goobigon

[goobigon]

Mew y two

[goobigon]

Jason who's favorite position is prone.

Don't get it wrong, he's a complete amateur when it comes to sex. The first time you two fucked, he cried. So this little discovery, it was an accident, truly. He didn't mean to get carried away but you were squeezing him so good, and the pretty sounds you were making had his knees giving out.

At first, he had you face down, feeding you those deep strokes, the kind that leaves you breathless. But then he began to move, pushing at the curves of your hips, then your spine, forcing you down until your tummy presses against the soft sheets. And he can't help it, naturally wherever you go, he follows. So he lays himself right on top of you, he's so big too. Big thighs cage around your ass, grinding real deep and slow. It’s downright sinful. Jason Peter Todd in all his 6'1 glory, smothering you against the mattress and it's like something inside him clicks. His mind won’t shut the hell up because suddenly, you’ve gone all soft and pliant, and he’s whispering real filthy, “just needed some good dick, huh?”

His mind is so fucked out, he hasn’t realized how good he’s been fucking you until he registers your squirming and soft whining beneath him. Sometimes he forgets how big he is, all of him. Because in this position, he basically kisses your cervix. He’s taking his time, it’s torturous, the slow drag of his hips, and the way he bullies his way back in- pushing up against that sweet spot that makes you cream.

He’s got his lips pressed against your ear, cooing and shushing you so sweetly when you say you can’t take it. One hand pushing past your hips to pet at your sensitive clit, and you paw at his wrist- a weak attempt at pushing him away. It’s too much, he’s too big and he’s talking so fucking nasty in your ear you just can’t take it.

But every time you try to shut your legs in protest, his thighs flex and his ankles lock around yours, easily pushing them back open. Wordlessly saying, “take it, take it, take it”.

And after fucking you through your third orgasm, this man has the audacity to blush. Shoving his face into your neck but at some point, his mind gets all hazy. He latches his canines onto your throat and you cum. Still fucking you through the mattress, he works you up to your fourth. Finally coming down, you sob out a half-hearted “mean”, but he doesn’t budge- just hushes you with a sickly sweet “so good, baby”.

reblogs are appreciated! ⋆˙⟡

[goobigon]

Crying

jason todd x reader

── .✦ fluff

[ jason admiring you at a family barbecue, catching baby fever ]

[ 4k word count ]

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the sun sits gentle in the sky, soft gold washing over the green lawns of wayne manor. it’s the kind of day that feels like it was carved out of a dream—blue skies, laughter echoing through the gardens, the scent of grilled food riding warm breezes. someone’s playing music from a bluetooth speaker—something summery and old-school—and kids are running barefoot over the grass with juice-stained smiles.

you’re standing on the back patio, watching as your dad and bruce try to out-barbecue each other. there’s a mountain of food already stacked high on one table, and another being filled with cold drinks and desserts brought by both sides of the family. it’s not a holiday, not a birthday—just a weekend that seemed perfect for something soft and good.

jason finds you like he always does. like his compass only points to you. he slides up beside you with a drink in one hand, the other immediately brushing against your lower back like he can’t help it. he leans in, kisses your temple without even saying hi, and you smile.

“you smell like smoke and sunscreen,” you murmur, teasing gently. — he grins against your skin. “you say that like it’s not my most attractive combo.”

you glance at him. he’s wearing a plain white tee, sleeves rolled just enough to make your stomach flip, and a backwards baseball cap that he stole from dick earlier. his smile is easy, bright—one of the rare kinds you only get on days like this, when nothing hurts and everything feels safe.

“you having fun?” you ask. — “yeah,” he says, looking out over the lawn. “it’s weird. not used to this many people being this… happy. all at once.”

you nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “that’s the whole point, jay. just good vibes today. no patrols. no emergencies. just your family and mine, stuffing their faces and pretending they’re not competitive as hell.”

he laughs. “i saw your aunt arm-wrestling alfred. i’m afraid to ask who won.” — “don’t,” you whisper dramatically. “it’s a sensitive topic.”

you both laugh, and then you fall into a comfortable silence, leaning into each other. there’s something easy in the way you fit together, like puzzle pieces that just… make sense. and even though the day is just beginning, jason already feels something new blooming in his chest. soft. slow. a warmth he can’t name yet.

then, you get pulled away.

your sister’s baby, a sweet baby girl— barely a year old— is in a fit of giggles and reaches for you as soon as she spots you. you don’t hesitate. you scoop her up, nuzzle into her cheek with a bright laugh, and she squeals in delight. jason watches, something catching in his throat that he doesn’t fully understand.

you hold your niece like it’s second nature, hips swaying slightly as you bounce her. you tickle her ribs until she squeaks, then press a kiss to the crown of her head. she clutches at your shirt with chubby fingers, and you don’t even seem to notice how natural it looks.

