dickgraysonisnothereforthis - Tumblr blog

dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 15 days ago

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Nobody Sees Me Like You Do (jason todd x gn!reader)

soulmate au — when your eyes meet for the first time one of you passes out. This is meant to be stupid and it delivers, right until it gets angsty, like all my jason fics do. I truly cannot give that man a break

Also—humor, angst, mutual pining

Swearing, as always

I don’t know how long this is

———

“Move to Gotham, they said,” you pant through gritted teeth, clutching the graze on your side. “Get your PhD on the cheap, they said.” An explosion reverberates above you. You duck, shuddering. “Follow your fucking dreams, they said.”

Follow your dreams, get your doctorate. Move to Gotham, it’s so inexpensive! Well you did, and you can take that right to the bank. This bank, in fact. The one getting overrun by fucking aliens.

You see an overturned desk and run for it, keeping your head low. There’s an alien here that throws barbs, one already cut through shirt and skin on your ribs. You don’t need another injury.

Something land behinds you with a thump. You scream and make to turn around, but the thing wedges something into your mouth. Holy fucking shit, is this chloroform? Are you getting abducted?

You bite at whatever’s in your mouth, punching at the thing behind you.

“Motherfu—”

A hand on your shoulder pulls you around while the thing in your mouth is ripped away.

“Jesus, relax.” The thing behind you is a man, or at least, looks to be. You aren’t taking any chances.

“Who the fuck are you?” you hiss. He’s wearing a red helmet and a suit with what looks like reinforced padding. He’s also shaking out his hand, you must have bitten it.

“I’m Red Hood.” The voice that comes out of the helmet is robotic. “I’m here to save you.”

Is he. How convenient. “Prove you’re a person,” you insist.

“What? You want proof fucking now?” He gestures to your wound. “You’re bleeding, you’ll get your proof outside.”

“No fucking way,” you snarl. “What if you’re an alien in disguise? Anything is possible, ah—fucking—pparently.”

“You are the last civilian in here. Please, just—”

“Not until you prove it,” you insist stubbornly.

“Holy fucking Christ. Okay, fine.” He takes off a glove, flexing his hand. “See?”

You eye it before shaking your head. “Not good enough. Take off the helmet.”

“Just who the fuck do you think you are?” the robotic voice snarls at you.

“I need to see a human head!”

An explosion sounds near you. Quickly, he reaches up and undoes a catch, pulling the helmet off. “See?” he says in a man’s voice. “Human head.”

You stare at him, searching, just to make sure. He’s got a sharp jaw and tanned skin, and he’s wearing a domino mask. You peer into the eye holes to find green eyes staring back at you.

Your eyes lock. Something clicks, and then the man’s eyes roll back as he passes out.

You’re dumbfounded. “What the fuck?”

Then—

“No! Not here!” you hiss desperately, shoving at his body to try and wake him up. “Nononono, you can’t do this now! This can’t happen here!” You punch him in the shoulder, but it’s no use; he’s out cold.

Another explosion sounds, and you stifle a moan, holding back tears. A 10% chance of having a soulmate, an 8% chance of finding them, and you found each other in a firefight. And he was the one to pass out.

And now you’re both going to die. This soulmate crap is some steaming bullshit.

Something whizzes over your head, and you lean down, instinctively covering the man’s body with your own. You start to hyperventilate, swallowing down a lump in your throat.

Come on, you’re in the same situation you were in a few minutes ago, you just have this new, deadweight guy to carry. Think, think. Figure this out.

Looking at the man, you realize he’s wearing an earpiece. With shaking fingers, you pull it out of his ear and hold it up to your own.

“—Hood, come in. Hood, report!”

Right, that’s who he said he was. Red Hood.

What a stupid fucking name for a soulmate to have. You’re gonna get that shit tattooed over your heart? Yeah, right.

You clear your throat. “Uh—Red Hood is, uh, unconscious,” you say carefully into the communication device.

There’s silence for a moment. “Who’s on the line?” someone growls. Holy shit, is that Batman? Damn, your soulmate is a vigilante?

Great. He’ll probably die fighting crime.

“I’m his, uh…I’m, I’m a civilian.”

“What happened?” a new voice asks. “What’s his status, is he hurt?”

“No…no, we, uh…” Christ, this is embarrassing. “We, uh, looked each other in the eye?”

Thankfully, they get it. “Oh my god. In the fucking field?” The second voice sounds darkly gleeful. “And he’s the one who knocked out?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“That shit is hilarious.”

You kind of wish this guy would shut the fuck up. “Can you, like, get me out of here?”

“Coming to you now.” Thank god.

But before he can get there, some purple, alien thing lands in front of you. You let out a scream as an arm-like appendage shoots out from his body, grabs your soulmate by the neck, and starts to drag him away.

Acting on instinct, you grab the red helmet laying on the floor beside you and whip it against the alien with a crack. It makes a hissing noise, but fortunately, lets go of the man. Unfortunately, it sends the arm soaring toward you.

You wind up the helmet again, but suddenly electricity crackles through the alien, and it drops. Well, more accurately, it explodes, flinging purple shit all over you. You blink goo out of your eyes.

Standing behind the pulpy remains, miraculously clean, is another man in a suit and a mask. He jabs a finger at his chest. “I’m Nightwing. I take it you’re the captive locked in the tower? And this,” he nudges Red Hood with his boot. “Is your new knight in shining armor?”

You stare at him. “Can we…go?”

Nightwing grimaces. “Yeah, sorry. Here—” he hoists your soulmate up into a fireman’s carry. “Follow me. Stay close.”

You nod, scrambling to your feet. Nightwing leads you carefully through the pandemonium at the bank, stopping you short and changing routes as, you assume, Batman takes out more of the aliens. You’re practically glued to Nightwing’s back, which means you’re actually pressed against your soulmates chest as Nightwing carries him. You study him; hanging upside down he almost looks like a wet cat.

You shake your head. This is fucking insane.

Finally, you make it outside. As soon as Nightwing gives you the all clear you collapse onto the steps outside the bank, putting your head between your knees. You had just wanted to make a deposit at your stupid fucking bank that didn’t have online services. Getting caught up in an alien attack and finding your soulmate was officially too much for a Wednesday morning. You have class later, for fuck’s sake.

There’s a slight shuffle, and you look to see Nightwing has stretched out on the steps beside you. You hope he stays quiet. You really don’t want to talk right now.

Of course he doesn’t. “So. New soulmate, huh?” he gives you a grin. “Pretty exciting.”

You grunt. It’s another thing you have to fucking figure out.

Nightwing frowns. “Not excited? You got a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

You give him a side eye. “No,” you admit.

That seems to satisfy him. “Well, great. Then you and Red Hood over here can work it out.” He pats the man—your soulmate’s head. You look to see Nightwing has laid Red Hood out on the steps upside down, with his head next to Nightwing’s thigh and his feet several steps above.

He looks ridiculous. You crane your neck to stare at him. He’s a big man—and the armor only makes him bigger. He looks like he fights hard and wins. You don’t know how to feel about it that. Brick shithouse gym bros were never your type.

You look down to his waist and realize he’s got two guns holstered there. You don’t know how to feel about that, either.

Nightwing notices your staring. He opens his mouth to comment, but you cut across his words.

“Who are you guys, anyway?” Nightwing stares at you, clearly affronted. “I’m new to Gotham,” you add.

He lets out huff. “We’re vigilantes. We fight crime and work with Batman.”

Huh. You know about Batman, but not these two. “Why?”

Nightwing runs his tongue over his teeth. “You’ll have to ask your soulmate yourself,” he answers. You nod. “What are you doing in Gotham?”

“I’m getting my PhD.”

This brings him to attention, although you don’t know why. “In what?”

“Applied mathematics.”

He lets out a sharp laugh.

“What?” you ask, annoyed.

Nightwing shrugs. “Your boy here likes books.”

You blink. “Okay.”

How stupid. Anyone can like books, you like books. Just because you’re getting your doctorate in mathematics doesn’t mean you can’t like fucking books. You let out a huff.

“By the way,” he nods at your torso. “How’s that cut doing?”

Oh, right. You shift to examine it and wince slightly. “Laceration, more like,” he adds sympathetically.

“S’okay. Not bleeding anymore.”

“Okay.” Nightwing nods. “You’ll have to get that checked out. Maybe at our base.”

That throws you for a loop. “What? Your base?”

He nods. “But, hold on. Big man’s coming in.”

What is he talking about?

He looks over his shoulder. “Hey, B.”

You hear a grunt and nearly piss your pants. Whipping your head around, you realize Batman had landed silently behind you. All six feet of him tower over you now.

He stares silently, face impossible stoic. You gulp nervously. Are you supposed to do something?

Thankfully, Nightwing takes over. “Red Hood is fully unconscious after making eye contact with his soulmate, here.” His lips twitch. “Said soulmate has a laceration and has likely been exposed to alien material, recommend further testing.”

“I got some shit in my eyes,” you add helpfully.

Batman grunts again. “We’ll bring you to the Batcave for testing.”

Uh, what? The fucking Batcave?

“How—how am I getting there?” you stammer.

“Batmobile,” Nightwing says easily.

Uh, you think the fuck not. “Can I take the bus?”

Nightwing snorts. “No,” Batman says in a clipped voice.

“Most civilians would kill for a ride in the Batmobile,” Nightwing points out. “What’s your deal?”

“I’ve seen that thing go. It’s a car accident waiting to happen, you’d think it was a racecar.”

“It’s reinforced,” Batman says.

“I’m not.”

“It’s either that or the back of my motorbike,” Nightwing offers.

Damn. You’re not opposed to motorcycles, but you trust this guy about as far as you can throw him.

“Put me in the Batmobile,” you sigh.

“You can ride alongside your unconscious lover,” Nightwing says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck off,” you say without thinking. Your eyes widen as he bursts into laughter.

“Hmm.” You look up, but Batman’s face betrays nothing. “Nightwing, you’re dismissed.”

He hops up and gives a salute. Batman inclines his head, asking something, but Nightwing shakes his head no. “Great talking to you.” He offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet. “I’m sure we’ll see more of each other.” With a wave, he disappears.

That leaves you with Batman and your new soulmate.

Carefully, Batman leans down and scoops the man into his arms. It’s not like Nightwing, holding him slung over his back. Batman carries the man bridal style, and when he holds him close, the man, still out cold, leans his head on his chest.

Huh.

“This way.” You follow Batman away from the bank; down a side street. Under the shadow of a fire escape lies the Batmobile, a low-riding tank. You eye it fearfully.

“Don’t worry,” you glance up to see Batman giving you a small smile. “I’m a very good driver.”

You nod cautiously, watching as he carefully transfers Red Hood to the backseat. You’d hoped he’d strap the guy into the front so you’d be spared having to ride in the passenger seat, but oh well.

Stepping to the passenger side, you try and open the door, but the fucker is heavy. It takes two hands and all your weight to get it open. Slipping inside, you start to fight a similar battle to get it closed.

“Ahem.” You startle, then lean back as Batman reaches neatly across you and pulls the door closed. You scramble to get your seatbelt on.

Batman puts the car in drive and you’re off. Not quite reassured, you’re clawing at the seatbelt with clenched fingers. But Batman drives slowly and carefully through the streets of Gotham. You relax slightly.

