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deadbeatphobos · 8 hours ago

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— ♡ my pretty neighbour.

PART 03.

PAIRING: jason todd x witch! reader

CONTENT WARNING: afab reader, blood, violence, alcohol, mention of assaults, death, mentions of pet abuse, gory and graphic details, use of guns, more to be added.

CATEGORY: shit ton of fluff, comedy, and sfw, maybe angst?

SUMMARY: a witch trying her best to lay low and live her life, while being out of every gothams vigilante's radar. turns out red hood had been her neighbour all along. also they have cute little pets.

WC: 3.2k

A/N: new character introduced! really sorry for slow updates, hope you like this chapter.

fic masterlist. previous. next.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

its a full moon and its raining blissfully on a saturday, everything is as relaxing as it should be. as it nears the night, you finish all the chores, well the things do it themselves because of your spells, but keeping an eye on things does take effort. after a hot shower, you wear the expensive nightwear that you had been saving for a non existent special occasion, but hey you're feeling high on joy right now.

you decide to treat yourself and begin cooking a particularly hard dish, but you like a challenge when you're feeling motivated.

"doing all you can for me.." you sing as you stir the spatula, hips lightly moving. the absolutely mouth watering smell makes you smile and your hips move more in delight.

suddenly your doorbell rang and you paused with a frown, it better be someone important that they're interrupting this good night you've made for yourself.

you turn the heat low and spare a yearnful glance before heading for the door. you grab the robe thats hanging on your couch and wrap it around yourself.

alfred's head had perked up at the sound of the bell before he barked, wagging his tail. well he's only that happy with you, so who the hell—

you look into the peephole and immediately that frown melts into a full blown grin. you pull the door open and lean against the door.

"hey, my pretty neighbour."

"when the fuck are you gonna use my real name?"

"but you don't like it when i call you jay."

"yeah cus my name's jason."

there he stands, with a red tinge brushing his ears and eyes avoidant of your body and burning into your eyes as if a single glance spared below and he would vaporize. he holds a plate of freshly baked chocolate cookies; and of course, miss pearls at his side. its a surprise, truly, that he can cook. the state of his apartment had given you the impression that he's the type to only eat takeouts and instant ramen.

"didn't know you could bake." you said in amusement as you take one cookie and take a bite, your eyes lighting up immediately as you take another. "or cook— wait oh my god that is actually good!" you remark in genuine joy and if your eyesight were any worse you wouldn't have noticed the slight tug of his lips and softening of his eyes.

all this while alfred had been waiting patiently, well after he rounded jason twice and almost tackled the plate out of his hands, he tries to seem all behaved and composed like gentleman. but you see the yearn in those eyes for the cookies, even as he appears to be unfazed.

sad for him those puppy eyes never work on you.

"i can bake and cook, just so you know, since you're taking me for someone who would burn water." he lightly scoffed before pausing as he smelled a different aroma, then with a tilt of his face he questioned, "that's coming from your kitchen... you're cooking something?"

you hummed before pointing at the plate, "you giving everyone a cookie or is that all for me?"

"well, it is for you—" he begins with a sigh, immediately regretting when your eyes lit up in that teasing manner, "no. no its not a gift. stop fantasizing."

you exhale a huff, feigning disappointment, before rolling your eyes dramatically and crossing your arms, "well then?"

"im just..." suddenly he looks utterly constipated, his brows furrowing when he takes that pause, as if he can't bring himself to confess whatever he wants to say, "... returning a favour." his shoulders relaxed a bit when he got the words out, as if he just avoided the embarrassment of his life.

"favour? what favour?"

"what you did for her— wait what—" he gestured down towards miss pearls, who is not there anymore but pawing at the cabinet where your grimoire is locked. no she's not pawing, she's scratching. hard.

your eyes almost bulged out of its sockets when you saw the marks she was leaving on the cabinet. you see normally you are not that materialistic, you try not to be that kind of a person, but it took you so much time to find a cabinet so exquisite, not to mention the hassle it took to trick the seller while bargaining. you had painted it yourself and now it had marks. you mourn the loss.

"noooo—" you whispered in horror while rushing to miss pearls, jason following behind with an apologetic sigh. he kept the plate on the coffee table and reached for miss pearls.

"shit— she's not like that- pearl stop!" he quickly picked her up, and she gave a deadpan stare to both of you.

"she's normally very uninterested in other people. i don't get why she behaves weird in your place." he wondered out loud in confusion while you looked at your scratched cabinet, crying internally.

"i wonder why." you mutter, knowing exactly why.

you take a deep breathe and plaster on a smile when you look back at him, "so the favour was for the plants huh? they helped?"

he nodded as he began walking back out, "yeah. she's almost always by its side. I don't get why though." he said as he puts miss pearls down inside his apartment. pearl made a rather annoyed sound before rushing in.

jason paused at that, his brows raising and furrowing as he tried to make sense of it. "you must have known something to suggest that right?" he asked after turning around, leaning against his doorway.

"oh! well—" you scratched your head as you stood by your door, scrambling for a believable reason, "cats like plants. i think." that was the best you could come up with?

he folded his arms before giving you an unimpressed stare, obviously not convinced by your poor lie, "really? I've never heard of that."

"that's a you problem." you scoffed as your rolled your eyes before smiling slyly at him, copying his posture rather suggestivly, "about the cookies, you said you were returning a favour.... so technically its a gift."

whatever amusement he was experiencing at the expense of your discomfort had vanished in a second, brows furrowing and lips pulling into a thin line out of frustration, "i said its not—"

you pushed off your doorway as you took light steps towards him, the silk nightwear shining under the dim light of the hallway, "my plant was a gift though. so technically the cookies are a gift—"

"fuck— so what if its a gift? stop making it a big deal."

"so you thought about me—"

"no i thought about pearl—"

"thought about me a lot—"

"not one second—"

"and went through this tedious task to prepare freshly baked chocolate chip cookies—"

"it was hardly a task. i didn't even break a sweat—"

you were, yet again, too close in his personal space, just like last time. but unlike then, your hand, or more specifically your index finger was actually touching him, right in the center of his chest. your lips pulled into a saccharine smile that oozed off triumph, eyes that had darkened a shade, twinkled with mischief.

"careful jay, or i might just put a ring on you."

if it was possible, his ears would have caught on fire. it hurt to gulp, his heart was too scared to beat, for it shied way from your touch. it brought about both the butterflies and the unmistakable feeling of doom. it felt like an hour to him, since just a second of your touch was too overwhelming, and so he snatched your hand away in a tight grasp.

your smile didn't falter, it simply widened dangerously, as if this was far better than what she expected. "you touch me again and you'll lose both your hands."

"gladly."

he dropped your hand with an almost fake disgusted look before he paused, looking behind you before he looked back at you, head tilting, "weren't you cooking something?"

all your mischief had washed down the drain as you slowly turned around with eyes widened in horror, alfred seemingly staring at you with judgy eyes while sitting next to your kitchen.

"NOOOO—"

"you're so hot when you're mad."

"what the hell were you thinking?!" you almost yelled at your friend (only friend), niya, who probably did not even hear you, since she turned her head to smile up at you deliriously.

"i will throw you on the sidewalk."

"marry me."

you rolled your eyes as you continued walking with her arm slung over your shoulder. you would have called a cab but it was past midnight, peak time for crime to run amok. so you could neither trust a taxi nor get one. at least not from this club that was located at a quite dangerous part of gotham. whole of gotham is downright hell, but certain parts are known for their unpredictability, and thats somehow even more scary.

you had made niya wear your jacket (practically threw it on her) and zipped her up. your own hood was pulled up, your cap underneath it.

"why the hell would you go partying without anyone?" you groaned out the question as you adjusted her weight and her purse that was slung over your other shoulder.

"i... i think i had mark with me. or jasmine— wait— ugh i can't think."

"you could have at least told me."

"like you would have come."

"if i knew you would get this wasted then of course?"

"please you would have hexed someone the minute you were in the bar."

that zipped up your lips. its not that you didn't like partying, you just have low tolerance for assholes.

"its not like they don't deserve it."

she sighed before looking at you, seemingly sober but you know she isn't, "they do. but i don't wanna see your stupid ass thrown in some arkham cell because you hexed too many people and freaking batman ended up on your tail."

"aren't you drunk? how are you so coherent?" you scowled at her, not liking how right she is.

