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freakyvenomous63 · 6 days ago

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Yandere Batfam x Meta! Neglected! Reader

CW: mentions of a house fire, VERY lightly implied child abuse, mild trust issues, nothing else unless you’re triggered by cookies, lemonade, and kindness.

01 | 🌸 no, I ain't got nothing to smile about.

The sculpted mug holders you made for your mother. The worn and slightly beat-up collection of ribbons your mother kept to put in your hair. Your mother’s hair jewelry from when she was a young girl⸺your favorite, the golden and blue mockingbird pin, that she always put on the end of your thick, tight braid.

Even your least favorite one, the one with the hard rocks and ugly, grayish hawk. The shelfs of sewn, threadbare plushies. The little magnets that you used to put up your doodles of trivial, everyday things. All the small potted plants that your mother sang to in the morning. The chipped vases that each carried a few, artfully placed wild flowers.

You had lost everything in the fire.

Not that you didn’t have anything now. No, quite the opposite. From the moment you’d stepped in your new room, you immediately saw how the closet was bursting with dresses, cardigans, and blouses. There was a kid-sized bed with clean sheets and blankets. And there was a rabbit⸺a stitched, furry one⸺sitting on top of the blue and grey blankets.

“Is it alright for you, Young Master [Name]?” Alfred asked, still gently smiling. It wasn’t a hard question. What else would you say? But you waited as if you were thinking. “It’s nice, Mr. Pennyworth."

You hated the rabbit. The rabbit was similar to one of the sewn plushies⸺your favorite one, a patchy brown rabbit. Though it didn’t have any fur, and its low quality fabric would give you rashes more often than not.

You hated this new rabbit. You hated its soft fur that soaked up your tears and warmed you. The beady eyes that stared at you with pity. The innocent little thing that sat there and watched you with its ugly red eyes. The way it consoled you without a word and brought you comfort. The way you clutched onto it like a toddler would their favorite chewing toy. The way you held it close to soothe yourself, rubbing the rabbit’s fur nervously, as Alfred introduced you to Ms. Thompkin. You hated the rabbit. How you’d found yourself asking “can I take the rabbit with me?” when Alfred said you would be getting a check-up, and the way you had crumpled with relief when Alfred had said the doctor would happen in your room.

“Ms. Thompkin is a close friend of Master Bruce,” Alfred was explaining. “You can trust her with whatever pains or inquiries you might have.”

Ms. Thompkin nodded in approval. She was an attractive woman, despite her age, though she had the barest hint of a stern attitude that just barely shone through her indifferent expression. But the way her heart was beating, its melody…it was mature and kind. “Like Pennyworth said, you can tell me about any pains, no matter how minor.” Dr. Thompkin said.

You wondered how much force it would take to rip out a clump of the rabbit’s hair. Nothing casual, probably, considering how tough the rabbit seemed.

“Young Master [Name], I shall return once the clock strikes a quarter ‘till 5,” said Alfred, excusing himself with a bow. Silence fell once he left the room.

The check up was nothing terrible. It wasn’t rainbows and sunshine, but Ms. Thompkin was kinder than expected. And she didn’t ask you to remove any of your clothes, like you had a gut feeling she would. She even explained some of the tools she was using to you, like the stethoscope. You did have to roll up your sleeves and shorts, and there was an awkward episode when she accidentally pressed on one of your bruises, but there was nothing you could point out and say “I didn’t like this.”

So, you guessed you liked Ms. Thompkin, too.

You waited patiently for Alfred to come back.

You hadn’t thought to tell him you couldn’t read clocks. It wasn’t his fault: how was he meant to know that? But a part of you was annoyed that he would assume a thirteen year girl who probably couldn’t afford a clock if she sold her kidneys would be able to read a clock.

Sitting on the bed, you rubbed your toes together for warmth. You were just about to crack your door open⸺maybe Alfred had forgotten where your room was?⸺but then you heard his light, measured footsteps, and then Alfred himself appeared, with a tray of cookies and a glass of lemonade.

“Children are fond of sweet things, no?” He was smiling, almost proudly. “Is it not the same for you?”

Cookie…when was the last time you’d even seen one? Let alone multiple? You were practically salivating.

You looked at Alfred. He wasn’t trying to trick you, was he? What was the point?

“Shall I leave these here?” He asked, setting them down on your table. You heard the nothing but honest thumps of his heart.