jason notices

he watches you sink to the grass with her, both of you barefoot and smiling. the babygirl crawls all over you, laughing like you’re the best jungle gym she’s ever seen. you laugh, too—head thrown back, hair catching the light, eyes crinkled in pure joy. and suddenly, there’s a slow ache in jason’s chest.

he’s never thought about it before. not really. the whole kid thing. the whole… family thing.

he’s always been the kind of man who saw himself on the sidelines of that world. the one who sends birthday gifts but doesn’t show up to the party. the one who says “uncle jay” and brings the cool toys but leaves before bedtime stories.

but watching you like this—hands soft, voice sweeter than he’s ever heard it—something shifts. something opens. he thinks about you with a baby that’s yours. his.

a little mess of dark hair and your eyes, giggling just like your niece is now. he thinks about you holding them, soothing them, loving them the way you love everything. he thinks about tiny socks and bedtime songs and learning how to braid hair or teach someone how to ride a bike. and he doesn’t feel afraid.

he feels something else. — a need. — a want.

he blinks, heart hammering like he just ran a sprint. it’s new. it’s overwhelming. and it’s entirely because of the way you look right now, sitting in the grass with a baby curled against your chest, humming something soft as you rock her gently.

“oh, shit,” he whispers under his breath.

you glance up, like you felt him watching you. your smile is soft. inviting. you tilt your head and wave him over.

he doesn’t think—just goes.

you don’t even have to ask. when you pat the grass beside you, jason’s already lowering himself down with a groan that’s mostly exaggerated, even though he makes a show of cracking his knees. “god, i’m getting old,” he mutters, shooting you a playful glance.

your niece immediately perks up at the sight of him. she blinks those wide baby eyes and then grins—huge and gummy—and points at him with all the excitement in the world.

“dat!” she squeals. you laugh, warm and real, looking between her and jason. “that is not your dad, little lady. that’s jason.”

she doesn’t care. she clambers right onto his lap like it’s the most obvious place to be. jason freezes. his eyes go wide like she’s a lit stick of dynamite, and you watch as he carefully, so carefully, adjusts his hands to steady her. he looks at you like he needs instruction, a manual, a lifeline.

you just smile. “you’re doing fine sweetheart.”

he swallows, then looks down at her. she’s patting his chest with both palms, babbling nonsense with the kind of confidence only babies can get away with. she tugs at the collar of his shirt, pokes his cheek, then leans forward to bonk her forehead lightly against his. he blinks.

“uh… hi?” he says softly. you bite back a grin.

she squeals again and snuggles in like he’s the comfiest spot in the whole wide world. one tiny hand clings to his shirt. the other reaches up and gently touches the brim of his cap.

jason goes absolutely still.

you watch the exact moment his heart breaks open. it’s subtle—just a shift in his expression, the way his arms curl instinctively around her like he’s afraid to let her go now. his voice drops into something even softer.

“you like me, huh?” your niece, as if understanding, lets out a happy coo and rests her cheek against his shoulder. you’re not sure you’ve ever seen jason todd speechless.

he looks at you over her head, and for once, there’s no witty comeback. no smirk. just awe. you can almost hear the thoughts racing behind his eyes. he rocks her slightly, like he’s testing the motion, and when she settles, sighing in contentment, he smiles. — a real one. — quiet. tender. completely unguarded.

your chest pulls tight. “she likes you,” you say quietly. “a lot.”

jason glances down at her again, brushing one hand over the back of her little head. “yeah,” he says, voice rough. “i like her, too.” — and he means it.

he doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening inside him—how just ten minutes ago, the idea of holding a baby seemed like a distant maybe in a far-off future, and now he can’t imagine letting this little bundle go. she fits against him like she belongs there. like he was made for this in a way he never considered.

you lean your head on his shoulder. “you’re a natural, jay.”

“i don’t know what i’m doing.”

“you don’t have to. she trusts you. that’s enough.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute. just holds her. breathes. lets it sink in. his heart has been through war. it’s been broken, stitched together, burned down, and rebuilt more times than he can count. he’s spent years convincing himself that love like this—soft, slow, steady—wasn’t for him.

but here you are, curled beside him in the grass. and here she is, asleep on his chest. and here he is, completely and utterly undone. — he wants this.

maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but someday.

he wants little hands and big hearts and quiet afternoons like this. he wants tiny sneakers by the door and messy drawings taped to the fridge. he wants the life he thought he’d never deserve, because you make it feel possible.

you glance up at him and find his eyes already on you. “you okay?” you ask.

he nods. “yeah. just… didn’t expect this.”

“what? a baby nap attack?”

he shakes his head. “no. this… feeling.”

you smile, soft and knowing. you thread your fingers through his where they rest on the grass. “it’s okay, you know,” you whisper. “to want things.”

he squeezes your hand. “you’d be a really good dad,” you say, almost like it’s a secret. “one day.”

jason doesn’t answer right away. he just looks down at your niece again, sleeping so soundly on his chest, and something in him settles.