You stare out the window, exhaustion setting in. You are so fucking tired, but the day isn’t over. You still have to meet fucking Red Hood proper.

“You’re injured.”

You jump slightly. “Uh, yeah. Just on my ribs.” You twist a little to show him.

He glances at the cut. “Hm.”

You wait for him to say anything else, but he doesn’t. You nod uncertainly.

The car is silent for several minutes. Then—

“I’m glad you found each other.” His voice is gruff, and he isn’t looking at you, his gaze is on the rearview mirror, on the man in the backseat.

You nod again. “Me too,” you supply, not quite meaning to.

You’re quiet for the rest of the ride.

Eventually, Batman carefully eases the car into a tunnel. A few twists and turns and you’re pulling into a garage. Batman quickly exits the car and gently pulls Red Hood out from the back. You fumble with the door, but Batman opens it for you, despite carrying Red Hood. You jump out, running to the other side of the door and slamming your back against it to force it shut.

“Hm.” Batman grunts, but you’re pretty sure you saw him grin. He turns and leads you up a flight of metal stairs, across a wide hall with a huge computer at one end, and into what must be the medbay. He gently lays Red Hood down on a cot, carefully pushing his hair out of his face. Then he turns to you.

“Laceration?” You shift and give him a view of the cut. He looks it over carefully, then nods. “I’ll handle it.” Pulling off his gloves, he strides to a cabinet to collect supplies. You hop up on a spare bed.

He comes back brandishing a pair of fabric scissors. “I need to cut more of your shirt out of the way,” he says apologetically.

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “Useless now anyway.”

Nodding, Batman cuts out a rectangle along your cut. He rips open an antiseptic wipe, but you stop him.

“Do you mind if I do it?” You’d rather administer the sting yourself.

Batman holds it out to you, and you begin cleaning your cut, wincing occasionally.

“What. What do you do?” You whip your head up. “In Gotham,” he amends.

You squint at him. Is Batman asking you a personal question? “I’m a doctoral candidate at Gotham U.”

“What subject?”

“Applied mathematics.”

He nods. “Scholarship?”

Apparently you’re having a full-ass conversation now. You go back to cleaning your cut. “No.”

“Are you working with an advisor?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you sigh. Asking a prof to be your doctorate advisor is going to be a pain in your ass. You’ll have to kiss up to someone, you just have to pick who.

Batman seems to pick up on your dilemma. “Who will you ask?”

Does he know every professor at the university? “Tanner,” you say suspiciously. “Or Al-Barazi”

He grunts, which gives away nothing. You eye him as he holds up a bandage.

“Do you mind?”

He can probably plaster it on better than you can, anyway. You nod, and he removes the paper adhesive and gently applies the bandage, making sure the cut is fully covered. “Thanks,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hn.” He picks up a tray with a vial, another antiseptic wipe, and a disposable needle laying on it. “Blood test,” he says apologetically.

Ugh. “Make it quick,” you say, holding out your arm.

He works fast, thank god, and you turn your head away and grimace until it’s over. “Well done,” he says, as you breathe out a sigh of relief. “I’ll go—”

A groan cuts through his words. You whip your head around to see Red Hood starting to sit up on his cot. In a flash, Batman has put your blood sample on a table and appeared at Red Hood’s bedside.

He murmurs something, but Red Hood groans again. “Back the fuck off old man, I’ll just—”

Batman silences him, low voice terse as he says something else. You see Red Hood’s gaze move to you over Batman’s shoulder.

You stare back silently. Maybe you should wave. Instead, you shrug uncertainly.

His eyes harden. Fucking excellent.

Batman takes a step back. “I’ll run the tests,” he says to both of you. Then he makes his exit.

Alone, you and Red Hood size each other up.

He’s the one to speak first, expression grinding into something mocking and almost cruel. “It’s you!” he says, smiling at you with false delight.

So this is how it’s going to go. You wish you could leave, but you don’t remember where the exit is. And you need to make sure you don’t have some alien disease.

You spy a cot next to his and walk carefully over to it, sitting gingerly down on the starched blanket. “I guess it is.”

He immediately busies himself by taking off his body armor, removing it piece by piece until he’s left in only a tank top and tactical pants. You stare at him, why the hell shouldn’t you? He’s muscled, but not as big as you’d feared.

He still looks powerful. And he has a lot of scars.

When your eyes travel to his face, you see he’s taken off the domino mask. Huh. He’s movie-star handsome, the kind of face you grow up wishing your soulmate has.

He’s being such a dick that it doesn’t even faze you.

Red Hood looks at you cockily, smirking. You look back blankly, face empty. You’re not giving this fucker anything until he plays nice.

He goes right on smirking, and you go right on staring blankly. You’re determined to wait him out.

He doesn’t drop the act, but Red Hood is the one to speak first. “Wanna tell me your name, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” After you tell him— “Am I supposed to call you Red Hood?” He must have a real name.

This, shockingly, makes him hesitate, before pasting on a crooked smile. “Name’s Jason.” He gets a gleam in his eye. “Jason Todd.”

You blink. Is that supposed to mean something to you?

“Congrats, you have two first names,” you say with a shrug.

He gets tripped up again. For a moment, you feel a flicker of savage victory, but it quickly dissipates. You aren’t supposed to be at odds with each other like this. This isn’t how you want to do things.

“So we’re soulmates, huh?” He switches gears, giving you a rueful smile that you don’t trust for a second.

“I guess.” You shift uncomfortably on the cot. Your bed is close to his, close enough that, when you’re pulling your legs protectively against your chest and he’s reaching to unlace his boot, your elbows brush against each other.

Your skin crackles where it touches his, like a live wire runs between you two. You gasp and he swears and wrenches his arm back. You remain frozen in place, arm suspended in the air. The slight patch that touched him is still tingling with residual energy. You run your other hand over it; it’s hot to the touch.

You and Jason stare at each other. Damn. This soulmate shit is no joke.

The physical reminder almost makes you want to cry. Why are you stuck with this asshole who isn’t even nice to you?

Jason recovers first, prodding at you while you’re still reeling. “So if we’re soulmates, does that mean we should tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets?” he asks with faux-earnestness.

Uh. “I mean, may—”

“‘Cause I…well, you might as well know now.” He grabs the neckline of his tank top and yanks it down. “I died.” He shows off what’s definitely a y-shaped autopsy scar, wearing a wide-eyed, mournful look.

Your eyes narrow, partly because what the ever loving fuck, but also because you can see a wedge of triumph in his eyes.

You suck in a sharp breath, seeing through him in an instant. Jason’s not telling you to get close to you; he’s trying to make you walk away.

Coward.

Quick as lightning, you reach out and grab him by the jaw. His chin buzzes in your hand, and he lets out a shout, twisting against you. You hold on, bringing your face close to his. “Don’t fucking bullshit me,” you say through gritted teeth.

“What the fuck?” He sounds amazed. “You don’t believe that I—”

“No, I know you died. But you didn’t tell me because you want me to know.” He looks shocked for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “You’re testing me.”

Jason looks away from you, gritting his teeth. “Don’t play me like that,” you add.

You let go, settling back on your cot. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to do this,” you mutter. “Just be straight with me.” Man the fuck up.

You stare at your lap, trying to calm the adrenaline racing through you like wildfire. Your mind returns to his horrific scar, and you let a shudder escape. What happened to him? Did he really die and come back to life, is this some necromancer shit? You teeter on the edge of a panic attack.

“I—” Jason breaks through your rising hysteria. You raise your head as he cuts himself off with a growl. “Do you want to do this?”

Good question.

You study him as you mull it over. He’s not mocking you anymore; he’s defensive, holding his tank top up to his neck, hiding the scar. You were right, he doesn’t want you to know about it.

Jason’s eyes are guarded as they focus on you. It’s the closest to honest he’s been so far.

He really is beautiful.

You sigh. “I mean, are you gonna be nice to me?”

He acknowledges the hit with a tilt of his head. “I’m…not known for being nice,” he says ruefully. You squint; something in your gut tells you not to believe him. He’s a vigilante, isn’t he? Doesn’t that mean he saves people?

Which reminds you—

“Why did you become a vigilante?”

Jason laughs bitterly. “Wasn’t given a choice.”

Not a great answer. “Someone’s forcing you now?”

“…no, not now,” he adds begrudgingly.

You raise your eyebrows, prompting him to continue. Jeez, getting this guy to talk is like pulling fucking teeth.

“Now,” he chews the inside of his cheek. “I can do it. Most people can’t. It helps. Someone’s gotta do it.” Jason looks at you, eyes searching yours.

Yeah, you can get behind that.

You nod, and see him relax slightly. There’s quiet for a few seconds, but you can feel Jason’s eyes on you, silently pushing you to answer. Do you want to do this?

Based on whatever the fuck conversation you’re having, it seems like Jason’s not into it. You lay the groundwork for an exit strategy. “To be honest, it seems like a bad way to start a relationship,” you admit. “Knowing what’s meant to be the endgame and all.”

Jason face falls, almost imperceptibly, but you catch it. Disbelief flows through you. What does this guy want?

“Yeah,” he grinds out.

Maybe he is interested? You go a different route. “I…” you force yourself to take a deep breath. “I’ve…dated, before but…” you smile ruefully. “I haven’t had a lot of success. Not with…other people.”

Jason nods but keeps silent.

You lose patience. “Can you just tell me what you fucking want?” you snap.

Jason seems taken aback by your forwardness. You glare at him.

“Ahem.” You both start as Batman appears in the doorway. “Test results came through.” He holds several papers in his hand.

You nod, tuning him out as he begins to read through them. The truth of the situation begins to creep through the adrenaline, and you turn your back on both of them as you start to cry silently.

You can’t help it, you have a soulmate and he doesn’t want you. It’s enough to break your heart. You can talk a big game about how soulmates are unrealistic and how it’s impossible to build a relationship based on some random quirk of fate, but deep down you’re hypnotized by the idea just like everyone else. Of course you are, a person who was made for you and no one else? Who you’re fated to be with? That’s the dream. Who wouldn’t want a soulmate?

Jason, apparently, even though he has the ill luck of having one. You have the ill luck of it being you.

“—and we couldn’t detect any STI’s so you’re all clear,” Batman says carefully. “Though your iron’s a little low.”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat. “I’m supposed to be taking supplements.” Keeping your back to him, you raise your voice so Jason can hear you loud and clear. “If you want me to go, tell me and I’ll go.”

You wait for several seconds. You don’t turn around. He doesn’t say anything. You take it for the answer that it is.

“Thanks for all your help,” you say to Batman, thickly. “I need to go home.”

Batman nods, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder. “I’ll have someone take you back.”

You follow him out of the sickbay and upstairs to the street level. You cry the entire time, and Batman patiently waits for you to stumble after him. Eventually, you make it outside to a sleek black car. You fall into the backseat.

An older man sits behind the wheel. “Where am I taking you tonight?” he asks in a kind, British accent. You look up to see his gaze on you in the rearview mirror, warm but sharp.

You give him your address. The tears don’t let up, but thankfully he doesn’t comment.

Some time later, you don’t know how long, he stops the car and steps out, opening your door for you. You quickly collect yourself and get out. “Thank you,” you say voice unsteady.

“My pleasure.” You look down to see he’s handing you a pharmacy bag. “Iron supplements.”

