jays-rus

[jays-rus]

“Do you want to make a stop for Batburger?”

[Incoherent concussed Jason noises]

[jays-rus]

[ Bruce is out at a comedy event with all his kids. ] Comedian: Are these your kids too? Brice: Half of them. Their parents wouldn’t let me legally adopt the other half. Comedian: So you stole them? Jason: He kinda did. Comedian: You know this doesn’t sound good.

[jays-rus]

Do you wanna play mermaids? Yay. Okay so my tail is light blue and I have ice powers. And I live in the Arctic sea and watch British sailors die horrible deaths while trying to find the Northwest Passage.

[jays-rus]

Damian defends the Red Hood. the family doesn’t know why, but it’s concerning. what reason would their youngest have to defend a crime lord? there must have been something more to it.

even after the identity reveal, Damian refuses to step down. the moment he perceives the family as being unfair to Jason, the moment they seem to overlook him or brush him off, Damian will be there to tell them off and remind them that, actually, Jason was talking first.

what’s probably even more dumbfounding to them by that point is that Jason lets it happen. it forces them to realize that Jason hardly fights for himself, to be heard or acknowledged. and for those of them that had been there when Jason first joined the family? it’s a painful reminder of the skittish boy they had first got to know

Damian takes his duties of brother very seriously. when Jason first joined their family back in Nanda Parbat, his mother had been very clear when explaining to him that his brother was in no state to speak or stand up for himself due to his catatonic state. Damian had made it his mission then to not only defend but also promote his brother’s interest. it would be unbecoming of him to let anyone diminish or take advantage of the more vulnerable member of their family until he could do it for himself

except that time never did happen. Damian still jumps to Jason’s defence at a moment’s notice and Jason still gets a little choked up when he gets to witness how how protective his little brother still is of him

[jays-rus]

Dick: Hey, Tim, your birthday is coming up, do you want anything?

Tim: Actually-

Jason, munching on a sandwich: Nah, that motherfucker was born by C-section. It's not his birthday, it's his release date.

Steph and Babs: *shoots water out their noses*

Bruce: JASON!

[jays-rus]

Bruce: *is dead again*

Dick: well this s-

Tim: *carrying a go bag* I can't believe this! I'm gonna put a tracker on him when I- oh hi Dick.

Dick: ...you don't think he's dead?

Tim: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME ANYONE DIED! ok Alfred but at this point I think he's using this as a vacation from us but PAST THAT! Who ACTUALLY dies? Superman 'dies' every few years, Bruce keeps 'dying' hell YOU 'die' sometimes. Obviously Jason, Damian, Cas, Steph have all 'died', my friends have'died',BUT THEY COME BACK! everyone. comes. back. I'll be back when I find Bruce for the THIRD TIME! *slams door*

Alfred: *walking into the room* he's not wrong. Tea?

[jays-rus]

[jays-rus]

Anxiety Angel

Synopsis: It’s your first time wearing a bathing suit around them, so you can’t help but feel insecure

TW: suggestive content, Tim being a creep, Jason has boy brain, Damian is such a concerned sweetheart in this ugh

A/N: I might write more things with all the boys included…maybe…idk yet

Included: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Damian Al Ghul Wayne:)

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

→Bruce

Pulling Bruce away from his work as both the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and as Gotham’s protector was like pulling teeth. He rarely (and I mean rarely) took days off, especially from his night time job as the Batman. But summer was coming around and all your friends were going on fun and exciting vacations, while you were stuck in the cesspool known as Gotham City.

Y/N’s boyfriend had taken her out of the state and country before for business meetings, and the few times that his night time job made him travel. But those were all at work expenses, nothing for just them two.

So, with much convincing, Y/N was able to pull Bruce away from Gotham for a weekend. Yeah, a weekend. Two days. She had bargained for a week, but he very sternly told her: “take a weekend or nothing at all.”

But now came the hard part, her insecurities. Y/N wasn’t model thin, just average…maybe a little plush. Either way, she hated her body and was always finding the faults in it.

She knew that Bruce probably wouldn’t care about her body and how it looked in a bathing suit. But this was Bruce Wayne we’re talking about here…dude’s been with countless women—models included!

“Sweetheart, are you okay in there?” Bruce asked as he knocked on the door to the bathroom. “You dragged me away from work just to haul yourself up in there? You could have done that at the manor.”

Y/N flinched a little at the sound of his voice on the other side of the door. “I’m—,” she trailed off. What was she going to say? That she was okay? That she wasn’t going to go anymore?