"i have high tolerance baby"

"aight then walk—"

"oh come on—"

suddenly the store that you were passing, blew up, glass shards along with dust and debris flying everywhere, probably lodging itself in your skin. the impact threw both you and niya flying, body skidding to a stop. your ears rung and felt numb at the same as you coughed and tried to get up. your eyes frantically looked around for niya, stopping when you found her groaning at a distance. thats when you noticed there were other people besides you, some moving, some not.

your body felt heavy as did your lungs but you pushed yourself up and rushed to niya. her legs were covered in bloody scratches, and you were sure she probably had a concussion. seeing her in that state made your worry slowly change to rage. gathering her in your arms, you tried to shake her.

"ugh— stop shaking me-" she coughed as she tried to sit up, "im good— jesus fuck you made me even more nauseous."

your lips twitched but that shared amusement was pulled to a stop when a group of men, masked and armed with bags full of whatever they stole from that pretty expensive jewellery store.

had this been a less populated situation, you would have absolutely wrecked them. they were responsible for the injuries niya has. but not only are there too many people for your liking, this road connects straight to the main, you're sure in no time this place will be surrounded. you cannot risk your identity or niya's.

so you buried your anger and looked down at niya, pulling the strings of your hoodie and quickly tying them to obscure your face as much as possible. you pulled up the lapels of the jacket niya had on, and ruffled her hair enough to hide her face a bit.

you were hoping that they'd just leave, they had what they wanted, they will probably be smart enough to dash before any of the vigilantes come.

but no, you should have known there is no hope where such men are involved. they are nothing but pure filth.

"oooh a pretty bird eh?"

your body froze and your widened eyes locked with niya's panicked ones. she was not worrying about her safety, no she was worrying about their safety.

"aww she's hurt." said one of the men, laughing among themselves as the one speaking stalked towards both of you.

niya's gaze turned pointed, even through the pain and the urge to close her eyes, she focused all her attention of you.

"don't—"

"need a hand—?!"

"no listen to me- don't do it—"

the moment the barrel of the gun touched niya's heels your sharp gaze turned to the man, your hand splaying flat against his leg before you murmured quietly, "fuck. off."

it all happened in a second, the man was blown back into the wreckage in the blink of an eye, and you're certain you heard a crack. you don't even care if that was his head. a women screamed, an injured old man staggered back and fell. you may have ruined their perception of gotham even more, but it was rotten anyway.

"are you fucking crazy?!" niya whispered harshly, her voice breaking into a wheeze as she tried to glare at you. "we're in public dumbass—"

"he touched you—"

"no, his gun did—"

"you know what, sleep." you touched her head and mumbled a spell, her body immediately going limp beside you. you curled your arm under her head and hid her face in your embrace.

you looked back just in time to see the other men, who are enraged yet pissing their pants at the same time, pointing their guns at you.

you rest your palm on the ground and close your eyes just as you see their fingers rest on the trigger. a wall, as black as obsidian, flares up in front of you as a protective shield just as the bullets go off. you made it big enough to protect others as well.

your furrowed brows went slack just as your palm turned and curled into a fist, your eyes turning white. the black wall that was protecting you suddenly charged at the goons.

crows suddenly swarmed in from everywhere, curving the vines into a hemisphere and encasing them in horrid darkness. you could hear their screams of pain, shrill and calling for mercy.

your head tilted as you heard a muffled sob from a women not far from you, eyes widened in horror. your fist tightened and the screams were cut off. the street felt eerily quiet despite the distant sounds of city life.

then in that silence, a gun went off. shot fired just an inch away from you and you recoiled, brows furrowing as you growled in anger. you heard a thud just a few steps away from you and since you couldn't raise your head without risking your identity, you used the vision of one of the crows to look.

it just had to be fucking red hood.

he stands tall and imposing, and you immediately understand the fear that surrounds his name. his presence demands fear, your mind almost blanking to a stop.

"well well, looks like we really do have a magician in this hellhole huh?" his modulated voice still carried an echo of cold amusement.

the audacity to call you a magician like you're all about a few cheap tricks. you really should hex this annoying man.

but the weight of niya in your arms awakened the rational side of your brain, fortunately. your fist opened slowly as you raised it in quiet surrender.

the crows cleared up in a second, flying away, leaving the now bleeding men in their wake. the state of their body immediately solidified Jason's prediction, that the crows literally tore into their bodies. the cruelty left behind was intentional, and he had a feeling this might not be their worse.

maybe batman was right.

"damn even i admit that's a little too gore." he said, and your body stiffened as he took a step.

"now would you like to do this the hard way?" he asked, tilting his head mockingingly. "i would give you the limited time offer to surrender willingly, since you caught the bad guys." and it didn't escape his notice that they protected the civilians too, but now's not the time to become a softie.

he waited, staring at the back of your head. and then slowly, your fingers curled until the only one upright was your middle finger.

he scoffed out a sarcastic chuckle, shaking his head, "alright willy wonka, hard way it is."

just as his finger was about to pull the trigger, a crow rammed right into his hand, another colliding straight into his helmet.

"what the fuck—?!"

you used that small distraction as your window to escape, a crow pierced a cut in your hand, immediately drawing out blood. you slapped it on the concrete, whispering a spell hurriedly to teleport your ass back to your home.

staggering back, just as jason blinked his eyes open, he saw the crows swarming around that person. with a frustrated growl, he immediately fired shots blindly at the crows.

but he was too late, the horde of crows cleared to reveal nothing.

a few dead crows twitched on the ground, the ones he managed to shoot instead of the one controlling them.

"red hood, come in. whats your status?"

he approached the vacant space with his lips set in a grim line, eyes boring into the crows before he looked up straight at the only working cctv camera the street had. but the cctv was already on the ground, destroyed and crushed, a crow beside it looking up at him, tilting its head, as if to taunt him.

his jaw clenched tight at that, teeth grinding. while one part of him wanted to give them the benefit of doubt, considering they were only protecting others. the other part of him considered the sheer magnitude of their power, the execution, and hundred ways it could go wrong. horribly wrong.

"they're gone."

you gasp as familiar surroundings suddenly appear around you, chest heaving as you doubled down. you were almost gone, your identity almost blown— and you endangered niya because of your actions. guilt and unease found its way into your heart as you clutched your chest, trying to ease the ache thats blooming in your heart.

you were pulled out of your haze at the sound of alfred's bark, who was immediately at your side, poking and proding, tilting his head to check you. he whined and nudged niya, pawing at her arm.

"she's okay big guy. don't worry, she's fine." you wrapped an arm around alfred and pulled him close, not because you were soothing him, but he was soothing you.

as the high of your emotions cleared, realisation dawned at you, at how stupid you acted. you were minutes away from getting a ticket straight to arkham. or worse.

you laid niya on your couch before heading to your window, summoning another crow. it bows just as you lean down, your eyes turning slightly hazy again, "keep an eye on red hood."

all you could do is hope you're not caught, especially by red hood.

TAGLIST: @deadbeatphobos @lettucel0ver @fixated29 @sttvrdustt @mxxnechos @1abi @skcj24 @chrrybkt @cxcilla @sleepybaddie23 @jjoppees @stormz369 @hollyskywalker @thecraziestcrayon @adorabluesposts @itsa-meh @reader3 @214jeong @velovicy @fanfics-i-find-here @starkittysblog @nicverse @systemix @lou-diaries @asahisimpnation @oompa-lompa93 @imdeloulou @snowflakemoon3 @nekotaetae @senatorpadmeamidala

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deadbeatphobos · 19 hours ago

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—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

I'm thinking that Jason Todd never calls you by your name.

He always calls you "babe," "babygirl," "honey," or "love".

So it wasn't too surprising when your baby started talking, and despite your insistence, he never called you "mama".

No, he called you "love."

Actually, it sounded more like "luve," but with great effort, the little one managed to make himself understood.

And it was cute, kind of sweet and innocent.

Especially when you came home and Jason said "love of my life" with such warmth in his husky voice and looked at you as if you were the Goddess to whom he was totally devoted, and your son started calling you insistently.

"Luve, luve, luve!" while waving his little hands, wiggling his fingers, and trying to get closer to you from Jason's arms.

That was cute, funny.

But what didn't seem funny, or rather, Jason didn't find funny, was that...

As you always called Jason

"Jay"

Now your baby wasn't calling him Daddy.

So you called him Jay, sitting on your bed with an amused smile on your face at what you were about to cause.