You open your mouth, then close it, nodding.

“Have a goodnight,” the man, eyeing you carefully.

You nod again, then turn and head into your building. Once inside your apartment, you get yourself a glass of water, strip down and crawl into bed, not bothering to shower. The day plays over and over in your mind, and you cry yourself to sleep.

•••

Jason’s starting to think he fucked up.

Maybe acting like a complete dick to his soulmate wasn’t the right move.

It’s been two weeks since you walked out, since he passed out at the sight of you and started this whole fucking mess, and everyone has been on his ass about this. Dick has been yapping in his ear, Bruce keeps trying to corner him and give him a lecture, and Alfred has been absolutely skewering him with disapproving looks. Jason can’t hold out under that kind of pressure, he cracks like a mirror and stops lying to himself.

He shouldn’t have forced you to leave by being such an asshole. Classic Jason, executing the perfect self sabotage. Ten out of ten.

In his defense, he never expected this to happen. In fact, he was pretty fucking sure it wouldn’t. How could Jason Todd possibly have a soulmate? He’d died for fuck’s sake, surely the universe knows not to touch that one. What if he hadn’t come back? Would you just be up shit’s creek without a paddle? What if you had found each other earlier, before he’d croaked? How fucked up would that have been?

It makes him shake his head. It just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

And he…he’s not a good soulmate. Look at who he is, look at what he’s done. You’d be better off if you’ve never found him. He drove you away for your sake, he thinks to himself.

Alfred had called him on this bullshit immediately, as soon as he’d come back from driving you home. He’s been niggling at Jason, trying to get him to see that at the very least, Jason can’t make that decision for you. Just like every other relationship, you have to judge him for yourself.

Ugh. What fucking hell.

Whatever. It’s too late anyway. He’s pushed you away, you’re gone. Bruce has offered to find you, but it feels…wrong, to force his way into your life like that. Obviously, he could find you, but if you don’t want him in your life, then he shouldn’t be there.

Except maybe there’s more to this soulmate thing that he thought, because despite his refusal to look for you, he finds you anyway.

At a club.

On the dance floor.

It’s dark; pink, blue, and purple lights illuminating the room. Jason stands at the bar, three quarters of the way through a beer he’s been nursing for forty five minutes. Roy’s in the bathroom, and he must’ve invited someone along with him because he’s taking for-fucking-ever.

Jason glances at his phone, bored and ready to leave. He’s only here because Roy dragged him out, insisting it would help him forget about you.

Which it doesn’t. Because there you are.

You see him the second he sees you. Your expression hardens as you make eye contact. Before he knows what he’s doing, Jason takes a step forward. He holds his arms open, chest centered, eyes clear. Come on. Come on.

He sees you roll your eyes. One of your friends leans down to whisper in your ear. Jason can read their lips: do you know that guy?

Yes. You leave your friends and make your way toward him, stopping about a foot away. You stare at him, raising an eyebrow.

Jason looks at you, so uncertain. He—he doesn’t know what to do, now.

You sigh, gently plucking his beer from his hand and setting it on the bar. Then you grab his hand—holy shit, it’s all electricity, all the way down—and tug him onto the dance floor.

Your arms slot around his neck, and his hands find your hips. You’re wearing a shirt that leaves your midriff exposed, and his palms are hot against your skin.

It’s almost too much. Your skin buzzes and crackles and pops and he feels it all the way to his teeth. You’ve got your forearm pressed against his neck; it sends electric shocks down his spine.

From the way you’re frozen, gritting your teeth, you feel it too. For almost a minute, neither of you move as you adjust. Just as Jason starts to get used to it, you look at him with a wry smile. He returns it shakily.

Then you move an arm from his neck, letting your skin brush against his, and put your hand on his bicep, sliding down to his wrist and back up again.

Jason almost passes out. He’s panting, shaking like a startled animal. You smile triumphantly, and Jason knows he’s in trouble.

Trying to get ahold of himself, he squeezes at your hips, rubbing slow circles into your skin with his thumbs. You inhale sharply, glaring at him even as your body trembles under his hands. He gives you a smirk. You roll your eyes and then do what he’s been wondering about since he first brushed against you in the sickbay: you kiss him.

It’s dizzying.

All of Jason’s focus seems to be concentrated into his lips, which sizzle and pop like oil on a hot pan. You let out a shocked cry into his mouth and he swallows it eagerly. He slides his mouth against yours; the friction is unlike anything he’s felt before. Jason thinks to use his tongue and brushes it gently against the inside of your cheek, darting back as he feels you bite down hastily.

You pull away, panting, removing your hands from him and resting your head against his chest, t-shirt giving you some respite from the heady feeling of skin on skin. As soon as he notes your absence, Jason realizes he’s a goner. He’ll do anything, anything, to feel that way again.

He runs his hands up your arms encouragingly, using one to tilt your chin towards his so he can kiss you again, but you shake your head, pressing your face against his chest.

Damn. But he can feel the heat of you, pressed against him as you are, and this feels nice, too. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and another on your midriff, skin buzzing at the contact. You shudder but burrow further into his chest.

This gives him some time to think.

Yeah, he fucked up. Jason wants to kick himself.

And he knows, right down to his bones, that he’s pushed you out of reach. He’s certain that you won’t give him another chance, just like he knows he’s undeserving of you in the first place.

It’s too late. You’ll never be his. There he goes, breaking his own heart again.

For a moment, Jason struggles to breathe.

You shift, knocking your head against his chest. He looks down at you, heart thick in his mouth.

You’ll never be his, but you’re here now. Jason’s grip on you tightens. He’ll take whatever he can get tonight, and that’ll have to be enough.

He rests his chin against your head. You hum, stretching up to press lightly against him, and Jason could just die.

He rubs soothingly at your back. He has you tonight.

Or rather, he has you in this club. Jason wants to bite his tongue off when he realizes you’ll leave in less than a few hours.

He needs to stretch this out as far as it will go.

Jason sees two people disentangle enough to leave the dance floor and exit the club, groping each other the whole time.

Maybe you can leave with him.

The idea ripples through his body, taking hold immediately. He can try and convince you to come home with him and have you in his bed for one night. And then you’ll walk out of his life and that’s okay. It is.

Cautiously, he slides a hand under your shirt, caressing the skin of your back. The buzzing almost overwhelms him, but he doesn’t let up, stretching his fingers high enough to trace your shoulder blades. You freeze in his arms, but you don’t pull away. He sets his other hand lower, running a thumb just above the waistline of your jeans.

You tilt your head up and squint at him; you know what he’s doing. But Jason doesn’t care, he’s got a goal now, and he takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss you. You bite at his lips but kiss him back.

The sparks almost fry him. It’s easy to lose himself, and a moment later he finds his hips moving against yours without his permission.

Again, you freeze. Jason can’t help but marvel; so in control, so commanding of yourself. He panics for a moment before your hips start to grind up into his. You wrap your arms around his neck—sizzling against him—and pull him down to kiss him deeper.

Relief and adrenaline surge through him. For a few precious hours, he’ll get to have you.

You make out for ages. Jason can’t get enough. Around you, people come and go, but the two of you stay rooted to the spot. Jason feels his phone vibrate with a text from Roy and ignores it. He couldn’t give a fuck.

He feels like he could go on forever, but eventually you pull away, yawning. His chest tightens as you pull out your phone. Your eyes widen; it’s half past three in the morning.

Jason grits his teeth. He has to make his move, and he has to make it now.

His courage almost fails him; he has to bury his face in your neck, cheeks buzzing. “Stay with me a little longer,” he mutters into your skin. “Come back to my place.”

He holds his breath. You keep silent. Then, you pull away, eyes searching his face.

Old habits die hard; he gives you a cocky smirk. You grab his chin, just like in the sickbay, and pull his face down toward you.

His facade clean falls away. All he’s got left is hunger.

You examine him a moment longer before letting out a soft sigh. “Yes,” you say quietly.

He grabs your hand and guides you toward the exit.

Twenty minutes later, he’s got you on his couch, the long line of your body laid out beneath his. It’s heaven. You’re impossibly closer now, gravity pulling him in. He suspends himself carefully above you, not wanting to crush you, but still close enough to let your skin burn him.

You pick up where you left off, kissing messily. Eventually, Jason thinks to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the floor. You quickly follow.

His chest explodes against yours. Jason bites his tongue sharp enough to draw blood as you let out a small shriek. Your skin reaches up and consumes him. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much skin to skin contact, it’s everything Jason has ever wanted when he’s flinched away from someone’s touch. Someone else’s touch.

Shakily, you bring your arms up to lay your hands on his back. Jason could cry. He loses hold of himself and collapses, putting his weight on you completely. You let out a small oomph.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, gasping.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you soothe him. Hesitantly, your hands begin to rub his back. Biting his lip, Jason maneuvers himself so that his arms are underneath you, holding you to his chest. You let out a small hum of contentment.

He lets himself settle against you, feels you shift beneath him until you’re comfortable. Again, he wrenches his face into your neck. You giggle quietly, and he smiles against you.

After a while, the buzzing cools into a warm glow. Jason could stay here forever.

Eventually, though, you cough. He can hear you yawn. “Jason,” you whisper apologetically. Hearing his name sends a jolt up his spine. “Jason, I gotta go.”

No. Not yet. He’s not ready to say goodbye.

Jason reacts on instinct. “Stay,” he mumbles. “Sleep here.” He sees it coming: again, you freeze. “We don’t have to…” he quickly adds. “Just…sleep.”

In the morning, he tells himself. He’ll let you walk away in the morning.

He looks at you, this time, as he waits for you to answer. Having you so close makes him brave, makes it easy to show on his face how much he wants you to stay.

Your eyes are guarded. “Sleep where?”

Uh…good question. In my arms.

“Take the bed,” he answers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You look at him warily. He holds his breath.

You yawn again, and it takes the fight out of you. “Okay,” you mutter. You shift below him, and he gets up obligingly.

“In here.” Jason leads you to his bedroom, heart pounding. He opens the door, and you peek inside. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

You look back to him, nodding. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jason shifts on his feet, lingering. You turn your searching gaze on him again.

Eventually you nod and dart into the room, pulling the door shut behind you.

Jason exhales. He turns back toward the couch. It’s going to be a long night of imagining what you look like, lying in his bed, steps away.

He lays himself down and closes his eyes. As if he’ll be able to let you go, now. He’s gonna fight like hell for you in the morning.

•••

This was a really fucking bad idea.

You clutch at Jason’s sheets, nearly ripping them in half as dread fills you. Why did you do this to yourself? The scent of him envelopes you and you almost want to cry.

What were you thinking, coming back here? You know he doesn’t want to be with you. The best thing for you to do now is just move the fuck on. Put him out of your mind before it’s too late, before you fuck up and get yourself addicted to a drug that doesn’t want you. You couldn’t help micro dosing him at the club, you didn’t know he’d be there. Mistakes happen. But you shouldn’t have fucking macro dosed him by sleeping in his goddamn bed, especially when it smells so good. You’ll be having withdrawals for weeks.

Last night was a fluke. You don’t know what on Earth possessed him to dance with you and hold you and kiss you like that, but you sure as shit know it’s not going to happen again.

