cj-theyoungling

[cj-theyoungling]

You know how some living rooms have a basket of blankets near the couch? I bet the Wayne Manor has that but one of the blankets is the Bat-cape. It’s big enough to be a blanket and weighed so all the Bat kids fight for it cause it’s comfortable. No one really remembers how the cape got up there since no costumes above the Batcave but it doesn’t matter at this point.

They all look adorable wrapped around it. But they will all absolutely throw hands over it, because of the comfort… definitely not cause it’s Batman’s cape- (they’re in denial)

Dick will fight for this blanket. Jason acts nonchalant but he secretly loves it but will probably not fight for it. Tim will throw hands, bite, and scratch for this blanket. Damian also doesn’t care but if he has it first he will defend it.

Bruce doesn’t see why they all like it so much so he just lets the have it.

However when they have guests over they will make up different stories to cover for it.

“Bruce won it at an auction”

“Our house got shot up and Batman gave us his cape to shield us”

“Batman gifted it to Bruce.”

Or gaslight them. “That’s not Batman’s cape” (ignoring the fact it’s shaped like a bat)

I just like the idea of the cape being a blanket for them. I think it fits

[cj-theyoungling]

watch me on the trapeze, tim. i'm going to do my act -- 'specially for you.

the circus photo from a lonely place of dying for @starsapphire via DC gotcha for gaza (@dcforgaza), thank you so much for donating!

(id in alt!)

[cj-theyoungling]

BREEDING KINK WITH CLARK KENT !

a/n : very smutty obvi, fem!reader, daddy kink. mating press. enjoy >.<

it was hot. way too hot that your decorated rooms aroma was filled only with the smell of you and clarks sweaty skin sticking to each other, mixed with the breath hitching pants that came out of the two of you. your pleasure was only heightened with the feeling of him on top of you, weighing and pressing you down, making you feel so..caged in. he was unconsciously forcing you to really feel just how deep he was inside of you, thrusting into your soaked walls with his girthy dick and muscular arms. “haah baby, can feel you squeezing me so tight..” you were but it was only because of how pressured you were feeling, having to look straight into clarks eyes as he plows into you with his intoxicated gaze. he makes your head so blurry with the way he uses his dick and doesn’t even know it, “ mm s’good, feel you filling me.. so deep!” you whine out with your hands resting on top of his neck, hips senselessly flowing along with his as they move back and forth on the bed. “mm wait, t-too deep s’gonna reach-“ you sob, it’s like you could feel his dick messing up your insides, overstimulating but all the more satisfying.

you push at his abdomen with weak arms and squeezed shut eyes, getting cut off with a moan being pulled from your throat as clark brings you back with a hand on your jaw. “reach where hm? gonna reach your tummy? huh gonna-gonna let me give you a baby?” he was basically blabbering at this point, too pussydrunk to think rationally. and you mindlessly nodded your head along with your boyfriend. “yes please clark! gonna make you a daddy!” the sound of you and clarks skin bouncing off each other was disgusting, the slapping of his balls against your ass and the creaks of the bed under you.

clarks pace gets faster as he keeps thrusting into you, cock almost kissing your cervix while you hear a flow of pleads from above you. “you’ll let me cum inside right? promise it will feel so good angel-you have to let me fill you u-up..” and he just sounds so cute when he begs like that, of course he can, anything he wants. “yesyes please! wanna feel it so bad daddy..” that nickname only flustering him more and making your boyfriend bottom out in your pussy, forehead pressing against yours, “fuckfuck-“ seeing his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a frown. dick sloppily thrusting into you when you feel ropes of cum shoot into you, warm and in an abundance, you scratch at his back and squeeze your thighs around clarks waist.