Bruce tried to open the door, but the handle barely turned any as an indicator that it was locked from the inside. He sighed to himself before replying, “you can’t force me away from work and then hide in there all day. I thought you wanted to get out of Gotham for a little.”

“I did,” Y/N admitted as she looked over her ugly shoulders, and stomach, and arms, and legs, and—. “But now I’m having second thoughts.”

“Y/N, let me in.” Bruce firmly demanded in a soft voice that left no room for argument.

She tore her eyes away from her body and from the mirror as she shuffled over to the door. She unlocked it and wrapped her arms around her torso as Bruce opened the bathroom door to find her in a black bikini.

There was no hiding it from him. No amount of convincing that she was fine would simply slip past the world’s greatest detective, so she didn’t even try. Was it the way she covered her stomach? Or the way her shoulder’s sagged ever so slightly that gave her away? Maybe the small frown on her face that told a thousand words?

But to Bruce, she was stunning, and yet she stood there with so much insecurity and doubt.

He softly shut the bathroom door and stood in front of her. He gently grabbed her arms, his calloused and warm hands flush against her skin as he pulled her arms away from her middle.

“God, sweetheart, you have no reason to be so worried,” Bruce assured as he held her arms so that she couldn’t put them back.

“Well, I do,” she bit.

“Why would you think that I would judge you for your appearance?” Bruce asked, his blue eyes meeting her own.

“You’ve been with models before, Bruce.” Y/N softly explained as she looked away from him, “you’ve been with models before and I’m nowhere near their size—.”

Ah, so that’s the issue. Bruce thought to himself.

He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him, and when she did, their eyes met once more. “You really think I care about some model? I was only ever with them for appearances. I would rather have a curvy, real woman any day of the week.”

Y/N’s eyes still held so much insecurity, but she would be lying if she said his words didn’t affect her some.

“Do you think I’m lying to you?” Bruce asked. “That my words are just empty and not genuine, sweetheart?”

“N-No,” she softly replied with a stutter. “I know you’re telling the truth.”

“Then why do you still look unsure?”

“Cuz I don’t like how I look in this bathing suit,” Y/N admitted. “I bought a black one and it’s pretty…but I’m not pretty enough for it.”

“Sweetheart,” Bruce murmured, his voice soft and calming. “You’ve been nothing but beautiful to me, in every way, since we met. Don’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry. I’m ruining our trip by being stupid—.”

“—You haven’t ruined anything.” Bruce insisted as he let go of her chin and moved his hands down to her waist, pulling her closer to him. “But if you don’t believe me, I could always show you just how beautiful you really are.” He then smirked, “I bet if I did that, then you’d never be insecure again.”

→Dick

“Babe, we’re going to the beach!” Dick declared with a bright and cheerful smile.

That was what he said when he arrived home from patrol one night at 3AM. Honestly, Y/N thought he was joking when she saw him enter the window, his arm all bloody and cut up from a street fight while she laid curled up in bed and on her phone.

But no, it wasn’t a joke. Apparently Barbara had mentioned something about the beach for one of the missions, and Dick had the bright idea to turn the mission into a vacation. He would vacay while on the job. It all works out!

So with Barbara’s help, she booked the nicest place that money could afford for just the two of them. One could call it romantic, but this was still a work trip after all.

But for now that could be pushed aside since it was the last thing on Y/N’s mind. She currently stood in the hotel bathroom staring at her reflection in the mirror. She bought a new bathing suit a few years ago since she liked it at the time, however, she hadn’t tried it on since she bought it, and now she was regretting it.

Why did her stomach look like that? Since when did her hips dip so deep? And the stretch marks? And—.

“If you’re thinking you look awful, I disagree.” Dick said as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “I think you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Y/N jumped at the voice in the doorway, “don’t scare me like that, Dick!”

A boyish smirk appeared on Dick’s face as he pushed off the door frame and stood behind his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You were taking too long. Don’t blame me. But seriously babe, you look great.”

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed in annoyance as she melted against his chest. “You look pretty regardless of what you’re wearing.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” Dick lightly teased as he placed his chin on her shoulder. He could feel the nerves radiating off her body, and it only made him more concern than he was before. “Babe,” he lightly kissed her shoulder, “are you okay?”

“Is this the part where I lie or..?”

“The truth, please.”

With a sigh, Y/N told him. “I don’t like how I look in this. I feel ugly.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Dick asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N looked at him through the mirror with narrow eyes and annoyance, “and how many girls have you said that to? Cuz last I checked, your track record for a committed relationship was low.”