You didn’t say anything as Alfred wished you a good afternoon before departing. In the end, you did take a cookie. And you hardly regretted it, as you nibbled on the cookie, you tasted again for what felt like the first time in years.

It was a tasty cookie.

prev. {☆||☆} next.

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freakyvenomous63 · 6 days ago

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How would Batfamily react to baby! Reader having crash outs for the weirdest reasons? Like e.g. Baby! Reader likes to be carried around, if Alfred or Bruce doesn’t carry her? Crying until they carry her.

🦇 Bruce Wayne

He tries to keep a straight face—but it’s clear he’s struggling.

Scenario: He puts you down for two seconds to sign a document. You immediately throw your little arms up and start wailing like Gotham just exploded.

Reaction: “Alfred. She’s doing it again.” He picks you up like a tiny princess. You instantly stop. “You’re going to be spoiled.” He absolutely will not admit how much he likes it when you cling to his shirt and burrow into his shoulder.

☕ Alfred Pennyworth

He’s been through worse. This is just another Wayne with dramatic flair.

Scenario: You see him walking past without picking you up. Cue instant meltdown.

Reaction: “Very well, Miss. You win again.” He scoops you up and continues vacuuming one-handed like a pro. No one questions the baby strapped to Alfred in a carrier while he folds laundry.

🐦 Dick Grayson

Thinks it’s the funniest and cutest thing ever.

Scenario: You only want him to feed you—but only if he makes plane noises. He forgets once.

Reaction: “Oh no, I messed up! Okay okay okay—brrrrrrrrrrrrr—here comes the Nightwing jet!” He’s so indulgent. He’d wear a Baby Björn 24/7 if you let him.

🐍 Jason Todd

Equal parts annoyed and obsessed with you.

Scenario: You’re totally chill… until someone other than Jason tries to put your socks on.

Reaction: “Are you seriously sobbing because Tim touched your sock?” He glares at the others. “Everyone hands off. This gremlin is mine now.” Cradles you like a loaf of bread and refuses to give you back for at least an hour. Softest softie.

☕ Tim Drake

He tries logic. Mistake.

Scenario: You have a meltdown because someone gave you the blue sippy cup instead of the green one.

Reaction: “But the cups are the same—" You cry louder. “OH GOD OKAY OKAY WHERE’S THE GREEN CUP.” He now color-codes everything you use. Green cup only. Green plate only. There is a chart.

🦅 Damian Wayne

Pretends he’s above this. He’s not.

Scenario: You insist on holding his cape when he walks. If he doesn’t let you? Meltdown.

Reaction: “This is ridiculous. She is emotionally manipulating us.” You sniffle. He sighs and kneels so you can grab his cape. “…But if it makes her happy…” He now acts like you are his sidekick.

🖤 Bonus: Crash-Outs the Batfamily Has Survived So Far

Alfred sneezed too loudly: instant wailing.

Bruce shaved his beard: Reader cried until he wore a fake one.

Someone tried to feed Reader grapes that were cut wrong.

Dick stopped singing the Batmobile song mid-verse.

Damian wouldn’t let her sit on his katana (for obvious reasons).

Tim’s coffee mug was a different color and she thought he was a stranger.

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freakyvenomous63 · 7 days ago

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I’m convinced Bruce is physically affectionate with his kids

And here is how (a comprehensive list of hyper specific acts he does even when his kids are adults):

Dick: tugs his hair behind his ears before a forehead kiss

Jason: tenderly stroking his eyebrow (yes he did this when he found him in that warehouse)

Cass: brushes her hair / rakes his fingers through her hair

Tim: a hand on the back of his neck

Damian: caressing his cheeks and looking him in the eyes because he has Martha’s eyes

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freakyvenomous63 · 7 days ago

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Old Sweatpants

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: fem reader, blood, medical care (probably incorrect too 😁), suggestive joke but nothing explicit, language but not terrible

Summary: Jason gets injured on patrol and needs to be stitched up at your apartment. A pair of men's sweatpants living in the back of your closet stirs up his jealousy and leads to him telling you how he feels.

Word Count: 3075

Amazing art by @ciricearts !!! Specific work here

It started with you dragging Jason into your apartment through the fireescape. He's dead weight on your shoulder and you pull him through the window and heave him onto the couch. You were pissed with him, and he was infatuated with you. Jason had been stupid; reckless really. The two of you were saving a group of 20 somethings from a group of muggers who were eager to take whatever they could from the drunk party goers. You didn't understand why anyone wouldn't be sober at night in this city.