Your baby started saying "Jaay, Jaayy" over and over again while drool ran down his chin and he shifted on the bed.

You could hear Jason's frustrated sigh from the kitchen, and when he approached the room you were in, his arms were crossed and his brows were slightly furrowed as he stared at the baby who was smiling back at him.

"No, no, I'm not Jay to you" he commented firmly as he lifted the baby into his arms, making him laugh with amusement.

"I'm Daddy."

Perhaps your child had perfectly understood what your beloved had told him and that's why he decided to do the complete opposite.

"Jaaay, Jaay!" said the boy in his arms as his little hands approached his father's face.

You laughed lightly at the scene you were witnessing. Jason just turned his head to look at you, frustration on his face and a slight pout on his lips.

"It's not funny anymore, my own little boy doesn't call me dad"

"Okay, baby, eventually he will, but for now, let me laugh about it."

You got out of bed, approaching your husband and son, placing a kiss on each of their cheeks.Earning a smile from both of them.

"My love."

"Luvee!."

You laughed lightly with your husband, looking at the little boy in his arms, who had his eyes and your smile.

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—★—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

English isn't my native language, so there are bound to be mistakes, sorry.

This is anything but what I planned to upload, but I needed to get something out, and this is the first thing that came out.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated. Requests are open.

Greetings and kisses from Helena, my darlings!🌷💌

-Helena the witch.📖💜🔮

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deadbeatphobos · 19 hours ago

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ARKHAM KNIGHT // HOLLOW PT5

WORD COUNT: 2.2k RATING: 18+ mdni PAIRING: Jason Todd / Reader WARNING: Themes depicted are dark and include mature content.

NOTES: ask and you shall recieve !! heres a spicy one with a little angst at the end, i figured because the last one was missing some spice we'd shove a shit tonne into this one. mkay, luv u xx so glad you enjoy this series.

[ previous part ]

You woke up in his arms, and you swore you'd never been so content. You shifted your head to look up at him. He looked so peaceful. So relaxed. No pain, now hardened expression. Just him. Just Jason.

You reached a hand up to his cheek as you planted a kiss on the other. He stirred, eyes slowly opening. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, pulling you further into him. You had to get up and get to work. You hadn't been in for the last few days, and you were sure your boss would not be happy.

You go to get up, and for a moment, he lets you go. Until he opened his eyes again and realised what you were doing, and he threw his arms around your waist, snaking up your back and pulling you back down, but this time his head was on your chest.

You smiled to yourself, "You're just delaying the inevitable."

He groaned, "Where could you possibly need to be right now?"

You bring a hand up to play with his hair, "Have you forgotten I have a job?"

"Give me a name. I'll sort him out," He said with a sigh into your chest.

You chuckled, "Jason–"

"Just... not yet," He says quietly, "I didn't realise how much I needed this."

Your heart melted, and your stomach was doing backflips. Just a week ago, you were in tears, begging to have some sort of connection with him again. Anything. Now? It's like he was an entirely different person.

It scared you to feel this good.

And it scared him, too. Hence why he didn't want to let go.

You kissed the top of his head a few times. He then looked up to you and collided his lips with yours. His hands ran up and down the bare skin of your waist, as you were still in your underwear from last night. He exhaled into your mouth when you bit down on his lip. He then slid up the bed a little so your heads were level before reaching over you to kiss just under your jaw – he was half on top of you by this point. You let out a long breath at the contact.

"Should we try this again?" He muttered into your neck as he slid a hand down between your bodies.

"I really need to get going," You spoke towards the ceiling, sucking in a breath when his hand ghosted over your clothed cunt, "Jason,"

"Christ, I could get used to you saying my name like that," He growled as he kept kissing your neck. He then pulled his hand away and shifted so he was completely over you, looking you in the eyes.

He seemed to have had a lightbulb moment, as he leaned in to kiss you with a smile. His tongue sliding over yours in a way that had your panties damp already. He must've been enjoying himself too, as he groaned into your mouth and ground his hips down onto yours, pressing his bulge in his sweats against the sensitive spot between your legs. You gasped, opening your mouth as he was practically doing the motions of having sex whilst both of you had layers of clothes on.

"We can't... not now," You spoke hoarsely.

"I know," He replied, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He didn't kiss you after that, he was analysing your face, wanted to see your reaction to him as if he was actually fucking you right now. So you did the same, searching every part of his face, taking it all in as he ground against you again, painfully slowly and pressed ridiculously hard against you. His jaw went slack, his eyebrows furrowed, and his gorgeous eyes never left yours as he tried to keep them open. "Jesus, I'm pathetic," He huffed under his breath.

"No, no. That feels good," You shook your head at him.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he shifted his hips to angle up into you a little more, rolling his hips against yours this time instead of just pushing close. Obviously, he had his sweatpants on, you had your panties, but for a moment, you swore he pressed in the slightest bit. You gasped again and whispered his name; he made an involuntary noise at his name on your lips.

"What are we doing?" You let a short chuckle out at the fact that you are literally fucking through clothes. The looming thought entering your head that you should really be getting ready to leave for work right now instead of dry humping each other like horny teenagers. Even if you were anything but dry.

"Practising," He says, finally kissing you again deeply and stilling his hips against yours. He pulls away again, then starts kissing down your neck. You exhale into it. Then he keeps going, kissing the top of your chest before pulling down the cups of your bra to expose your tits. He shakes his head as a breath escapes him. He'd never seen them like this before, in the light. Completely visible. You were self-conscious for a moment before he latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers softly. That's when all insecurities faded. It was just him, making you feel good. You let out a desperate whine as your back slightly lifted off the bed. He then took your breasts in his hands, still playing with them as he kissed down your stomach. Oh. So we're doing this.

You'd never had his head anywhere near there before. Never.

"Jason, you really don't have to do this. I should just get to work," You looked down towards him as you spoke. His eyes weren't on yours; they were too focused on kissing each inch of your stomach in perfect spots that made you squirm.

He continued downwards until he reached your panties, kissing the thin waistband, giving one kiss to your clothed clit and then moving down to your inner thighs. His hands then moved from your breasts and now had a strong hold on your thighs.

"Let me do this," He said with a light tap to one of your thighs. He then kissed up your thighs, closer and closer. His rough fingers against your soft skin only turned you on more. As he sat up to help you out of your panties, you noticed a damp spot on his sweatpants in the middle of his bulging crotch. He hadn't noticed, still working on getting your underwear off.

"Someone's excited," You smiled playfully. He looked at you, confused, before looking down at he damp spot.

"That's not me," He smirked as he threw your underwear to the side.

"What are you talking about?" You furrowed your brows despite your desire building.

He used a thumb on the elastic of the sweatpants, pulling them down to reveal the large indent of his clearly very hard cock. Your eyes were caught on the outline of his length for a second before you realised what he was showing you. A damp spot much higher up towards the waistband of his blue boxers. Something fluttered lower in you at the sight.

"That's mine," He grinned as he unhooked his thumb from his sweats and positioned himself back down between your legs. Back to kissing your thighs until finally he reached it.

He started by leaving big, open-mouthed kisses on your pussy, which made you moan louder than you ever had with him, chest rising and falling in shock. It was as if he were making out with your cunt. Then he started experimenting with his tongue, and eventually it just felt like he was quite literally eating you.

"Jesus – fucking – Christ," You gasped out, "Where– Have you done this before?"

He shook his head, but stuck out his tongue as he did, making your legs squirm. He then licked a long line from very low all the way up to your clit, which he then started sucking on softly. As he did this, he slid two fingers inside you, which had you say his name again in complete awe.

With every other sexual thing you two had done – which wasn't many – he'd been hopeless. Especially getting you off with his hands. It was just something he couldn't quite grasp. It used to frustrate him a lot. And now he's got you writhing against him as he fucks you with his fingers, tongue and – fuck – those eyes. He looked up at you, and you nearly lost it. You were a moaning, groaning mess. And even though it felt so so good, you knew this wasn't going to get you there. He pulls his fingers out slowly, making your hips twitch. His mouth then latches on again, big, wet, sloppy kisses as his tongue slides in and out of you. The sounds were truly mortifying, so slick.

You then brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it in the way you knew felt fucking amazing. He groaned against you at the sight, his kisses sped up but managed to get wider, covering even more of your pussy. His tongue, paired with his eyes and your own fingers... yeah. This was going to feel incredible.