Ow, okay, that one hurt. But he couldn’t really deny her comment considering this seemed to be the only relationship so far that felt real and genuine (well, maybe outside of his relationship with Barbara).

“I won’t lie, you’re right. But I genuinely mean what I say, regardless of my past,” Dick replies. “I’ve had my fair share of relationships in the past, and I won’t deny it. But what we have feels right…none of the others compare to you.” Dick looked at Y/N through the reflection of the mirror, their eyes meeting as his blue ones took in the insecurity in her eyes. “Sweetheart, you look amazing, and I mean it.”

Y/N gently placed a hand over top Dick’s hands that were still wrapped around her waist. “It feels right to me too.”

Dick’s smile widened as she saw the insecurity and doubt seemingly melt away, and become replaced with a sense of security and comfort. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Dick spun her around to face him. “Now, how about we hit the beach?” He asked, his hands unwrapping from her waist to grab her hand. “Unless you wanna forfeit the beach and stay in and do something else.”

→Jason

Why had he let her drag him to this place to begin with? Oh right, he was hopelessly in love with Y/N, that’s why.

For the last month and a half Y/N had been bringing up the beach. It started in passing, just randomly bringing it up in conversation. But then Y/N started showing him pictures of her friends who had gone to the beach already. But the real convincing point was when she told him she’d be wearing a bathing suit.

Yeah, alright, that made him cave.

Listen, he didn’t mean to be like every other man out there who was persuaded by the idea of their partner in a bathing suit. But what choice did he have when Y/N never wore tight clothes and never showed off her body? He’d take his chances when he gets it.

The only bad part was his job as the Red Hood, that part proved to be the most difficult. But if Y/N wanted a beach trip, she’d get a beach trip. He’d just have to sit there and complain about not being on patrol and killing people.

Y/N stood in the bathroom staring over her reflection as she wore a bathing suit in his color, red. It was a bit too revealing for her taste, but Jason had chosen it for her and she wasn’t about to tell him no. It was the only way he agreed to come after all.

A soft knock sounded at the door, “doll, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah!” Y/N lied as she grabbed her black jacket that sat on the sink counter that she was wearing earlier. “Be out in a minute!” She slipped her jacket on and zipped it up before walking out of the bathroom.

He stood in the middle of the room, his green eyes landing on her covered body. “What’s up with the jacket?”

“I’m cold,” Y/N said.

“There’s no way you are when you took it off as soon as we got here.” Jason stated, “so what’s the real reason?”

“Like I said,” Y/N sniffled. “Cold.”

“Liar. Let me see the bathing suit,” Jason quickly demanded. “Otherwise, I will tear that jacket off you myself.”

Not wanting to make the situation any worse, Y/N obeyed and unzipped the jacket. The black coat slipped from her shoulders, down her arms, and then to the floor beneath them. Now left in a red bikini that barely covered any skin—she felt exposed.

Jason’s eyes roamed her body that was clad in his color. He took in the way the material hugged her curves, made her skin appear brighter, and every inch of the exposed.

“You were hiding this from me the whole time?” Jason asked.

He had seen her body before, of course he had, multiple times in fact. But her wearing a bikini in his color? Yeah, it was doing something to him.

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as if she was trying to hide her form from the world. “Can I put the jacket back on?”

“Don’t you dare put that jacket back on.”

“Jason, I-I feel like I’m wearing nothing,” Y/N uncomfortably admitted.

“That’s the point,” Jason retorted. “You’re my girlfriend and I wanna see every part of you.”

“But this seems…weird…”

“Babe, half those girls out there are wearing a lot less than you. Honestly, you’re more covered than they are,” Jason stated.

“And I’m sure they’re not insecure about their bodies either,” Y/N snapped.

Jason’s hard demeanor softened at the insecurity in her voice. He knew that he had to put his boyish ideas aside and help his girl out, and so he gently took her hand in his. His cold body always sent a shiver down her warm one. “Doll, you’ve got no reason to be insecure. I’ve seen this body before, it’s beautiful, and there’s no reason to hide it.”

“Of course there is,” Y/N said. “I’m bloated so my stomach is sticking out a little, my boobs look weird and—.”

He put a hand over her mouth.

“Do I need to sit here and list every single god damn reason why you’re perfect? Cuz I can.”

A muffled ‘no’ sounded from under Jason’s hand.