“mph makin me feel so’good clark!” you say bucking your hips into him, making you feel his length so much deeper in your cunt and only making clarks whimpers louder as he finishes cumming inside. “too much-“ he winced, unconsciously still thrusting into you slowly while you rub your sensitive bud, cumming all over his dick with a cry as he holds your back. clark lifts you slightly until your sat on his lap, his face in the warm crook of your neck breathing heavily. you were sure your insides were a mess, filled to the brim of clark and you just finished too. your boyfriend looks up at you with his doe eyes and his slight smile, “what?” you giggle to him and he kisses the skin of your chest. “thank you sweetheart.” laughing even more when you realize he’s thanking you for letting him cum inside.

[cj-theyoungling]

⊹🪻♡ undressed. ♡🪻⊹

Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

Tags: [mlw][angst.][no comfort][just hurt][childhood sweethearts?][one that got away][and will never happen]

Inspired by: undressed by sombr

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You don't think you've experienced a heavier feeling than glancing down at the attendance list of your class, a surname towards the bottom of the list has your breath stuttering and spiking in your lungs.

And you swallow.

"Damian Wayne?" You question. "As in, Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes." Damian hums, pointed nose in the air, a prideful arrogance oozing from his proud stance, shoulders squared and his uniform ironed without a crease. Seams perfectly lined, a tie knot perfectly proportioned and that face.

It's so fucking transparent. Even with those vibrant, juniper eyes that watch you with a keen interest, long, dark lashes fluttering with each calculated blink.

"You know my father?" Damian's voice has the slightest accent. You can't exactly place it properly, but you don't have time to exactly contemplate it too hard before you're inhaling sharply.

"Everyone does." Your lips curl with practiced easiness, you push yourself up from your desk, sticking your manicured hand out in Damian's direction. "It's nice to meet you, Damian. You can take the seat near the window."

Damian's hands are a lot softer than Bruce's were at his age.

But then again, the only times you really got to touch Bruce's palms were when you were picking the gravel from them, the pads of your thumbs soothing over the irritated skin. A gentle stroke of your fingers as you'd apply the disinfectant, a soft and affectionate tsk as you'd hear that wince that slowly silenced after the years of familiarity.

The sharp sting he'd grown accustomed to, the way your hands would wipe away the blood from his nose.

You'd only gotten to know Bruce for a year or two, before he'd begun attending a monastery or a boarding school.

And now you're here.

Looking at a 10 year old that has that exact same face, watching you with sharper eyes. And it's painful.

A heavy pit in your belly forms, and the bile rises in your throat. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it's an acid that burns your oesophagus as you try to swallow it back down and you continue to hand out the worksheets. Paper cracking as you place them on the desks, before you clear your throat.

Muttering the quietest 'excuse me' before you manage to leave the classroom. Your heels clicking against the marble tiles of the hallway, your back resting against the cool walls before you allow yourself to let out a heavy, almost painful breath.

"Wow."

Your breaths are bated, your mind's fuzzy and all you can think of is the way pretty blue eyes would sparkle with something akin to affection. The way Bruce's cheeks would tint the prettiest pink whenever you'd wipe at his nose, the way he'd peer up at you through his lashes as you'd clean up the gashes on his forehead.

Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on the fabric of your sweater, the soft, knitted cotton doing nothing to calm the racing of your heart. The heat that gathers at the nape of your neck is uncomfortable and so is the newfound throbbing in your temples. Your mouth is too dry, your pits are sweaty and your eyes are stinging.

And there's an ugly feeling that blossoms in the pit of your belly, just beneath your navel, spiralling up like vines and constricting around your lungs, thorns and spikes alike piercing into your bronchi, your heart clenching and it all feels too much.

You're too cold, too hot. Your eyes are too dry and too wet. And your bottom lip quivers, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards and you glance towards that window that looks into your classroom.

And you see that unsuspecting yet stupidly alert little boy, emerald gaze lowered to his notebook, dark brows bunched in concentration and you swallow hard.

There's really a child with the face of a man you'd never forget.

And it's a feeling that stabs, the knife twisting in your gut because you know that even if you wanted to forget Bruce, you couldn't.

