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dc-jxsontxdd · 14 days ago

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in waves (jason todd)

sometimes, he just needs you to ease his mind.

notes: it's filth. 18 plus. jason is a menace, reader is overstimulated. cockwarming etc etc. 2k words

jason lets out a long breath of air behind you that’s quiet, but raises the fine hairs on the back of your neck as it passes by.

you’d stirred awake when he’d slipped in after taking a shower, but feigned sleep in hopes that he would follow suit soon. there’s been a lot on his mind lately. a new gang has been on the rise with their cult like parties and even more mind controlling drugs, and jason can’t seem to pinpoint the head of the snake.

you can tell when he’s strategizing his next move — his fingers still for longer than five seconds as they absentmindedly trail along your waist, his eyes glaze over as he peers out of the window while having his morning coffee, what was that babe?

his lips press to the rise of your shoulder, soft yet firm.

“baby…” warmth trails up the side of your neck, settling at the skin stretched taught over the bone behind your ear. “sweetheart, i’m sorry but-“

you spin in his arms, head shaking, “it’s okay. what do you need, jay?”

he drags his teeth over the space where his mouth lingers, rasping and whispering hushed words of appreciation. as always, you’re thinking that you should be the one thanking him. it’ll never feel anything close to being an inconvenience to have sex with him. you could die and resurrect over and over again and still choose him, his heavy hands pawing at you like he wants to rip you open, above all.

you feel him teasing himself, small groans leaving him as he strokes his cock through his boxers. your back arches into the movement and you run your tongue along the fading bruise on his cheek.

“take everything off except your panties,” jason grips your chin and kisses you so deep your stomach flips. “and get on top of me.”

the shirt you stole from him finds itself discarded with haste before you crawl onto his lap. your nails dig into his firm chest as you press your hips down, the light squelch of your wet cunt making him buck upwards with a growl.

“that’s it…just grind on me.” jason looks up at you. “tease yourself, pretty girl.”

your fingers burrow deeper and he hisses, thrusting up again. calloused digits run along your body adoringly while you roll your hips back and forth, small whines breaking through your shallow breaths like radio static. jason squeezes your thighs, your breasts, and runs his thumbs along your lower tummy.

“god…jay…” your head lulls.

“i know it feels good, baby, ‘can feel you soaking through our underwear.” he chuckles, fingers caging your ribs.

he’s right. your panties are way less fabric than slick arousal and his boxers now cling to his cock, its head the most distinct since you’d been rutting yourself repeatedly on his tip.

jason sits up, propping himself up on one palm while the next sneaks around to squeeze a handful of your hair. he drags your head back, kisses up the middle of your neck and then moves to place soft bites on its right side.

“wanna show me that gorgeous fucked out face when you cum? show me how bad this pussy needs me?” he hums against where your pulse jumps and you feel his lips pull into that taunting smile you love to hate.

your eyes flutter shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding his head to your chest. “please-“

“fucking show me.” jason grabs your ass, kneading its soft flesh.

the motion makes your panties ride up and curl inwards, the seam now parting your folds and nudging against your clit with delicious friction. your hips roll from one side to the next, burying your partially exposed pussy into his cock in between.

your fingers thread through his wet curls, tugging so that he looks up at you. his brow is still tense, but his eyes have gone glassy — he’s close to letting go, but he’s waiting for you to do so first.

jason nods, urging lowly, “come on, pretty girl. you can do it…”

a fist curls tight in your tummy and you shiver, “fuck, jay, i’m gonna-”

the tail of your sentences catches in your throat as it swells, jaw falling slack in search of air. his tongue drags across your bottom lip and then dips into your mouth and you’re breathing again. your knees squeeze his hips as you rut your contracting cunt over his achingly hard cock.

jason soothes you with small grabs of your thighs and coos between lazy kisses, slowly bringing you back down into your body. you run your hands along the expanse of his back, tethering yourself to the disordered patches of raised skin.

“made such a mess of yourself,” he rests you to the bed and peels apart your sticky thighs. “so pretty like this.”

you writhe, causing him to huff out a laugh. there’s no one in the world more impatient than you when you’re waiting to be fucked by your boyfriend. jason knows that and likes to push you to your limit sometimes. tonight, luckily, isn’t one of those occasions.

“gonna take what i need,” jason leans down and presses against your entrance. “that okay, angel?”

your hips curl upwards, begging, “take it all.”

he pushes forward quickly and fully, slicing through your drenched walls with just the slightest resistance. you arch into him, remaining curved as he sets a pace that leaves you winded with each thrust.

you melt beneath him. your legs fall further apart and you claw at your nipples, moaning breathily. jason hitches a leg higher over his dip, going so deep that you gawk soundlessly.