“Then listen to me…you look great. Hot even. Really hot.” Jason paused for a moment before continuing, “yeah, and I should have picked something a bit more moderate for you. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”

Y/N eyes softened at his apology. Was he really apologizing for giving her a revealing bathing suit?

He then removed his hand from her mouth, “but if you really wanna cover up your body…then I’ll let you.”

→Tim

It was rare for Y/N’s boyfriend to get out of Gotham due to his vigilante adventures. So when her friends had asked her to tag along for their couples beach trip that year, she asked her boyfriend to come along.

He immediately agreed on the account that something bad could happen to her. She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but she assumed he was talking about his jealousy and the fact other boys would be there.

Y/N knew her boyfriend could be possessive and mostly obsessive at times, so she kept your mouth shut cuz he actually agreed to come.

When they arrived at the beach, everyone was immediately put off by Tim. It wasn’t that he was a walking red flag (though pretty much all the Wayne wards were), but the way he seemed to talk for Y/N. She didn’t think anything of it since her boyfriend knew her better than she knew herself.

So when the time rolled around for all of them to head out to the beach side, and Y/N realized she forgot to pack her bathing suit? Tim shoved a green one in her direction and pushed her into the bathroom to change.

The bathing suit fit like a glove, like it was made for her specifically. And while it was nice material, comfortable and a pretty shade of green, Y/N wondered how Tim even knew she had forgotten it. There was something a bit…unsettling about it.

“Tim, how did you know I left my bathing suit at home?” Y/N asked him, slipping on a pair of flip flops as she grabbed her sunglasses from her bag.

“Oh, I purposely took it out before we left.” Tim nonchalantly replied, “I thought you’d like this one more.”

“Wait, you did what now—?”

Tim was calm, collected and nonchalant about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t all that surprising, but he just causally took your original bathing suit out of your bag and packed this one instead?

“Well I assumed that the other one would be uncomfortable since the top had a wire support. I know that you’re not a fan of wired bras, so I simply switched it out for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Tim, that’s an invasion of privacy.”

Tim gave Y/N an almost innocent look, but judging by the small smirk on his face? Yeah, he was amused. “Privacy?” He questioned, “when you found out about my vigilance you practically gave it up.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “are you still watching me while on patrol?!” She exclaimed, covering her torso with her arms. “I told you it was creepy and to stop!”

“I gave it up for…a while,” Tim states. “But how else am I supposed to make sure that you’re safe? We live in Gotham. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t keep an eye out for you?”

“Tim, there’s a big difference between looking out for me because my life could be in danger, and simply stalking me.” Y/N groans, “and judging by how you snuck out my other bathing suit for this one…I’m going with the latter.”

“I disagree.” Tim stubbornly says. “You’re not very good at packing clothes for trips. You always forget your hair brush, and you forgot to pack a hoodie that one time you were going to the mountains with your parents—I’m doing you a favor honestly.”

“And how is changing out my bathing suit a ‘favor?’ I liked that other one,” Y/N asked as she crossed her arms. “Regardless of the wire.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The other one would have pinched your skin and make you uncomfortable within the hour. And please don’t argue with me. I know more about bras than you do.”

“Tim…what the hell?”

Tim scoffed, “I’m just looking out for your comfort.”

“By being weird.”

“No, it’s called being considerate.” Tim corrects, “and the other boys are just going to drool over you and so I switched out your bathing suits for comfort, and to make sure that nobody is staring at you but me.”

In a weird way, Tim was just stating that he was jealous.

“So once again, you’re welcome.”

“No wonder my friends think you’re a creep,” Y/N sighed out.

Tim grabbed her hand and began to drag her out of their shared hotel room, “let them.”

→Damian

It was Y/N’s idea to have a fun filled summer with her new boyfriend of two months. Y/N and Damian were both young, but both acted like they had been dating for years. It was finally the summer between school years, and Y/N’s family always went on a yearly beach trip.

Y/N had begged her parents to let Damian come along, and they happily agreed since they wanted to meet him. Damian on the other hand, did not want to go. But Bruce practically shoved him out the house and told him: “go act like a regular kid your age.”

So here he was…shoved into the back row of Y/N’s parent’s mini van with her, his arms crossed and an annoying look on his face. He would rather be back in Gotham fighting crime than stuck in some van with people he didn’t like—but if they were going to be his future family members, he’d suck it up…kinda.