______________________________________________________________

Jason wasn't paying attention to the muggers as much as he should have when the two of you split through the group. The largest mugger was on the receiving end of a skull cracking take down from you. Apparently, Jason had been too busy watching you swinging your limbs around and drop kicking men twice your size to notice the youngest of the group pulling out a small revolver. Nervously, he pointed it at Jason and struggled to pull the hammer back. The moment that the leader hit the ground, you looked towards the bright red helment in leather that you knew was Jason, only to screech at him to move. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, still staring at you.

"Gun!" you yelled, getting up to tackle Jason out of the way.

A shot rang out. Wide eyed, you whirled your head around to see the young guy standing with the smoking gun, shaking and knees wobbling.

"I- I did it? I did it!" He almost jumped with joy, "Boss will be so happy with me and I can-"

You cut his celebration short by hurling a baton at him, hitting him square in the head and knocking him back cold. The gun clattered to the ground and you quickly took it into your possession incase someone woke back up.

"Call GCPD and don't leave until they show up." you sternly instructed the now very sober, and very scared group of young adults, "tell them to expect a firearm delivered to their ballistics department within 24 hours."

Quickly, you ran over to Jason, falling on your knees with rivulets of sweat running down your face. He was kneeled over, clutching his thigh as best he could.

"J- Hood!" You tore his hands from the wound to inspect, "You okay?" Your eyes were wildly scanning all over the torn fabric and dark blood pooling into your hands.

"Don't worry about me, Doll. Never been better." He winced

"What were you doing? You should have been paying attention!" Your voice was dripping with anger and laced with fear, "He's a street level thug who could hardly pull back the hammer, you should have seen him!"

"Got distracted" Jason tried to shrug his shoulders but missed the mark.

"You were staring, idiot." You shot him a glance, trying to shield his view from seeing the blush hazing on your cheeks.

"There was a show."

You mumbled something about him being an idiot under your breath and yanked out a tourniquet from your belt. The bullet hadn't done terrible damage, but he'd need stitches to keep it from bleeding heavily.

It was a miracle that you even got him to your apartment.

______________________________________________________________

"Y/N/N, I'm taking this thing off my leg." Jason loudly informed you as you dug through your bathroom cabinet to grab your medical kit.

"Jason Peter Todd, if you bleed all over my apartment I'll shoot you again!" You shouted back.

"Hey! There's no need for the full government name!" Jason watched as you speedily walked back to where he was sitting and opened up the kit, pulling out sewing needles and gause wrapped in plastic. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion when you suddenly stopped.

"I need to get your pants off." You almost choked out

Jason bit his cheek to hold back a loud laugh, "Well you're pretty upfront about what you want Y/N. Take me to dinner first though!"

You swatted his other leg, glaring up at him. Quickly, you helped Jason get out of his pants and saw the full wound gouged into his thigh. The two of you ignored the tension it created and awkard silence that the moment created. Quietly, you started disinfecting and stitching up his leg.

"You're lucky this didn't hit anything important." you muttered under your breath, concentration drowning out any other emotion

"It hit me" He joked, "Seems important enough."

"Not important enough for you to take care of apparently." You looked up at him suddenly a storm of emotion in your eyes, "Jason, you can't be so careless, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"Didn't mean to worry you Doll." Jason's voice lost all of its comedy and turned serious.

"You're just a pretty view and all." He mumbled.

Your face became hot and you turned your gaze back to your work to pretend that you didn't hear what he just said. After a few more minutes of work, you stood up.

"I've got a pair of sweats in the closet that should fit you. Don't bust your stitches."

Jason's brain came to a violent and sudden hault at your words. What did you mean you had a pair of sweatpants that should fit him? Surely you didn't mean you were giving him sweatpants that you wore?

"Here ya go." You tossed the pants towards him and began heading towards the kitchen to make a snack.

Jason caught the sweatpants and stared at you, silent, and analyzing you intently. You could feel his silence seeping into your bones. It was like an infection slowly beating its way into your immune system and rendering it useless.

At the counter, you poured yourself a glass of water and glanced up at him, "You good?"