“love stretching you out.” his hot hands caress your waist. “let me take care of this pretty little cunt.”

he’s pounding into you relentlessly, your pussy trying to grip onto his cock desperately but failing with his speed. you could feel every inch of him — thick, making you burn to take it fully, and throbbing with everything he wants to give you.

“it’s so, it’s so-” you wade blindly through your mind for the words, overwhelmed with the possibilities.

it’s so what? big? of course, jay was fucking huge and he never let you forget that. not even when he’s on a stakeout — your phone tends to blow up a few hours in with your name caught on his tongue, hand already doing what you wish you could. deep? well, yeah. he’s hitting that one spot with such strength and precision, you start to scramble up the bed.

jason presses down on your hipbones, bottoms out and fucks into you again and again and you scream. tremors wrack your frame as you call out for him, scratching at his muscled shoulders.

“there you go...” his hips slow, but keep thrusting. “’so fuckin’ cute, baby.”

you cling to him, arms around his neck and legs locking possessively around his waist. holding onto jason was the only thing you could do to keep your mind from shattering completely. you could feel the chipped fragments floating around your skull, small bits etched off every time he pants against your throat.

“too good, too much.” you groan.

“just focus on me, hmm?” jason nips your collarbone.

he tells you to focus on how good his cock feels going in and out of you, nice and deep. you want to curse at him because fuck if that didn’t make you get even more lost. when he kisses your jaw and then your upper lip, eyes locking with your own, you realize that’s exactly what he wants.

you drop your heels to the bed to push up, fucking yourself onto his cock. jason smirks and grabs your ass to pull you in at the pace you set. your skin stings as it meets his over and over again.

he sits up and spits, adding more fluid to the place where your bodies join for the hell of it. “that’s my good girl.”

a knife twists in your gut, sharp and burning. you scramble to grab at anything — the sheets in one hand, his thigh in the other. and then you’re squeezing him to the tune of your galloping heartbeat, legs pressing together in a pathetic attempt to end the torturous pleasure.

jason only uses that to pull you even deeper into the abyss. he puts them over each of his shoulders and leans forward until your knees touch your chest. your face twists with the shift in angle. you could barely take in a full breath with how he’s stuffing you whole.

“oh, look at you,” he cocks his head. “one more, with me? you can do it.”

you’re so severely fucked out that it takes some time for his question to register. when it does, you nod and pull him in for a kiss. jason makes a meal out of it, loudly smacking and sucking and laughing at your needy little noises.

they melt into whimpers and cries as he starts to go fast again. he’s right there with you. his once low growls and murmurs become shaky moans and broken pleas that float directly into your ear that he bites, take this big fucking dick, all its cum, baby.

it’s like someone flings you with all of their might off a cliff's edge when you coat him for the countless time. your stomach caves in and you can feel it with an intensity words can’t describe — his cock tucked right behind your navel, inching higher and higher and letting go.

jason quite literally fucks you into the bed as he erupts with a glorious string of moans. you run your hands up his neck and into his hair, eyes searching his to see that he’d finally joined you. for now, it seems his worries have been cast aside.

and then, they shift into something darker.

“still need to fuck this cum into you.” he brings your legs back down to drape around his waist. “doesn’t that feel nice, princess?”

“jesus, jay-” you shudder despite the heat rolling from between your thighs.

jason is everywhere with his kisses. they travel from the side of your arm to your neck and finally your lips. he takes your hands, laces your fingers with his and places them together above your head.

you’re far beyond a mess. your hair must be standing in all directions like you’re seconds away from a lightning strike. the sheets below you are so damp you’d catch a cold if you slept on them tonight. and the man above you, inside you? he’s grinning, swallowing every bit of the state you're in.

“know i said that was the last, but can you give me one more?” jason bites your lower lip. “i just need one more.”

you don’t even know if it’s physically possible. the realm you float in is uncharted territory. you know nothing of its peaks and valleys, its deserts and forests.

but you know him. every inch of his salty and spiced skin, the timbre of his voice when he’s on the verge of tears with need long before he says, “please, baby. just one more for me.”

so you stare down his eyes that consume you and follow him. you draw on his strength, teeth bared as you huff and tears following the curve of your cheeks as you gently rock that squishy spot against the leaking tip of his cock.

it’s too much, all so much that your body starts to lose one sense. your vision blurs, but your hearing spikes to tune into his gravelly encouraging uh huh’s and the sound of your ruined cunt being turned out.

your throat burns as you soak him and the sheets once more. jason kisses you as the waves rip through you until they lull on the shoreline. he murmurs between your shuddering exhales, “thank you, baby.”

you push his curls back to look at his face in all its beauty. even with the bruises and the scars and the harsh lines that settled from deep seeded resentment, he was the most gorgeous person you’d ever seen.

