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kenobers · 5 months ago

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quid pro quo | jason todd x sionis!reader 18+

the official beginning of the jason todd x sionis!reader timeline you have an argument with your piss poor excuse of a father, only this time, it results in him draining your bank account. angry and freshly broke, you use the only logical coping mechanism; you fuck his rival's sexy son. tw: mndi 18+, problematic reader, daddy issues, oral sex, p in v sex w/ fem!reader, top!Jason, voyuerism (rooftop sex), brief daddy kink, jason is a little ooc but it's for the plot. reader doesn't know jason is red hood here. a/n: it's the prequel, baby !! quid pro quo | pride & periods | is this love? | tremble & shake | scorn to change my state

"Are you sober?"

"Am I what?"

You and Jason Todd were meant to be rivals. At least, you considered him a rival. He had never seemed to care. Granted, he was presumed dead for most of high school, taking any hope for legitimate academic competition with him. By the time he reappeared in Gotham, your father had already decided you weren't cut out to destroy anybody - although he hadn’t failed to remind you of what could’ve been the entire time Jason owned the Penguin’s hangout.

You still hated the guy. His apparent death had killed all the worth your father saw in you. For him to have been alive this whole time was a major slap in the face.

Secretly, you always thought your father wanted you to destroy Jason because he wished you were Jason. Was it really so fair that Bruce Wayne really had everything handed to him, including all the sons he could want. What was Roman Sionis stuck with? A squeamish daughter with no ambition, who couldn't even prove she was better than some adopted street kid.

Now you exist as more of a pet to him than anything else. Something for him to own, something he could keep leashed at his side, something he could brag about, as if he had any real pride for you. Which was why a single, sham threat to change your last name was enough to have your personal bank account closed.

Well, if you don't need daddy's name, you don't need his money either. It's just a lesson in responsibility.

Yeah, right. Like he wasn't going to find a way to keep you from making money of your own.

But, you could still prove your ownership over yourself. After several minutes of staring blankly at the wall when you realized your father hadn’t been bluffing, you dug to the bottom of your laundry to locate the cherry colored dress that got you into anywhere for free. You weren’t sure what it was you were aiming to accomplish, but the damn dress was going to ensure you didn’t need the Sionis money or name to get what you wanted. Your feet moved with a mind of their own right into your favorite bar, right into the perfect tall, dark and handsome ride.

You hadn’t recognized him at first. You hadn’t seen him in person in God knows how long, not since you were 15, probably. There was nothing special about his jeans, Mickey Thompson t-shirt and leather jacket. He didn’t look like a prince with the lazy way he slouched against the counter at the far end of the bar. From the entrance, his face blended in with all the others, unremarkable and unimpressive. Until the slight tug of his upper lip suddenly had you back in freshman year English, pouting as the teacher praised your would-be rival’s take on Romeo & Juliet.

Finally, a six-foot-something, Wayne branded plot began to formulate.

Of course, now you're rolling your eyes at him. You hate having to repeat yourself, even over the loud buzzing of the bar.

"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"

Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.

"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"

You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.

"Do you know who I am?"

He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.

"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.

"My dad hates you."

He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.

"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"

You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.

"Fuck me."

IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.

"What?"

Ugh, again with the repetition.

"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.

The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear, his crooked nose nudging the side of your head.

"Hey, you sure you're sober?"

The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm dead sober."

"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."

You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"

"Todd."

"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."

Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose.

"And why'd he do that?"

You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm.

"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow.

"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."

"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."

"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin.

Something in your belly tightens. Maybe he’s a more worthy opponent than you’d initially assumed.

You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,” your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. “And I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."

"You should know you’re worth more than just bragging rights, princess,” he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath.

"Prove it."

"...and you're sure you're sober?"

"Wanna test my breath?"

He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.

You can taste the single sip of beer, but it’s not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.

"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"

You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.

"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."

***

"You're freaky, you know that?” Jason teases as you push open the roof access.

"The cameras up here have a delay. My dad's people won't be able to snitch until tomorrow morning, so we have all the time in the world,” you smirk at the way his eyes bug out, tugging on the collar of his jacket with a sly wink. “Don’t worry. The cameras don’t pick up anything that happens on the ground. Plausible deniability.”

He gestures to the roof set-up. The ledge comes up high enough to hide from peeping neighbors, but a string of yellow Christmas lights keeps the spot well illuminated.

"Yeah? And what about other prying eyes? You aren't worried Batman's gonna show up and scold us for public indecency?”