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the sun starts to dip low in the sky, painting the world in honey. that soft hour between afternoon and evening when everything feels a little more tender. the grills have been turned off, the music turned down, and the lawn scattered with half-empty cups and abandoned shoes from kids who always manage to lose one.

you and jason walking, this time near the big round table where dick and tim are already lounging, paper plates balanced on their laps. stephanie is there too, smiling, peeling grapes for herself like a queen, while damian pokes at a pile of roasted vegetables with an expression of deep suspicion.

you plop down with a plate of grilled chicken, a caesar salad and some fruit salad aswell. jason’s got two burgers stacked high and a lemonade that you swear is more sugar than anything else. he’s still got some baby drool on his shoulder and hasn’t noticed yet. — you don’t tell him.

instead, you nudge your knee against his and start eating, leaning just a little into his side. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift—just stays steady. solid. warm.

“so,” dick says with a grin, looking pointedly at jason, “when were you gonna tell us you had a kid?”

jason chokes on a bite of burger, coughing into his elbow while you burst out laughing. he shoots dick a glare, wiping his mouth. “very funny.”

“no, seriously,” tim chimes in, smirking. “i thought that baby was yours. the way she was clinging to you? textbook toddler imprinting.”

stephanie hums. “she liked him.”

“clearly,” damian mutters. “he was the only one she didn’t scream at.”

you grin, glancing sideways at jason. “she does have good taste.” he mumbles something into his burger and keeps his eyes on his plate, but his ears are pink.

dick leans forward on his elbows, teasing grin still firmly in place. “you ever think about it, jay?”

jason pauses. you hold your breath. he shrugs, then glances at you. just for a second. then back at his plate.

“i dunno,” he says quietly. “today kind of made it hard not to.”

the table goes quiet for a beat—not awkward, just thoughtful.

you rest your hand on his thigh under the table, give it a squeeze. he covers it with his own without looking, thumb brushing slow across your knuckles. it says more than words ever could.

then, as if summoned by the power of chaos and barbecue sauce, a group of kids comes barreling toward your little circle.

there are four of them—your younger cousins plus, the neighbor kid alfred watches sometimes. they’re sticky and sun-kissed and full of energy they absolutely should not still have.

“jason!” one of the older boys shouts, skidding to a stop in front of him. “can you play tag with us? please? we need someone fast!”

“yeah!” another chimes in. “you look like you’d be really good at it!”

jason blinks, halfway through another bite. “uh—”

“pleeeaaaase?” they all whine in unison. steph giggles behind her hand. tim’s already pulling out his phone to film this. even damian looks vaguely amused. you nudge jason again, smirking. “come on, tough guy. they’ve challenged your honor.”

he groans, tipping his head back like he’s praying for strength. “you’re all monsters.” but he sets his plate down anyway. stands up. brushes his hands off on his jeans.

“all right, gremlins,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “you asked for it.” the kids scream in delight and scatter.

you watch, heart full and aching, as jason takes off after them with a grin that makes him look years younger. he’s surprisingly agile for someone full of burgers, weaving between kids and dodging tiny arms like a seasoned pro. he scoops one up over his shoulder, spins them until they squeal, then sets them down gently.

you can’t stop smiling. “he’s a goner,” dick says beside you, voice warm with something like pride.

you nod, eyes never leaving jason. “yeah. he is.”

“you know,” steph says, “he’s softer with you than i’ve ever seen.” you swallow around the knot in your throat.

“i feel like he’s starting to let himself want this,” you say softly. “really want it.”

tim smiles. “about time.” you finish your plate, set it aside, and watch as jason lets the smallest kid tackle him dramatically to the ground. they all pile on after that, laughing and shouting, and he just lays there, pretending to be defeated.

he catches your eye across the lawn, still buried under a dogpile of kids, and winks. you think your heart might actually burst.

cass, duke and barb start making their way over, everyone making room for eachother even if it is a little tight. “man jason is getting beat out there” duke laughed taking a drink of water.

you don’t last long on the sidelines.

as soon as you see jason get swarmed by kids and give in with the most exaggerated groan of defeat, your legs are already moving. you drop your plate off at the table, kick off your sandals, and make a run for it across the grass.

“hey!” you shout, cupping your hands around your mouth. “what’s this i hear about a tag game with no rules?”

jason sits up, eyes lighting up the moment he sees you. he lifts an arm like he’s going to catch you when you get close. “you sure you can handle this?” he calls. “these kids are relentless.”

you smirk. “so am i.” the second you’re close enough, one of your cousins tags you with a high-pitched “you’re it!” and bolts away shrieking. — and that’s all it takes.

soon, you’re both running wild with the kids—ducking and dodging and laughing so hard your stomach hurts. jason’s just as competitive as you expected, blocking kids for you and taking fake dives when someone “catches” him. at one point, you tackle him into the grass, both of you breathless and tangled up, and he’s laughing—really laughing, head thrown back, eyes crinkled at the corners.

you think you might be in love with every version of him. eventually, the chaos slows. kids drop off one by one, panting and grinning, collapsing on picnic blankets or into folding chairs with cold juice boxes pressed to their faces. you and jason end up near the big patio table again, sweaty and flushed and glowing with joy.

that’s where you find the adults and half of your side of the family.

your parents are sitting with bruce and alfred, a mix of lemonade and wine glasses on the table between them. the grown-ups have that relaxed energy that only comes after a full meal, a successful gathering, and nothing left to do but watch.