But it happened. You stare up at his ceiling, trying to make it make sense. Jason doesn’t want to make it work with you, he’d wanted you to walk away back in the sickbay. Right? Then what the fuck was he doing last night? He wasn’t acting like he wanted you to walk away, he asked you to stay. And like the Grade-A idiot, fucking addicted junkie you are, you’d agreed.

You turn over on your side, mashing Jason’s pillow beneath you. Why did he even invite you back here in the first place? He clearly doesn’t want a relationship with you. Your breath stills; he probably just wanted to get lucky.

That little fucker.

The realization clears your head. That’s why he acted like that last night, that’s why he held you and danced with you and kissed you like—like he did.

Because he just wanted to get off.

Despair crashes over you, forms a lump in the back of your throat. You beat it back angrily. Fuck him. Fuck him for thinking he can just use you like that, use the hold he has over you for his own ends.

You rip the bedsheets off and pull your pants on, absolutely fuming. You’re going to yell at this motherfucker, you’re going to tear him a new asshole, and then you’re going to get the fuck out of here.

The bedroom door slams open with a bang. Snarling, you make your way into the kitchen, to see Jason’s jumped about a foot.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He looks down and swears again. “Motherfuck—”

He ducks down to examine something on the floor. You realize he’s holding a spatula. “I used up all my eggs. Fucking hell.” He sighs, grabbing a paper towel to clean up what must be egg on the kitchen tile.

He’s making eggs?

The scene deters you, but your anger comes roaring back. “Were you seriously just going to eat a whole fucking breakfast while I slept in your—”

“What?” Jason cuts you off, confused. “No! These are for you, too, dipshit!” He freezes.

You stalk toward him, furious. “What did you just call me?”

“…sorry,” he mutters, turning to the stove.

Wow. What a guy.

Scoffing in disgust, you walk to the door and grab your coat from the hook. That makes him pause. “Wait, you’re leaving?” Jason asks, surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” you say meanly. “You wanted me to walk away, so here I go.”

“But I…” he trails off. You look at him, eyebrows raised, expecting him to do nothing, just like last time. And you can’t work with nothing.

Jason turns off the stove and crosses the kitchen warily. “Just…just stay and have something to eat. Please,” he mumbles. He’s barely looking you in the eye, you stare at him until he meets your gaze. There’s nothing but open honesty on his face.

Hm.

Cautiously, you put your coat back on the hook and cross your arms over your chest. “Why?” you ask warily.

“Because, I…” he trails off with a growl, giving you a rough, earnest look.

Reluctantly, you sit yourself at the kitchen table. Ridiculous, ridiculous! You should be on the other side of that door, you should be on the street by now.

But you’re powerless against how much you want him, how much you want this to work. You’ve already swallowed the fishhook; all he has to do is reel you in.

Relief swamps Jason’s face. He turns and busies himself at the stove. As soon as his back is to you your elbows hit the table and your head is in your hands. What the fuck are you doing? Why do you insist on torturing yourself? Why are you giving him another chance?

You stay like that until you hear the knock of a plate hit the table. Looking up, you see Jason’s handed you a plate of eggs and toast, plus a mug of coffee. He sits across from you with his own plate and cup.

He’s got two eggs and you’ve got three. He must have given you the extra after one had ended up in the floor. Such a gentleman.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting up.

Jason nods.

Neither of you say anything, nor do you move to eat.

You glare at him. You’re sure as hell not going to move first.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, before deliberately slicing into an egg and mashing his toast into the yolk. You roll your eyes and follow suit.

“You got salt and pepper?”

“What?” Jason looks up, frowning. “I already put some on.”

“Not enough.”

“God almighty.” He heaves himself up and moves to the cupboard, quickly returning with salt and pepper shakers. “Happy?”

“No. I don’t want to be here,” you remind him.

That sucks the fight away. Jason looks at his plate, chastised. “Right.”

You grab the salt and pepper. The shakers are stupid, Batman novelty garbage: Batman’s the salt and Robin’s the pepper. The salt comes out of the pointy Bat-ears.

Ridiculous. You season your eggs angrily. “I’m finishing this meal and then I’m leaving,” you announce, scooping up some egg with your toast.

Jason offers you a leaky smirk, full of holes. “Not gonna help me clean up?”

It makes you furious. “What the fuck do you want from me, Jason?” you demand. “What do you want? Because I’m not playing your stupid fucking games and I’m not going to let you jerk me around.”

Untrue. You probably would. But he doesn’t need to know that.

Jason looks at his plate, hands curled into fists. “I—what do you want?”

You stand up, chair screeching. No fucking way are you taking a deflection right now.

“Sweetheart, wait.” Jason gets to his feet.

You swallow. ‘Sweetheart.’ He called you that before, but it feels different now.

Or maybe that’s your imagination.

“I—I shouldn’t have acted like a such dickhead.” His head is turned from you, but then he meets your eyes with gritted teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Great. “Answer my question.”

His face hardens. “I…I don’t…” Jason shrugs almost helplessly. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away, but I didn’t do it for shits and giggles. I…” he ducks his head. “My life is…dangerous.”

He looks at you imploringly. Your eyes drift to his chest. Right. He literally died. “I didn’t want to drag you into that,” he says carefully.

You sigh, collapsing into the chair. He follows your lead, sitting across from you. “Slow down, cowboy,”you say, exhausted with the back and forth. You need to start smaller. “Do you want to see me again?”

You are being very fucking brave right now. Your breath freezes in your mouth as you wait for his answer.

Jason stares at the table. “Yeah.”

Your mouth melts. “Okay. Me too.”

He looks up at you, shocked. You roll your eyes. His face falls into a smirk.

“If you get too cocky I’m going to leave,” you threaten. Jason nods but doesn’t pare down the smirk at all.

Time to be braver. You grip the edge of the table. “Do you want to be…just, just friends?” You force yourself to look at him, his face has fallen.

You suck in a breath. “Because I want more.” The words spill out of you.

You want to throw up but by god you are going to maintain eye contact, come hell or high water. You grit your teeth and lock onto his eyes, so focused you almost miss what he says next.

“I do, too.”

You blink. Jason’s looking at you like you’d hung the moon.

Fuck, yes.

“Cool,” you say with a smile.

“You’re one in a million, sweetheart,” he adds, breaking out into a wide grin. “Couldn’t miss my chance.”

You blush. Jason’s eyes are hungry.

There’s a beat of silence. “What do we do now?”

Jason considers for a moment before picking up his fork. “Finish your breakfast.”

You take a bite of toast. “Then what?”

“D’unno.” He smirks, mischievous. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

You grin into your eggs, delighted. “‘Kay.”

———

I didn’t not mean for this to be so long, I wanted to write a cheeky jason soulmate fic but in my heart of hearts I truly believe that jason can’t have a cheeky anything. Why accept a soulmate when you can preemptively burn your relationship to the ground to save time?

#teeth writes #jason todd #batman #dick grayson #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc imagine

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 17 days ago

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Two Wrongs

Roy Harper/Reader, 1.1K words Kinktober entry 14: Voyeurism Warnings: (Accidental) Non-con voyeurism | Tight spaces Requested by: Authors choice

Watching your roommate getting off through a crack in his wardrobe door certainly wasn't how you’d planned to spend your evening, but it was just one of those situations, you know, like quicksand, once you're in, it becomes increasingly difficult to get back out.

It had all started months ago when he had eaten the last of your leftover pizza. You'd gotten him back by putting glitter in one of his caps. He'd retaliated by stealing ALL of your socks, so you'd tied all of his shoes together by their laces with the most complex knots you could find tutorials for online. The war had been raging ever since. Most recently, Roy had ‘you-proofed’ every drawer, cabinet, and door in the apartment with a bunch of contraptions of his own design. Many of which now lay broken in his scrap bin, destroyed by your impatience.

You'd been in the process of hiding a series of miniature Green Arrow figures around his bedroom when he’d unexpectedly arrived home early. With zero forethought, you'd simply thrown yourself into his closet and hoped he'd either leave or fall asleep soon. Neither were the case.

You watched through a seam in the hatch as Roy entered his room, your jaw falling slack when he'd immediately unzipped his cargo trousers and started palming his dick through his boxers upon closing the door.

He doesn't bother surveying his surroundings, why would he? This should be his safe space. As he approaches the bed, he kicks off his shoes and socks. You're treated to the sight of his captivatingly firm and freckled ass when he removed his bottoms before finally, he falls unceremoniously upon the bed, still donning his cap and tank top.

You shouldn’t look, you tell yourself. You absolutely should not look. This is a huge breach of trust, and you'd never intended to see Roy naked, at least not like this. Yet, a depraved curiosity possesses you.

It's big. Bigger than you’d imagined, but not intimidatingly so. More, mouth-wateringly so. Thick, cut, straight, and surrounded by a thicket of fiery red hair to match that on his head.

The whole scene is strangely hypnotic; his even, rhythmic strokes, the sordid slap of his spit-slicked hand meeting the base of his cock while he so casually scrolls through his phone. You could watch him all day, but you can't. This goes far beyond a prank, and it certainly isn't fair to him.

You're not brave enough to come clean, you've seen too much. So you gently lean away from the door, closing your eyes and trying to block out the raunchy sound of Roy's heavy breathing until it’s over. Hopefully, he’ll shower or fall asleep after and you can sneak out then.

You're not expecting to hear a voice, so your heart almost stops when you hear someone squeal his name. Shit. Had he called someone? Was he seeing someone? You're struck with a pang of jealousy until you realise the voice in question is your own.

“Ahh, Roy! Are you filming me?” It’s quiet, and tinny but there’s no doubt in your mind. You can even recall when he’d recorded it; Back in the early days of your prank battle, on a hot summer day. You'd been strewn out on the couch, half-asleep in a moderately skimpy outfit that you certainly hadn’t hoped would grab Roy’s attention when you'd noticed him hovering over you with his camera. At the time you’d just assumed it was ammo for some harmless joke. Evidently not.

Peeking through the door again, you watch once more as he continues to stroke his dick, freckled cheeks growing ruddy, jaw tight as he loses himself more and more, eyes fixate on his phone screen as he uses his thumb to repeatedly rewinds back to the first few seconds of the clip. “Ahh, Roy! Ar- Ahh, Roy! Are y- Ahh, Roy!”

The debauched symphony of Roy getting off to the sound of your voice has your body feeling feverish, and you have to fight the urge to grind your nails into the wooden panel that separates you from your housemate. You’re not sure which you want more, to stuff your hand between your legs and knead you’re aching sex in time with Roy’s thrusts, or to exit your hiding spot, climb his husky, tattooed body, and ride him until you’re both completely and utterly fucked. Paralyzed by indecision, you instead watch him, restlessly motionless as he starts to lose control.

The phone falls from Roy’s hand as he bucks his way to the finish line, your name becoming a quiet, breathless prayer on his lips whilest he fucks into his hand from beneath. His eyes close, and he chews on his bottom lip, muscles growing tight until he finds his climax. You watch spellbound as an obscene amount of thick, white cum leaks from his cock, dripping down onto his hand. Wilder, stray droplets launch high, landing on his shirt but Roy neither cares nor notices as he writhes deeper into the mattress, riding out a full body high until he has nothing left to give.

You’re just as fascinated, watching him lay near motionless, enjoying the aftershock, as you had been observing the climax. There had always been tension between the two of you, but you’re starting to realise that you might be down worse than you’d thought.