The mental image is funnier than you let him think. You give him an amused little hum as you press yourself against his chest, walking two fingers up his ridiculously prominent bicep.

"Hmm, technically this is private property and besides, this is Red Hood's territory."

"Red Hood? You really are freaky.”

His lips are twinged ruby from being a human breathalyzer. A thin sheen of your lip gloss reflects the warm light surrounding you. Little scars decorate his hard face like freckles. You trace over a recent nick under his eye.

"Please fuck me, Jason.”

His arms are still at his side. His fingers twitch, either from anticipation or anxiety.

"You're sure you want this?"

"Fucking positive. Do you?"

The green of his eyes are shadowed by his hooded eyes. His unflinching gaze is locked in on you. There’s a weight to it that seems to put pressures on all the right places.

"Oh, fuck yeah, I do."

He doesn’t stop to think this time before he kisses you. It’s harder than earlier, his hands roaming your body. He had his moment to explore your cherry flavored mouth, now he’s taking what he wants. What you both want.

There’s no shared breath between you as you suck on his bottom lip, ensuring your lip gloss is smeared everywhere. A large hand snakes its way up your spine to grip the back of your head. You gasp as fingernails dig into your scalp and Jason takes advantage of your parted lips to run his tongue over yours.

You rack your nails over his stomach, catching the muscular grooves of his abdomen to make his shudder. You flatten your palm to sneak it downwards when he retaliates by grazing over your tailbone. You quiver under his touch, feeling that obnoxious smirk on his face.

“Tell me,” he pants between wet smacks, “if”, smack, “if anything’s”, smack smack, “too much.”

This gives you pause. What a chivalrous sentiment from a man who’s about to ram his cock into you on the dirty ground of a bar rooftop where Red Hood might see just to trifle with your father. Actually, you weren’t sure anyone had offered you that sentiment before. It has you rubbing your thighs together.

Something unmistakable and hard pokes your belly as your hips meet. His tongue feels along the ridges of your lips before licking between them, once again filling your mouth with him.

Cigarettes have never tasted so good.

The arm around your waist slides to fill his free hand with your ass. You alarm yourself by letting out a muffled moan when he squeezes. He’s going to make a mess of you much quicker than anticipated.

It’s just because the cameras are picking this part up, you think to yourself, I’m still in charge, Jason Todd isn’t going to get the best of-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the hand on your ass rounding your hip. Two fingers play with the hem of your short dress and pull the skirt up to reveal the skimpy thong underneath. Jason finally pries himself away from your mouth to get a good look, letting out a low whistle as he admires the coordinating colors.

“You’re so organized, aren’t you?” He croons in a much gruffer voice than he’s been using. The rough pads of his fingers knead circles into your thigh, making you keen. “Daddy must really be stressin’ you out, baby girl. You’re so tight, need to unwind…”

You let out a little breath as the hand on your head moves to cup your chin. Jason’s lips are satisfyingly swollen and a rash of scarlet has started to spread across his cheeks, although it’s nothing compared to the heat rising in yours. The fingers at your thigh skim inward, ghosting over the elastic of your underwear.

“This alright?”

Later you’ll curse yourself for not saying something snarkier or dirtier, for not grabbing the outline of his cock and reminding him whose idea this was…but right now, there’s nothing in the world you want more than for this man to touch your pussy.

You nod, “Please, Jason-”

“Please, what?”

Oh, this fucker with his little smug expression.

“Please…Please touch me, Jason.”

Although every time you say his name, his chest tightens up beneath your palms.

He cups your sex, feeling along the thinning string keeping you covered. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s clinging to your lower lips. His index and middle fingers are cold against the thin fabric of your thong. It's a sharp juxtaposition from his hot breath on your lips, then your jaw, then your neck.

Dagger-like canines whet the skin of your throat. The tip of his tongue drags a straight line down your jugular while the tips of his fingers trace circles over your flimsy underwear.

“So wet,” Jason lets out a pleased hum, snapping the string with a thawk to make you jolt. “And in these pathetic excuse for panties? I wouldn’t be surprised if you left something behind in the bar.”

Your natural instinct is to retort, but you don’t have a chance to get a word in before he’s pushing the flimsy fabric aside and swiping his middle finger through your slit.

“Daddy makes you mad and the first thing you do is parade yourself around with your fucking pussy out. You just went out looking for trouble, didn’t you.”

“Nuh-ah-uh,” you protest weakly, gripping his shoulders for support. He’s massaging your lower lips with false mercy. “Wasn’t looking for anything until I-ah-until-ahh-til I saw you.”