“you two looked like you were having fun,” your mom says, smiling fondly. — “we were,” you reply, still catching your breath. jason lingers behind you, a quiet shadow at your back.

“you’re good with kids, jason,” your dad says, and it’s not just polite—he means it. there’s a note of surprise and respect in his voice.

jason rubs the back of his neck. “they’re good with me. i think they sense that i was once a menace, too.” — everyone laughs.

even bruce looks slightly amused, eyes soft as he watches jason from behind his glass. alfred, always the most composed, nods. “you have a calming presence with the younger ones. despite your… usual demeanor.”

“i’ll take that as a compliment,” jason mutters.

just then, your sister approaches with your baby niece balanced on one hip. the little one looks sleepy and bashful now, her curls a bit messy, thumb in her mouth. “she’s been looking around for someone,” your sister says, eyes twinkling. “pretty sure i know who.”

the sweet babygirl blinks once… twice… then holds her arms out, very clearly and very purposefully, toward jason.

he freezes. — the whole table watches as he steps forward, gentle and quiet, and reaches for her. she practically melts into him as he lifts her into his arms again, head tucking under his chin like that’s where she belongs. jason holds her like he never wants to let go.

you can feel it from where you’re standing—that shift in the air. like everyone around you sees something unspoken settle into place. like puzzle pieces clicking in without anyone needing to name them. “she doesn’t do that for just anyone,” your sister says softly.

jason presses a kiss to the top of rosie’s head, one hand running along her back in slow, comforting circles. “she’s got good instincts,” he says, and it’s half a joke, half a truth he hasn’t quite let himself feel until now.

your mom and dad share a look you can’t quite read, something soft and knowing between them. bruce smiles faintly behind his glass. alfred gives you the barest nod, like he sees it too.

you walk back over and stand beside jason, brushing a curl out of the baby’s face. “she’s got you wrapped around her tiny little finger,” you whisper.

jason huffs out a quiet laugh. “yeah. i’m in deep.” — you lean against his arm, heart full. and in this moment, with your family and his all gathered around, with the sun casting golden light over the lawn and your niece tucked safely against his chest, you realize you’ve never felt more at home.

and jason? — jason’s realizing something too. he doesn’t just want to be a part of this someday.

he wants this. with you.

the backyard gets quieter as the sun sinks behind the trees, painting the sky in soft lilacs and golds. kids have all been rounded up, shoes found, goodbyes whispered through tired yawns. the grill’s cold now, the music little more than a low hum in the background. you watch your mom hug cass, your dad laughing at something dick says, and the rest of the evening melts into a kind of dreamy haze.

babygirl is curled up in jason’s arms again, barely awake, tiny fingers tangled in his shirt. your sister and brother in law approaches with an apologetic smile.

“let me take her in, jay,” she says softly. “you’ve done more than enough.”

jason doesn’t look ready to let go. but he nods, brushing one more kiss over the crown of the baby’s head before carefully passing her off. “she’s perfect,” he murmurs.

“so were you,” your brother in law says holding his daughter. the baby shyly smiling, making jason wave bye, you blowing a kiss.

a few minutes later, most of the family is saying their goodbyes. the waynes linger, always the last to leave, and you stand off to the side with jason as your parents pack up their cooler. your fingers are laced with his, and he hasn’t let go once.

“you wanna go for a walk?” you ask quietly, once the yard is nearly empty.

jason nods, gentle eyes on you. “yeah. i’d like that.”

you walk in slow steps across the grass, barefoot, side by side under the darkening sky. there’s that soft hum of crickets starting, the scent of charcoal and lemonade still floating in the air. everything feels still. for a while, neither of you says anything.

then, jason breaks the quiet with a voice so soft it almost gets lost in the breeze. “i didn’t think i’d be good at it.”

you glance over. “what?”

“any of it,” he says. “kids. the whole… warm and safe thing. didn’t think i had it in me.” — your heart tugs

“but you do,” you say, gently. “i saw it today. everyone did.”

he looks at you, and the weight of the day sits in his chest like something holy. “when she fell asleep on me… i didn’t wanna move. like, ever.”

you smile, stepping closer. “you didn’t have to. she was right where she wanted to be.”

jason stops walking. his hand slips out of yours only so he can cup your face instead, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s memorizing you. like he already has, but needs to do it again just in case.

“i never thought about it before. like—really thought. what it might be like… to have a little girl with your eyes, your laugh. a kid who knows nothing but love.”

your breath catches. — “but today… watching you hold her watching you smile at those kids… it just—something clicked.”

you rest your forehead against his. “yeah?”