Eventually, Roy returns to the land of the living, slowly shifting back up. With his clean hand, he removes his cap and pulls his soiled shirt over his head, using it to mop up the mess he’d made of himself and throwing it out of your limited line of sight. Whatever he was aiming for, you don’t doubt he made the shot.

Though you’re disappointed that the show is over, you’re growing angsty at being confined to the four walls of his closet, so when he kicks his legs over the side of the bed you get excited. The prospect of escape is so close you can taste it, until he grabs his phone once more. If he goes down a rabbit hole, you could be stuck here for hours you think, as he taps away at the touchscreen. You’re about to slink back against the wall and try to get comfortable when you’re heart drops. You feel it first, the buzz in your back pocket followed by the custom ringtone Roy had picked out for himself. Instinctively, your arms fumble to grab your phone and turn it off but Roy’s head has already snapped in your direction, his face looking as pale and as panicked as you feel on the inside.

If you're reading this, you have impeccable taste.

Kinktober Masterlist

#roy harper x reader #can’t get this one out of my head #roy harper #fic rec #nsfw

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 20 days ago

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*taps microphone* is this thing on? Okay…

🎤 THIS IS A REMINDER THAT ALL OF THE ROBINS ARE SMART, GENIUSES IN FACT. THEY ARE IN A FAMILY OF DETECTIVES. THATS LIKE THEIR WHOLE THING. ALL OF THE ROBINS (AND THE REST OF THE BATFAM TOO) ARE CLEVER, STRATEGIC, AND CAPABLE, NOT JUST TIM. (No hate to my boy Tim, though. I love Tim.) YES, EVEN THAT ONE. Thank you. 🎤

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 21 days ago

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i dont think he would say that

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 23 days ago

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He’s a sad little fucker!!! I won’t let anyone forget 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

nobody comes this way anymore (Jason Todd x god!reader)

It’s been a while since someone’s tried to find you. But you’ve heard Jason’s prayers, if anyone was going to follow the old ways and track you down, it’d be him.

god!reader and believer!Jason au. I read this (great!) fic by @petalbcrnes and then wrote this in less than a day.

Angst, but not sharp. Jason is sad because I can’t write him any other way.

Swearing, as always. I don’t know how long this is.

———

He’s been looking for you.

You can feel it, of course you can. The little tug when a mortal grabs hold of their string and yanks. Sharper than prayer, though he’s done that, too.

He’s moving today, pulling the string hand over hand until there’s nothing left but your battered little house. He’ll arrive by nightfall.

You’ve been found before. Back when people believed in Gods like you just a little bit more. But the prayers have thinned and the visitors have died out completely. People don’t worship like they used to.

But you guess this ‘Jason’ is a true believer.

His prayers aren’t the throwaway ones people toss your way. Please, please, let her love me too; please, I’ll do anything to get him back; please, let me find someone.

Jason’s are more fervent. Please, let me be worthy.

Poor fucker.

He’s getting closer now, maybe a mile from your small cottage. You sigh, getting up from your table and leaving your home, closing the door behind you.

Moving quickly, you head due east from the path he follows, walking cleanly into a forest. Picking your way around trees and boulders, you come to a stop in a small clearing, stones tucked away along the grass. You park yourself on a rock and wait.

It’s dusk.

Soon enough, there he is: your lone true believer.

Jason is tall and broad, yet light on his feet. His eyes are sharp, darting here and there in the twilight before they alight on you. His gaze tightens. You incline your head.

You suppose he’s handsome, but that’s not what you’re about.

He clears his throat. “Are you the God of love?” Quick and to the point.

“Something like that.”

His gaze darkens, he’s angry with you. You’ve seen this before.

“I’ve been praying to you. Why don’t you answer?” he demands.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” he spits. “Aren’t you supposed to work for us? Take care of us?”

“No,” you say simply. “We exist because of you, and you exist because of us. Beyond that, we owe each other nothing.”

Jason scowls. “So you could not exist, then?” His hand twitches toward his hip, you’re sure there’s a knife there.

“You would find it difficult.” As if this man could threaten you. “And it would spell your end as well.”

He scoffs, turning his face from you. You see his shoulders quiver; he’s given up the ghost.

When Jason turns back toward you, his face is pleading.

“I need your help,” he says brokenly. “Please, please, make me easier to love. Make it easier to love me.”

Ah.

“There is nothing I can do that will give you what you are asking of me,” you say carefully.

“Fuck you.” You take the blaspheme on the chin. “Why not?”

“Your problem is nonexistent. Everyone is easy to love.”

“Not me,” he says harshly.

“Yes, you,” you say gently. That seems to take him aback.

His eyes harden again. “Then help me see that!”

“There is nothing I can say that will help you see that. The only answer I have to your prayer to ‘make you worthy’ is ‘you are.’”

His eyes widen. You can see tears glistening. “Then…then find me someone who will love me!”

“Jason.” He freezes; did he think you didn’t know his name. “Enough.”

He bites his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut. “What do you even do, anyway?”

“Maintain.”

He opens his eyes incredulously. “Maintain what?”

“Balance.”

When he sees that’s all he’s going to get from you, he scoffs. “You’re not very helpful.”

“I’m not meant to be.” You stand up. “Jason. It’s dark. Go home.”

Shockingly, he complies, turning around to leave the forest. “I’ll be back,” he says over his shoulder.

“I can’t give you want you’re looking for,” you call to him. He’s already turned around, giving you a small wave as he disappears into the night.

You remain where you are. Soon, another presence reveals itself.

“He’s meant to be one of mine.” Tim appears by your side.

“Really.” Interesting. You can’t resist, he’s presented you a knife and you’re going to twist it. “How’d you let that happen?”

Your counterpart grimaces. “A mistake.”

You nod. This changes things.

A Tim problem is a you problem. You work…together. Or rather, you maintain the balance from opposite sides. Jason had said ‘love,’ but really, your domain is Connection.

And Tim, though people call him ‘death,’ is Separation.

What is the opposite of love, if not separation, ad infinitum?

Tim’s domain is separation, but Jason had slipped through. And now he’s come to you because he’s having trouble with connection.

You and Tim look at each other. This is a tricky one.

“I think you’re going to have to get involved,” Tim says apologetically.

You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Clean up your mess, you mean.”

“Oh believe me,” Tim says darkly. “I’ve got a mess to clean up on my end, too.”

Your eyes meet again, face in matching grimaces. Damn.

“He says he’s coming back,” you, say, resigned. “You wanna be there?”

“Hell, no.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “He’d probably use his knife on me.”

“And what about me?” you demand.

“You’ll be fine,” Tim says dismissively. “He likes you.”

Not really. “I’m likable,” you shrug, smiling. For humans, you have a personality like wallpaper.

Tim gets a gleam in his eye that you really don’t like. “Maybe you could be the person,” he teases, “that shows him he’s worthy.”

“Not a person,” you remind him, but then you go quiet.

“He likes you,” Tim says again, shrugging.

“It’s…a potential solution,” you grumble. You don’t think it’s the right one, but since he’d slipped, all bets are off.

“Well, we have to find another.” Tim steps away from you. “And I have to figure out my own shit.” He makes to leave.

“Let me know if you need help.”

“This is help.” He smiles at you, then turns and walks into the night.

You exit the forest, moving toward home. Your “true believer” Jason is going to be more trouble than you’d thought.

———

And Tim’s here, too!

#teeth speaks

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 23 days ago

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nobody comes this way anymore (Jason Todd x god!reader)

It’s been a while since someone’s tried to find you. But you’ve heard Jason’s prayers, if anyone was going to follow the old ways and track you down, it’d be him.

god!reader and believer!Jason au. I read this (great!) fic by @petalbcrnes and then wrote this in less than a day.

Angst, but not sharp. Jason is sad because I can’t write him any other way.

Swearing, as always. I don’t know how long this is.

———

He’s been looking for you.

You can feel it, of course you can. The little tug when a mortal grabs hold of their string and yanks. Sharper than prayer, though he’s done that, too.

He’s moving today, pulling the string hand over hand until there’s nothing left but your battered little house. He’ll arrive by nightfall.

But you guess this ‘Jason’ is a true believer.

His prayers aren’t the throwaway ones people toss your way. Please, please, let her love me too; please, I’ll do anything to get him back; please, let me find someone.

Jason’s are more fervent. Please, let me be worthy.

Poor fucker.

He’s getting closer now, maybe a mile from your small cottage. You sigh, getting up from your table and leaving your home, closing the door behind you.

It’s dusk.

Soon enough, there he is: your lone true believer.

Jason is tall and broad, yet light on his feet. His eyes are sharp, darting here and there in the twilight before they alight on you. His gaze tightens. You incline your head.

You suppose he’s handsome, but that’s not what you’re about.

He clears his throat. “Are you the God of love?” Quick and to the point.

“Something like that.”

His gaze darkens, he’s angry with you. You’ve seen this before.

“I’ve been praying to you. Why don’t you answer?” he demands.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” he spits. “Aren’t you supposed to work for us? Take care of us?”

“No,” you say simply. “We exist because of you, and you exist because of us. Beyond that, we owe each other nothing.”

Jason scowls. “So you could not exist, then?” His hand twitches toward his hip, you’re sure there’s a knife there.

“You would find it difficult.” As if this man could threaten you. “And it would spell your end as well.”

He scoffs, turning his face from you. You see his shoulders quiver; he’s given up the ghost.

When Jason turns back toward you, his face is pleading.

“I need your help,” he says brokenly. “Please, please, make me easier to love. Make it easier to love me.”

Ah.

“There is nothing I can do that will give you what you are asking of me,” you say carefully.

“Fuck you.” You take the blaspheme on the chin. “Why not?”

“Your problem is nonexistent. Everyone is easy to love.”

“Not me,” he says harshly.

“Yes, you,” you say gently. That seems to take him aback.

His eyes harden again. “Then help me see that!”

“There is nothing I can say that will help you see that. The only answer I have to your prayer to ‘make you worthy’ is ‘you are.’”

His eyes widen. You can see tears glistening. “Then…then find me someone who will love me!”

“Jason.” He freezes; did he think you didn’t know his name. “Enough.”

He bites his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut. “What do you even do, anyway?”

“Maintain.”

He opens his eyes incredulously. “Maintain what?”

“Balance.”

When he sees that’s all he’s going to get from you, he scoffs. “You’re not very helpful.”

“I’m not meant to be.” You stand up. “Jason. It’s dark. Go home.”

Shockingly, he complies, turning around to leave the forest. “I’ll be back,” he says over his shoulder.

“I can’t give you want you’re looking for,” you call to him. He’s already turned around, giving you a small wave as he disappears into the night.

You remain where you are. Soon, another presence reveals itself.

“He’s meant to be one of mine.” Tim appears by your side.

“Really.” Interesting. You can’t resist, he’s presented you a knife and you’re going to twist it. “How’d you let that happen?”

Your counterpart grimaces. “A mistake.”

You nod. This changes things.

A Tim problem is a you problem. You work…together. Or rather, you maintain the balance from opposite sides. Jason had said ‘love,’ but really, your domain is Connection.

And Tim, though people call him ‘death,’ is Separation.

What is the opposite of love, if not separation, ad infinitum?

Tim’s domain is separation, but Jason had slipped through. And now he’s come to you because he’s having trouble with connection.

