emailmyhrt

[emailmyhrt]

thinking about Brittany broski!/Amelia dimoldenberg reader who invites dick Grayson (or Nightwing) onto her podcast for shits and giggles..

“What’s your toxic trait?”

“I smile too much when I lie.”

“Noted. Did you lie about enjoying this interview?”

“I smiled, didn’t I?”

[emailmyhrt]

[emailmyhrt]

˖ ֹ੭୧ TEXTS W/ DICK ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

ˋ°•*⁀➷ texts with clingy/bf!dick grayson !

[emailmyhrt]

someone had to say it…, predatory behavior is not a kink !! Just makes you a very disgusting person to romanticize or write about it you have 1000+ other topics to write about not reasons why diddy was convicted

[emailmyhrt]

Jason Todd wasn’t soft for anyone. He couldn't afford to be. But when it came to you, his grip slipped every time. You were chaos wrapped in silk, sweet on the surface, but he’d learned the hard way—everything sweet can be poison. The nights with you were fire and gasoline. Heated kisses that turned to bruised egos, whispered confessions that always ended in slammed doors. He told himself he'd stop answering your texts, stop showing up at your window like some tragic romantic, bleeding and bruised but desperate to be near you. But there you were again—standing in the dim light of his safehouse, wearing guilt like perfume and calling his name like it still meant something. He wanted to hate you. God, he should hate you. Instead, his hands found your waist before his mind could catch up."You’re killing me," he breathed against your skin. You grinned, knowing damn well he’d keep coming back.

[emailmyhrt]

Jason Todd who slips quietly through your window, the weight of the night still heavy on his shoulders. Your soft breath in the dark was a balm to the chaos inside him. Without a word, he pulled you close, lips pressing against yours with fierce urgency—hungry, desperate. His hands roamed your curves as his lips molded into yours. “You’re the only calm I’ve got,” he murmured, voice low and rough, as you find yourselves in your bed, his weight crushing you as you pressed into the plush sheets—before sliding into you slow and deep, grounding himself in the only thing that made sense—your touch.