“wasn’t too rough, right?” jason nudges your nose with his.

you shake your head, “no.”

“you feeling okay?” he massages your calves.

leave it to him to be so sweet after fucking your brains out. you’re tingling all over, feeling like the sun is warming your skin from within. to say you’re okay is a gross understatement.

“’mazing, jay.” you roll your eyes playfully.

jason laughs and pulls you to lay on your side, still tucked in you. your face rests in the crook of his neck as he holds you to him with one arm curled around your upper body and the next around your hips.

you drift to sleep like that.

jason joins you two minutes later.

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dc-jxsontxdd · 14 days ago

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Soft Moments

with The Bat Boys, Roy, Kyle, and Wally.

Notes From The Batcave: For ✨this✨ request, I added my favorites too because I love the red heads and Kyle Rayner even though they’re not batboys 🤣

All characters are of adult age in this writing, and Duke has long hair because I personally want to see him with twists so bad. 😭

Bruce Wayne

The sun barely crests the Gotham skyline, muted gold light slipping in past blackout curtains. You stir first, you usually wake up before him, not long before, just a handful of minutes.

Bruce’s face, in sleep, is something sacred. A sight you linger in every morning. The frown lines disappear, the years fall away. He looks peaceful, almost boyish. You resist the urge to reach out and trace the sharp line of his jaw. Instead, you stay still, soaking in the rare quiet.

But then a low voice, rough with sleep, rumbles…

“Five more minutes,” he murmurs, arms tightening around your waist. He’s warm, impossibly so, you’ve made the joke of him being your personal heater more times than you can count. He buries his face into your shoulder, stubble scratching your skin in the gentlest way.

You laugh softly, “You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I meant this five.”

You twist in his hold just enough to look at him. He blinks slowly, his eyes still heavy, still storm-colored. But there’s a softness there only you get to see.

“I’ll get up if you do.”

Bruce kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, “Negotiations have failed.”

And you don’t try again. Not when his heartbeat is steady against your chest and his breathing falls back into rhythm. You stay, safe in the quiet gravity of him.

Dick Grayson

The smell of pancakes wakes you before the sun does. Typical Sunday.

There’s music drifting from the kitchen, something peppy and ridiculous, probably from his “Sunday Brunch, Baby” playlist. You shuffle out in one of his t-shirts and round the corner to find Dick shirtless, wearing plaid pajama pants that hang low on his hips, and doing a dramatic spin with a spatula in hand.

“Morning, beautiful!” he calls, like he didn’t just nearly drop a pancake mid-flip.

You slide onto the counter while he moves around the kitchen like it’s a stage, singing along terribly to Madonna as he pours syrup in a heart shape on a finished plate.

He turns, sees your sleepy smile, and crosses the kitchen in three steps to press a kiss to your lips. You taste the coffee and sugar on his lips.

“Taste tester?” he asks.

“Always.”

He scoops a bit of batter with his finger and holds it up. You lean forward, licking it off with exaggerated slowness. His grin sharpens, his free hand settling on your bare thigh.

“Careful,” he says, voice low, “I might take that as an invitation.”

“Don’t you always?”

He winks and flips another pancake. You think, maybe, this is what heaven feels like… messy kitchens, warm kisses, and a man who worships you before breakfast.

Jason Todd

The world is quiet when you wake up, save for Jason’s voice and for once, Gotham stays that way.

Jason’s still beside you, propped up against the headboard with a paperback in one hand, his other arm curved loosely around your waist. You shift and feel the smooth rise of his chest under your cheek. He smells like clean linen and cedar soap. Safe.

He glances down at you with a barely-there smile, thumb brushing the edge of the page.

“Morning,” he says, soft enough not to break the spell.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mumble into his skin.

“Enough,” he lies.

You reach up and take the book from his hand, setting it on the nightstand, “You were reading out loud.”

“I was?”

“Mhm.” You nudge your nose against his collarbone, eyes already heavy again, “You do it when you think I’m asleep.”

Jason doesn’t deny it. He shifts so you’re resting fully against his chest, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders. The silence stretches, warm and comfortable.

“You know,” he murmurs finally, voice rumbling under your ear, “you make everything less… harsh. Just by being here.”

You don’t answer. You just hold him tighter, and Jason closes his eyes, listening to the quietest sound in his world.

You.

Tim Drake

The first thing you notice when you come downstairs is the trail of monster cans and the coffee mug.

Four, to be exact. The mug is still steaming with fresh coffee. Tim’s curled up on the couch in a blanket that’s halfway fallen off, his laptop open but dark, fingers limp over the keyboard. There’s a smear of highlighter ink on his jaw.

You sigh, tug the blanket over him properly, and brush your fingers through his hair.