It was day one of the beach trip and Y/N was in the bathroom looking over how she looked in her new bathing suit. She bought a new one to match Damian’s dark aesthetic of black, red and grey since her own were full of bright colors. But in her mind, she didn’t suit the darker shades and it only made her feel bad about herself.

Why had she bought a new one anyway? It wasn’t like Damian was going to care if she matched him or not.

“You are taking too long. I am coming in,” Damian bluntly announced as he threw open the bathroom door. “Why are you just standing there?” He asked, his eyes landing on her exposed body.

“Damian!” Y/N exclaimed with flushed cheeks as she quickly grabbed a towel from off the shelf to cover herself. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?!”

“I thought it was unnecessary. We are dating.”

“But what if I was naked?!” Y/N continued.

Damian’s cheeks flushed in realization that: one, she could have been naked and this situation could have been totally different. And two, she was wearing nothing but her one piece bathing suit.

He quickly looked away, “apologies.”

“You think?!”

“I was growing impatient,” Damian admits with his eyes still focusing away from her towel covered body. “What was taking you so long?”

“Girl stuff.”

“That entails..?”

“Staring at myself in the mirror with disgust.”

Damian quickly looked back at Y/N, completely disregarding the fact she only wore a towel and her bathing suit. “Who put that idea in your head? Your mother? I will go and talk to her, and if she does not understand, then I shall kill her—.”

“Damian, don’t kill my mom. She didn’t do anything,” Y/N says. “It’s me. I’m doing it.”

“Why do it then?” Damian asked.

Y/N flushed and dropped the towel from around her body, “it’s this bathing suit. I-I asked my mom to help me pick one out that complimented you more a-and I think I look stupid in it and—.”

“—You did not need to buy a dark color bathing suit to please me, habibti. I do not understand why you would go out of your way when I like you how you are already. I assume you packed a regular one. Shall I get it for you?”

[jays-rus]

Jason Todd with ballet!reader? Omg I love your writing on him!

jason todd x ballerina!reader | MDNI 18+

JASON TODD likes to pretend he’s above it. that it doesn’t absolutely ruin him when you stretch—when you press your leg up against the barre, your spine curving in a beautiful arch. he likes to pretend he’s not watching the way your body moves, the way your muscles flex and extend with years of discipline behind every motion.

but he is.

god, he is.

it begins as a joke. him teasing you about your ‘fancy ballet tricks,’ as he watches you lace up your pointe shoes, calling you a showoff when you pirouette across the apartment floor just to grab your water bottle. but then, one night, his hands are gripping your hips, dragging you onto his lap, and you hook your leg up over his shoulder without even thinking.

his teasing stops real quick after that.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, voice strained, hands flexing against your thighs. “you—fuck—” he trails off, just staring at the way you move, the way you roll your hips slowly and teasingly, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

the next time, he tests you.

“can you—” he hesitates, but you already know what he’s asking. so you just smirk and lift both legs with ease, ankles crossing behind his head.

jason actually groans.

“holy shit.”

after that, it becomes a thing. him finding excuses to test your flexibility in increasingly creative ways.

he’s shameless about it, too.

“bet you can’t bend like that here,” he challenges, pushing you back against the mattress, watching with greedy eyes as you stretch, arch, move to accommodate him. never has he seen someone who could fold like you do, who could let him bend you in ways he’d never even thought about.

“fuck,” he mutters, hands holding your waist as he pulls your legs up—higher, higher—until your ankles are pinned beside your ears.

“you always this bendy, ballerina?”

the first time he had you against the mirror, leg hooked over his shoulder, your toes pointed prettily behind his back, and the way you look—flushed and breathless, lip caught between your teeth, your hair a mess against the mirror—jesus fucking christ he had to physically stop himself from cumming in seconds. rolling his hips forward, jason pushes himself even deeper, and you let out a punched-out gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.

“too much?” his voice is rough, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it. you shake your head no, but your lower belly aches from how deep he is, the stretch making your thighs quiver.

“no,” you breathe. “just—s-so deep.”

jason groans, relishing in the delicious sensation of you pulsing around him.

the time you sank into a perfect split while riding him, thighs flexing as you rolled your hips? yeah, that had him gripping your asscheeks so hard he was surprised he didn’t leave handprints.

the time you let him lift you—your ankles by your ears, his arms under your knees, holding you midair—his brain almost short-circuited.

he was fucking obsessed.

but it’s not just that.

he shows up to your recitals. sits in the back, hood pulled up, arms crossed like he’s just there for support. after the show, you find him waiting at you by the exit. in his hand, a bottle of water—cold, condensation slick against his fingers. he presses the bottle into your hand.