His canine bites down as his thumb presses your clit like it’s a button. Two fingers slip inside you with an embarrassing amount of ease and you whine as they scissor you open.

“You really know what you’re doing,” you huff, a half hearted attempt at a joke. He pauses, as if he’s surprised to hear you say that. His fingers freeze up inside you, then start to pump in and out carefully - cautiously even.

“Maybe that’s just what you needed, hmm,” he muses into your skin, planting another wave of kisses along your jawline. “Someone who knows what he’s doing to help you loosen up.”

He’s straining painfully against you. It seems unfair to let him do all the work when he’s also begging to be fucked to shreds. You reach for his cock, only for his fingers to retract from your cunt and curl around your wrist.

You whine, both at the sudden lack of him inside you and your foiled attempts to gain some control. Your knees nearly buckle as he removes his arms all together to shrug off his jacket. But he merely tuts, “None of that, princess. Why don’t you lay back down? I think the cameras got enough.”

Well, fuck it. You told him to treat you like a trophy, no point in confusing the man now.

He drapes his jacket on the ground before twining his arms around your waist and shoulders to lower you down on top of it. The inside is surprisingly soft against the exposed parts of your back.

“You just gotta let me take care of you, baby,” Jason coos, gently grabbing your ankles to move your legs apart. He takes his sweet time dragging your panties off, letting each callous on his hands hit your smooth thighs. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Taste?

“What’re you-”

“Shh, trust me,” he says, coming up to kiss you. He pushes your dress up to your waist, stopping to rub your hip affectionately. “You’re gonna be glad I did this. We can stop if you get uncomfortable.”

He kisses either thigh as he dips his head between your legs, his black hair tickling your skin. You suck in a breath of anticipation, but he steals it when he places an open mouth kiss on your slit.

You crane your head to look at him. Not a single other person has done this to you before. You were beginning to think it was just some sort of myth, but the way Jason licks from your hole to your clit with a blistering, flat tongue is suddenly very real - and very good.

He blows a harsh breath on your clit before delving back into your cunt. He licks his way into you, filling you with a new strange, wet sensation. His tongue is hot on your already burning core and you think you might melt into a puddle. You bite your lip, but it’s not enough to stop the pathetic cries that come out of you as Jason Todd, your alleged nemesis who never paid you any mind, the son of the dull pain in your father’s ass, eats you out.

The sound is obscene and loud, masking your soft pants. The wet noise echoes off the high walls of the ledge while Jason works your cunt with a stupid amount of precision. His mouth is sloppy, engulfing you whole. But, his tongue is tactical, taking its time to draw out a map of all the places that make you moan and squirm.

“Oh God, oh God!” You cry out, your hands flying to grab a fistful of black and white hair as he laps at you. His arms hook around your knees to yank you closer. He’s unreal, unrelenting in his dining. When he switches to deliver kitten licks to your clit, two fingers take his tongue’s place in your hole.

You buck upwards as his fingers curl inside you, easily stroking at that sweet spot just out of reach of your own fingers. His free arm pins your twitching hips down, and that’s when you officially relinquish all control to him.

“Jason, ahhh” you groan, every muscle and nerve in your body quaking. “Jason, I’m gonna…please let me…”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He sucks down on your button, letting his teeth graze the nerves in just the right way to send that unforgiving twinge up to your belly until it whites out your vision. Your orgasm floods his face, but he keeps licking until it stops. Only then does he pull away, giving you a shit eating grin dripping in more than just lip gloss and beer.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl, asking so nicely. And so damn sensitive, it’s cute.”

Your heart races at being called a good girl. You should be spent already, but something about the fact that he made you cum in only ten minutes makes you want even more.

He rises to his knees and you stare at him in awe as his body towers over you, blocking out anything but the hungry gleam of his eyes, the carnivorous bite of his lip, the mounting sweat of his skin. Anything but him.

The lights glow gold behind him, crowing your own personal Apollo with his halo. His pupils are blown out, but his stare hasn’t lost its cool. You, on the other hand, are trembling beneath him, your pussy clenching at the sound of his zipper coming undone.

Your eyes bug out to match the size of the cock he pulls from his jeans. It’s stiff as it fills his grasp, already leaking into his palm. He grins proudly at your awe.

“See why I wanted to warm you up, pretty girl?”

The adrenaline of the moment gives you the strength to sit up and press your worshipful lips to the ruddy head, revealing in the way it twitches. The remnants of your lip gloss add to its shine. Jason mixes it with his spit as he spreads it across his veiny flesh.