“yeah.” his voice is quiet. certain. like a promise.

“it scared me,” he admits. “but in a good way. like… like maybe i finally want something real. something i never let myself imagine.”

you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “you can have it, jason. you deserve it.”

he laughs softly. “do i, though?”

“absolutely.” he kisses you then, slow and warm and deep like he means it. like everything he’s feeling today is pouring out through that one perfect moment. the kind of kiss that tastes like sunlight and cotton candy and something brand new being born right in your chest.

when you finally pull back, he still looks dazed. “i think,” he says, clearing his throat, “i’ve got a little baby fever.”

you grin. “a little?”

“okay. a lot.” — you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning into him. “we don’t have to figure it all out now. we’ve got time.”

he rests his chin on top of your head. “yeah. but just so you know—i’m thinking maybe two.”

you look up, eyes wide. “two?”

“or three,” he says, smirking. “a little chaos. just enough to keep things interesting.”

you laugh, and it echoes across the empty lawn, bright and real. and as the stars come out one by one above you, jason todd holds you like the future is already here, folded gently into the arms of the person he loves most.

he never thought he’d want this. but now?

he can’t imagine wanting anything else.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

BONUS — ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

the sun’s almost gone now, just a sliver of orange on the edge of the horizon. the yard is quieter—paper plates stacked, folding chairs being packed up, empty cups tossed into bags. and for once, alfred’s not lifting a finger.

“sit, alfred,” bruce had insisted, nudging a chair under him like it was an order from the batcave. “we’ve got this.”

and so he sits, arms crossed, watching as the rest of the family—grown vigilantes and honorary siblings alike—start cleaning up what looks like the remains of a small festival.

“i feel like we’re one mariachi band away from calling this a wedding,” dick says, stuffing plastic forks into a bag while balancing a tray of leftover burgers on his hip.

“you mean a baby shower,” tim mutters, dragging a trash bag behind him. “give it a year.”

steph raises an eyebrow, looking amused. “a year? you’re being generous.”

damian states “my money’s on six months. tops. did you see the way jason was holding that baby?”

“like she was made of gold,” dick agrees, dropping the tray on the patio table. “he was glowing.”

“i’ve never seen him smile like that,” tim adds. “like… actually smile.”

“we should start a pool,” duke says, hands clapping together. “fifty bucks, winner takes all.”

“i’m in,” barb says, cass nodding, already pulling her phone out. “my bet: christmas announcement.”

bruce, who’s been quietly gathering napkins from the lawn, clears his throat. everyone turns. “new year’s,” he says calmly, straightening up. “and i think i’ll be a good grandpa.”

a pause. — then all of them lose it—laughing, shouting over each other, mock gasping like bruce just admitted to watching daytime soaps. “you can’t just drop that!” dick yells, pointing. “you want grandkids?”

“i’d like to think jason’s happy,” bruce replies, folding another chair with ease. “and if he is… i’ll be happy, too.”

cass nods slowly, like it makes perfect sense, barb saying “you’d be a good grandpa. quiet. dramatic.”

steph’s cackling. “and rich!”

“what are you all talking about?” jason calls from across the lawn, finally reappearing with you tucked into his side, both of you glowing in that soft post-chaos calm.

the group goes still. then dick turns around and whistles casually. “nothing. just cleaning up.”

you squint suspiciously. “you’re all acting weird.”

“what else is new?” jason mutters, tugging you closer.

as you both disappear inside to help pack up leftovers, the family watches you go. and bruce, standing at the edge of the patio, just smiles to himself.

maybe soon. — maybe not.

but when it happens, he’ll be ready.

even if that means learning how to baby-proof the manor.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

i love writing sweet moments for jason ☹️ he deserves them!!

i wanna write a part two soon!! this was one of my favorites stories i’ve wrote so far. :3 i love writing jason being expressive and openly sweet— because it’s something you don’t see alot, and for good reason. he’s been through soooo much!!

i enjoy writing angst don’t get me wrong, but fluff i think is more my territory! :3 tell me if you’d like a part two!!

lmk if you’d like more angst stories — or more smut — or more fluff :)

also DM’s are always open <3

PT. 2 link HERE

[goobigon]

baby, i want some of your love

aka how you healed him

———

jason todd wears glasses now.

jason never really took care of himself after dying. his body was so hopelessly out of rhythm, everything slightly wrong and out of place. his bones creak underneath his skin, his muscles, which had nearly rotted and decayed, could never quite figure out how to relax. sometimes he’d forget to breathe, or blink, the actions no longer involuntary, and before you? he didn’t have it in himself to care. his health had fallen to the least of his worries.

but you were always so worried about him. you noticed things about himself he hadn’t even realized, how he winced when he chewed with the left side of his mouth, how he squinted at street signs whenever you went on walks, how his muscles were always tense until you massaged them into relaxation. you pointed them out, pouting whenever he’d shrug it off. to him, it was nothing, he was used to the pain, the inconvenience; he didn’t consider his own wellbeing important enough to pay any mind to.

to you, it was torture. watching the man you loved so dearly treat himself with so little care had you ruined. all you wanted for him was happiness and safety, for him to have what he had given you so freely, what he guarded himself from so intensely. he didn’t realize how much you cared until he noticed how much you finally pushed him to treat himself better.

