he chased his own high. “Gonna come, gonna come,” he warned, plush lips parted as he attempted to keep his eyes peeled on y/n’s still fucked out state, “Fuck, y/n, yes.” he muttered as his hand was getting sloppy, reckless, and body more desperate for release.

Y/n knew what to do, and she licked her bottom lip. “Oh, what’s this? Gonna come, Sweetie? Do it. Come for me, Doll.” she egged on, hand running along her silhouette.

Jason let out a loud whimper before his hand slowed, ropes of cum erupting from his cock. “Y/n, yes.” Jason cried, sobs of pleasure leaving his lips as he rode himself through his high.

When he returned to Earth, y/n was already clothed, and hair fixed, despite the obvious hickeys she now sported.

Jason rushed to his feet, fumbling with his pants as he sat disgusted with his mess. “Jesus, why is it always this much?” he frowned at the glistening cum on his pants and ground.

“Better too much than too little?” Y/n commented awkwardly, before giggling at him. “Too eager there, huh?”

Jason reached over to press the elevator button again, their bodies rocking as the mechanism began whirring. “You knew what you were doing, Hun.” He placed a tender kiss on y/n’s cheek as he stood next to her, acting oblivious to their act as the elevator doors opened.

#red hood #red hood x reader #red hood/reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd/reader #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #my post #mine #fanfiction #ao3

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