“You’re a God, Jason Todd.”

He bends down to reward your praise with a kiss, a briny tang replacing the burn of tobacco. Your hands come up to caress his jaw before dropping to his shoulders, proactively digging into his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his to connect to his neck, repaying him for the bruises he decorated you with earlier.

He hums in pleasure, tipping his head to give you better access. He smears your lipgloss residue onto his hand and lubes his cock with a Lime Crime Wet Cherry and spit cocktail.

You’re so wrapped up in leaving a toothy imprint in the junction of his neck that you miss the hard switch in his expression. You yelp as he grips your thighs and hooks them over his hips, pinning you beneath him. Your torso flies back, but he reflexively catches your head before it can smack against the concrete.

He continues to cradle you, steadying himself as he drags his tip along your slit excruciatingly slow. He tuts and taps your clit when you bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold back now, beautiful,” he taunts, prodding your entrance with his blunt head. “What’s the matter, worried Red Hood might hear you?”

You try to grind against him and snarl when he pulls his cock away, “Don’t fucking tease me, jackass.”

Jason slaps his cock against you, then rests it on your belly. He lets out an amused scoff, “Wasn’t I a God thirty seconds ago?”

“Forgot to mention I’m an atheist.”

You cross your arms like you aren’t flat on your back with your legs up, but no poker face can hide the desperate squirm of your hips.

The bastard shakes his head and the weight of him shifts over your gut, “You just can’t help being a brat, can you? And to think, you were being such a good girl f’me.”

“Only because you were being nice-”

“I can be nice again, sweetheart,” his voice is low as he spits out the pet name. “But you gotta be patient.”

“I wasn’t raised to be particularly- AH!”

The head of his cock bullies its way past your labia and sits at the ready. You can already feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. It’s just the tip and it’s already bigger than anything you’ve ever had.

“You ready?” He whispers. You nod with a strained whine, but it’s not enough for him. “Take a breath, I gotta hear your voice, pretty girl.”

“I-”

Your heart pounds so fast, it stops for the split second that those sharp greens irises soften. His thumb rubs a circle behind your ear.

“Yeah,” you suck in one last breath. “I’m ready.”

“Just - hmm - Just tell me if you need me to stop.”

Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in. When you first saw his size, you had expected it to sting. But instead of sharp pain, he fills you with an instant and, based on the snail’s pace he’s moving at, neverending pressure.

“Oh, baby…Oh, that’s it, that’s it, nice and slow.”

It’s so much. It’s so good. Every bump and groove makes itself known as he buries himself inch by inch, rubbing against you.

"Fuck, you have a big cock," you groan, letting your head fall back on his jacket. He has the audacity to snort as he sinks the rest of himself into you, until his hips finally grate against yours.

The hand holding your head slips out from under you and pulls down the strap of your dress. Your already stiff nipple becomes absolutely statuesque when it meets the night air.

"Yeah? Well, you got a big fuckin' attitude, asking a man you barely know to come fuck you on a rooftop. You do this a lot?"

The edge of a callous catches your nipple.

"No! Just f'you!" You squeak with a jolt.

The callous turns into an entire paw, squeezing your entire breast harshly. You push upwards into the base of his palm, brushing your nipple against the defined lines.

"Just for me? Just had to have me?"

Jason leans in closer, so you can feel each hot strained exhale.

"Had to have you!"

There’s little more than a hair between your noses. That big strong hand finds its way to your throat.

"No one else pisses off your daddy as much?"

You have no explanation for what slipped out of you next.

In your entire sexual experience, you had refused to speak them. And more determined men than this one had tried to squeeze it out of you.

But something about the hand on your throat and the breath on your lips had you shouting,

"You're my daddy!”

Something flashes in his eyes and for a moment, you’re worried you fucked up. He freezes up. His face falls blank and his mouth goes taut as he considers your words. The hand supporting his weight jerks next to your head while you pant anxiously. You get the sense that this is a first for him too.

Then he lets out a breathless laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right, baby. I'm your daddy.”

He pulls out of you without warning or sympathy. Your hips chase his blindly, your hole weeping for his cock to come back. He sits back on his knees and hauls your ass over his thighs, spreading you open on his wide lap.

"You holding on tight, baby?”

You waste no time securing fistfuls of his shirt, the white logo distorting in your clutch. He lines himself up to your entrance again, brushing the sweat off your brow.

"You tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

“Of course, daddy.”