Jason nodded in response, still staying silent. The sweatpants fit. Why did you have men's sweatpants in your closet? You never wore them as far as he knew, they wouldn't fit. He didn't think you were seeing anyone, and definitely not sleeping with anyone. A bile rose up in his throat and his eyes became scratchy. His stomach cramped up and it felt like the room was beginning to spin.

"Whenever you get a chance, just give 'em back and I'll wash them." You were shoving your favorite post patrol snack in your mouth and giving him a pointed look.

His brain stopped again. You were planning on using these sweatpants for another time? For who?

"Want a snack?" You asked, analyzing his now stoic appearence.

He didn't respond.

"Yo, Jay. Snack?" You asked again.

"Oh- no. I'm fine. I'll bring these back later." Jason stood up and started for the window.

"Don't start putting stress on your leg too early. You can stay here as long as you need." You stressed.

Jason raised his hand to stop you, "Yea, I got it. Thanks."

"Want me to take you back to your place?" You starred at him, concerned.

"no it's fine. Thanks for the fix up."

"Anytime."

______________________________________________________________

Jason hopped out of your window and didn't talk to you for three days. You had messaged him a few times but he never responded. The night everything happened, he collasped onto his bed but couldn't fall asleep. He was angry, hurt, confused, and worst of all, it was pointed at you. The two of you weren't really anything official, but he thought the constant back and forth of flirtacious comments and intensly sensative late night conversations at his favorite gargoyle meant something. Jason felt stupid. Of course someone like you had someone. All of this must have been you being nice.

Three days after the entire ordeal, Dick was over at Jason's apartment and saw the pair of sweatpants hanging on a chair in the kitchen.

"Oh, did Y/N give you the complimentary sweatpants treatment?" Dick pointed and laughed

"What?" Jason whipped his head around and stared at his older brother in confusion.

"Those are my old sweatpants. They just stay at her apartment now since we-"

"You motherfucker!" Jason threw his body weight onto Dick and backed him into the wall with a loud thud, "I'm gonna beat the shit out of you!"

"Woah, woah! Chill dude!" Dick caught his breath again and stared at Jason in shock, "Holy shit, what's wrong with you?"

"You're fucking around with Y/N?" He spat, "You knew I liked her!"

"Huh?" Dick was bewildered and then it clicked.

Dick roared with laughter, tears falling down his face, "Oh dude, that's wild." "Y/N and I are not a thing! Never were, never have been."

Jason still didn't loosen his grip on Dick's shirt collar, "What's been going on then?"

Dick rolled his eyes, "I got stabbed and Y/N patched me up. She got a pair of sweats from the shop downstairs and ran them back upstairs so that I wasn't walking through Gotham in my underwear. I brought them back incase something happened again and now they're the designated injury sweatpants."

Jason starred at Dick, his gaze peircing through his skull, trying to find any hint of deceit.

"Everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. It's painfully obvious Jaybird." "You know she asked me about you. Apparently you haven't talked in three days?" Dick said, taking a sigh of relief when Jason finally put him down.

"what did she say?" Jason asked tentatively, eyes falling to the floor.

"She asked if you were alright. Apparently you kind of just walked out once she stitched you up- Jason- did you just stomp off without saying anything??" Dick went wide eyed at the realization.

"Maybe." Jason mumbled.

"Dude. You're an idiot." Dick said exasperatedly.

"I've been getting that a lot recently." Jason admitted, "I gotta go talk to Y/N."

"Uh yea, duh." Dick headed for the door, "Good luck little bro. If she throws you off a building, just know you were always my favorite!"

"Ha. Ha." Jason threw up his middle finger as Dick shut the door behind him.

He really hoped you weren't going to kill him.

______________________________________________________________

You were clacking away at your computer, chipping away at some work you needed to get done for a case. Your favorite drink was sitting next to your laptop, and you were trying not to focus on the fact that Jason was basically ghosting you. A day ago, you had decided you must have offended him at some point and now he was ignoring you. It was immature, really. You were mad that all of your attempts at extending an olive branch had fell through. After three days, you weren't even sure what you did wrong. The noises of your thoughts crept into your typing as you started writing out what you were thinking, and then with frustration, deleting the previous sentence. Your eyes shot up when you heard a faint knock at the door, and you shut the laptop and quietly headed for the door.

When you looked through the peephole, you saw the distorted shape of Jason standing in the hallway, head low and a nervous stance taking over his body. You huffed out quietly and swung open the door.