Your moans became more frequent as his grip on your thighs tightened even more, your fingers speeding up. He was eating you like a man starved.

"Baby, I can't– I need to–" You whined out desperately as your free hand grabbed at his hair, pulling tight. He made some sort of noise at that, too.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he managed to grab you and spin you over – shifting you both up the bed – so you were on your forearms, legs either side of his head. This felt so intimate. You're breathing was completely erratic as you were so close and he'd just stopped all contact. The blood ran to your face as you were in a very compromising position.

"What are you–" You were interrupted by his hands on your thighs again, pulling you down so you were sitting on his face fully. His tongue is doing the same things as before, but this time, your hips are grinding down onto his face. Hard. And something came over you, a certain level of confidence. Getting off your forearms and using the headboard to sit upright so you could move against him more easily. You let out a louder moan as you did this, aching for a release.

One of his hands let go of your thighs, and you looked behind you to see what he was doing – still shifting your hips against his face. And the sight was... wow. He was touching himself, his shirt hoisted up enough to see faint scars that sat on his lower stomach and led down to the rough black hair above his length. He was moaning into your soaking pussy as he pumped himself with his hand. You stared behind you at what he was doing as you reached a hand down to your clit to reach your own climax. His noises against you were getting louder as you both got closer to that peak.

"Oh, fuckkk," You whimpered, "Baby – baby – baby, I'm gonna, I need to–"

You felt him gasp into your cunt, and that's what sent you over. With a loud, elongated groan, your legs clamped around his head as your hips twitched and bucked. You rubbed yourself through it as he licked softly. You glanced behind you again, only to see ropes of cum on his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fuck.

After you took a moment to recover, you got off him, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand. You then crawled back over to him, legs still shaking, to wipe his mouth with the tissue. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and glistening with your slick wetness. But there was something about his expression that looked somewhat pained.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, "You okay?"

"You and that damned question," He spoke, his voice huskier than before.

You decided to leave him be for the moment, reaching down to his exposed stomach, wiping him clean. There was a bit on his shirt, but you weren't about to take his shirt off and make him freak out. You pulled down his shirt again, and his hand was still slowly stroking himself, his boxers and sweats so low on his hips.

His face was still contorted slightly, so you had to ask.

"Did I do something? Hurt you?" You asked, still buzzing from a minute ago.

He shook his head, "No, I just... It's a me thing,"

"You said the same thing yesterday, Jason–"

"Go get ready." He said quickly, opening his eyes to look at you, " I'm sorry I kept you from work."

You were worried. This happened the other night when you'd helped him out. You were beginning to think there was something he really wasn't telling you. But you knew he'd already told you more than he probably wanted to.

You leaned down and gave him one last tender kiss. Then a second, a peck.

"Thank you," He whispered.

"What are you thanking me for, I–"

"I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?! JUST–" He snapped, then breathing in. "Just fucking go, please." That sounded more broken than anything.

You sighed. Just like that, you two took a hundred steps back.

You got up, walked to the dresser and grabbed some clothes for work. You were about to leave when you turned back, the view of him still lying there, not stroking himself now but holding his cock in his hand.

"I love you," You said as you walked away.

[ next part loading...]

luv ya

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deadbeatphobos · 22 hours ago

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meme redraw for dicks birthday :D

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deadbeatphobos · 22 hours ago

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Pet Names

I think Jason uses terms of endearment a lot because they're kind of tangible reminders that he's crazy about you and he doesn't want you to forget. But that's just me. ~750 words

Jason Todd calls you all kinds of nicknames. They spill off his tongue as easily as the air he breathes. Doll, sweetheart, baby, pretty, darling, my love, and so many more, all terms of endearment that become synonymous with calling your name.

Jason calls you all kinds of beautiful, butterfly-inducing things, but it's the way he calls them to you that makes your head go fuzzy, has your knees ready to go weak at the sound of his voice.

It's the low drawl of "Sweetheart," in the morning, his voice raspy and half asleep as you pull the covers back to go make breakfast. Sweetheart has never once failed to get you to cuddle back under the sheets, curled to his chest with his steady arms wrapped around your waist.

It's the light, cheerful laugh of "Baby," when you tease him, almost a taunt for you to keep going as he shifts his weight closer to yours. Baby always ends up with you over his shoulder or pinned to the couch as he tickles you into fits of laughter.

It's "Pretty" when he holds your face in his hands like his entire world revolves around you, a tired smile spreading across his face when he comes back from patrol. Pretty makes you giggle because you know you're half asleep and it would take more than two hands to count all the times you've looked better. But Jason always calls you Pretty with a reverent tilt of his voice, soft, and sweet, and loving and it's never once sounded like a lie.

It's the breathless sighs of "Gorgeous", "Stunning", "Perfect", "Beautiful" in quick succession as he peppers your face with kisses after you've done something as simple as making him dinner. The words always leave you feeling warm and tingly when you finally manage to push him away, mumbling something about how it's not that big of a deal as you try to stifle the bashful smile that threatens to spread across your face.

(Any resistance to his praise will always end with Jason doing it again, until you protest that the food will get cold. Then and only then, will he pull away to meet your gaze, voice gentle when he says nothing you ever do for him feels small)

It's "Darling" when he disagrees with you, fighting to keep a smirk off his face while you insist he needs to go to Leslie's clinic for an injury you know is outside your skill set, one he insists he can handle alone. Darling always makes your eye twitch with annoyance and your stomach knot with warmth in the same second because Jason will always say it lowly, smoothly, in a voice that nearly makes your head spin.

Darling never actually wins you over. (It might, if he didn't follow it so easily and dismissively with the fact that he's had worse) Despite his attempts, you're stubborn when he's hurt. Darling always ends with you dragging him outside the comfort of your apartment to manage his wounds.

It's "my love" in front of anyone who's listening to him talk. My love is always filled with pride and awe as his gaze flicks to you, smiling like everything is right in the world because Jason knows it will be if he's by your side. My love always makes your heart swell. It stuns you for words.

There isn't a time those words don't give a glimpse at how much he truly does love you. It's more than words, more than the look on his face, more than the fact that he practically screams it to the world with every word he speaks. My love doesn't ever fail to make you say it back, in words or in action.

It's "Doll" in any and every conversation. You'd think you'd grow out of Doll. But he says it so fondly, so at peace with the word on his lips, you're more quick to respond to Doll than your own name most days. Doll may be normal, ingrained in your life, but it's also special, the first nickname he tried with an unsure gaze, worried that you wouldn't like it.

You could never tire of Doll, not ever. Doll is trust and safe and all Jason, and nothing feels like it fits better than when he murmurs it into your ear while he spins you in slow circles around your living room, home in each other.

#nix's fic recs ☣

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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ARKHAM KNIGHT // HOLLOW PT4

WORD COUNT: 2.3k RATING: 18+ mdni PAIRING: Jason Todd / Reader WARNING: Themes depicted are dark and include mature content. (This one talks about Jason's torture so keep that in mind when moving foward)

NOTE: hey pookies, lmk if u want more parts for this bc ill keep writing them and lmk if theres anywhere u lowk want this to go. they havent fucked yet lowk so that might be the next part. idk, you let me know.

[previous part]

It'd been about an hour. Lying here, waiting for him. You wondered if maybe you did something wrong? But you couldn't have done anything wrong; he was obviously satisfied by the end.

Jason had numerous scars on his body. You knew that from the times he'd change shirts in the darkness of your shared room, not knowing that the moonlight accentuated every embossed, jagged line and mark. Not aware of the silent tears that fell out of your eyes at the sight. You knew the Joker had done some really fucked up things in Arkham – Barbara gave you access to an audio recording once, and you couldn't listen to it all the way through.

But what was that scar? The one in a place so deeply intimate and vulnerable to a man? What did it mean? What the fuck happened?

You felt him get under the covers, mattress dipping under his weight. Once he'd settled, you turned to face him. He was simply staring up at the ceiling.

You opened your mouth to ask something when he stopped you, "If you're going to ask if I'm okay, I'll put a bullet in my brain."

You huffed, fine.

"How're you feeling?" You said instead, knowing it was basically the same question.

He scoffed, flicking his eyes over to you, "Smartass,"

You hummed a barely-there smile. His eyes went back up to the ceiling.

"Was I... alright?" You mumbled awkwardly.