“i scheduled you a dentist appointment.” you said, matter-of-factly setting down a few documents in front of him begging his patient history. he looked up to you, eyebrow raised, entirely confused. you answered his question before he could even think to ask it. “you wince when you chew.”

he wouldn’t say no to you. despite his disdain regarding the idea of a check up, he went. you came with him, fiercly speaking a language of medicine he didn’t understand. when he left the dentist, you gave him a lollipop. “i’m not five.” he ate it anyways, savoring the taste between strawberry-stained lips as you drove him home.

he stopped noticing when you made him appointments to get shots, or when you subtly slipped the card of a dermatologist behind the picture of you he kept in his wallet. he started actually caring about what he did to his body— gut health and all that. yes, he was jacked, his body had been built like a machine ever since it had patched itself back together in the lazarus pit, but he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a piece of fruit.

he didn’t realize how much better he felt until dick pointed it out for him. “you got glasses?” he asked, pointing to the thick black frames that sat on the bridge of his nose.

he nodded. he does wear glasses. he has silver caps on two of his teeth. he has a nice layer of body fat covering his muscles because he eats three well-balanced meals a day. he has a standing appointment with a chiropractor every other wednesday at two, and another with a therapist on mondays at one. he gets a checkup every six months and goes to the dentist every four, he’s been to the dermatologist three times in two years, he has all of his shots up to date, he takes vitamins in the morning and he sleeps at least five hours every night.

he cares about himself. he puts effort into making sure he stays healthy— and at first it was for you. only for you, to ease your constant worry about him. but now it’s second nature, your guiding hand has healed him, made him want to stay alive and healthy and whole, not for just you, but for himself.

the moment the realization washes over him of just how much you’ve given him, he rushes home and tells you in no less than a thousand ways just how grateful he is to have your love.

———

[goobigon]

A 101 Step Guide to Win His Heart

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Genre: Fluff, Slight Chaos, Mutual Pining Setting: Gotham, modern day

[Masterlist]

Step 1: Don’t fall for the emotionally unavailable, motorcycle-riding vigilante. …Oops.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, gripping your phone like it personally offended you. The screen glows mockingly with the tab still open: “101 Ways to Win His Heart.” It's a dumb article. It's clickbait. It's also bookmarked.

Because unfortunately, you have a massive, incurable, stupid crush on Jason Peter Todd. Yes, that Jason. Ex-Robin. Current Red Hood. Hotter than the Gotham heatwave and about as emotionally stable as a raccoon in a dumpster fire.

Still. You’re in deep.

Step 12: Find common interests.

Turns out, Jason likes books.

You also like books. Perfect.

Except his taste is Russian literature and tragic antiheroes and yours is witchy romances with glittery covers and spicy tension.

So when you spot him in the bookstore’s café (half-buried in Dostoevsky, black coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up like a crime), you panic and grab the first dark-looking book off the shelf.

…It’s a YA vampire romance.

You sit beside him like you're totally chill. “Love the… metaphorical depth,” you lie, clutching the sparkly book like it’s your thesis.

Jason peeks over the cover, lips twitching. “Did you just pick that up to impress me?”

You blink. “What? No. Obviously not. Who does that?”

He quirks a brow. “It still has the security tag.”

“…I’m gonna go die now.”

Step 45: Make him laugh.

You didn’t expect Jason to be funny.

Dry, sarcastic, subtle but when he really laughs? It’s this warm, unguarded sound that makes your knees weak.

So you start collecting terrible jokes.

“Why did Batman and Robin never use smartphones?” you ask one night.

Jason’s eyebrow lifts. “Why?”

“Because the Bat-Signal was enough.”

He stares.

Then snorts into his drink.

You mark it as a win.

Step 67: Be there when it counts.

It’s pouring when he shows up at your door bloody, bruised, soaked through and silent.

No words. Just your eyes meeting his. The way he sways a little, exhaustion pulling at him.

You don’t ask. You just pull him inside, patch him up, make him tea, and let him fall asleep on your couch with your throw blanket barely covering his long frame.

In the morning, he’s gone.

But your bookshelf has a new addition: a well-worn copy of The Idiot with a sticky note inside.

It reads: You’re not one. But I like that you try anyway. – J

Your heart does a triple backflip.

Step 101: Be yourself. Even if you’re a little chaotic, a little nerdy, and a lot in love.

You’re mid-rant about Gotham’s trash system when Jason grabs your hand during a late-night walk.

You blink.

He shrugs, cheeks faintly pink. “I’ve read a lot of books. Been through hell and back. Fought monsters, real and metaphorical.”

He pauses.