He grins, his sharp canines glinting. “Good girl.”

He abandons his slow and steady routine to shove himself into you. He so graciously gives you a moment to re-welcome him with a little squeeze before he’s pounding into you, ramming in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.

You make a valiant attempt to move with him. Really, you do. But the man is actively reducing you to a huffing and puffing ragdoll. The angle he has you at leaves you nowhere to go but the end of his cock. You want to say something, to egg him on, however all that tumbles out of your gaping mouth is a series of choked uhs and ahs.

That is until he hits a spot you didn’t even know existed and you let out an honest to God scream. In your defense, the speed at which he fucks you is utterly inhuman. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was Superman taking his fill of you.

He slows, moving just enough to rub up against that sensitive point. He revels in the way your legs crush his sides, your trembling knees digging into his ribs.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it, baby,” he groans. He plunges in as deep as he can go, lifting your hips like you’re made of clouds. Something in you pinches and burns as you open up even more for him.

He readjusts you with a grunt and sets a new brutal rhythm; fucking you fast and hard, then easing up when he strokes something that makes you shudder.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters, “Good girl…so good…so so fuckin’ good…”

Like clockwork, you gasp every time he slows down and drags his cock in or out of you. He lets you feel every minute detail, graciously allowing you to appreciate what he's giving you, before he's striking every sweet spot like lightning again.

“Come on, let Red Hood hear you.”

White, red and gold flashes before your eyes. Your mouth falls open dumbly as you cry out for your former woud-be-rival. Although there was ecstasy exploding from your core to your belly, the best feeling was him gasping your name in turn.

He pulls out of you just as he finishes, your name still falling from his swollen lips. With a heave of his chest, he rolls off of you and lands with a thump at your side. You pant together, waiting for the stars to pause their dancing.

“Gonna tell me why your dad took your dough now?” He finally puffs out.

“Fuck, I don’t even remember,” you laugh hoarsely. Jason snaps his head up to look at you. Dumbfounded is an adorable look on him.

“So you lure me into making a sextape for you, then conveniently forget your end of the bargain?”

“It’s not my fault you fucked my brains out,” you shrug as you sit up. You take an agonizing moment to stretch so you can enjoy the glare on his face. “Why do you wanna know so badly anyway?”

He sits up next to you, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair, “I’m gonna need another deal if you want me to start revealing my secrets.”

Jason Todd’s a quick thinker, you have to give him that. You consider him, consider the possibility of extending this hook-up into a full fledged thing. There has to be more to gain than lose. If you play your cards right, maybe you can beat your father to destroying the Wayne legacy. Or…maybe you can get your revenge by weaving yourself into it. Either way, you’ll ensure you come out on top.

“Tell you what,” you say, standing up and trying to ignore the way your legs shake. “I’m free tomorrow night. Do that thing with your tongue again and it might jog my memory. I’ll do something with my tongue and see if that doesn’t inspire you to share.”

He scoffs, “You’re a little business mongrel, y’know that?” You roll your eyes, but extend your hand out to help him up. He looks at your hand for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Then he accepts it, cautiously wrapping his large hand around your smaller one like he’s handling a snake. “No more rooftops,” he decides. “And no more up close cameras.”

You nod, “Fair. But I’m not calling you daddy again either. That was a one time thing.”

Jason laughs. It’s just a short bark, but it’s genuine. “No problem. It’s not really my thing either. I just appreciated its dramatics for tonight’s purposes.”

The corners of your lips twitch upwards.

“So…We have a deal?”

He gives your hand a firm shake, although it doesn’t betray the suspicion in those unnerving green eyes.

“I think you said it best yourself, princess. I think we have a quid pro quo.”

Something heavy settles in your chest like a weighted blanket as you shake his hand. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, it’s just that you sense Jason Todd is going to be around for a long time. And you’re going to get everything you can out of him.

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kenobers · 5 months ago

Note

Sorry to send in two asks, but I accidentally submitted the last one before I was done typing

The Cinephile in me wants to know what Jason’s Letterboxd top four are. I know you said he would have terrible taste, like really bad action comedies, but surely he must like at least one good movie

skekekek i fear Jason does not know what letterboxd is, but you are correct. so-bad-they’re-good type movies are his go to in terms of his top four favorites, my vote is

I, Tonya

Clerks (or Clerks II)

Do The Right Thing

Superbad

#jason thoughtdd #jason todd #red hood #bat family #jason todd headcanon #kenobers asks

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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#jason todd x reader #original source from twitter #twitter user adderallchic_#jason todd #red hood #bat family

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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i’m a huge pickle eater but this is so cute that i would gladly sacrifice my pickles for mister todd <3

╰➤Food Love

Jason watched you with amusement as you carefully peeled the pickles off your burger, stacking them neatly on the side of your tray like they were some kind of crime against humanity.