"Yeah," He raised his eyebrows when he said this, making it seem more genuine, "You were... really good."

"Then why do I get the sense that something's not right–"

"Just stop fucking prying into my life." He said, sitting up, then facing his back towards you, feet planted on the cold wood of the floor next to the bed.

"Prying into your– Are you serious?" You said in disbelief, propping yourself up on an elbow as you stared at the back of him, "Jason, I'm just making sure you were alright after–"

"I've told you not to do that."

"Told me not to what? Suck you off–"

"I've told you not to ask."

"What, so I'm not supposed to care?"

"No. You were never supposed to care,"

You were quiet for a moment before pushing your hands into the bed and sitting up properly, still under the sheets.

"Why do we always do this?" You murmur, looking towards your legs under the sheets.

He groaned at that and stood up, spinning to face you, "Because I'm not okay. Okay?" He said, eyes wide awake with anger, "I'm not fucking okay. I haven't been, for three fucking years. But that's something I have to live with, and it's not for you." He takes in a quick, sharp breath, "What happened to me in..." he started, cursing under his breath as he tried to articulate himself without being too vulnerable. "What he did to me I..." He trailed off again, "Fucks sake."

He stared at you like you were expecting something from him, like you were judging.

You smiled a sad smile, "Come back to bed."

His jaw twitched. He took a step towards the bed, then got under the covers again, back against the headboard. You decided you were too far away; you weren't going to let him shrivel into himself. Into his own self-loathing. You shifted so that one leg was on either side of his waist. He looked at you, this time completely unguarded. It was jarring. It almost made you want to look away. Because he looked so broken. You'd never seen him look like this. Never.

"He..." Jason trailed off again, searching your eyes frantically as if begging you to tell him to stop talking. He then murmured so quietly, "I don't know why this is so hard to say out loud. I think about it all the time," He said, obviously growing frustrated with himself.

"Because saying it out loud makes it real," You spoke evenly, bringing your hands to either side of his face. He sucked in a breath at the contact of your hand to the branding on his face. But this time he didn't say anything, didn't stop you. Although you might say you don't, you wanted to know what happened in there. If not all of it, just a little. You knew that was selfish, but you wanted to be close to him in a way others weren't. Wanted him to let you in, in ways he hadn't ever done with anyone else.

"Tell me something," You whispered.

"What?" He said quietly in surprise.

"One thing. Just one thing that happened."

"You don't know what you're asking–"

"I do." You said, as your fingers brushed over the 'J' on his face.

You saw him thinking for a second, going back into the memories he'd filed so far away. He was sorting through the worst ones, trying to find at least one thing that wasn't absolutely humiliating or dehumanising.

"He'd..." Jason breathed out shakily. Christ, this was sad. "He bathed me. Once."

"Pardon?" You heard come out of your mouth as your jaw went slack. He cursed himself internally. Why the fuck would he choose this story?

"Right before he shot the last video," He let out a dry chuckle at the irony of the word 'shot'. He then shut his eyes, "He'd said he..." another breath out, "He didn't want Batman to think he was mistreating his new sidekick."

"Jason–"

"He didn't... He didn't ever touch me." He blurted out, eyes opening, as if he could read your mind, "I mean, of course he touched me, but... not like that. Not really."

Dread shot throughout your body as he said – not really.

"He bathed you–"

"Yeah, but he didn't– he didn't do anything, he just sort of..." He shrugged, his face getting a little more animated. "I had a lot of open wounds. I was covered in shit and piss and blood. The psycho even cut my hair to make me more... presentable." You felt his hands come up to your bare thighs, fingers running over the skin as he stared towards them. "The fucked part is... I actually thought he was being nice. I thanked him – I always had to thank him – but I meant it." You noted that – always having to thank him. Maybe it was something Joker was insistent on (a rule?), but you wouldn't press on that. He continued, getting angrier before calming himself a little, "But I quickly realised it was just another form of torture. He scrubbed so hard that he reopened any wounds that were closed and made the fresh ones so much worse..."

You watched his face as it fixated on your thighs. He was now tracing patterns on them with his rough fingers.

"And he was singing, the whole fucking time. Like it was just some chore he had to do. Washing his bird." You moved your hands away from his face as he kept going, now on his shoulders. "And yeah, he washed me. All of me." His eyes flickered to yours, then back down at his hands on your thighs. There was silence. Just him, tracing shapes on your thighs, you looking at the way his eyebrows twitched when you could see him reliving a memory. "You said these were mine to play with, Jason. Your words," He mocked Joker's voice, face hardening.

"My God–"

"Yeah, well, when a madman has a scalpel to your balls, threatening your entire future bloodline, you'll say pretty much anything." He sighed.

You brought your hands around to the back of his neck, in shock but trying not to show it to not scare him off, "So that's what that was." His eyes caught yours again, confused, "I felt it before, a scar."

He gave you a nod, a single nod.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to ask again, but because you felt like being selfish again (which was honestly deserved after everything he'd done to you).

"So does that mean he did–"

"No, I've told you already," And you thought he meant he was done talking. Well, at least you'd got a part of him to yourself now. But he surprised you. "He just washed me very... thoroughly." His hands came up to your waist. "Something faded in me when he wrapped the cloth around me like that. It was the one place he hadn't dared to go. The one dignified part of me left, and he just–" Jason looked away from you entirely, turning his head to the left wall. "He hollowed me out, and filled me up with hate and..." He was spitting out the words as if they physically hurt to say.

You took a deep breath, bringing your hand to his chin, making him look at you. His eyes met yours, and he looked so boyish, frightened.

"I am... so sorry, Jason," You said. He shook his head at you, "No, no. You need an apology. Don't tell me not to apologise."

"You didn't do anything," He mumbled.

"Yeah, that's the problem. Isn't it?" You brought your hands up the back of his neck to play with his hair as you spoke.

"No, you weren't supposed to find me. You couldn't have," He put his hands under your shirt, skin to skin. "It was supposed to be him."

Bruce.

There was silence before you spoke again, "Thank you for that."

"For what?"

"For giving me that little part of you," You smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes.

He eyed you a moment, "What are you? My shrink?"

You chuckled, "How would you know? You'd always refused to see one."

He huffed a small smile, which made you feel like you'd won the lottery, "Ohh, so we're doing that now, are we?"

"Only if it means I get to see you smile like that," You smirked.

He stopped smiling, "Shut the fuck up. Fucking weirdo,"

You laughed and leaned forward to hug him, your chest pressed to his, your head in the crook of his neck. His hands are on your lower back.

It felt like you'd gone back to a time before all the pain. Even though this was most definitely not permanent, it'd been the first time you'd felt like he did feel something for you, except for resentment.

You stay there for what feels like half an hour before you pull back. Then he leans forward, connecting your lips in a kiss. His hands tighten on your waist as he deepens it. You know where this is going. He then uses his hands that were on your lower back to grab your hips, shifting you down onto him.

You pulled back, "You're going to injure yourself."

"I'll get over it," He crashed his lips back onto yours the minute the last word left his mouth.

His tongue was tangled with yours as he kept using the friction of your hips grinding against his to try and help himself get hard. And although it must've felt somewhat good, he wasn't getting any harder.

Now another half an hour had passed. A few clothes have been discarded – your tank top, your shorts, leaving you in your underwear. He was still pretty much fully clothed; you figured it was probably something to do with his scars.

You brought a hand to one of his hands that was forcing your hip movements, his lips on your neck.

"Honey, it's okay. We don't have to keep going," Your voice was breathless. The friction felt nice for you, but you could tell he was forcing this on himself.

"No, I want this. I really fucking want this," His voice was laced with confusion towards himself as he whispered into your neck, going back to sucking on it straight after.

"Please, don't make yourself do this," You spoke as he tried to speed up your hips. You were growing frustrated with him, "Jason,"

"Mm," He hummed into the soft skin that connected your neck to your shoulder.

"Jason, just–" You winced as he brought your hips down on his so hard it actually hurt, "Fuck. Just stop."

And he did. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, "No, I... I want this."

"So do I," You say, "But we've only just had our first kiss in almost three years. I think that's enough firsts for one night,"

He gives a tiny nod against your shoulder. You kiss his head, then get off his lap and walk over to the dresser. Your panties were a little damp from your own growing arousal. You took off your panties and changed into a new pair. You turn to get back into bed, and he's staring.

"I think I'm ready to go now," A ghost of a smile on his face as he eyed you up and down.