You and Tim look at each other. This is a tricky one.

“I think you’re going to have to get involved,” Tim says apologetically.

You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. “Clean up your mess, you mean.”

“Oh believe me,” Tim says darkly. “I’ve got a mess to clean up on my end, too.”

Your eyes meet again, face in matching grimaces. Damn.

“He says he’s coming back,” you, say, resigned. “You wanna be there?”

“Hell, no.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “He’d probably use his knife on me.”

“And what about me?” you demand.

“You’ll be fine,” Tim says dismissively. “He likes you.”

Not really. “I’m likable,” you shrug, smiling. For humans, you have a personality like wallpaper.

Tim gets a gleam in his eye that you really don’t like. “Maybe you could be the person,” he teases, “that shows him he’s worthy.”

“Not a person,” you remind him, but then you go quiet.

“He likes you,” Tim says again, shrugging.

“It’s…a potential solution,” you grumble. You don’t think it’s the right one, but since he’d slipped, all bets are off.

“Well, we have to find another.” Tim steps away from you. “And I have to figure out my own shit.” He makes to leave.

“Let me know if you need help.”

“This is help.” He smiles at you, then turns and walks into the night.

You exit the forest, moving toward home. Your “true believer” Jason is going to be more trouble than you’d thought.

———

And Tim’s here, too!

#teeth writes #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x you #tim drake #dc imagines

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 27 days ago

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i'm super duper late to the party but your tags are so good! thank you so much for reading! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I Know You Want Me On Your Team (jason todd x reader x roy harper smut)

Roy asks you if you want to fuck Jason, since apparently Jason wants to fuck the two of you. As it happens, Roy is a fucking genius.

—

There’s a lot of love for “Roy and Jason share reader” and obviously that’s king shit, but, hear me out—Roy and reader share Jason.

You and Roy set your sights on Jason. You are conspiring. You are relentless. You are fucking nasty. Jason never stood a chance (not that he wanted to.)

So, here we are. Pwp, except the plot is just you and Roy figuring out how to put Jason in your bed. Smut, vouyerism. Established relationship (Roy x reader). Swearing, as always

I don’t know how long this is

———

“Hey, sweet cheeks, I want to talk about something.” Roy’s words drift lazily over to you.

“Oh, no,” you snort. “This should be good.”

“Fuck off,” Roy kicks at you lightly, rumpling the bedsheets. The two of you made the most of an empty afternoon by fucking like rabbits and haven’t bothered to get up since then, lying bare ass naked on the bed and watching the sun dip lower and lower outside the window.

“Okay, lay it on me.” You groan, anticipating Roy’s joke. “Actually—”

“Not the only thing I’ll lay on you,” he waggles his eyebrows and rolls his body on top of yours.

“Get off,” you push him away. “I told you, I’ve got no more fucking in me. And you have sticky come on you.”

“So do you,” Roy counters.

“But not as much,” you reason.

“Next time I’ll finish on your tits, then,” Roy nods to himself, then grins at you. “Get you nice and filthy.”

You jab him with your foot. “Can you fucking focus, please? What did you want to say?”

“What? Oh, right.” He shakes his head, then looks at you seriously. “I think Jason wants to fuck us.”

His words clock you in the jaw. “What?”

“I think Jason wants to fuck us,” Roy repeats himself earnestly.

You stare at him. Roy meets your gaze and raises his eyebrows.

He’s given you whiplash. Whatever you thought he was going to say, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Well…” you try to collect yourself. “Well, okay, Jason definitely wants to fuck you.”

This is true, Jason 100% wants to fuck your boyfriend. Poor man has it down bad for his best friend. You’ve seen when the three of you hang out at Roy’s apartment or at a bar over drinks. Jason’s eyes follow Roy wherever he goes, always flicking down to his ass. He positions himself near Roy and leans in close, much closer than he has to, whenever Roy is talking. And sometimes he gets this stupid look on his face whenever he’s listening to Roy ramble about Lian. Same look you wear; it’s like looking in a mirror.

Maybe the crush should bother you, but it doesn’t. You don’t know a ton about Jason, Roy’s been pretty tight-lipped, but you know he’s been through a lot of rough shit. What’s the harm in a passing crush? Lord knows you’ve had plenty. And besides, you trust Roy. If anything changed in their relationship, if he wanted things to go a different way, he’d tell you.

But maybe he’s telling you now. “Yeah, he’s into me, but he’s also definitely got the hots for you,” Roy insists as you roll your eyes. “I’m serious. You don’t see it, but he can’t keep his eyes off you. And he asks about you a lot.”

“Maybe he’s just asking about his friend’s girlfriend,” you argue, reluctant to believe him.

“Nah,” Roy says definitively. “Trust me. This is not normal Jason behavior. He’s into you.”

You give him a look. “And that doesn’t bother you.”

“Well, I mean,” Roy shrugs. “It’d bother me if I didn’t kinda want to fuck him too. That’s why I’m bringing it up.”

“Huh.”

“But I’m only gonna fuck him if you want to fuck him,” Roy clarifies. “If it’s, like,” he gestures between you. “A group activity.”

You can’t help it, you laugh out loud. “Wow, you’re such a team player.”

“What can I say,” Roy says with a smirk, “everyone wants me on their team.”

“Ugh.” You punch him in the arm. “Jason certainly does.”

“He wants to be on your team, too,” Roy reminds you. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Wanna fuck him?”

You pause, considering. You’re open to a third, but maybe not Roy’s best friend who’s half in love with him. But Roy says Jason likes you, too…

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roy says reassuringly.

“You want to fuck him?” you clarify.

“Well, yeah,” Roy answers simply. “He’s hot. And so are you, you’re fucking gorgeous. I want to watch you two make out.”

Well, shit. You hadn’t considered that. Jason is stupid hot. Tall and broad with enough beefy muscle for two people. And his face is so pretty. Do you want to watch him fuck Roy up close?

Uh, yeah. That’s the kind of shit you subscribe to porn sites for.

“Just think about it, yeah?” Roy says, but he’s grinning like he already knows your answer. He rolls out of bed, looking for his pants. “Like I said, don’t gotta do anything right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, still considering. “Where’re you going?”

“Gonna go get Lian from her mom’s.” He pulls on his pants, then looks over his shoulder. “See you Saturday?”

“Saturday,” you nod, then wave after he pulls on the rest of his clothes and leaves your apartment.

•••

After thinking about it for six more seconds you realize that Roy is, in fact, a genius, and of course you want to fuck Jason. When Saturday rolls around and you’re going out for pizza, you quickly bring up the topic.

“Okay, so, hypothetically, if we were going to invite Jason into our bed, how would we do it?”

Roy smiles around a slice of pizza. “Knew you’d come around.”

“Well.” You throw up a hand, let it smack against the table. “He’s hot.”

“Damn right. But he’s also,” Roy gestures to his head, then his chest. “You know.”

“Tricky,” you nod. “Exactly. So how do we do this?”

You two stare blankly at each other across the table.

“Come on, Roy,” you groan after a few seconds. “You can’t say some shit like that and not have a plan.”

“Hey, you’re the babe in this relationship, you figure out the emotional crap,” he argues.

“That is so fucking stupid. He’s your best friend,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to date him. I’ve never dated any of my friends,” he points out. “Don’t waste time with friendship, go straight to fuckin’.”

“That won’t help you now,” you tell him. “Come on, asshole, think.”

He looks at you for a second, then shrugs, taking another bite of his pizza.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You’re useless. What’s his dating history?” You pick up your own slice.

Roy whistles through his teeth. “Can’t just tell you his secrets, babydoll, c’mon.”

“Yeah, fair.” You consider this as you take a bite of your pizza. “Okay, well, I’m just going to take some guesses,” you say, talking around the food in your mouth. “One, he hasn’t had a lot of experience.”

Roy shrugs, but his eyes are glinting. You nod to yourself. This one’s obvious, Roy told you that Jason was basically out for the count during ages 15-19. You always assumed he was in a coma or something. No chance to get his dick wet, and probably hard to jump right into the dating game after all that hell.

You purse your lips. “Poor bastard, whatever happened to him.” You shake your head. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Roy’s face grows hard and cold. “You can’t even fucking imagine.”

Your eyes widen, a little taken aback by Roy’s sudden intensity. He stares over your shoulder, eyes furious. Eventually, he shakes his head with a sigh. “Shouldn’t’ve even happened to him. Sick fucks couldn’t protect him when he needed it.” His eyes return to yours, warming slightly. “Makes our job harder.”

Cautiously, you make another guess at Jason’s past. “Right. So…he’s only been with one or two people?”

Roy blinks.

“Guys?”

Roy chews his lip, then nods slightly.

“Any girls?”

He waits a moment, then minutely shakes his head.

You sigh. “Well, shit, Roy, how do you even know if he likes girls? I still think he’s only interested in you.”

“Babe, I fucking swear, he is so into you.” Roy exhales loudly, shaking his head. “If he wasn’t so pretty I’d have to punch his lights out for it.”

“How do you know?” you demand.

“I think he jacks off to you,” Roy says, so matter of fact that you almost choke on your food.

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?”

“Sometimes he looks real guilty when he sees you,” Roy explains. “And then he looks at me like he’s gotten caught, like he’s in trouble. Yeah, he’s definitely fisted his cock to you.” Roy grins at you across the table. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Damn if that isn’t an ego boost. You perk up in your seat. “Maybe I could seduce him,” you offer.

You don’t even finish your sentence before Roy shakes his head. “Naw, bad idea. He’d just run away.”

You deflate, affronted. “Worked on you,” you point out, mumbling.

“Well, yeah. You shoved those pretty tits in my face. Had to have ‘em in my mouth.” He grins at the memory, and you beam at him across the table.

“Can’t seduce him,” Roy brings you back to the problem. “Gotta try something else.”

“Right.” You stare at him, unsure.

Eventually, Roy sighs. “I think we just gotta lay it out for him. That we were thinking about it and we want to…”

“Fuck?” you offer.

Roy frowns. “Not like that. Don’t wanna scare him. That we wanna…try, with him. If he’s interested.”

You nod. “And he can say no.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Roy agrees. “And we’ll care about him either way.”

“That’s more for you,” you point out. “I mean, obviously it’s true for me, but I think it’s more important if you say it about yourself.”

“You’re right. That it won’t affect our friendship.” Roy considers for a moment, then grins. “Damn. We are so fucking smart.”

“Hell yeah. We should get beer.”

He points a finger at you. “Babe, you’re a genius.” He gets up from the table as you giggle at him

•••

Even once you figure out how to ask Jason, your planning isn’t over. How should you bring it up to him? When, where? You and Roy work tirelessly at these questions.

Not at a bar, Roy rules that one out. Not your apartment, either, you don’t want Jason to feel caged in. Roy’s place. But when? After a mission or patrol? Nah, when you’re all just hanging out. Should you feed Jason first, wine and dine him? Break out some scotch or something?

Okay, yeah, that sounds good, you decide. It’ll be almost like a date, but at Roy’s place. And Jason won’t know. A surprise date. You’ll shower and look real cute, and Roy will be…clean, at least. And you’ll cook something really good, and Roy will buy scotch. Perfect.

You and Roy decide this’ll happen in two weeks, after he and Jason have gone on a short, three-day mission. That’ll give you enough time to plan out exactly what you want to say. And clean Roy’s apartment.