“You know,” he said, leaning his chin on his palm, “you could just ask for no pickles.”

You wrinkled your nose with a huff. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get extra.”

He just smirked. “You giving me all your pickles now?”

You wordlessly slid your tray closer to him, a silent offering. He huffed out a laugh, plucking one of the pickles off your pile and popping it into his mouth. “You’re too good to me, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, taking a bite of your burger. The diner around you was alive with noise—low chatter, clinking plates, the sizzle of something fresh on the griddle—but sitting here with Jason, it all faded into comfortable background noise.

Jason reached over, stealing one of your fries. “So, this some kind of love language?”

You arched a brow. “What, giving you my pickles?”

“Yeah.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Like… ‘I’d die for you, and also, you can have my unwanted burger toppings.’”

You snorted. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Jason’s smirk softened just a little, something warm settling in his eyes. He nudged his plate toward you. “Well, then you can have the last onion ring. Y’know, ‘cause I’d die for you, too.”

You grinned, taking it without hesitation. “Romantic.” Your voice came out sarcastic but still playful.

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Eat your damn burger.”

And you did—without pickles, but with Jason sitting across from you, stealing your fries and giving you onion rings like it was a promise.

#all your drabbles are so so fantastic i’m obsessed!!#vacate-et-scire #kenobers recs #reblog #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #bat family

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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What are some random Jason opinions/headcanons that you have? Sorry aboit the man, Jason would never 😔

thank you, nonnie ❤️‍🩹

ngl i’ve been rethinking some of my previous headcanons as i’ve been going through and annotating his stories, appearances and mentions.

he deals with a lot of chronic pain, specifically in his shoulders and lower back. he’s constantly stuck in a vicious cycle of his terrible posture making things worse but straightening his posture also makes things worse.

it took him a while to fully get his vision back after he came back to life. he still doesn’t have full 20/20 vision and one eye is worse than the other.

always carries a little note pad around with him!!

at his core, jason just wants family. he wants to be a part of his family, he just struggles to stand them all at once for longer than an hour.

he loses his train of thought and says um a lot in casual conversations. it frustrates him because the conversation will move on before he’s finished speaking but it’ll look super pacif aggressive if he says anything about it.

in his nsft alphabet, i mentioned he’d be really into you wearing red. i stand by that, but the thing is that his favorite color is actually green. ever since coming out of the lazarus pit, his eyes have been green (slowly turning hazel). so while he absolutely adores seeing you in red, his favorite sight is you being a vision in sage - especially if you do it on purpose because that means you’re making an effort to match jason todd, not the red hood. he likes when you wear red to go out and green to stay in.

oh, and he digs it when you wear low rise jeans with a whale tail

#kenobers asks #jason thoughtdd #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #bat family #jason todd headcanon #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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so sorry this is a stupid question but are the Jason x sionis!Reader all in the same series n ur just posting them out of order?

hey, this is a totally fair question !!

yes, all the jason x sionis!reader stories are part of the same series. i’m cooking on a few concepts to establish the timeline and the relationship more, but atm i don’t have an overarching plot or arc. i just write one shots as they come to me, so it’s very slice of life in gotham city.

i do have the parts listed in chronological order on my masterlist ! if when i crank out stories with pivotal moments between jason and the gorgeous reader, i’ll make an official timeline you can follow. (i’m so close to having the first time they get together done, however i have discovered that i hate writing actual sex scenes)

it’s a little confusing for sure, but i hope this helps !!

#there are no stupid questions on this blog trust #kenobers asks #sionis!reader

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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updating my jason playlists, need the opinion of the masses

#feel free to share why or why not #need to know if i’m projecting a little much on a diagetic playlist #but also i just very much enjoy doing a jason poll #for the eleven people who saved jason’s spotify wrapped i love you sm <3 #and the eight people who saved his love playlist i love you sm too <3 #thank you guys for making the time and energy i spent making those playlists worth it #jason todd #red hood #bat family #jason todd headcanon #batman #batfam #batfam headcanons #bad bunny #jason todd x reader #music tag

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kenobers · 5 months ago

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scorn to change my state | jason todd x fem!reader valentine's special ♡

but first free palestine !! jason and sionis!reader exchange valentines and make it clear that they really really really like each other. featuring sonnet 29 by william shakespeare. tw: insecure reader, slightly less insecure reader. lots of kissing. abuse of italics a/n: this is my over the top boquet of valentines flowers for all of you, forgive the corniness. for more sionis!reader, see the links below. magic hands | is this love | tremble & shake

Jason is fairly certain there’s a small amount of dynamite lodged in his chest, ticking along with his heartbeat.