He stirs with a soft noise and blinks up at you, dazed, “Hey…”

“You fell asleep again.”

“Did not.”

“You have highlighter on your face.”

He groans and reaches for you blindly, his hand finding your wrist, “C’mere.”

You drop your weight beside him on the couch and let him pull you into his chest. You fit there like it’s your designated place, curled beneath the blanket, legs tangled, hearts beating together.

His chin rests on top of your head, “You smell good,” he mutters, already drifting again.

You kiss the base of his throat, “I was gonna let you sleep.”

“M’not sleeping,” he insists, halfway snoring already, “Just resting with you.”

You smile against his collarbone.

When he finally wakes again, groggy and blinking in the soft morning light, he holds you closer and whispers like a wish, “Can we just… stay like this forever?”

And you whisper back, “Yeah. We can.”

Duke Thomas

He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the couch, controller abandoned beside him.

Your fingers move steadily through his hair, sectioning, parting, twisting with practiced care. Duke hums low in his chest, half asleep, totally relaxed. The late night playlist hums in the background, soft R&B wrapping around the room like a blanket.

“You okay?” you ask softly, fingers sliding some product through a coil.

“Mhm,” he says, head tipping back slightly to rest against your thigh. “Feels good.”

You smile, “You always get so sleepy when I do your hair.”

“It’s your hands,” he mumbles, “They feel like home.”

Your fingers pause, just for a second, heart squeezing in your chest. Then you keep going, taking your time with each twist, making sure it lays perfectly. Duke’s breathing slows into something steady and content, eyes fluttering closed.

“You spoil me,” he whispers, like a secret he’s too soft to say in daylight.

“You deserve to be spoiled.”

He opens one eye and looks up at you, lips curved in the smallest smile, “You put love in every twist.”

You lean down and press a kiss to his temple. “Anything for you.”

And even though it’s nearly midnight, you sit with him for another hour, twisting his hair, loving on him, and building a moment he’ll hold in his chest for a long, long time.

Damian Wayne

It’s early, too early for most people, but the Wayne townhouse is already stirring.

You’re doing your morning skincare routine when the door creaks open and Damian steps inside, half awake, bare feet silent against the tile. One of his cats slips in after him, winding herself around your ankles with a soft purr.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just reaches for his toothbrush and lines up beside you like this is something you’ve done every day for years.

“Your hair is a mess,” he mumbles through toothpaste.

You smirk, “You gonna fix it for me?”

“Tt. You’d be lucky.”

Still, when he finishes, Damian doesn’t leave. Instead, he picks up your brush and starts gently dragging it through your hair, careful and methodical as you start to brush your teeth.

The cat hops up on the counter and watches with regal approval.

You rinse your mouth and meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re very domestic for someone who says he’s not a morning person.”

“I simply prefer not to speak in the morning,” he replies, smoothing your hair down like it’s a priceless artifact.

You lean back slightly until your head rests against his shoulder. His hand comes up automatically to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing just under your chin.

“I like this,” you murmur.

Damian presses a kiss to your temple and says, quiet as a confession, “So do I.”

Roy Harper

The fire crackles low, casting soft gold over the tent flaps and the curve of Roy’s cheek where he rests it on your shoulder.

You’re both bundled in one sleeping bag, legs tangled, your back against his chest. His arms are warm around your middle, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles over your hoodie.

“You warm enough, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice thick with sleep and gravel.

“I’m good,” you whisper, your hand resting over his, “You?”

He nuzzles in closer, “Got you, don’t I?”

You smile and shift slightly, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Across the firepit, marshmallows that fell off your sticks earlier are turning into charcoal. You don’t care. Roy’s heartbeat is steady against your spine, and the sky above you is wide and endless.

He hums a soft tune under his breath, some old folk melody you don’t recognize. It melts into the sound of the wind in the trees.

“You ever think about just… leavin’ it all behind?” he says suddenly. “Find some little place out west. No noise, no bullshit. Just us.”

You twist in his arms to face him, “You’d last two days without trouble.”

He grins lazily, “Yeah, but they’d be real happy days.”

You kiss him slow and sweet. He rests his forehead against yours and whispers like a promise, “Ain’t nothin’ better than this. Just you, me, and the stars.”

Kyle Rayner

There’s paint on your forearm.

Bright green. The same shade as Kyle’s eyes.

You glance down at it, then at him, completely unapologetic as he sits cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open tubes and a canvas that was supposed to be the focus tonight.

Instead, he’s got a streak of blue across his cheek, three colors smeared on his shirt, and a grin that could power a city.

“Seriously?” you laugh, “You got paint on me again?”

Kyle leans back on one hand and looks at you like you hung the stars, “Babe. You look amazing.”

“You say that every time I get messy.”