You’ve got two weeks to prepare. You’ll pull out all the stops for Jason. It’ll be perfect.

Except this plan falls to shit, because two days after you and Roy decide to take Jason on a non-date, Jason smells you out.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” He wrinkles his nose, staring at the two of you accusingly. “You’re acting weird.”

Shit. You and Roy stare worriedly at each other, scrambling. The three of you are at Roy’s apartment; Roy had invited Jason over and you were getting ready tohead out.

Jason cocks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Spit it out,” he commands.

Holy shit, he really is hot, with his biceps bulging under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He whistles to get your attention, and you whip your head to look at Roy, who’s also been staring.

“Uhh…” you stare at Roy pleadingly. It’s not time yet! You’re not ready!

Roy shrugs. He’s right. Jason’s forced your hand.

“Look, man, we were thinking,” Roy starts. “We both really like you, and we both think you’re really…well, really fucking hot.”

Here Jason sucks in a sharp breath, cheeks blushing. You stare at him openly, it’s so fucking cute you can’t look away.

“We do,” Roy presses on, “you are. And if you wanted to try and have fun with us, or something like that, we’d definitely be into that.”

He leaves that on the floor, and looks to you for confirmation. You nod encouragingly, he did great.

You both turn back to Jason. He’s still bright red, staring harshly at the floor.

“But only if you want to!” you blurt out, trying to reassure him. “Of course it’s only if you’re game. And if not, that’s totally cool too.”

“Yeah, man,” Roy adds. “This doesn’t have to change anything, we’re just puttin’ it out there. If not, no worries.” He shrugs. “I still care about you, I’m still gonna care about you, no matter what.”

“Me too,” you say, just to drive the point home. “Of course we’ll still care about you.”

Jason says nothing, gaze stuck to the kitchen floor.

“Obviously, you don’t have to answer right—”

“You want to have sex with me.”

Jason’s words cut across yours. He’s picked his head up, narrowed eyes searching your face.

“Um. Yes?”

“You want to have sex with me.”

You glance at Roy. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Really,” Jason says flatly.

“Jay,” Roy begins, but Jason cuts him off with a scoff.

“Hold on.” You put up a hand to placate Roy. Jason’s insecurity isn’t surprising, after all. “Yes, Jason,” you say again, looking him square in the face. “You’re really, really attractive. And I care about you. Of course, I want to have sex with you.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you try a different tack. “I’ve uh, I’ve thought about it.” You smile sheepishly. “I don’t have to give you the details, but yeah. Definitely thought about it. Definitely want to do it in real life.”

He holds your gaze. “Can you give me the details?”

You gasp, unprepared for Jason to be brazen. But sure, you can tell him about fucking yourself to completion at the thought of him.

Your smile changes to something cautiously alluring. “I think of you when I touch myself,” you say softly. “When I’m alone and wet and rubbing a finger against my clit.” Across the room, Roy heaves out a sharp breath, but you only have eyes for Jason. His jaw sets, but his eyes haven’t left yours. “I think about you when I’ve got a hand in my panties and I want to make myself come. When I’m playing with myself. Sometimes I come with my fingers in my cunt, wishing they were yours.”

Finally, Jason’s expression changes: for half a second, he shudders in shocked disbelief, then nods. He turns to Roy, your eyes follow. Roy’s glancing between the two of you, a slack-jawed expression on his face. You pointedly look down to see he’s half hard in his jeans.

Glancing at Jason, you take a risk. “Sorry, Jay,” you murmur, beckoning Roy closer. “I gotta take care of my baby for a sec.” Roy comes willingly, and you pull him in for a kiss, one hand dropping to squeeze his ass and encourage him to grind against you. The kiss is intense, you can feel his heart pound in his lips, knowing Jason’s watching. Roy moans loudly into your mouth, and you laugh quietly. “So easy to get you excited, hmm?” you tease softly.

“Shut up,” Roy grumbles, sucking on your tongue.

Suddenly, Jason clears his throat. Both you and Roy whip your heads towards him with a crack. “Can I watch?” Jason asks stubbornly, like he’s pushing himself forward.

You and Roy turn back to each other for a split second. Then, simultaneously—

“Yup.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

Jason nods, then waits for you make the next move. You turn to Roy.

“C’mon, baby, park that ass on the couch,” Roy says easily. “I want to eat that pretty pussy.”

“M’kay.” You turn and practically flounce over, making sure to sway your ass with every step. You glance over your shoulder: Jason’s staring at it, then boldly flicks his eyes up to yours. You shiver.

“Jay, you comin’?” Roy asks, following you. With a grunt, Jason comes over as well.

By the time both men make it into the living room you’ve taken off your shirt and shorts, settling yourself against the couch with your back to the armrest. Roy groans when he sees you, laying between your legs and kissing his way down your chest. You glance at Jason. With an unreadable expression on his face he pauses, then sits carefully in the armchair across from the couch.

Your skin crackles. Feeling Roy’s lips on your stomach and Jason’s eyes on you, knowing he’s right over there, watching, watching, is making your head spin. Roy bites you, right at the edge of your panties, and you shriek, hands flying to his hair. Roy laughs, laving his tongue over the mark. “Always so sensitive.”

“Shut up, Harper—ah!” Roy’s canine scrapes at your clit through your underwear. He can always find it, like an arrow to the target. You pant heavily, eagerly turning your head towards Jason. He’s watching you through narrowed eyes, like he’s trying to figure you out. His intense gaze has you squirming delightedly. It makes you want to put on a show.

“So mean, Roy, going at me with your teeth,” you chastise, jerking him up by his hair. He gasps, then smirks: he sees clean through you like glass. He knows what you’re up to.

“M’sorry, baby.” He leans into your hand, turning to pull one of your fingers into his mouth. You sigh happily as he sucks earnestly, circling the pad of your finger with his tongue.

“Gotta be on your best behavior, we’ve got a guest, sweetheart.” You hear Jason pull in a sharp breath.

“Mm.” Roy grins at you evilly, then bites down on your finger.

“Ah-ah! Roy, ouch!” You pull your finger out of his mouth, but he’s already throwing his head down and wrapping his lips around your clit. “Roy,” you say again breathily. He hums, sucking on you deliciously through the underwear. “Oh, fuck, baby, just like that,” you moan.

“Yeah? Already so wet, can taste it through your panties.” He sighs as you grind against his face, hooking a leg over his shoulder. “Fucking yourself on my face already? That’s okay, babydoll, take what you need.”

You moan, hips jerking up from the couch. Roy teases you with his tongue, flicking lightly against your clit, drawing circles around it, tracing the outline of your folds. “Fuck Roy, feels so good.”

“I take good care of my girl, huh?” One of his hands comes up to cup your breast, pinching and massaging your nipple.

Your back arches into his touch. “Fuck, yes. Always make my pussy feel so good.” You look at Jason again, his eyes are just a little bit wide, his mouth slightly open. His hands are white-knuckling the arms of the chair, and you clock an almost imperceptible bulge in his pants. Fuck yes. He’s fucking into it, he’s getting off on you and Roy.

The thought alone makes you pull Roy’s hair and buck against his face just to hear him moan into your pussy. Jason catches you staring, closing his mouth and sizing you up. You meet his gaze, even though it has you writhing on the couch. “Always take such good care of me, Roy, always make me feel so fucking good.”

You see Jason take you in, hips moving against Roy’s face, breasts jumping as Roy kneads and plays with them. He lets out a quiet curse, and you smile cockily.

“Wanna take these off?” Roy interrupts you, snapping the band of your underwear against you.

“Fuck yes.” You obligingly lift your hips as Roy slides off your panties. You can’t help it, you wriggle your hips just so Jason can see your ass shake.

“Mmm, there she is.” Roy holds your thighs open with both hands. “Look at this pretty pussy, hm? All wet and fucked out already.” He glances over to Jason, then stares. You follow his gaze.

Shit. Jason is fully hard now, one of his hands smoothing over his cock, trapped as it is in his jeans. God, he looks so big, you’re practically salivating.

He realizes you’re both staring at him and blushes, then lifts his chin defensively. “Do you wanna touch yourself, Jay?” you ask softly. Roy pinches the skin of your hips in silent encouragement. “You can if you want to.”

Jason considers this for a moment, then palms himself fully, rolling his hips into his hand and stifling a small moan. That alone is enough to send heat straight to your core and make Roy rut into the leather of the couch.

But you want more. “Can you take yourself out for us, baby?” you ask gently. “We want to see you.”

Again, Jason hesitates, hand shaking against his crotch. He looks at you, and then at Roy. You realize Roy is looking at him hungrily, you probably are, too. Then Jason unbuttons his jeans, pulls down the zipper, and pulls his cock out of his pants.

Holy fuck. Next to you, Roy’s mouth drops open. Jason is big, thick and pretty, with precum dripping from the tip. You want to take him in your mouth, want to blow him until he comes down your throat.

You and Roy sit motionless, drooling at the sight in front of you. Eventually, Jason smirks, dropping a hand to pump lazily at his cock. “Thought I was the one watching,” he says, eyes glinting as he drags his hand up and down his shaft. “You just gonna sit there?”

Holy shit. You and Roy stare at each other, dumbfounded. You don’t know where Jason’s confidence came from, but it’s hot as fuck.

Eager to please Jason, you grab Roy by the neck and pull him down to your pussy. He dives back in, sloppily making out with your folds before suckling on your clit. Your moan is loud enough to echo through the apartment. From across the room, you can hear the slick sounds of Jason stroking himself. The leather of the couch creaks as Roy rolls his hips into the cushion, seeking friction of his own as he slides his tongue between your folds before going back to your clit.

It’s driving you insane. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna come,” you say brokenly, not sure who you’re talking to.

Jason swears as Roy eggs you on. “Yeah, baby, come on my face, wanna taste it,” he says, messily working at your clit to send you over the edge.

It doesn’t take long. Fire burns at your navel, and with the sound of Jason fucking his fist in your ear and Roy’s tongue up your cunt, you come in a whirlwind. Roy’s tongue fucks you the whole time, until the overstimulation hits and you’re pushing him away with a cry.

Panting, you stroke Roy’s hair. “Thank you, baby, that was so fucking good,” you say, and Roy kisses your thigh at the praise. You turn to Jason: he’s hunched over in the chair, fucking himself with deliberate, almost restrained strokes. Your pulse starts to quicken again. You want to make it good for him, you want to give him something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, even if he doesn’t want to join you in bed.

Quickly, you drag Roy up your body by the shoulders. Kissing him sloppily, you fumble with his sweatpants, yanking them down and getting a hand around his cock. “This okay?” you mumble against his lips.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, and you grin, playing with his balls and jerking him off where Jason can see.

Roy knows what you’re doing and he plays along, gasping and bucking dramatically into your hand. Though judging from the way he sinks his teeth into your neck, it’s not all for show. “Jesus, baby,” he moans, “feels so fucking good.”

Jason’s hand is getting fast and messy around his cock, the sounds louder and sloppier as he picks up the pace. “You hear that, baby?” you murmur to Roy under your breath. “You hear how he’s fucking himself to us?” Roy groans, nodding. “It’s cause of you baby,” you whisper, “it’s because of how hot you look right now, fucking my hand.”