“you’re so unreal up there,” he tells you. he means it.

later, back home, jason kneels at the foot of the couch, tugs your legs into his lap, and starts kneading slow circles into the arches of your aching feet.

“should be illegal to move like that,” he mutters without glancing up at you. his thumbs dig in a little harder, and you let out a soft, relieved sigh.

“y’know, if you’re tired of all that ballet practice…”

you arch a brow, amused. “yeah?”

he smirks, pressing a kiss to your ankle.

“i do have a few other uses for that flexibility.”

[jays-rus]

jason todd runs hot. always has.

like asphalt baking under the august sun, his body radiates heat. in the dead of winter, it’s a blessing. in the middle of summer, it’s a curse.

right now, with your AC busted, it’s the latter. he’s sprawled out on your bed, shirtless, an arm slung over his face. the fan in the corner rattles uselessly, doing little more than stirring the stagnant heat. his skin gleams with sweat, dark hair curling damp at his temples.

“this is hell,”

“it’s eighty degrees.”

“exactly.” you pop open a can of coke, ice-cold from the fridge, and take a sip. the second jason hears the crack of the tab, his arm moves from his face, one eye cracking open with interest. you know he’s about to ask for a sip—so you press the can straight to his stomach. he jerks like he’s been electrocuted.

“fuck!”

you burst out laughing, but it’s cut short when he snatches the can from your hand and slams it onto the bedside table. it wobbles dangerously, foam sloshing over the rim.

“you little—”

“you looked like you needed to cool off,” you say, smugly. jason glares at you, chest rising and falling, sweat glistening along his collarbones. then, with zero warning, he lunges. you yelp as he tackles you into the sheets, his overheated body pressing down on yours like a human brand.

“jay—you’re sweating on me! gross!”

“good,” he says, smiling against your temple. “suffer.”

[jays-rus]

hello! i’ve been reading your work for a while and i just adore it. this is a bit of an odd request, but i was wondering if you could do some head cannons of funny/embarrassing stuff that happened while reader and jason were doing the deed? i think that would be hilarious

content warning : p in v. backshots. oral (f!receiving). very smutty in general

a/n : a couple of these were based on a comment section on instagram reels

that one time . . . jason lost all respect for you when you made motorcycle noises while he was hitting it from the back. you were both fully in the zone—until you suddenly went, “vroom vrrrmmm,” right as he bottomed out. jason froze. you, however, were losing it, body trembling with laughter. “are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he groaned, dropping his chin against your shoulder. you doubled down with “brrrrm brrrrm.” he immediately pulled out, lightly smacked your ass. “heyyy! what was that for, jay?”

that one time . . . he fell asleep while eating you out. five minutes in, right as you were tugging his hair and moaning his name, the rhythmic laps of his tongue started slowing, before stopping altogether. and… was that a snore? when you look down blearily to find that he was fast asleep between your legs, cheek smushed against your inner thigh like a pillow. you poke at his cheek, trying to wake him, and he just groaned and nuzzled deeper, his big arms are still locked tightly around you. “jay… what the hell?” his response was an unintelligible mumble, followed by a soft snore.

that one time . . . he tried to rip your panties off in one go, but the fabric held strong, and he just ended up yoinking you toward him instead. you yelped as you nearly face-planted onto his chest, and he just sat there, looking betrayed by physics. “goddamnit,” he muttered. “that was supposed to be hot.” he eventually just took them off like a normal person, but he was so bitter about it the entire time.

that one time . . . you’d completely forgotten to lock your pet kitten out before jason bent you over the kitchen counter. mid thrust, he stiffened behind you, his whole body going rigid as your kitten, whiskers twitching with curiosity, trotted up right beside him. a soft meow. then she started to climb up his jeans. he carefully scoped up the tiny intruder with both hands—his cock still pulsating inside you—and passed her to you with the gravitas of someone disarming a bomb. “hold her. she doesn’t need to see this,” he grunted before getting right back to business.

that one time . . . jason got too into it that the bedframe collapsed beneath you both like the wrath of god. awkward silence. a beat. then finally, “i meant to do that.”

that one time . . . his life and death briefly flashed before his eyes when you passed out post-orgasm. he had worked you over thoroughly, and as a result, you came harder than ever. apparently, a little too hard. the moment you came, your body seized up, you let out a tiny gasp, and then—completely limp. jason panicked. he shook you gently, pressed a hand to your forehead, checked your pulse. when he was sure you were alive, he weighed the pros and cons of reviving you with cold water. luckily, you woke up thirty seconds later to him hovering over you like a concerned mother hen.

that one time . . . he accidentally sent an audio file to the family group chat. the two of you were still basking in the afterglow when jason’s phone suddenly exploded with notifications. you watched a myriad of emotions cross his face—annoyance, confusion, and horror. a solid four seconds of pure filth play before he pauses the audio and you both realise what he’s done. he goes pale. you’re staring back at him in horror.