He’s beginning to worry that this was a stupid Valentine’s present. But what else was he supposed to get a woman who didn’t need anything? He wasn’t well versed enough in jewelry to not fuck it up and neither of you had time for some kind of excursion. A fancy date seemed like too much of a given, like that couldn't be the present.

Maybe it wasn’t even the right move to get you something. You're...prickly. He’s prickly. Outward affection is a rarity in this relationship. Physical affection makes him jump. Praise makes you defensive. Neither of you are good at receiving gifts - you hadn’t even exchanged Christmas presents. You’ve been lowering your emotional walls brick by stubborn brick, so maybe such a direct gift would be too much. Maybe making a point to celebrate a holiday all about love would be too much for you.

But then you’d thrown him through a loop the other morning when you let out a sweet sigh and declared that you “just love Valentine’s Day.”

Then this had quite literally fallen from the shelf and into his hands with a mighty thump in Gotham Used Books. The worn cover was the same shade of red as his helmet. The rose pattern looped around the title in a similar fashion to the floral stitching on your favorite top; the one you always wore on formal dates. And when he flipped the book open, the medieval sketch in the forward could easily be you.

You had mentioned that you wanted to read more this year. And the cashier with the English degree had assured him that this was a safe pick. It's sweet, the kind of thing a good boyfriend buys. The content is romantic, but it’s not over-the-top-teddy-bear-diamond-ring-romantic. Most importantly, he thought you would like it.

He just wants you to like it.

Now he's not so sure.

Of course you’re wearing the damn flower shirt. His eyes keep drifting to the swirl of gold, blue, pink and red flora that thread your chest; particularly the blush petals that sit right over your nipples. Your perfume turns the room into a garden, clean like iris, dark like cherries and warm like chocolate. Even simply sitting crossed legged in your bed, you’re regal.

You shove a small white box wrapped with expensive ribbon in his hands. He’s never seen such a look of pride on your face until he pulls the ribbon and opens the lid to find another box, this time in black leather with a gold trim.

“A box within a box? How did you know!”

“C-orny,” you blow a raspberry at him. “It’s in the box, dummy.”

“Will wonders never cease,” he teases back, flipping open the clasp. You scoot forward in anticipation. Your excitement can’t mask the anxiety in your eyes. Takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever lays inside. You’re not the kind of woman to waste her time. Whatever’s in the box, he’s deserving of. At least, he is in your eyes - but that counts for a lot.

Nestled in plush cream satin is a round silver rendition of di Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on a thin curb chain.

“You have the same glower,” you simper with a full set of teeth.

Jason scoffs in amusement. You really aren’t wrong, he thinks to himself as he traces over the meticulous detail, trying to be as feather light as his heavy touch can be. He’s just not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Flip it over,” you urge him, your voice shrinking ever so slightly. He does so, holding the coin sized pendant to his eye to read the engraving.

For My Hero.

Jason’s chest swells with something that must be joy. A amygdaloid chorus of ‘She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!’ drowns out every other noise in his brain. For a moment, a red filter colors his vision and he’s certain the only explanation can be that his pupils have morphed into comically large cartoon hearts.

But when he looks back at you, you’re about to combust. Your eyelids have receded into your eyebrows, which in return have receded half way up your forehead. You’re keeping your rosy fingernails from fidgeting by digging them into your heated cheeks. The corner of your lip is twitching and he can tell that you’re resisting the urge to chew on it. The smudge of lipstick on your front teeth tells him you’ve already given in at least once.

“Geez, dude, take a breath,” he snorts.

“If you don’t like it, we can always return it and exchange it for something else,” you squawk nervously. “Or we can find a different chain if you want it longer or-or a different style or, y’know, like whatever…”

Jason grins a dopy, lopsided grin. It’s such a rare treat to see you so goosey. He knows he should probably feel bad about much he’s savoring the nervous look on your gorgeous face. However, his usually so ceaseless voice of guilt cannot be heard as the ‘She loves me! She loves me! She loves me!’ chorus begins to belt.