“But no one’s ever tried to win me like you do.”

You stare.

Then smile.

“Is that a compliment?”

He smirks. “It’s a confession.”

Bonus Tip #102: Sometimes, all it takes is being the one who stays. Who laughs. Who brings band-aids and bad jokes. Who loves without expecting him to fix himself first.

And sometimes? That’s all he needs to fall for you, too.

Tag list:

@dreamzaremyrealityy

@not-herexo 

@a-brilliante-mariposa

@fandomtrashsblog

[goobigon]

⪩ ⪨ HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH WITH YOU !

ᰔ PAIRING . . . jason peter todd !

ᰔ . . . j. todd + bf texts !

ᰔ CATEGORY . . . SMAU ( SOCIAL MEDIA )

ᰔ TAGS . . . dirty jokes. more,, close relationship w j. todd.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 NOTES !

001. IM STILL TRYING ON FORMATS 💔

002. can u guys tell that jay's my fav. vro's prolly the only one w those kinds of dirty jokes lmfao

003. "he's so ooc." yeaah.. sorry for studying his character for a literal month ig

© minorlyatfault, 2025

[goobigon]

Viltrumite Mark be like “come to Viltrum”

[goobigon]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[goobigon]

I miss fics like these 😭

Listen, smut is good and smaus are fun and all, but I miss these

AND THE FUSHIGOJO FAMILY FICS!! I cant find them anywhere!!

REMEMBER SPRING DAYS MASTERLIST — GOJO SATORU

pairing. lovesick!gojo satoru x reader

everything can be read as a standalone, but i recommend reading in chronological order !

main masterlist

FIRST YEAR

how i met your mother ; gojo swears he fell in love with you at first sight

indulge me ; you and gojo go on an overnight mission and it goes wrong in every way

onsen incident ; gojo satoru gets everything he wants and right now he really wants to go to an onsen with you

.......

SECOND YEAR

11:34pm ; gojo satoru is so in love with you and everyone can see it

all mine ; it's the exchange event and gojo doesn't like how that kyoto boy looks at you

4:36am ; satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health

keep dreaming! ; down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

5:13pm ; when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object!

.......

THIRD YEAR

.......

AFTER THE SPRING

.......

[goobigon]

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[goobigon]

Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]

"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."

"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."

"Don't say 'coochie'."

"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.

"Vagina."

And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.

The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.

"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."

Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."

"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."

Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."

The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.

"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."

Mark's grin is cocky.

"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."

Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.

"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.

"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."

"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."

"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.

"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."

"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.

But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.

"You okay?"

And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.

"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."

Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.

"Yeah, this is a mood setter."

"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.

"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.

Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.

You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.

"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.

The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.

"Move your hand."

Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.

Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.

"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."

You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.

"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.

"No you're n—nahh..."

Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.

"You little... Fuck.."

You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.

And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"So I'm big, huh?"

He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.

"Just fuck me already."

You grumble.

And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.

The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.

"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.

"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.

"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"

"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.

"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."

With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.

His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.

"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.

"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.

And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.

"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.

Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."

Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.

Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.

He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.

Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.

"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.

Inhaling the scent of you.

"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."

His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.

Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.

"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."

And a laugh tumbles from his lips.

"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.

"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.

"And you'd thank me for it."

[goobigon]

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

[goobigon]

Jason Todd/Reader FIC RECS

If it is in red then it is smut. I selected a few but if you like it check the writers blog please!

Just Friends by @makethatelevenrings “How on earth are we going to convince your family, the greatest detectives in the world, that we’re a couple?”

Dickpic!Jason x Reader (on going series) by @dxckgrxsonx He still has the habit of stashing food. Back in the manor he remembers hoarding non perishables, and remembers slipping food into his little pockets when no one was looking. He was young and still waiting for the other shoe to drop, still waiting for the moment that Bruce changed his mind, convinced that his time in that home was limited. (I've been wating for 2 years to read more of this and lemme tell you I'd wait a thousand more. When I'm old and have dementia, struggling to remember my children and grandchildren I WILL remember this fic; quote it if needed and yap about it in god-knows-which-language. Even if you don't like smut just check it for your own good! It is not like modern smut (porn w/o plot)! There is depth, there is longing, there is slowburn (it burns so good tho) THIS IS ART I TELL YOU! When future generations study literature they'll study this and wanna be us whom been so lucky to be born just in the right time to read it!! Omfg I fucking love it pls do yourselves a favor and just read it!

You're in love with me, ew by @lightwing-s "You're in love with me” you blurted out in awe “And you have a crush on me, ew!"

Let's Fuck Up The Friendship by @igotanidea What kind of fool falls for his best friend?

If You Want Me, You Have Me by @deadrobinthoughts “no.” he took a slow step forward, shaking his head, a mix of disbelief and frustration in his expression. “no, we’re not brushing past that. you think i want someone else?”

Nice And Slow by @sobbingscripter No reason." Jason hums quietly. "I just saw a bloodstain that reminded me of you, so I ended patrol a little earlier."