Not when his face is imprinted into your adolescent and teenage memories, and definitely not when his face graces every TV in the country. In every magazine, in every newspaper article, every BuzzFeed blurb. Every third Quora quiz is if you're Bruce Wayne's type.

And the boy in that classroom proves it all.

You're not.

Even when you had managed to delude yourself into believing that for a moment in your life, you were.

You weren't.

You couldn't be.

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"Pennyworth," Damian shifts against the leather of the car seat, his bag neatly beside him as he glances towards Alfred, catching his withered gaze in the rearview mirror, "how many dalliances has Father had?"

Alfred's lips curl. The corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Master Damian, it would be easier to count the dalliances Master Bruce hasn't had." Alfred's accent makes it sound as though he's not calling Bruce a manwhore.

And Damian sucks his teeth.

Before humming your name. "Does it sound familiar?"

Alfred's weathered fingers stop tapping on the steering wheel, his gaze shifting from the rearview mirror, and out the windscreen instead.

"That's a dalliance Master Bruce hasn't had." Alfred states.

"But perhaps, keep that name between us, Master Damian." Alfred advises.

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[cj-theyoungling]

Screaming crying throwing up.

Source: Death in the Family Robin Lives vol 1

[cj-theyoungling]

Jason who's favorite position is prone.

Don't get it wrong, he's a complete amateur when it comes to sex. The first time you two fucked, he cried. So this little discovery, it was an accident, truly. He didn't mean to get carried away but you were squeezing him so good, and the pretty sounds you were making had his knees giving out.

At first, he had you face down, feeding you those deep strokes, the kind that leaves you breathless. But then he began to move, pushing at the curves of your hips, then your spine, forcing you down until your tummy presses against the soft sheets. And he can't help it, naturally wherever you go, he follows. So he lays himself right on top of you, he's so big too. Big thighs cage around your ass, grinding real deep and slow. It’s downright sinful. Jason Peter Todd in all his 6'1 glory, smothering you against the mattress and it's like something inside him clicks. His mind won’t shut the hell up because suddenly, you’ve gone all soft and pliant, and he’s whispering real filthy, “just needed some good dick, huh?”

His mind is so fucked out, he hasn’t realized how good he’s been fucking you until he registers your squirming and soft whining beneath him. Sometimes he forgets how big he is, all of him. Because in this position, he basically kisses your cervix. He’s taking his time, it’s torturous, the slow drag of his hips, and the way he bullies his way back in- pushing up against that sweet spot that makes you cream.

He’s got his lips pressed against your ear, cooing and shushing you so sweetly when you say you can’t take it. One hand pushing past your hips to pet at your sensitive clit, and you paw at his wrist- a weak attempt at pushing him away. It’s too much, he’s too big and he’s talking so fucking nasty in your ear you just can’t take it.

But every time you try to shut your legs in protest, his thighs flex and his ankles lock around yours, easily pushing them back open. Wordlessly saying, “take it, take it, take it”.

And after fucking you through your third orgasm, this man has the audacity to blush. Shoving his face into your neck but at some point, his mind gets all hazy. He latches his canines onto your throat and you cum. Still fucking you through the mattress, he works you up to your fourth. Finally coming down, you sob out a half-hearted “mean”, but he doesn’t budge- just hushes you with a sickly sweet “did so good, baby”.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆˙⟡

[cj-theyoungling]

If you’re my mutual and you tag me in posts I love you so much. You deserve the world. Imagine I’m giving you a little kiss on your forehead.

[cj-theyoungling]

Texting with the Bat Boys <3 (pt 2)

(Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake)

[cj-theyoungling]

Anyone else stare at their mutuals like 👀👀👀👀 “please dm me. You seem so cool and I wanna be friends. “

[cj-theyoungling]

Interviewer, catching Damian in costume: Robin! Can you explain the process of picking up Robin or passing on the mantle?

Damian, mildly annoyed at Bruce at the moment: It's quite simple. Batmam steals young children from their bed, usually nine or ten or so. Then he takes you to his lair and give you a deal.