"Long time no see, Jaybirdy." You said, feigning a sweet voice, "Whatcha been up to recently?"

"Y/N/N, we need to talk." Jason looked at you carefully like he was waiting for you to combust

"You've got my sweatpants?" You raised a brow.

"oh, yea." Jason handed you the pair of sweatpants and you carefully looked them over for any blood stains.

Once you were satisfied, you stepped aside and beckoned him inside. You walked to the kitchen and opened up the fridge, taking out a small container and popping it open.

"You want some?" You asked.

"No. Thanks." Jason stood awkwardly and stared at you.

Irritated, you sighed, "Okay, what's this all about Jason?" You turned around and tossed the container back into the fridge and leaned onto the counter facing him again with a peircing gaze.

"I-uh- needed to apologize for walking out on you the other night. Wasn't cool." He stumbled through his apology.

You arched your brow and gave him a look saying "and"?

He caught the memo. "And not returning any of your texts... or calls." "Was being a dick."

Your shoulders dropped and you relaxed your stance, "Did I do something to offend you? You've never just walked out on me Jason, or ghosted me for that matter."

"No! No, not at all!" Jason raised his hands in front of him.

"Well? What was that all about?" Slight irritation glossed over your face and then disappeared again into an unreadable gaze.

"It's uh, kinda stupid." He stammered, "I thought you were dating someone."

"You what?" You pushed your head a little bit foward, showing that you didn't hear his quick mumbling.

"I thought you were dating someone!" He said finally.

Confusion was painting in your eyes, "Huh? Why?"

"Well, you handed me a pair of guy's sweatpants that actually fit like it was nothing and I didn't think it made sense that you just had them for yourself, so I just thought they were a boyfriend's or something." Jason explained, looking back at you for a reaction.

You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, "Jay, I'm offended." A humorous smile graced your face.

Jason's heart skipped a few beats seeing it again.

"After all of this time; sitting with you; flirting with you, much to the dismay of everyone around us; talking for hours at your favorite gargoyle!" You laughed, needing a moment to regain your composure.

"Yea, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"I got those after Dick got stabbed so that he wasn't wandering around Gotham in his boxers!"

"Yea, I know. He just told me." Jason glanced awkardly at you, "Kinda thought you two were a thing for a second."

You fake gagged at the notion and began walking around the counter to where he was standing, "Never. Never, ever, ever." You grimaced, "No offense to him."

"Doubt he'd mind." Jason let out a breathy laugh, "He pointed out that we're apparently very obvious."

"Obvious about what?" You questioned his noncommittal comment, knowing what he was talking about. You wanted him to admit it.

Jason felt his cheeks heat up and his eyes widen for a second.

"Well, I uh- I guess about the flirting- and stuff. Ya know. We do that a lot apparently." He fumbled around the words, trying to find the least awkward response, and managing to make it the most awkward.

"Yea- and why do you flirt around with me?" You asked, starring a hole into his soul.

"well, I mean- I guess that's what you do when you uh- like someone?" He stammered, the blush on his cheeks becoming more vibrant.

"You like me?" You reiterated.

"I mean, yea Y/N/N. You're the only person I've ever cared about like this." He looked at you like he wasn't anticipating for those words to come out, "Shit- I- I hope that doesn't make it weird. I can just leave, you probably don't feel that way."

Jason turned around, ready to make a speedy retreat for the front door. Goosebumps painted his arms when he felt you grab his wrist and pull him back towards you. You didn't let go.

"Jason Peter Todd, don't walk out on me again." You said, pulling him close.

"Again with the government names, Y/N, I feel like I'm in trouble." His breath hitched and he looked into your eyes trying to discern what you were thinking.

"Don't run away from me and I won't need to Jaybird." You said softly, "I like you a lot too. Just wanted you to make a move."

Jason felt his throat close up and open again for him to take a breath. His knees went numb and a buzzing noise entered his mind and left as quickly as it came. He was short circuting in real time.

"You do?"

"Yeah dumby. I don't stay out on a gargoyle IN GOTHAM for anyone." You emphasized, "You- you're my best friend Jay. And not like friend zone best friend. You're my favorite person."

Jason didn't say anything, just stared at you with his mouth slightly ajar.