You shook your head at him and got back into bed. He shuffled down, lying on his back. You got close to him, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.

"You're good," He said quietly. It felt like something had shifted between you two. That you'd finally got through to him that you weren't here to harm him, and he'd finally believed you.

You settled your head onto his chest, along with your hand tracing circles in between his clothed pecks.

"God, I missed this," You sighed.

"Just..." He stopped himself, "Just don't get your hopes up, okay? I'm... all over the place."

You positioned your head so you could look at him, but he was looking away. You crawled up a little, bringing his face to yours as you kissed him, soft, comforting.

You pulled back, "I'm not going anywhere,"

You placed a kiss on his cheek before going back down to lying on his chest. His breathing evened out after a while. Finally, he was getting some sleep. There was a certain level of satisfaction that came with knowing his first full night's sleep in a while was with you in his arms. But he was right. He's a mess. There's no telling what tomorrow will look like with him, and there's still so much you don't know about him.

But for now, you'd take this. Sleeping in his arms.

[next part?]

let me know if you want another part!! luv ya x

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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ARKHAM KNIGHT // HOLLOW PT3

WORD COUNT: 2.5k RATING: 18+ mdni PAIRING: Jason Todd / Reader WARNING: Themes depicted are dark and include mature content.

NOTES: excuse any spelling errors i wrote this at 3am, okay pookies xx

[ previous part ]

It was late at night – technically early in the morning – when you got back to his safe house. You'd spent the whole day with Barbara and told her about your situation with Jason. She was appalled by how he was acting, saying it was so unlike him. But then again, he'd gone to the pits of hell and come back (somewhat) alive. Barbara insisted you stay with her for a while, but you told her you had to go back later tonight to see how he was doing.

So here you were, at the door. You took a shaky breath and knocked on the door. You didn't speak, you didn't need to. You had a key, but chose to wait for him to come to you instead. If he really wanted you there, he'd open the door.

And as if on cue, the door opened. His hair was dishevelled, and he looked even more exhausted if that was even possible. He met your eyes, and there was something more unguarded in them tonight.

He opened the door further without a word to let you in, and you walked inside. Your attention immediately went to the multiple new patches in the walls, the poorly put-together lamp, and the broken glass in the sink.

"You can't keep doing this," You heard yourself saying before you could keep it inside your head. He hummed in response, which you figured out was his way of agreeing when he didn't want to.

You turned to face him only to realise he was clutching his lower abdomen towards his right side.

You eyed him a second, "What'd you do?"

"Nothing," He quickly said, not looking at you as he cleared his throat, then winced.

You walked towards him, "Jason–"

"I told you it's nothing– Ah," He hissed as he shifted backwards. You took a few steps towards him, taking his hand in yours to get a better view of what was going on, but he kept his hand in place. He said your name in protest, trying to get away.

"Will you just let me help you for once in your damn life?" You snapped. He wasn't used to you talking to him like that. Sharp, confrontational. He sighed and moved his hand to the side. And though his compression shirt was black, the wound was visible through the sliced fabric, which was damp with blood. It was deep and would probably require medical-grade stitches. You gasped at it; you hadn't seen much of the gory side to his life, not even when he was Robin.

"I was trying to stitch it when you knocked, but my fingers..." He trailed off, bringing his hands up slightly. They were crooked, probably a result of some sick game Joker had played with him in Arkham.

You nodded, "Yeah, that's okay."

He gestured towards the dining table, where the slightly bloodied needle and thread were next to a messy medkit. You told him to go sit down on the couch, which he did reluctantly. You grabbed the needle and thread along with the messed-up medkit that looked like it had been rummaged through in a hurry, and brought it to the couch with you. You sat next to him, lifting his shirt up just enough to see the wound in full. You can't lie, bile did rise in your throat a moment, but you contained yourself. You felt his gaze on you as you stared at the wound.

"You've never patched anyone up before, have you?" He said flatly.

You glanced at him, "I learnt how to sew in eighth grade..."

He huffed, wincing as he did, his eyebrows knitted together.

You got started, trying to imagine that his skin was felt. The fuzzy material you'd loved as a kid. Although felt didn't bleed as you sewed. He groaned, breathing raggedly as you pierced through his skin with the needle. You apologised under your breath. You kept working, and you were about halfway when you couldn't take it anymore, the staring. You could see his eyes on you in your peripheral vision.

"Please, can you stop staring?" You asked, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment to give you a break from the grisly sight in front of you.

"No, I can't," He grunted. Your eyes met his at that, "I just... I need to look at you," He mumbled, and that's when you realised. He was grounding himself by staring, reminding himself where he was. You saw it all over his face; he was trying not to freak out.

You nodded, then got back to sewing the wound closed. It took twenty minutes to finish it up completely. You tied it off and used the small scissors in the medkit to cut off the ends of the thread. Once you'd finished, he relaxed a little more into the couch, head falling back.

You reorganised the medkit and zipped it up, listening to his breath slow. When you looked back at him, he was staring at you again.

"You okay?" You asked sheepishly.

"You have got to stop asking that question," He huffed.

You gave him one of those smiles where your lips were pressed into a thin line. You then brought your legs up and crossed them on the couch, looking forward to avoid his gaze.

He took a deep breath, "I'm..." he paused, trying to find the words. "I'm not the same kid I was. He died in Arkham,"

"I don't believe that–"

"Well, I'm telling you that's what happened," He interrupted harshly, but took another deep breath to stabilise his temper. "I've been... rebuilt with this... rage. And I don't think I'll ever get rid of it," you looked at him now, he was looking towards his abdomen, where the stitches were. "At first, I thought I could manage it when it came to... us. I thought it would be specific. Chanelled towards him. Batman. But it's spilling out of me at this rate and–– I'm..." he paused again, voice shaky.

You simply shuffled closer to him on the couch, bringing a hand to his chin and making him look at you. His jaw clenched as you did, but his eyes didn't meet yours.

"I'm scared of it, Jason. I'm scared of the rage." You muttered softly, seeing how he leaned away from your touch when you said that, "But you know what terrifies me? The thought of what he must've done to you in there to make you into this." You gave him a genuine, but small and sad smile, "But that kid who used to sneak me into his room just to read his favourite book to me late at night, that kid who'd jump across rooftops just to get the ingredients to make brownies at ungodly hours in the morning..." he looked into your eyes when you recalled the memories, but they were empty – as if you were talking to a stranger who had never experienced them. "That kid isn't dead, Jason. I refuse to believe that. You just had to bury him for a while to protect him from the horrors you went through in Arkham."

He shook his head, "You're wrong,"

"I'm not saying you'll ever be the same again," You ran your thumb over the tiny scar on his chin, one he got as Robin. "But you haven't lost him completely."

And with that, for the first time in over two and a half years, he leaned forward to kiss you.

It was soft, not desperate or rushed. You brought a hand to his cheek, his left one. He hummed lowly into your mouth when your hand made contact with the branding.

"Not there," He muttered against your lips, leaning back in.

"Jason–"

"I said not there–" He cut himself off as he leaned back in to kiss you. Your hand moved to his shoulder, your other coming up to his right cheek instead. You felt something wet on his cheek, pulling back a second to see the tears that pooled in his eyes. He just grabbed you by your waist, so you had one thigh on either side of him on the couch, straddling his lap. He grumbled under his breath when you accidentally dug a knee into his freshly stitched wound.

"I'm so sorry," You managed to say before his mouth was on yours again, more fiery this time – his tongue sliding into your mouth, which made you let out an involuntary groan. His hands went lower to rest on your ass, squeezing.

"Fuck," He pulled back a second, whining when you once again accidentally got too close to his injury. You went to apologise again, but he stopped you, "Don't. Just kiss me," he said breathlessly as he leaned back in.

You pulled back this time, "Stop. We shouldn't be doing this when you're injured."

He gave you a glare, one that reminded you of being sixteen. But you got an idea. You kissed the scars on his neck, trailing down until you got to the collar of his shirt. He sighed into it. Then you slid off his lap onto the floor. You looked up at him, and he was searching your eyes in anticipation. This was pretty much unknown territory for both of you, despite that one... very awkward... time with Alfred's interruption.

He whispered your name under his breath. You leaned forward, peppering kisses to the small window of exposed skin just above where his camo pants began, careful to avoid the gash you'd just fixed up.