“Because it’s true every time.”

Before you can argue, he crawls closer and drags his finger gently down your cheek, leaving a swipe of red behind. “Now you match the sunset.”

“Oh my god, Kyle-“

He interrupts, kissing you before you can finish. Slow, gentle, one hand cupping your jaw while his thumb brushes the fresh paint he just left behind.

When he pulls back, his voice is low and quiet. “You’re my favorite masterpiece.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart skips anyway. He reaches for his sketchpad, settling back into your lap like it’s the most natural place in the world.

“You mind?” he asks, pencil already in hand, “Wanna draw you like this. All soft. All mine.”

You rest your hands in his hair and nod, soft smile on your lips, “go ahead.”

And in that messy studio, with the scent of turpentine and the hum of his music in the air, Kyle Rayner draws you like you’re his whole world.

Because you are.

Wally West

You come into the kitchen expecting to find breakfast.

What you find instead is flour on the counter, eggshells on the floor, and Wally zipping back and forth at top speed, half dressed, hair wild, and popping blueberries into his mouth with every pass.

“Babe,” you say, stepping over a rogue banana peel, “what is happening in here?”

He skids to a stop in front of you, holding a half burned piece of toast like it’s a victory, “I was making you breakfast!”

You eye the mess, “And… eating most of it yourself?”

“Gotta keep the engine running,” he says, grinning with absolutely no shame, “Fast metabolism, remember?”

You roll your eyes, but before you can start cleaning, Wally wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. “Hey,” he says, voice suddenly softer, “Don’t worry about it. Lemme make it up to you.”

“You gonna try again?”

“Nope,” he replies, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re making it. I’m your support staff now.” He sways you gently side to side, “Chef morale. Quality control. Hot guy supervisor.”

You laugh and kiss the side of his jaw, “no idea how this is ‘making it up to me’, but okay.”

He smiles like sunshine and spins you in a slow circle, planting a kiss on your cheek, then another on your neck, and another at the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t need anything else when I’ve got you,” he murmurs, almost shy.

You smirk, “That was cheesy.”

“And true.”

It is. Because with his arms around you, even in a flour covered disaster zone, your heart’s never felt so full.

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dc-jxsontxdd · 14 days ago

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1 Bed, 2 Blankets

Featuring: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, Damian, Roy, Kyle, and Wally

Notes from the Batcave: for ✨this✨ request. I love, silly domestic fluff.

Also chat, do we prefer bullet points or whatever it is I’m doing here? Lmk. Cause I see other people doing bullet points and I feel like that looks better? Idk though. I’m here for you people.

Bruce Wayne

Thought it was unnecessary at first (“I can survive without a blanket”), but secretly appreciates it now.

You’re cocooned like a bat in your own little blanket cave, and he’s just… content beside you reading case files.

He still drapes his hand over your hip or thigh, no matter how much blanket is in the way.

Sometimes he sneaks his blanket over your feet so they don’t get cold, because “I know you’ll pretend you’re fine otherwise.”

Dick Grayson

Fully supports the arrangement, the man runs hot.

Loves seeing you burrito’d, thinks you look precious.

Will occasionally attempt to crawl into your blanket burrito with you if he’s feeling clingy, even though it never works.

If you fall asleep watching TV, he just tucks both blankets around you without a word.

Jason Todd

100% in favor. He hates waking up cold at 3 AM because you wrapped yourself like a human cinnamon roll.

Likes having his own blanket so he can pile it over his head and disappear.

Occasionally smacks your blanket lump when he’s bored, just to hear your muffled protest.

If you fall asleep before he gets in bed, he’ll throw a second blanket on you anyway “so you don’t get cold in your cocoon.”

Tim Drake

Begrudgingly admits this was the best decision for your relationship.

Still tries to snake a hand or foot under your blanket for warmth in winter.

When he’s exhausted, he’ll accidentally take your blanket instead of his, which usually ends with you mumbling, “Give it back” without even opening your eyes.

Secretly loves the way you look completely wrapped up, says you look like a “sleeping dumpling.”

Duke Thomas

Thinks the system is genius. He’s a sprawler, so now he can roll around without yanking anything away from you.

Every once in a while he’ll flop half onto your cocoon to cuddle, because it’s like hugging a giant plush toy.

If you’re upset or stressed, he’ll wrap his blanket around both of you over your cocoon like a double layer.

Calls you “my little burrito” in a tone that’s 50% affectionate, 50% teasing.

Damian Wayne

Was initially offended when you suggested it (“Do you not wish to share warmth with me?”).

Then experienced the Great Blanket Theft of ’22 and immediately agreed.

Keeps his blanket perfectly tucked and folded. Yours is an unmovable fortress.