Damian: If you can beat him in a game of your choosing, he will train you to be Robin. If you lose, you are eaten. I beat him in a classic fencing game. He's quite good with swords, but he wasn't very good with the sport itself.

Tim, standing next to him: Yeah, I beat him at a memory card game. I like totally cheated, but I'm too old for him to eat now, so ot doesn't matter.

Damian, nodding: Yes. The worst part of the job is disposing of failed Robins bones. He usually sucks them clean and leaves them all over the floor.

Tim: Yeah, its messy. But after you hit, like 15 he stops trying to eat you, so that's cool.

Damian: I have not yet reached 15. I'm still in danger. If you have more questions, ask Nightwing, as he was the first to avoid being eaten.

-

Same interviewer, at a different date: Mr. Nightwing. Is it true Batman tries to eat potential Robins?

Dick, who has no idea what she's taking about: Yeah, it's really scary. His jaw unhinges like a snake.

[cj-theyoungling]

Jason who's favorite position is prone.

Don't get it wrong, he's a complete amateur when it comes to sex. The first time you two fucked, he cried. So this little discovery, it was an accident, truly. He didn't mean to get carried away but you were squeezing him so good, and the pretty sounds you were making had his knees giving out.

At first, he had you face down, feeding you those deep strokes, the kind that leaves you breathless. But then he began to move, pushing at the curves of your hips, then your spine, forcing you down until your tummy presses against the soft sheets. And he can't help it, naturally wherever you go, he follows. So he lays himself right on top of you, he's so big too. Big thighs cage around your ass, grinding real deep and slow. It’s downright sinful. Jason Peter Todd in all his 6'1 glory, smothering you against the mattress and it's like something inside him clicks. His mind won’t shut the hell up because suddenly, you’ve gone all soft and pliant, and he’s whispering real filthy, “just needed some good dick, huh?”

His mind is so fucked out, he hasn’t realized how good he’s been fucking you until he registers your squirming and soft whining beneath him. Sometimes he forgets how big he is, all of him. Because in this position, he basically kisses your cervix. He’s taking his time, it’s torturous, the slow drag of his hips, and the way he bullies his way back in- pushing up against that sweet spot that makes you cream.

He’s got his lips pressed against your ear, cooing and shushing you so sweetly when you say you can’t take it. One hand pushing past your hips to pet at your sensitive clit, and you paw at his wrist- a weak attempt at pushing him away. It’s too much, he’s too big and he’s talking so fucking nasty in your ear you just can’t take it.

But every time you try to shut your legs in protest, his thighs flex and his ankles lock around yours, easily pushing them back open. Wordlessly saying, “take it, take it, take it”.

And after fucking you through your third orgasm, this man has the audacity to blush. Shoving his face into your neck but at some point, his mind gets all hazy. He latches his canines onto your throat and you cum. Still fucking you through the mattress, he works you up to your fourth. Finally coming down, you sob out a half-hearted “mean”, but he doesn’t budge- just hushes you with a sickly sweet “so good, baby”.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆˙⟡

[cj-theyoungling]

Sobbing, crying, throwing up. This is so cute. I’m obsessed

Batboys reacting to reader who randomly has bad baby fever. Or even just reacting to reader holding a baby.

Btw I love your writing it’s so good. 💕

˖ ֹ੭୧ I WANT A BABY⊹ ࣪ ⑅

ˋ°•*⁀➷ batboys react to reader having a bad case of baby fever !

ˋ°•*⁀➷ CHARACTERS: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Aged up!Damian Wayne

NOTES: fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!!!!!! (also perhaps some 18+ jokes... hehe)

BRUCE WAYNE:

Wayne Manor was quiet.

Rain pattered against the windows, Alfred was off for the evening, and for once, no alarms were blaring from the Batcomputer. You and Bruce were curled up on the massive velvet couch in the living room; him in sweatpants (an actual miracle), and you wrapped in the blanket that only came out during thunderstorms.