You looked up at him a moment and saw how he was trying to act unaffected, but his breathing pattern was saying otherwise. You then unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them. He lifted his hips with a grunt, and you shimmied them down for him. Your eyes were now on his boxers. You kissed up his thighs, getting closer to the growing tent in his shorts. He sighed shakily as you did, he was squirming internally, and you knew it. You then ran your hands up and down his thighs, helping the blood pump to where it needed to.

He settled down further into the couch as you brought your hands to the bulge in his boxers, palming him through the fabric. A curse left his lips as you looked up at him. His cheeks had a little more colour to them, the burn on his face going a little redder, which made the 'J' so much more visible.

Then, after what felt like (for him) an eternity, your hands reached up and pulled his boxer shorts down slowly, kissing down his lower pelvis as you did so. Your mouth connected to rough black hair, and you felt his hips shift ever so slightly.

"I should've shaved," He said breathlessly, "I just didn't think– Fuck, doesn't matter."

You leaned back, looking up at him. Something was so endearing about his worry for such trivial things like shaving. He was so robotic that sometimes you'd forget he was nineteen only a year ago. Then you shimmied his boxers down further, and his cock was set free. Though it looked heavier now. It looked quite a lot bigger than the last time you'd seen it, which admittedly, you hadn't seen it a lot. You felt him tense as it just sat there in front of you.

When you took his cock in your hand, he sucked in a breath.

You began moving your hand up and down slowly, "I might not be any good at this."

"You know I wouldn't know the difference," He spoke quietly, clearing his throat.

You'd tried to think back to everything you'd read in those less-than-PG romance novels, or the porn you'd watched late at night by yourself. Whilst they weren't exactly the most reliable sources of information, they were all you had.

Spitting. They always spit on it before they start. So you leaned forward and mustered up all the saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto the large head of his cock. He let out a breath at that.

Now for the hand movements, not quite up and down. Twisting at the same time. So you started doing that, slowly at first. Always slowly. Your free hand kept rubbing up and down his thigh. He let out another quiet noise when you leaned forward to kiss up the side of his length whilst you worked it. You flicked your eyes up to see his face, considering he wasn't being all that audible. Maybe you were doing a bad job? But one look at his face told you he was just putting on a front. Lid's heavy, mouth slightly ajar. He was kind of beautiful like this.

You then decided now was the time. You leaned forward even more to take him into your mouth. You remember something from a novel about sucking it like a lollipop. And as odd as that instruction sounds, it must've done something, because he let out another small gasp. You felt his hand come to the back of your head, not forceful but there.

You kept going, his breathing getting louder. You stayed like this for a while, head bobbing up and down. Surely by now it had been almost half an hour, and your jaw was beginning to ache. You were starting to worry that you were really terrible.

You lifted your head for a moment, "Am I fucking this up?"

His chest was rising and falling, cheeks tinged pink as he looked down at you, "No, no. You're– It's me. It's a me thing, just – fuck – just keep going."

The thought crossed your mind that he was lying, but Jason Todd was often very straight up with people. You'd expect no less in this situation. So you kissed the glistening tip of him, pink and swollen. He sucked in a breath as you did. You then leaned forward, taking him back into your mouth. He let out a broken groan before slapping a hand over his mouth. Strange.

You were trying to think back to anything else you might've known when it came to blowjobs. You remember something about playing with the balls. Not too much, but just cupping there. So you brought your hand up to his sack, just holding it there. You were sort of feeling around when you felt a... no... a scar?

"No," He whispered, but it sounded strained, "Give me your hand,"

And you did. Retracting your hand from his balls as he reached for it, taking it in his, your fingers lacing together.

Your mind, however, was on the scars. Maybe that was just how they felt? Maybe it was a birthmark? Or maybe it was something so much darker than you could've imagined.

There's no way Joker would cross that line, right?

You were thinking so much that you hadn't realised his words warning you, but you were brought back to reality when he muttered one last word, his hand holding yours was now squeezing as he used his other to shove your head so deep on his length you gagged.

"Sweetheart," God, you never thought you'd hear that coming from his mouth. But as that came out of his mouth, he came in yours. It tasted musky, like a strange mix of salt and sweat and something else you couldn't name. It wasn't as bad as you'd thought it'd be. But it was a lot.

After a few seconds, you pulled your mouth off him, looking him in his spent eyes as you swallowed. He let out a short groan at the sight. Head falling onto the back of the couch.

You pulled up his boxers for him to leave him somewhat decent. You got back on the couch next to him. You began running a hand through his hair softly. It was damp at the roots with sweat.

"You..." He said breathlessly with his eyes closed, "You go to bed, I'll be there in a minute."

You're hand in his hair stopped. You debated for a second before you decided to plant a kiss on his temple and walk off to bed. You knew this was far from fixed. But this was a breakthrough. He seemed different tonight, and you'd take that.

[ next part ]

#nix's fic recs ☣

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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The Grocery Run

Jason Todd x Outlaw!Reader Oneshot

Summary: Jason Todd hates grocery stores. But he’ll follow you anywhere, even the cereal aisle.

word count: 846 words

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A.N.: This can be read as a standalone or part of the "Can't Help Crushing (On You)" series if you are reading this as a oneshot, the only context you need is that reader is an outlaw with Jason and they're in an established relationship

you can find the series in my masterlist or look up the tag #chc(oy) in my profile

requested by anon: "WAITT CAN YOU PLEASE LIKE MAKE A QUICK DRABBLE OR A ONE-SHOT MOMENTS BETWEEN JASON AND READER RELATIONSHIP???? and of course pleaseee take your time if youre going to write it no pressure hope your feeling better. i love your writings soo much i could dieliterally. i know im late if i said i hope your leg is feeling much much better! ilysm <3"

gurl my leg is feeling greatt tysmm it was so fun to write <3

⸻

Jason Todd hated grocery stores.

No, scratch that. Jason Todd loathed grocery stores.

The harsh fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the aisles packed with too many strangers, the squeaky carts with wheels that never rolled straight, the cheap pop music on loop.

It was torture.

It was hell.

And yet, somehow, here he was.

Pushing a cart. In public. In broad daylight.

Like a normal person.

(He was not a normal person. He would never be a normal person. And yet, here he was.)

All because you asked.

Correction: all because you smiled.

That was really all it took.

He could face down armed gangs without flinching, but the second you tilted your head, eyes soft, voice lilting with a “Come with me?”… he was done. Gone. Over. Hook, line, and sinker.

It was like you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

Yeah that smile.

You wielded it like a weapon, and Jason, the big scary Red Hood, had absolutely zero defenses against it.

So now? He was following you through the cereal aisle, scowling at a display of Pop-Tarts like it owed him money, while you hummed happily to yourself, comparing nutrition labels with more focus than you ever showed on an actual mission.

“Which one do you like better?” you asked, holding up two boxes of cereal like you were presenting evidence in court.

Jason blinked. “They taste the same.”

You gasped like he’d just committed treason. “Excuse me? Cinnamon Crunch and Honey Crunch are not the same.”

“They’re literally just sugar in different shapes.”

“Jason Todd,” you said, scandalized, jabbing a finger at him, “you take that back.”

He smirked, enjoying how your nose crinkled when you were annoyed. “Nope. Gonna stand by it.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes and tossing both boxes into the cart with unnecessary force. Jason didn’t comment—just filed it away in his head. He made a mental note that you wanted both.

(He also made a mental note that you’d probably forget the cereal existed after eating half a bowl, but he wasn’t about to call you out. He liked the way you got excited about little things. He’d buy you ten boxes if it made you smile like that again.)

He loved when you got bossy with him. Loved that you acted like you could keep him in line. (Spoiler alert: you could.)

The trip went like that. You bouncing from aisle to aisle, hair swishing, muttering to yourself about prices, Jason pretending to complain but really just watching you.

He didn’t need to talk much. You filled the air with easy chatter—asking his opinion on pasta sauce, complaining about Roy’s weird obsession with off-brand energy drinks, telling him about the stray cat that had followed you two blocks yesterday.

Jason, meanwhile, was on a mission of his own: stealth-snacking.

Every time you turned your back, he slid another pack of Pop-Tarts or a box of snack cakes into the cart.

“Those are not on the list,” you scolded when he dropped in three packs of Pop-Tarts.

“They’re mission essentials,” he said, deadpan.

“For who?”

“For us?? Obviously.”