Sometimes will stealthily unbundle your cocoon just to slip in beside you but only when he feels clingy and wants to be skin to skin.

Roy Harper

Honestly? Loves it. No midnight blanket tug-of-war.

You’re adorable in your fabric chrysalis, and he’ll sometimes roll you over like a log just because he can.

Likes to toss a corner of his blanket over your cocoon to “keep you safe.”

Makes jokes like “You’re my favorite burrito filling” when you’re wrapped up.

Wally West

For him, the separate blankets are purely a survival tactic, you generate too much heat and he runs even hotter.

Still zips in and out of your cocoon for kisses before zipping back to his blanket.

Loves to tuck you in so tightly that you can’t even move, just to watch you wiggle.

Once tried to “borrow” your cocoon for a nap and got tangled inside, nearly suffocating himself.

Kyle Rayner

Took him a while to realize you weren’t joking about needing your own blanket.

Now he enjoys it because he can wrap himself in his blanket like a cape.

Occasionally decorates your cocoon with little doodles if you fall asleep first (he claims it’s “performance art”).

Once drew eyes on your blanket and laughed so hard he woke you up.

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dc-jxsontxdd · 14 days ago

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~Reunion~

Gn!reader x Ak!Jason Todd

A/n: I spent so long writing this y'all better like it.

Warnings: +18, angst, gun ment. Standard Jason Todd fuckery, little bit of smut bc I'm an adult and a degenerate

Synopsis: your dead boyfriend is back from the dead apparently.

2 months and a year have passed since Jason Todd was killed by the Joker. 2 months and year since your boyfriend Jason Todd was murdered by the Joker. Gotham has never known stability in her history and now wasn't any different. Where one villain fell another took its place and the arrival of the Arkham Knight was no different. It didn't set off any red flags or alarms, didn't change a thing in your schedule.

"You don't recognize me do you?" The voice is altered by the mask. He stands in front of you, looming and intimidating. And in his hand is a gun pointed at your chest.

You can't hide the undeniable fear in your eyes. You should've been paying more attention. You knew it was never safe to walk alone this late. In the past this would have never been a problem, but now?

You're frozen in place. Head spinning looking for exit strategies. The Arkham Knight in all his intimidating glory, standing over you would never allow that. You don't need to say anything else before you hear the click and hiss of his helmet. Removing it he reveals a face you know too well. "Jason?" You feel breathless. He looks older now, rougher, bigger, scarier. But he still looks like the Jason who loved you, who cared for you. "Jason?"

"Miss me sweetheart?" He taunts you. He keeps the gun aimed at you. His eyes are cold and you can't tell anything he's thinking. You can feel your heartbeat pounding and everything in your ears is ringing.

"you ... You died." Is all you can manage out. You feel insane, like you're hallucinating. The figure before you is very real however, he scoffs, " yeah, you don't got to remind me. And I don't look very dead right now." "how?" You're confused. Of course you are. You remember vividly Dick having to sit you down, deliver the news, how you broke down completely and they were this close to institutionalizing you.

"How?!" You say more adamant this time. You deserve to know after two months and year of hell for you . "do you really wanna know princess?" He says lowly. He looks angry now, like he didn't expect this reaction from you at all. You step forward, unfazed by the gun still pointed at your chest. "Yes." There are tears in your eyes. There was nothing more you wanted, nothing you had wished for more than to have him back. Now he is and he's someone you almost don't recognize. It concerns you, makes you hurt in the chest and makes you feel bile in your throat.

Everything he's done, everything he's said and gone through? It weighs heavily on you all at once.

When he looks at you, into your eyes, it's the same look you gave him when he arrived home. The look you gave him when you asked about his day or when your next date night will be. His heart aches just for a moment.He loses his patience this time, he closes the gap between you by pushing you against the wall and grabbing your face to look at him directly. "You moved on." He said blankly. He must've been referring to the few people you'd seen in the past few months, a desperate attempt to move on and mask the pain that had presented in your life the minute he left. You shake your head, "I only saw them because the titans suggested it. They were never you" you say pleadingly. You can't deny you're scared, but the fear isn't lying in the fact you may be physically hurt. Rather it's a fear he'll disappear again. He laughs this time, and you can't tell if he's mocking you or genuinely amused. "Sure took you a short time to get on that." You know he's just being mean right now. He's angry and upset, he always acted out when he got like that. Faint memories of nonsensical fights fueled by his immaturity flood your brain for just a moment.

"Then kill me." It comes out of your mouth before you have any chance to process the thought alone.

His eyes widen. It seems he wasn't prepared for that response in the slightest.

"kill me, punish me, do whatever you want." And you mean it. "You really think you deserve to be punished huh, sweetheart?" You shut your eyes, the tears in your eyes begin falling and you can't stop them from exposing how you really feel. "I can't stand it, thinking that you were out there without me. Jason, I thought you had died" your voice shakes this time.