The movie was playing, but you weren’t the lead actors.

You were watching the toddler on-screen trying to walk in their parent’s shoes. They tripped, giggled, and smacked face-first into a wall. You made a sound so soft Bruce barely heard it.

Then you mumbled it:

“I want one.”

He glanced at you. “One what?”

You blinked at him, deadpan. “A baby, Bruce.”

Bruce… paused.

You could practically hear his heartbeat stop.

“You—what?” he asked slowly, brows lifting like he couldn’t decide if you were serious or if this was another one of your elaborate psychological pranks.

“I want a baby,” you said again, snuggling into his side. “They’re so tiny. And soft. And they make those little squeaky noises when they dream.”

“Honey,” he said, calmly. “We live in a fortress full of crime fighting vigilantes…”

“Exactly,” you beamed. “Great security.”

He stared.

You sighed dreamily. “Just imagine it. You with a  ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug. Me with a baby sling and a messy bun. Tiny socks everywhere. Little booties by the door. And someone yelling ‘Dada!’ when you walk through the door, instead of Damian telling you you’re statistically disappointing.”

Bruce groaned, leaning his head back against the couch.

“I dont know,” he muttered. “We have too many kids already.”

You poked his side. “You’d be a great dad. Again. But like, this one could actually like you.”

He gave you a Look.

And then—you struck.

You leaned in, lips grazing the edge of his jaw, and whispered:

“Statistically speaking… I’m probably fertile right now.”

He choked.

"Jesus—"

You batted your lashes innocently. “Just saying. We’ve got the whole night. No interruptions. A very soft couch...”

He exhaled sharply. "You're playing a dangerous game."

You kissed his neck, featherlight. “Come on, Mr. Wayne. Let’s make a trust fund heir.”

A pause.

Then, low in his chest, a growl: “…We’re gonna need a crib.”

DICK GRAYSON:

It hits you in IKEA.

Like an actual, physical slap.

You were walking with Dick, hand in hand, debating cabinet handles (why do there have to be so many?), when you passed through the nursery section. The whole place smelled like baby powder and pinewood and bad life decisions—and yet—

Boom.

Tiny cribs. Fluffy blankets. The softest animal plushies you’d ever seen.

You stopped cold in your tracks.

Dick turned back with a confused little smile. “Babe?”

You didn’t respond. You were staring at a pastel mobile shaped like clouds and stars. It was so small. So gentle. And you suddenly had a vision of a little bundle snoozing under it, wrapped in a Nightwing onesie, sucking on their fist with Dick’s ridiculous smile and your nose and oh my god you were spiralling.

Dick came up beside you. “You okay?”

“I want one.”

He blinked. “A mobile?”

You turned to him, starry-eyed. “A baby.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You—what?”

You were already walking further into the nursery setup like it was Narnia. “Look at this tiny bouncer! And this blanket! And this—it’s a tiny night light shaped like a penguin, Dick, do you see this?”

He followed, grinning. “Is this a sudden decision or a long time coming?”

You whirled around dramatically. “My uterus just dropkicked me in the face. I have no say in this. It’s biological mutiny.”

Dick laughed, catching you in his arms. “Mutiny, huh?”

“I want to make a person with you!” you wailed. “I want to grow a whole little Grayson and give them footie pajamas and teach them to do flips!”

He pulled back, face practically glowing. “Well… I wouldn’t mind practicing.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He gave you a devastating smirk. “You know. For baby-making.”

You stared. “Dick.”

He leaned in, whispering like it was a scandal. “Repeatedly. Gotta make sure we get it just right.”

You choked on air. “This is so serious and you’re being so unserious.”

“I’m very serious,” he said, grinning wider. “Serious about you. Serious about that baby. Serious about that exact crib—” he pointed—“and getting it in that dark walnut finish.”

You burst into laughter and clung to his hoodie. “I love you.”