You gave him the world’s most dramatic eye-roll. “You’re impossible.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just smirked and kept pushing the cart, pretending he didn’t notice the way your shoulder brushed his arm every few steps. Pretending he wasn’t cataloging every little thing you reached for. Pretending he wasn’t quietly memorizing your grocery list like it was a tactical briefing.

Because here’s the thing: Jason Todd could go toe-to-toe with armed thugs without blinking. But seeing you pause in front of a shelf, tapping your lip thoughtfully while you debated between two brands of tea? That was what really took him out.

He was screwed. Utterly, completely screwed.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

By the time you got to the checkout line, the cart was an absolute mess. Half practical groceries, half Jason’s chaos additions. You stood on tiptoe to unload everything onto the conveyor belt, muttering, “Unbelievable,” under your breath when you unearthed a suspicious number of snack cakes.

Jason leaned lazily against the cart, pretending not to watch the way your hoodie slipped off one shoulder. Pretending not to notice the way you bit your lip while trying to fit everything onto the tiny counter space. Pretending not to think about how easy it would be to just step forward, brush your hair back, kiss the curve of your neck.

He swallowed hard. Looked away.

(He wasn’t doing that here. Not in public. Not with strangers watching. You deserved better than that. When he kissed you—really kissed you—it was going to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere you could both breathe. Somewhere he could actually say it first.)

So instead he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and let you huff and puff about “irresponsible snack purchases.”

He wanted to help you unload the things onto the conveyor belt, but he knew that was your favorite part.

He knew his duty was to carry all the bags onto the car for you.

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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give this guy the Scringliest orange kittie known to man

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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after years i just noticed that the pattern on his boxers are kiss marks? hes so dumb omg

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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Finally finished this piece after months of reworking. Far from perfect, but I’m glad it’s done. Inspired by the amazing Bruno Redondo, Dan Mora, and especially Dexter Soy.

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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KA-CHOW

Jason Todd x GN! reader Where Jason finds out about your Cars obsession WC: 550+ A/N: man i wanna watch cars again

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Somehow, both of you were smart enough not to carry an umbrella when you both went out to the newly renovated Gotham library for a date, and on the way back, it unfortunately — started raining, leaving both of you running for your lives trying to escape the rain and get to home as soon as possible.

‘’ YOU SERIOUSLY GOT TO START BRINGING AN UMBRELLA Y/N.’’ Jason yelled, trying to overcome the sound of the rain

“ YOUR JACKET WORKS AS WELL AS AN UMBRELLA,” you yelled back, nearly slipping on a puddle while running.

“ HOW FAR IS YOUR APARTMENT, Y/N’’

‘’WHY CAN'T WE JUST GO TO YOURS’’

‘’YOURS IS CLOSER’’

‘’BUT-”

Welp too late, you both had already reached your apartment block. And after climbing up 5 flights of stairs (because lets be fr what elevator works in Gotham, especially one with rent was too suspiciously cheap), you two had reached your apartment. This was the first time Jason had come over, hell—it was the first time you've let anybody step foot into your apartment.

‘’You can sit on the couch while I go get us some towels.." you paused. "And don't go into my room!!!" you panicky added.

As you left to the laundry room to go and get the towels, jason couldn't figure out why you wouldn't want him to enter your room. He started thinking about all the possible reasons—drugs? Maybe you owning chopped up body parts? Unlikely, hidden flies of the cartel? Possibly

While thinking, he unconsciously got up and started walking towards your room door, just as he was going to open it, you caught him and tried to stop him, but too late, the door opened, and your secret had been revealed.

It was not what Jason had expected at all...

Inside, your room has been decorated with every possible Cars merch that has ever been sold, with all three Cars movie posters on your wall, including the limited edition ones, your bed was Lightning McQueen shaped, you desk, guess what, is also Lightning McQueen shaped and was filled with Cars figurines. Hell, even your rug wasn't safe from the car-ification of your furniture, with it being the Cars movie logo.

You were mortified. What would Jason think of you now? Would you two break up because of your unhealthy obsession with cars. DOES jason now think your are a weirdo and that you're too childish???

While Jason is just shocked and relieved that you're not into any illegal deals. Honestly, he found it kind of cute.

‘’ Jason I- i can explain why my room is filled –”’ you sheepishly tried to defend yourself.

“How do you even fit into that bed, and where did you even find that rug from??’’ Jason questioned — curiously.

“‘What??’’

He wasn't weirded out? He wasn't even judging? Instead, he’s asking about your great taste in furniture??

“One, I am forced to sleep in a fetal position, and two, I had it custom made for me. Jay are you not weirded out??’’

‘’ I could never be weirded out by you, everyone has their own quirks, and I’m probably at least ten times weirder than you.” He said with a soft smile, possibly with a hint of cheekiness.

“ Have you ever watched cars before….” you sheepishly mumbled

“No…’’

After drying up, you both spent the whole rainy afternoon watching the Cars trilogy.

A/N: Srryz if the ending sounds sooo rushed lowkey didnt know how to end it soo

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!! <3

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deadbeatphobos · 2 days ago

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Jason Todd dating someone from the League of Assasins

-only she’s not an assassin; She was their interior designer.

You’d be surprised by how often the Al Ghuls get bored with their interior and decide they need a change.

The League still needs furniture, layouts, and aesthetics. No one wants to meditate in a badly lit stone dungeon or train in a room that’s displeasing to look at.

Which is where she comes in.

She didn’t exactly apply for the job. She was unlucky enough to end up in an online bidding war with Ra’s for some vase from his past. He won, obviously.

Luckily for her, he decided she was perfect for the job.

And that is how she ended up as the League’s Interior Designer. Maybe she befriends a few gardeners or butlers. But all in all, it isn’t too shabby of a job.

The ones with the regular jobs are expected to not pay too much attention to the ongoings of the League for their own safety. (Lest one of the Al Ghuls or assassins decide they know too much and gets rid of them)

But during her time there she does learn some faces.

She vaguely registers Jason as one of the new (handsome) apprentices but other than that doesn’t think too much of it.

Time passes and she’s gotten fired (replaced by some new designer Ra’s decided was more talented) but isn’t all too upset about it. She got a couple of years of experience in her pocket now and has carved out her place in the design world as established, talented and competent.

By the time she’s on her way to running her own design firm she runs into Jason.

She barely recognizes him at first, that’s how much he’s changed.

He’s suspicious at first. Thinks it might be a ploy from the League or something.

It’s not.

They hit it off after that.

Bruce has a minor heart attack when he finds out Jason has started dating someone from the League. He worries Jason is getting pulled back into the League.

Bruce: She could be a spy Jason: B, her worst enemy is modern minimalism. I think we’ll survive.

Bruce: What about her contacts within the League? What was her influence? Jason: Dunno, guess she hung out with the gardeners a lot Bruce: …the gardeners Jason: Well she couldn’t hang out with the chefs, obviously. You think the assassins are lethal with their knives but they don’t hold a candle to those cook pricks.

Bruce: She was part of a cult Reader: No, I worked for a cult. Big difference. A cult with one hell of a budget, might I add. It might not be ethetical but the projects I got to work on sure were a good addition for my protfolio.

Bruce: She could be dangerous. Jason: The only thing dangerous about her is her side eye if your house isn’t properly decorated.

Jason: B, I get you’re worried. But she was just the girl who picked out throw pillows for assassins. The worst she’s done to me since we started dating is scold me for putting my boots on an antique rug.

Jason is right, ofcourse. The most damage she could do within the League was decorate someone’s room with glittery neons or pretty pastels if they were rude to her.

Dick thinks it’s hilarious. “Does the League have, like, a theme catalog or something?”

(They so do.)

Damian recognizes her as ‘the decorator’ back when he was a child. She used to design his room like twice a year (per Talia’s request). They may have spoken like 7 sentences total to each other during her time there.

Damian: Todd is dating you... the decorator. Tt. Reader: The child tyrant. You’ve grown into the scowl nicely.

(Though he did appreciate the time she re-did his room and added an accurate starry night sky on his ceiling. He tries to insist he doesn’t care is, but she represents one of the few gentle things he was allowed during his childhood – and that matters.)

When she enters Wayne manor for the first time, she sympathetically pats Damian on the shoulder. "Wow, you're really slumming with the poor now, huh. How ever do you survive?"

Damian huffs, "That might have worked when i was three but i can recognize sarcasm now."

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