You hear him sigh, he drops the gun to the floor before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

"Shhhh. Stop crying like that." You can't help but sob into his body. "Jason you died, you died and I didn't know what to do." Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, the twinge of guilt blooming in his chest. "I know. I know" he rubs your back trying to soothe you. A position he wasn't planning on finding himself in. It takes you a while to calm down. Sobbing into his chest for what felt like hours before you were able to finally catch your breath. "When you died it felt like I died. I didn't know what to do." You squeeze your eyes, trying to forget all those times you craved for the same ending as him. "Please, please don't leave me. I love you." You beg, trying to let yourself touch every piece of Jason you can with your body.

His chest tightens immediately at your words."You love me huh?" He gruffs out slowly. The soothing circles on your back never ceased, and you hiccup as you try to continue your train of thought.

"you're the only one I've ever loved." You confess and you mean it. Jason was the part of your life that felt right, like the final puzzle piece of a great big masterpiece. When he died he took that piece with him. "I'm not leaving this time ma." He tells you. You want to believe it but everything feels so uncertain to you. Your entire world flipped completely on its axis when he revealed his face, now every plan, future decision, and life is unraveled completely.

"what do we do now?" You ask. He doesn't say anything. It tells you he doesn't know either. "I could come with you." You suggest. "No." He says immediately. He can't. The danger he'd be putting you in? The sins you would inherit just by being near him? He couldn't live with something like that. "I'll figure it out." He says instead. Leaving no room for any arguments. He pulls you closer, trying to mold your body perfectly against his.

At this point he's shifted you both so you're sitting against the wall, your head resting completely on top of him, your body limp with exhaustion.

"Jason, I thought I died when you did. It felt like I died." He squeezes you. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm not going anywhere."

You two are silent for just a few moments before he speaks up. "Can I ask you something?"

"always" you respond. You've never lied to Jason and you don't plan to start now.

"Why those people?" He asks. He seems also ashamed, or embarrassed to admit he's hurt you dated other people.

"Dick suggested it. Trying to keep me going... I honestly could barely stand the guy. They weren't you." You say softly. Pride arises in his chest, a familiar possessiveness being triggered instantly.

“Damn right they weren't me.” He says smuggly and you hate him for it. You hit him on his chest earning the tiniest laugh.

“Jason?” He looks at you like you're the only one in the world. There's a softness in his eyes that hasn't been present since he came back. “Yeah?” He hums, hanging on to every word you say like it's gospel. “Could you kiss me please?” You ask, pleadingly, tired of waiting for something you dreamed of doing for the last year.

“Don't have to beg me twice baby.” He says assuring, he tilts your chin upwards, facing you and you can feel his breath against yours. He closes the gap and kisses you, first softly, like you're the most fragile thing in the world, devolving into desperate and rough as he continues kissing you.

It's suddenly so overwhelming, having him here, having him on top of you. It feels unreal, like a dream or fantasy you've had of him coming back, but the way he starts tugging at your hair and squeezing your thighs is enough to remind you this is all really happening. The only time you two part is to breathe, beyond that is an onslaught of frantic kisses and clumsy hands roaming, trying impossibly to merge into each other.

“Jason.” You breathe out his name. He practically groans. He leaves your mouth to trail kisses along your jaw and neck. You feel lightheaded, nothing about this could be real. “More.” You rasp out, desperately trying to chase further your own pleasure.

“I can't get enough of you.” He mutters against your skin. Your noises are driving him crazy. He's obsessed with the way sound and feels in his arms. “I want to hear you.”

Your only response is a loud whine from your throat which is enough to spur him further. “You can have me. Anywhere anytime , whenever. You have me.”

Jason groans into your neck, leaving you with pretty red marks that will surely purple later. “Do you mean that princess? Want to be all mine? Want me to mark you up and completely take you?”

You nod your head vigorously. Tears rising in your eyes again. “Missed you. Missed you so badly. I want you Jason, I want only you.”

“Shhhh. I'm not going anywhere, love” He kisses your cheek and tears from your eyes. He lets his hands roam freely, pulling your thighs around his hips, trying his best to melt into you. “Are you sure about this?” He asks. He sounds unsure right now, almost as if he's worried you'll come to your senses and reject him like you should. “You really want this?”

“Yes. Yes I do. I want only you.” That's enough of a confirmation to him before he's crashing your lips together hungrily. “You feel so perfect, so good for me sweetheart.” He praises you. It's enough to make your head feel dizzy. “More,” is all you can mumble against his lips.