You signed and your voice went soft, a vulnerability seeping into your voice, "I was hurt when you just went away. I thought I did something to hurt you and it didn't seem like you wanted to let me fix anything."

Jason gripped your hand harder and grabbed the other one, "No Y/N. I'm sorry, I should have talked to you." "I hate the miscommunication trope and here we are."

Your laugh made him smile. It was his greatest achievement in life. All he wanted to do was be the reason that you were smiling, never the reason you were upset and doubting your value to him.

"It's alright Jay. Just talk to me, okay?" You gently traced your thumb over his hand.

"Okay." He nodded.

There was a silence that filled the room again.

"What do we do now?" You asked softly.

"You wanted me to make the first move, right?" He replied.

"I mean, yea, kinda." You shrugged looking into his eyes.

"Well-" Jason leaned down and threaded his hands through your hair before moving to hold the back of your head before kissing you like he had been waiting for it his entire life.

Your eyes were wide with shock before you shut them tight and threw your arms over his shoulders, pulling him in closer and running your fingers through his hair. He tried to pull back at one point, but you tugged on the soft curls and brought him back in. He moved his hands to your waist, backing you into the counter, and complied with the demand.

After a minute, your chest burned and you pulled back, Jason's arms still wrapped around you before he picked you up and sat you on the counter ledge. He stood between your legs and kept you close.

"What if I take you out?" He asked breathless.

"Only if it means you'll kiss me like that again." You answered.

"Anytime." Jason smirked, "and maybe we'll get some new sweatpants to leave in your closet. Ya know. Just incase."

"Just incase." You nodded with a smile.

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freakyvenomous63 · 7 days ago

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────★ THINKING ABOUT… JASON TODD, who is obsessed when he gets a peek of your whale tail.

୭˚. ᵎᵎ contains… Jason Todd x teasing reader

୭˚. ᵎᵎ warnings… contains nsfw content (mostly at the end.) — mentions of him being hard, dry humping, female-receiving!oral, making out, thigh kissing, etc. not heavily described.

when he first sees it . . .

• Jason’s mind short-circuits the first time you bend over and he catches a glimpse of lace peeking over your waistband.

• He tries to play it cool. Fails miserably. Probably mutters “Jesus Christ” under his breath while pretending not to stare.

• You notice. Of course you do. And you smirk over your shoulder like you planned it. Because you probably did.

he’s obsessed.

• It becomes a thing. You in low-rise jeans or short shorts with the strap of a black thong peeking out? That’s his new obsession.

• Jason will literally forget his entire train of thought. You’ll ask him something important and he’ll just blink like,

“Sorry, what? I—uh—do that again.”

• He has no shame about it. At this point, he’ll openly say “You do that on purpose, don’t you?” and you’ll just laugh and walk away.

you, obviously, weaponize it.

• You’ll stretch during training. Lean over the counter in the kitchen. Lounge on the couch half-draped in Jason’s shirt and low-rise sleep shorts. He’ll be hard within seconds.

• If you do it in front of the Batfam (intentionally or not), Jason’s jaw tightens and he throws his jacket over your waist like mine.

• He tries to act calm, but he’s not calm. At all.

— You: “You good?”

— Jason, looking ten seconds from death: “No. Not even a little.”

he tries not to be touchy, really. but cmon !

• If you’re sitting in his lap and your thong shows? His hands slide right under your shirt and grip your hips like he needs to hold onto something, maybe deciding to rock his hard length into your clothed cunt just to tease you back.

• If you’re standing? He’s the type to hook his fingers into the waistband and pull it higher, just to see you react.

• He’s 100% a waistband snapper. Little flicks of his finger when you pass by. Smirking while he does it like he’s not the one sweating.

• “Careful, baby,” he’ll rasp, “keep teasing me like that and I’m gonna stop being polite.”

the effects . . .

• Jason’s already a thigh/hips guy. The stringy thong combo just kills him. That little strip of skin, the curve of your lower back? He’s obsessed.

• He thinks you’re the hottest thing in Gotham. Genuinely can’t wrap his head around how you exist and let him touch you.

• Sometimes he’ll tuck his hand into the waistband absentmindedly when you’re cuddling. Just resting there. Holding you. Possessive and warm. Rubbing his thumb back and forth on your warm ‘n soft skin.

• You catch him staring too much? You pull up your flimsy straps just a little higher on your hipbone, tilt your head and say,

— “Problem, big guy?”