He kissed the side of your head. “I love you too. And when the time’s right? Our baby’s gonna have the best room in this whole damn city.”

You blinked back tears. “They’re gonna have you.”

Dick smiled down at you, heart in his throat. “They're gonna have us.”

JASON TODD:

It started with cramps.

You’d been curled up in Jason’s hoodie on the couch for hours, sniffling into a blanket with a hot water bottle on your stomach and your phone dimly lit in your hand. Jason had gone to the kitchen to make you tea (because despite what the world thinks, he’s the best boyfriend when you're suffering) and came back to find—

You. On the verge of tears. Watching a TikTok. On repeat.

He stood behind the couch slowly.

“…Baby,” he said carefully. “What’s happening.”

You didn’t answer. You just let the tiktok replay for the fifth time.

Jason moved closer. He looked over your shoulder.

It was a video of a chubby little baby being handed a lemon slice for the first time. The baby licked it, made the most offended face in the world, threw it, then immediately reached for it again like it had personally wronged her and she was ready for round two.

You were sobbing.

Jason blinked. “Okay.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy. “She’s just… so brave.”

“…For licking a lemon?”

“For trying again,” you wailed.

Jason set the tea down like he was disarming a bomb. “Alright. I’m gonna need to know if this is… hormonal crying or ‘we need to adopt’ crying or both.”

“Both!” you sobbed dramatically, clutching the blanket to your chest. “She’s just a little baby and she’s got so much fight in her and she doesn’t even know what taxes are yet!”

Jason was silent for a long moment.

Then he leaned down and kissed your forehead gently. “Okay. Let’s breathe.”

You hiccupped. “Jason. I want one.”

“A lemon?”

“A BABY, JASON.”

Jason blinked again. “We have zero infrastructure for that.”

“She can’t even hold her own bottle,” you whispered, swiping to a new video. “Look. She’s trying. She’s got one sock on. I think her name is Beanie. Like the hat.”

Jason sat next to you cautiously, like you might combust. You leaned on him with a muffled sniffle.

“I could knit her a hat,” you mumbled. “I could learn to knit. I could name a baby. I could love a baby so good.”

Jason rubbed your back gently, eyes wide. “I know, baby. You’d be the best mom ever.”

You turned your tear-streaked face to him, dead serious. “She’d have your eyes.”

He blinked. “Who—Beanie?”

“Our baby.”

“Oh. Oh.”

You buried your face in his chest and wailed again. “I’m emotionally compromised. I’m in danger. This is all your fault.”

Jason made a helpless sound. “How is this my fault?”

“You have a nice face!” you cried. “Your face would make a perfect baby face! And now I want to create one with you because my uterus is loud and biology is bullying me!”

Jason just sighed and held you closer. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You hiccupped into his hoodie. “You’d let her wear the leather jacket, right?”

“…Only when she’s old enough to ride the bike.”

You gasped. “Jason.”

“What? It’s called responsible parenting.”

You nodded, satisfied. “We’re gonna be great at this.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And somewhere deep down, he knew: Yeah. You really would be.

TIM DRAKE:

It started with a video.

That was the thing. It always started with a video.

You were curled up on the couch in one of Tim’s hoodies, eyes glued to your phone screen, socked feet tucked beneath you. Tim sat at his desk, one earbud in just incase you asked him something, surrounded by three monitors and an iced coffee that hadn’t been touched in hours. Typical.

You hadn’t spoken in like ten minutes, which was suspicious.

And then you whispered it. Soft. Dangerous.

“…we should have a baby.”

Tim paused, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

“Sorry?” he said, slowly turning his chair to face you. “Did you just say—”

“I want a baby,” you said, louder this time. “Like. Right now. Immediately. Preferably one that giggles and wears little knitted hats.”

He blinked. Twice.

“…Are you watching cute baby videos again?”

“Not videos,” you said seriously. “A montage. With soft piano music. And golden retrievers. And little bare feet in the grass. Tim, they were holding tiny pumpkins.”