Jason's hands land on your hips as you involuntarily jerk your hips towards his. It makes him hiss and he grabs onto you like a vice. He's still kissing you when you can feel his hands begin slipping your bottoms down. You don't even know when you've become like this, this disheveled and undressed, but you can't bring yourself to care when you feel Jason's fingers brush up against your core.

You squeak at the new sensation. You can't help but feel good, unconsciously grinding against his hand now.

“So fucking wet for me already baby” he admires, sliding your panties to the side, letting his fingers slide up and down your folds. “Tell me how much you want this baby, who's fucking pussy is this?”

You can only choke out mumbled words of “you” and “yours” through pants and moans that are all but swallowed by his mouth. You thank the gods when he finally inserts a finger into you. “Ah!’ you gasp out. Tears are threatening to fall already.

He fingers you thoroughly, taking in every single reaction you make, every twitch of your body and every precious gasp you make when he presses up against your g-spot. “So sensitive already, fuck, you drive me crazy. I have to taste you, are you gonna let me do that baby?” You nod your head, only wanting to take everything he'll give you right now.

He wastes no time dropping to his knees and hooking your thighs over his shoulders. He drags his tongue across your slit and you can't help but start cursing out more profanities. He plays and toys with your puffy clit, getting off to all the pretty noises you're making. It's not long before you're desperately trying to push his head away, trying to get some reprieve from how sensitive he's made you. He begins moving your hips against his mouth, using his strong arms to guide you exactly where he wants his tongue. It's driving you absolutely crazy and you begin feeling the tight rubber band from in your stomach signaling how close you are. It's almost like Jason can sense it because he pulls away just when the rubber band is about to snap.

The noise you make can be labeled pathetic. He's back up to kiss you, and you can taste yourself in his kisses. It's not enough for you anymore, and you are pawing at his back searching for more skin to skin. “Jason, I want to feel you. I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ princess, your going to kill me one day.” Jason shifts himself so he can free himself from his pants. Suddenly the warmth in your cheeks spreads and you can't help stare, Jesus Christ was he always this big? He ruts against your body, you can feel his cock slip between the folds on your pussy. He's already dribbling precum and his cock is twitching and red. He lines himself up after he's made sure he made himself slick enough on your juices. Pressing into you slowly he hisses. He takes his time, trying his best to be as gentle as he can be. He gives you time to adjust each thrust in and out. His pace is achingly slow, like he's trying to feel every sensation he can get right now.

“You feel so good around me, so fucking perfect for me baby. I don't know what I'd do without you. Fuck, you drive me fucking mad.”

He wants you, he wants this. He would die and come right back if it meant he could do this again. Come back to you a second time and make you feel good again and again and again.

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this.” His thrusts are getting faster and rougher, you can tell he's almost nearing his peak too.

“Yours Jason, I'm yours. Only you get to have me like this I swear.”

He kisses you again, fiercely and hard. You're not sure what brought you over the edge but by the time Jason was finishing inside you, you were shaking from the sheer sensitivity. He groans your name as he finishes. His body slumping to your side in a feeble attempt to not crush you completely.

It's minutes before the both of you are able to finally catch your breaths. You can feel him begin to move. Sitting up from his spot, and brushing the hair from your sweaty forehead out of your face. His face lowers to kiss you again. Jason always loved to kiss you. You remember how many times he begged to simply make out on the bed. You kiss him back graciously, having not come off your high yet.

“Please don't leave Jason.” You plead. You know his answer already, but you still hold onto the hope that maybe he'd cave.

“It's not safe with me.” you know he's right. What would you even provide to his cause? You'd be nothing more than dead weight and the Arkham Knight has big plans for Gotham. “I know.” You say weakly. Your heart aches, you know in the morning when he's taken you back to your apartment that he'll be gone again. You won't know where he is, if he's alive or dead, hurt and wounded, you would never know. Panic sets into your entire body and Jason can feel you begin to shake under him.

“Let me get you home safe.” He says soothingly, picking you up like you're priceless treasure. You hang onto him. Savoring the short moment you'll get to be this close to him. He keeps his promise, the feeling of him leaving you and fucking you into bed. You remember reaching out to him tiredly. Begging him to not leave again. But the morning light filters into your room and your heart aches seeing an empty space next to you.

‘ill figure it out.’

It's what Jason said, right? You can only ponder what he meant by that, and as you rise to start your miserable day you spot from your peripheral a flower laid on your window sill. It's the same type of flower Jason gave you on your first date. You pick it up to inspect it before holding it close to your chest. This time you'll choose to believe Jason really will figure it out.

A/N: let me know how y'all felt Abt this. First time writing smth this long almost 3k words but woo I was just so inspired suddenly with this specific scenario in my head I just needed to get it done

#jason todd x reader #batfam x reader #jason todd x you #x reader #red hood x reader #batfamily #batfam #dc batfam

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