──────────────────────────

Tim: this put an itch on the roof of my mouth that only a shotgun could scratch

Damian: I am blocking you two degenerates.

Dick: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

Babs: I’m pretty sure it’s y/n 🤷‍♀️

Alfred: Master Jason, please kindly remove me from this conversation

Bruce left the group

──────────────────────────

that one time . . . he got a note from alfred that said : “master jason, if you two must defile the furniture, i request that you at least clean it afterward.” jason still hasn’t recovered from that one.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[jays-rus]

short sex with dick grayson headcanons

- dick's too busy sometimes

- but he doesn't have much when he's trying to save the city all the time

- you'd never blame him for it, he knows that too, he loves you dearly and tries to be there as often as he can

- which is why he never gets mad when he enters your shared apartment

- and sees you trying to make yourself cum

- keyword is trying to

- "dickyyyy—!"

- he doesn't make a sound even if his cock strains painfully against his suit

- he watches, stares intently as you use that cute dildo

- you push it back and forth into your hole, clenching around it, trying to pretend that it's dick

- dick doesn't hide the smirk he has when you groan, frustrated that you're on the edge but you still can't cum

- "hm, need some help, baby?"

- "y-yes dicky, please.."

- dick is generous so he doesn't waste any time

- ugh, he can't wait to get a taste of you, your slick that coated the dildo gave dick enough to ease into you

- he hisses right away, fuck, it's been too long

- he bends down, shielding your body as he roughly fucks into your pretty hole

- "fuckkk, baby, so good, sooo fucking goodd"

- "s-so good! dicky— more, p-please!"

- he always gives you what you want

- he'll kiss you as he roughly fucks into you, his hair sticking to his forehead, slipping his tongue into your mouth

- he's a freak, nothing unexpected, every time he fucks you, he needs to make a comment about how big he is

- "baby, can you feel that? fuckk, right in your stomach"

- his favorite place to cum is inside

- he’s not necessarily ready for kids now, but he has a HUGEEE breeding kink

- he just needs to be in you, needs to fill you

- he loves you so much ^3^

[jays-rus]

ARE YOU UPSET? HOT. ( Bruce wayne )

summary: Bruce has a weakness for his wife when she's angry, maybe he should make her angry more often.

open request - dc masterlist

"Bruce."

He turned his head slightly and saw you standing at the edge of the stairs. Your satin robe was half-open, your hair loose and messy. Arms crossed, exactly under your chest.

God bless that stance.

"Do you know what time it is?" you asked, not moving.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I was reviewing some recordings of..."

"Bruce..."

Just his name, not honey, not love, not Boosh, his damn name. He was in trouble.

"Yes, I know," he said, turning completely around. He looked at her brazenly, not bothering to hide it. "You're upset."

—I'm cold, lonely, and upset. I've been waiting for you upstairs for two hours.

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed as well, as if that would balance the power. But no. Not when you were standing there, dressed like that, in front of him.

"What if I told you I needed ten more minutes?" he asked, without much hope.

you stopped right in front of him. "What if I told you this robe has nothing underneath?"

Bruce blinked. Twice. “Liar,” he muttered, his voice deeper than usual.

"Oh, really?" you said, taking a step closer. The scent of jasmine and night rose enveloped him, mingling with the latent threat in your gaze. The cleavage that formed when you leaned slightly forward, the soft curve of her waist, the touch of your skin under the fine fabric… it was a delicious torture.

And the fact that you were upset made it worse. Better. Fucking irresistible.

Bruce exhaled slowly, as if he'd just taken a direct blow to the chest. His jaw tightened, and the hint of a crooked smile appeared on his lips. "That's not fair," he said.

"I didn't come to be fair, Bruce. I came to take you to our bed"

He looked at you, from your burning eyes to your thighs, barely hidden by your robe. And he cursed. Inside. Outside. Everything.

You were hot, and he… he'd always been an idiot for thinking he could resist you.