Blink And You'll Miss It by @reds-hoodies -you waited your whole life to meet your soulmate and damn if you’re just going to let him slip through your fingers.

Who Needs Heaven? by @mostly-imagines “...This hasn’t happened…” You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?” He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.” 

I Have A Door, Y'know by @vacate-et-scire “No, but I nearly missed swinging my lamp at your head.” You crossed your arms, glaring. “I have a door.”

Outgoing Call by @dickgraysonisnothereforthis “Yeah. Yeah, read it to me. Actually, wait. How long is it? How many lines?” There’s silence as the perp counts. “Four.” “Four?!” you shriek. “Four?! That dumb motherfucker ended a four month relationship in four lines of text?”

Late Night Talks by @jjenthusee (you can also find it on AO3) “Don’t remind me, I was delirious from blood loss.” Jason winced at the memory. “Not my best moment.”

Worried by @weneeya He left you alone in your apartment before he left for his night patrol. So why weren’t you here anymore? Where were you?

Idiot Boyfriend by @randomasfuk “You wanna leave me? Fine, I guess, but can you at least tell me why you left? What did I do? You can’t possibly think I didn’t care because I—” You paused, the words catching in your throat. “You know what? Forget it.”

Firends Who Kiss! by @ebodebo "I think...just a small kiss won't hurt. Right?" 

Anything&Everything (in literal sense) by @heavysighing-dreamyeyes I'm curently blocked so I can't quote anything but you should have to check it out! They are my fav blog rn.

@ghostybat as far as I know she doesn't do fanfiction but hell do I love her blog?! They post amazing art and fun to talk to!

@hecate-hollow I just can't not mention them! They are funny also has great ideas/opinions!!

If you came this far hear me out for a sec! I go in and out of fandoms randomly so I never been an active member in any of them. Maybe you are like me and hadn't had the chance to learn that we should support by commenting and reposting. Liking posts sometimes is not enough so please reblog as much as you can when you want to support your writter!!

(If wanted to get off tags let me know!)

[goobigon]

No one has boyfriended as hard as Ino Takuma has. Everything about him just screams a good boyfriend, his giddy smile and his boyish demeanor..

he's not inexperienced, Takuma is a very handsome guy with his beaming, very approachable personality, he has had his fair share of romantic endeavours, he has dated here and there. People are gravitated to him and many men wonder of what about him is so special, but those who get it, they do.

He's the type to make your inner child feel safe? He takes care of you but at the same time he also gives you the headspace in your relationship to be as silly as possible and it becomes even more encouraging because he will be silly with you!!

He possibly asks Nanami for his wisdom and advice in areas he believes there ought to be more maturity involved, for example, the rumination and spiralling that comes as a result of being an adult. And Takuma is eager to learn how to comfort you...

The most 50/50 switch in the history of switches and the balance is so equilibrated, he'll really do whatever you want, he'll bottom if that's your mood, make love to you and take the lead gently as he talks you through it, or be a little rough too, if that's what you prefer..

To add, he also lets you steal his clothes, even his slippers when you're at his place and he insists that you stay even if you're like "Takuma I literally don't have any clothes so that I can stay over" and he just reassures you by saying "What are my clothes for then? What's mine is yours baby"

Afterall he's the perfect boyfriend 😔

please have my ino brain worms @risararelywrites @discogirlsclub @gojoscinnamonroll

[goobigon]

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐱𝐭𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

warnings: fluff, crack, angsty, f!reader

[goobigon]

ᯓ WEBSITES you've been looking for ୨୧

!!! % for editing: 𖥻

★ canva (there's a lot of different templates)

★ photopea (alternative to photoshop)

!!! % for gif making/editing: 𖥻

★ ezgif (a very complete tool to create and edit gifs)

★ bloggif (different old school gif editing effects)

★ picmix (to create blingee type of gifs)

★ glitterfy (to put glitter all over your chosen image)

!!! % for gif text: 𖥻

★ cooltext (burning, glittery and glowy text generator)

★ bloggif text (glitter text generator)

★ gigaglitters (glitter text generator)

★ glitterfy words (glitter text generator)

!!! % for fancy fonts: 𖥻

★ messletters

!!! % to remove background: 𖥻

★ remove.bg

!!! % to pick colors and swatches from a picture: 𖥻

★ image color picker

!!! % for aesthetic symbols and kaomojis: 𖥻

★ amino post

★ emoji combos

★ emoji db

★ kaomoji

!!! % for blinkies, dividers, gifs and stamps : 𖥻

★ blinkies generator

★ @animatedglittergraphics-n-more (blog that posts said content)

★ @graphics-cafe (blog that posts said content)

[goobigon]

Combining my current hyper fixations 😝

them being jealous of your fav dc character

<3 incl: gojo, toji, sukuna.

my asks are open for more ideas and requests. also reblogs are really appreciate. :)

have fun reading!💘

cont: crack, fluff.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

satoru

toji

sukuna

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.