• Jason groans and grabs you like you’re his last goddamn nerve.

• You absolutely win. Every time.

Jason wasn’t paying attention to the TV. Or his drink. Or whatever ridiculous mission briefing he was supposed to be reading over.

Because you were in front of him — back to the living room, swaying just a little as you reached for something on the high shelf. And the low rise of your shorts, hugging your hips like a second skin, dipped just enough to show a black satin triangle peeking above the waistband.

Lace. High-cut. Teasing.

His eyes dropped. Locked.

The slow arch of your back. The little rise to your tip-toes. That damn strap cutting across the curve of your waist like it knew it was ruining him.

You glanced over your shoulder, half a smirk in your voice. “Something wrong, Red?”

Jason didn’t answer right away. He stood — slowly — and crossed the room like a storm on muscly legs.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and thick. “That thing you do with your back? Illegal. Gotta lock ‘ya up.”

You turned just in time for him to press in behind you, hands slipping over your waist like he was claiming territory.

“You keep wearing things like this,” he muttered into your neck, “and I’m gonna forget how to act.”

You tilted your hips back against him. Just barely. Just enough.

“Then don’t act,” you whispered.

His hands dropped lower, fingers brushing under the band of your thong — not moving fast, not tearing, just pressing, exploring. One thumb traced the line between bare skin and fabric.

“You really trying to get me on my knees in the middle of the kitchen?”

Your breath caught — and he felt it.

You turned, slow and smug, letting him trap you against the counter.

And with his mouth hovering just at your jawline, Jason’s voice dropped even lower.

“Gonna keep showing that little strip of lace like you want me to lose it, sweetheart. Is that what this is?”

Your only answer was a slow grind of your hips against his.

He groaned.

And whatever patience he had left? Gone.

Then his mouth was on you — hard, hungry, desperate. He kissed you like you were the only thing that could shut his brain off. Like the sound of your breath hitching was more important than breathing.

His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot and broad against your back, tugging you closer until your thighs brushed the edge of the counter and his belt buckle pressed flush to your stomach.

You arched into him.

He hissed. “Don’t— don’t start unless you want it finished.”

“Who says I’m starting?” you whispered, dragging your nails up under his shirt. “Maybe I’m already halfway there.”

Jason groaned — forehead pressing to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was praying for mercy he didn’t actually want.

Then he dropped to his knees.

Just like that. Fast. Hungry. No hesitation.

His hands smoothed down your thighs, then back up — thumbs teasing along the sharp curve of the thong strap, the line that had started this whole thing. He mouthed along your hip like he was thanking it.

“You wear this,” he rasped, “and expect me to behave?”

You didn’t answer. You just reached for the counter behind you, bracing.

Jason looked up — pupils blown wide, jaw tight, hands firm as they gripped your thighs and pulled you forward to the edge.

“Hold still, baby,” he said low, reverent. “I’m gonna make you forget your own name.”

And when he kissed the inside of your thigh — slow, deliberate — you believed him.

Jason kissed higher. Slower.

His breath ghosted over the strap of your thong, mouth hovering just beneath where the fabric met skin. You felt him grin when you shifted, a sharp twitch of muscle under his lips.

Your breath hitched the second his teeth grazed the curve of your hip.

Jason chuckled darkly.

Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragged the thin fabric down just enough — not all the way, just enough — and kissed the inside of your thigh like it was sacred.

You trembled.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you just a little so your hips tilted toward him. The pressure of his mouth, the way his stubble scratched where he kissed, the way he held you steady like you might try to run — it was all too much. He was too much.

And then he flattened his tongue along your inner thigh. Not high enough.

You let out a soft sound, and Jason’s fingers flexed.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Tell me you want it.”

You met his eyes — dark, feral, locked on you like a man starved.

“I want it,” you whispered.

Jason didn’t waste another second.

His mouth moved higher, slower, hotter. He took his time — lips and tongue and breath, dragging sounds out of you like he knew your body better than you did. He held you firm, letting you squirm, but never letting you go.

Your hands tangled in his hair. His name spilled from your mouth.

And when your legs trembled, he didn’t stop.

Didn’t even slow down.

Just kissed harder — groaned against you — like your pleasure was the only thing he cared about.

When he finally pulled back, lips slick, voice wrecked, he looked up at you with something hot and wild in his eyes.

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