"You're upset," he repeated, as if he needed reminding her.

"I'm furious." Your voice was soft, almost sweet. But he knew you. He knew that when you lowered your voice, when you moved slowly, that was when you were most dangerous.

Bruce stood tall, the height difference making him look like a mountain in a gale. But the gale was in control. You were in control.

"Give me ten minutes," he tried, one last time, barely a whisper.

"I'll give you three." You turned, and the robe opened a little more as you started up the stairs, deliberately leaving that flash of skin, of curve, of intention.

Bruce stands there, watching you as you walk to the bed you both share, every day he thanked God for putting her in his path.

[jays-rus]

bruce wayne doesn’t hold back sometimes. he’s mean and ruthless, even when your whines and gasps fill up the room. “come on, you did all that teasing earlier, what happened?” he’s so mean and won’t put anymore than his tip in, fucking you slightly with the bump of his cockhead. “b-bruceeee..” you’ll whine to him as you try to get some friction, something, anything but he’ll just use his big hands to hold you still, leading down to your, “bad puppies don’t get what they ask for.”

[jays-rus]

bruce wayne is a filthy man behind closed doors. he says he never wants to hurt you, but you would say otherwise from the way he pounds into you from behind.

he’s animalistic and territorial. he claws at your sides until there are marks against your skin, slamming you up and down on his cock. his face shows no mercy as a mercilessly grin coats his mouth. “you’ve been acting up, all—fucking—day, you can’t take it now?”

even when he cums inside you, and yes, he always cums inside, he’ll leave you there with his cock deep into your insides, making sure no drop of his cum isn’t inside you. “you do sooo well with the others, how about another one?”

[jays-rus]

bruce wayne with a much younger partner seems so troublesome. people think that you’re just using him for his money and fame. whenever you post on your socials of your new fashion, car, and a sweet little puppy named bow, everyone rolls their eyes.

obviously they’re jealous, who wouldn’t be? but, in reality that’s not what they should be jealous of. yeah, the lavish gifts and five star dinners are nice, but what really seals the deal is bruce’s incredible stamina.

he says it’s because he works out—which is no lie, but when he shots load after load into your body, with no sign of stopping, it makes you wonder if he really is that much older than you.

bruce doesn’t stop after one round, never, he’ll hold your body close to his, pounding himself on top of you, kissing into the back of your neck as you babble out any incoherent thoughts. he’s a filthy man and whenever he’s finally finished, he’ll still remind you of his age.

“not bad for a 55 year old, huh sweetheart?”

[jays-rus]

ballerina!reader x jason todd ⋆ ͘ . fluff

you left your duffel bag by the door. everything packed—shoes, tights, warm-ups, leotard folded beneath your skirt—and still, you forget. utterly distraught, you sit on the floor, trapped in your private hell. mentally rehearsing all the routines you can’t dance barefoot. debating whether to call your boyfriend. then deciding against it. then regretting that very decision.

JASON TODD arrives at the studio approximately five minutes into the regret. helmet in the crook of one arm, the offending duffel swinging from the other. a pastel pink atrocity in his grip: satin bows, rhinestoned initials, not to mention a chiikawa keychain clipped to the zipper—feminine to the point of parody. but still, jason holds it unflinchingly, as if nothing about this circumstance merits commentary.

the studio lights bleach everything into the same exhausted palette of white and dusty pink, but he still looks out of place; a hawk among doves. cheeks already warm from the whispers behind you, you cross to him in quick, practised steps—light as habit, but touched by haste. somewhere near the benches, someone murmurs, “is he her bodyguard?” you fold into a swift hug—arms circling his waist, face tucked into his chest. his chin rests atop your head.

“how’d you even know i didn’t bring my bag?”

“kind of hard to miss,” he deadpans, passing the duffel to you with one hand. “figured you forgot when it nearly blinded me walking past the door.”

“hey!” you gasp in mock offense, clutching the strap tight to your shoulder. his eyes linger on your lips a second longer than propriety would prefer, then, as if reminded of your audience, he glances toward the studio bulletin board instead.

“next time, just call me.”

“i don’t wanna make you come all the way—”

“don’t waste time panicking alone,” he says, gruffly. “just call.” he turns as if to leave. and before you can think better of it, you rise on your toes and press a kiss to the edge of his cheekbone.

“thank you jay. you’re the best.”

“don’t mention it.” when jason turns fully, walking back the way he came, you swear you can see a scarlet flush creeping all the way down the nape of his neck and past his collar.