Tim stood up.

“Okay. We need to get you some water.”

“I’m serious. You’d be such a hot nerd dad. You already have the glasses and the emotionally repressed childhood trauma.”

He froze mid-step. “That’s… horrifically accurate.”

You patted the spot beside you. “Come. Watch this one. This baby does the little laugh-snort thing and then hugs a puppy.”

Tim sighed but sat anyway, leaning against you like he always did when he wanted to act unbothered and failed immediately.

He watched the video in silence. Another played.

By the third one, you saw it—the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, the little smile he tried to hide behind his hand.

“...Okay,” he admitted quietly. “That was really cute.”

You leaned on his shoulder. “Timothy Jackson Drake, you want to be a dad, don’t you.”

He didn’t respond for a beat.

Then he mumbled, “I already have a list of baby names in my Notes app.”

You gasped so loud someone probably heard it from the next zip code.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“TIM—”

AGED UP!DAMIAN WAYNE:

The two of you were sitting in the manor’s library, surrounded by books and daylight. A peaceful afternoon.

Until you gasped like you’d been shot.

Damian flinched. “What happened?”

You didn’t answer.

“Beloved,” he said slowly, glancing up from his book. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You turned your phone around dramatically.

It was a video. A stupid, innocent little TikTok. A baby—cheeks for days, fat fists, impossibly big eyes—being spoon-fed mashed peas by a sleepy-looking dad. The baby missed the spoon, then started crying with a gummy frown, and the dad gave them a kiss and said “It’s okay, little bean, we’ll try again.”

You were trembling.

“Damian,” you whispered hoarsely, “I want one.”

He blinked. “One what.”

You pointed at the phone like it held the meaning of life. “A baby. I want a fat, drooly, chubby-faced little gremlin to kiss on the forehead when they cry about peas.”

Damian closed his book very slowly. “You want a child. Because of peas.”

“No,” you corrected. “Because of the forehead kiss.”

He stared at you like you’d just told him you were going to join the League of Shadows.

“I’m serious, Dami,” you said, all gooey eyes and stupid little pout. “You’d be such a good dad. You’d raise a tiny assassin who also paints finger art and cries when you leave the room.”

“I’m calling Arkham,” he muttered.

“You’d cry when they said their first word,” you teased.

“I would not.”

“You would. You’d act like you hated it but then go cry about it in the study with Alfred.”

Damian opened his mouth to argue, paused, then shut it.

You gasped again. “You’ve thought about it.”

“I did not say that.”

“You HAVE!”

He stood. “This conversation is absurd. I’m going to the kitchen.”

“You’re emotionally compromised!!” you called after him, flopping on the couch dramatically.

A few moments passed.

Then…

He came back.

With grapes.

He tossed a few in your lap like it was a bribe. “You will forget the baby nonsense.”

You popped one in your mouth. “Nope.”

“You are an absolute menace.”

You grinned. “But you love me.”

He stared for a beat too long, eyes warm despite his frown. Then, softer, barely audible:

“…Unquestionably.”

[cj-theyoungling]

Let it be known Jason Todd grins like an absolute dumbass at any baby he sees

[cj-theyoungling]

So, You’ve Decided to Put on the Red Hood Helmet: A Guide

You honestly don’t know what you were expecting. This was a stupid idea to begin with, so of course it went very wrong very fast.

You were all dolled up in that lingerie set that he likes. No special occasion, you just wanted to give him a little sexy surprise since he’s been so stressed lately. You’d love to give him the world, but right now all you can afford to give him is yourself, so that’ll have to do.

Now the mistake here was made when you walked out of the bedroom. Sure, the element of surprise would’ve been compromised if he came home and you called for him from the bed. Like, who wouldn’t immediately know that they were about to have some fun from that? He would get too cocky. But letting him walk into the living room just to be met with your near-nude body prepped and ready for him? That would catch Jason off guard and hopefully put a cute little flustered blush on his cheeks.