Roy hisses, hips snapping into your fist. “You gonna come?” you ask, louder.

“Ye—yeah, baby, I’m gonna fucking come,” Roy grits between his teeth.

“Give it to me,” you coax, and he does, spurting over your hand and wrist. You stroke him until he hisses, then move your hand to rub at his thigh affectionately. He grins briefly at you. As one, you turn to look at Jason.

He looks almost wrecked, biting his lip as if to clamp down on a moan and brutally fucking himself into his hand. It is so beautiful and sexy that you wish you could take a picture.

For the first time, Roy speaks to Jason directly. “God, Jay.” His voice is broken and breathless. “You—I can’t even tell you how gorgeous you look right now.”

Jason whimpers, face crumbling, and you watch, mesmerized by the effect Roy has on him.

“So fucking beautiful, so fucking hot,” Roy continues, and Jason’s strokes become more frenzied, hips bucking wildly.

“You gonna come?” Roy asks gently. “Come for us, baby, please.”

Jason groans, coming almost as soon as Roy asked. You pinch Roy at the sight: Jason panting, cheeks pink, trying to block the spend that seems to be coming in ropes and ropes. He sees you and Roy staring and blushes harder, avoiding your eyes. Jason is absolutely delicious, and you want to put him in your bed and keep him there.

You and Roy sit, motionless, until Jason clears his throat. “So, uh.” He looks at the come, then pulls off his shirt to mop it up, leaving himself in a white undershirt.

This jolts you and Roy. “So what do you, uh,” you start. “Do you want to—”

“Don’t know.” Jason rises to his feet.

This doesn’t faze Roy, but you become a bit frantic. “Okay, uh,” you jump up from the couch. “Do you want me to wash—”

“Nah.” Jason shoves the shirt in his pocket, heading for the door.

“Oh—okay. Uh—”

“See you later.” Jason pulls the door open.

“Bye, Jay,” Roy calls as the door slams shut.

You’re left staring. “Roy, what the fuck was that?”

“Don’t worry,” Roy says, pulling you back down to his chest. “That’s just Jason.”

“Fine.” You pout for a moment, then grin. “So, that was insane.”

“Uh, yeah,” Roy smirks. “Told you.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” you agree, too fucked out to fight it. “Think it worked?”

“Mmm, not sure.” Roy shrugs. “Have to wait and see.”

“Okay.” You settle against his chest.

You two are quiet for a few minutes, before you pinch his nipple.

“Fucking hell, what?” He glares at you.

“That bit, where he was like, ‘you guys just gonna sit there?’” you say, eyes wide.

Roy groans. “Fuck, I know.”

“Roy, is he a dom?” Roy stares open-mouthed at you, then slowly grins. “Roy, did you bag us a fucking dom?” you press, voice jittery with excitement.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, but his eyes are star struck. “Have to wait and see.”

———

Have to wait and see!!! You and Roy are bimbo and himbo, you just don’t know it yet.

There will be a second part I’ve decided! And maybe a third, but don’t hold me to it.

If you have any thoughts on this lmk! I have a lot of thoughts on how this threesome would shake out.

Anyway ! That was fun !

#prev tags #!!!!

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dickgraysonisnothereforthis · 30 days ago

Text

Don’t Leave Me Broken and Free — Won’t You Tell Me Where You Are?

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Themes: angst, fluff if you squint, kinda hurt/comfort, hopeful ending

WC: 1.65k

CW: accidental pregnancy, brief non-descriptive NSFW content

A/N: i found the bare bones of this in my drafts a few hours ago and now it’s 4am and we’re here. i haven’t been inspired to actually write anything in months so i hope you enjoy!!!

You’ve known Dick for a long time now. You’re close. Not together, not really, but not not together either. You’re friends. You're more. You're not. You sleep together. You talk everyday. You go without talking for months. You don't hold it against him, it's not for a lack of trying. His job makes friendships, relationships, everything, so much harder than it should be.

It’s a rare quiet night in bed when he tells you he has to go back to Gotham. You pause, hands still clasped around his where you’d been fiddling with his fingers. You can hear the other shoe drop. You’d been living in Bludhaven a little while now, having moved a year or so after Dick had. You got a job in the city and knew you had a friend there in Dick Grayson. A ticket out of Gotham was just what the Doctor ordered. A sea change, or something.

He tells you he’s going undercover. Trying to infiltrate some criminal organisation. He’s skint on the details, per usual. Constantly worried that if he’s too open, too honest. His trouble will make its way back to you somehow. You’ll worry, throw yourself headfirst into danger at the first sign of it, if you know too much. He tries his hardest to keep his vigilante life as separate as possible from his life with you. You’re not Nightwing’s girl. You’re Dick Grayson’s. Kind of.

You sleep together again, fall asleep together, tangled up in the sheets and each other’s legs, but you wake up alone. He leaves you a note, reminds you to contact Alfred if you need anything. Tells you he’ll be back.

You don’t notice anything unusual at first. Willingly drowning yourself in work. Seeing friends. Dedicated time spent rewatching your favourite TV show front to back again. Anything to occupy your overactive mind. It’s just shy of two months before you really take notice. Things are just a little off. You’re moodier. tired. nauseous sometimes. From there it doesn��t take you long to put the pieces together. A missed period here, an odd craving there. One late night trip to the local drug store confirms what you’re trying your best to deny, but had already suspected. You’re pregnant.

You try to contact him immediately. His cell rings out. Texts go unanswered. You knew they would but you had to try. He did say to call Alfred in case of emergency but you can’t really stomach the idea of telling his family you’re knocked up.

‘Hey remember me? Yeah! Exactly! Dick’s friend.’

‘No no I’m good thank you! funny story actually. I’m pregnant and it’s Dick’s. Surprise!’

You’re not together, they know that, and frankly Dick should know first anyway. You don’t even know how he’d feel. What he’d want.

You wallow for a couple of days. It’s not that you didn’t want kids, but you hadn’t exactly planned for this either. It was a someday idea, a maybe if you’re lucky, far off and hazy in your minds eye. If you really sat and pictured it you saw warm smiles and heard excited laughter. In reality you felt cold. The loneliness you were feeling certainly wasn’t what you were hoping for. You let yourself sit in the feeling. Reminding yourself that it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. You can be strong soon. You get to feel this now. You make your first doctor’s appointment the next morning.

Your doctor reaffirms what you already know. You’re pregnant. Blood doesn’t lie. You’re knocked up. There’s a bun in your oven. She runs you through your options. Offering pamphlets and making recommendations. If you want to continue with the pregnancy you’ll have to start taking prenatal vitamins. She writes you a list of recommendations and tells you to see reception to book in for an ultrasound the following week. You don’t think you’ve really processed the information yet. Your brain feels broken. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Baby. Baby. Baby.

You continue on as normal for the next week. Work. Friends. TV. Shitty take out. Before you know it a week has passed and you’re back at the clinic. The ultrasound technician is prepping you. It’s an internal ultrasound, because you’re still in the early stages apparently. You’d never really thought about that before. In the movies it’s all squirting the goo on the stomach and looking at little grey blobs. This is a lot more intimate than you’d planned. You briefly think that maybe you should’ve shaved for this. She’s reassuring even as she digs around in there. Everything looks good. Baby looks healthy. She asks if you want to hear the heartbeat and you say yes. The second the room fills with the sound of the baby’s heartbeat — badum badum badum, something inside you snaps like a rubber band. Everything is different now. Real. It sounds like a hummingbird. You start calling the baby Birdie, or Little Bird. It feels right.

Days turn into weeks turn into months in a blur. You’re about halfway now. You caved at 15 weeks and called Alfred to check in. He still doesn’t know about the baby but he knows that there’s something. He said he doesn’t know when Dick will be back and you believe him. You ask if you can send some letters to the manor, something to give to Dick when he checks in next, or comes home. Alfred says yes, of course, that he will keep them safely guarded up until he can pass them onto Master Dick himself. So you start sending sonograms, updates from the doctors. You write letters telling him how big Birdie is this week. That they’re the size of a pear or a papaya. You cry a little when you tell him you’re having a boy. His son. At this point you know you love Dick. You knew you loved him before. It’s a fact, you’re just not trying to lie to yourself about it anymore. The sky is blue, Bruce Wayne is Batman, and you’re in love with Dick Grayson. You have no expectations, not looking for anything in return. You know he can’t commit to you, even if he wanted to, with his lifestyle, his job. What you do know is that he will be the best father a child could have, and on the worst nights when you feel the most alone, crying in bed with a hand resting on your bump, it almost feels like enough.

You’re eight months along now. Almost at the finish line. Your maternity leave officially started this week and you’re putting the final touches on the nursery you’d set up in your apartment. The little room used to be your office and now your desk sits underneath the living room window, but you think you like it better this way. It’s a worthy sacrifice. The nursery itself is circus themed. Filled with lion and elephant plushies, painted with bright reds and vibrant yellows. You even managed to find an old Flying Graysons poster. You had it framed and hung on the wall above the overflowing bookshelf. It was cheesy but it made you laugh. You like to think that Dick would love it. Maybe roll his eyes a little, but smile all the same.

You go into labor alone at three in the afternoon five weeks later. You spend twenty-seven hours in labor, and for at least ten of them you swear to your doctor that you can’t do this and need to go home. In the end, the second they place your son on your bare chest, you can’t imagine it any other way. All roads lead here. To him. Oliver Richard John Grayson. He’s beautiful. With a shock of black hair and lungs to rival the Black Canary. Despite everything you’ve never been happier. Never felt this kind of all-encompassing love. You will die for him. Kill for him. He is your everything. You can’t wait for Dick to meet him.

Alfred comes to visit you two weeks later. You’d been having semi-regular phone calls since you first reached out to him and on a particularly bad night towards the end of your pregnancy you had confessed. You swore him to secrecy. An oath he took very seriously, fortunately for you. The family wasn’t to know and it stayed that way. Alfred nearly cries when he sees Oliver for the first time. His eyes are misty and you catch him dab at them with a handkerchief. He looks so much like Dick he can’t quite believe it. You make Alfred a cup of tea while he gently rocks Oliver in his arms. He tells you they finally heard from Dick and that he’s on his way home. Anxiety crawls up your spine at the thought. You’ve missed him terribly. More than you even thought possible, but every day that passes with your son in your arms is another reminder that his father doesn’t even know he exists. You don’t know how to tell him. He’ll have the letters sure but it’s not the same. You had months to get used to this, the idea of it. To rearrange your life to fit in this tiny little human. Your heart won’t be able to take it if he doesn’t want this too. Doesn’t want to be involved. As he leaves, Alfred promises again to ensure Dick gets your letters the moment he arrives. You thank him and shut the door, trying your best to breathe. Just breathe.

Two days later you wake up with a jolt to your bedroom window sliding open, almost silently. Oliver stirs in his bassinet beside the bed and you shush him with a gentle hand held to his little face, trying to soothe him back to sleep. Dick stands in front of the window, backlit by the Bludhaven skyline, frozen. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, darting between you and the baby.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

PLEASE SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS BY REBLOGGING THEIR WORKS

#yeah this is good #oof hit me right in the oof #you know what I’m saying #also fucking love a self sufficient reader #can’t get enough of strong reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #ouch ouch ouch ouch #gonna think about this for a while #fic rec

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