However, you really should’ve stayed in the bedroom. Because then you wouldn’t have seen the helmet sitting on the kitchen table, out in the open and tempting.

Jason was a real possessive guy. It was one of the things that made him so hot, his jealous devotion. So sue you for seeing his helmet and thinking he’ll love to see you wearing his gear. Just like how he loves it when you wear his shirt to bed or when he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when it’s cold.

You were so caught up in appealing to his possessive side, that you failed to take into consideration a not-even-unrelated side of the Red Hood. Which was definitely a side so prominent you really shouldn’t have missed it. His paranoia.

As soon as you lowered the iconic red helmet onto your head, an electric chime went off like it was a washing machine or something. You had no idea what that was about but you quickly forgot about it.

This thing smelled like a combination of Jason’s breath and his shampoo. You inhaled deeply in reverence. You missed him too much, despite it only being a workday since you’d last saw him.

It was weirdly heavy? You don’t know why you’d never considered that this piece of tech would be any heavier than a motorcycle helmet, but it made sense. You were looking at the world through a kind of UI at the moment.

You went and found the mirror to check yourself out. Feeling silly, you flexed your muscles in various poses pretending to be Jason. Gotta hand it to you, you made this helmet look pretty cute. Although wearing nothing but lingerie with it was bringing it into slutty halloween costume territory. ‘Sexy Red Mask Costume’, the package would say. See, no copyright infringement there.

Well, that’s enough for now, you thought. You should start on dinner and get it in the oven so it’ll be done by the time he’s finished fucking your brains out. You reached for the helmet to start pulling it off—

*BZZT*

IT FUCKING ZAPPED YOU.

You dropped it immediately, not giving it a chance to pick up the wattage from annoying warning shock to full on electrocuting you. Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. You forgot he and every other bat has a high tech suit that punishes people who try to take them off. Can’t have those precious identity revealed, can we?

You tried searching your brain for any information on how to deactivate Jason’s security measures but were drawing a blank. Whenever he took it off he just reached up and took it off, no fanfare. What was the secret???

Well. Looks like Sexy Red Mask is cooking dinner tonight. Better get that apron…

When Jason came home, he was completely prepared to get his bones jumped the minute he walked through the door. Sorry, but you weren’t subtle with your little ‘i miss you. when are you getting home?’ texts.

You were a horny little bitch, but you were his horny little bitch and you were so good to him that you’d never catch him complaining. He never thought he’d have someone, let alone someone so desiring of him. Your love was a relief.

So yeah, he was expecting the ‘sexy surprise’. Sorry baby but you’re not slick.

What he was not expecting, however, was a slutty pinup of his vigilante identity to be pouting on the couch.

His eyes took in your form. Man, he loved you. Even if your seduction technique needed work. He chuckled as he started shrugging off his leather jacket, and you turned to him,

“Welcome home!” you chirped your greeting, and then carefully tapped the helmet, which he found adorable, “can you please get this off of me? When I put it on, it locked, and now I can’t take it off without being tased.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you gotta give Jason credit, he was trying his best not to full on laugh, “it’ll do that,”

“Just help me, please. It’s really heavy,” you whined.

“Well..” he raked his eyes over your body once again, “would you be willing to wear it just a teensy bit longer?”

Seeing you in his helmet was making him feel some type of way.

You sighed, but no yeah, that’s why you put it on in the first place, wasn’t it? Damn you for knowing your boyfriend.

You crossed your arms, feigning annoyance, “I suppose you can fuck me in it first, yeah,” you giggled.

“Beautiful,” he purred as he started lazily undoing his belt, “You’re beautiful.”

[cj-theyoungling]

pink and green frog-themed AO3 site skin

This one was frustrating at some points but mostly it was just a good time. If you'd like to try it out, the code is under the cut.

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[cj-theyoungling]

[cj-theyoungling]

Clark out here just causally roasting his husband.

love that for him. 😂