“It’s beautiful, baby,” he says, lifting it out of the box and clasping it around his neck. He can feel the weight of it on his sternum; not too heavy, just enough to remind him it’s there. He glances over at your full length mirror and admires the way the metal gleams from across the room, proudly shining against his charcoal t-shirt. His face contorts into the same glower as the design, turning back when it makes you giggle sweetly.

“So, you like it?”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, running the pendant through his fingers.

“I’m never taking it off,” he swears on your lips. He means it too.

You laugh again and when you pull away, Jason catches the heavenly scent of your skin. The rustle of newspaper on literature yanks him back down to earth.

“My turn?” You ask, the trademark coy smile returning to your lips. You tap the poorly wrapped package in his lap. The chorus in his head reverts back to the tick of the bomb strapped to his arteries, drumming in time with your fingers.

Fuck, he got you such a bad fucking gift.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, the words rolling out of his mouth before he can grasp them.

You snatch the package with a bounce and your mattress creaks like a disappointed groan.

“The comic section? How’d you know!” You tease, poking the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

“Just open it, princess,” he chuckles, despite how badly he does not want you to open it. He threads the ribbon from the necklace box between his fingers, painfully aware of how fine the velvety material is as he watches you tear back the coffee stained Garfield and Charlie Brown he used as wrapping paper.

Your eyes narrow in what he hopes is concentration, following the flowers and vines to the title. “Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets and Poems,” you read aloud in a tone too flat for his liking.

“I know it’s not…You said you wanted to get more into reading, so I just…thought…It’s…” he trails off dumbly, rubbing the back of his overheated neck. “Poet..try?”

You don’t seem to be paying his bumbling much mind, however. You flip open the front cover and recite, “To my Sonnet Twenty-Nine. With all my love and respect, J.T.”

Oh God, he forgot he'd written that.

Jason thinks he maybe makes another attempt at speaking that comes out as little more than a sad gust of air. You waste no time rifling through the book until you find the poem in question. Every swish of a turning page clangs like the beat of a death march.

He sucks in a breath when you land on the right page. You read the poem in dead silence, your lips moving soundlessly in tandem with your eyes flying along the words.

‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, With what I enjoy most contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at the break of day arising From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That I scorn to change my state with kings.’

He recites in his head. He’d read it over and over and over again up until he wrapped it up this morning. It was as if Shakespeare had reached into the storm of Jason’s brain and pulled out the eye of the hurricane. How many times has he sulked over all the ways his life could be different and resented those who represented the things he could no longer have- only to look beside him and remember he had something they didn’t. You.

Despite everything he’s seen, Jason is a skeptic. He’s not a non-believer, in fact, he’s pretty sure he believes in God. But he’s apprehensive about the forces of the universe. If they’re out there, they aren’t looking out for anybody…except for when Aphrodite or Jesus or Shakespeare created you.

Ol’ Will must’ve had a vision of you; the lark with the sharp mouth and the soft lips. He must’ve foreseen you sitting in your floral shirt with the petals over your nipples and the blue jeans that hug your ass, the ones that make you feel good about yourself. He must’ve dreamt about the way you make a saggy dollar bin paperback look like it cost a million dollars. It's the only way the poem makes sense.

Ever since Jason started seeing you, the whites of his eyes shine brighter and gold flecks have begun to twinkle in his hazel irises. His skin is clearer, his hair is softer, his posture straighter. Even the tension in the crease of his scowl has been alleviated. His laughter has become more frequent, much to the amusement of his friends. His fashion has become more deliberate. Maybe he's dressing for your approval, but it's made him feel more confident, attractive even. He doesn’t feel so in pain all the time.

And his scars…those ugly faults that become medals of honor when blessed by your holy caress. God only knows how you manage to soothe the discolored purple of his bruises into a dark cherry. And he had never noticed how the pale pink of his autopsy scar complimented his cool undertones under you had given him a wine-fueled verbal dissertation on why he looked so good in red.

You reach the end of the poem and Jason’s chest constricts with dreadful anticipation for you to say something. However, your gaze goes back to the start. Of course it is, of course you’re reading this stupid sonnet with care and attention. For someone who throws caution to the wind with her own words, you’re painstakingly analytical about everyone else’s. Jason adores that about you until it’s him pinned under your microscope.

He's predicted the next movement of masked criminals based on the quiver of a nerve without breaking a sweat. For whatever reason, his skills mean nothing when it comes to you. He tries to analyze your face, but it’s so furrowed in concentration. Your eyes are flitting back and forth between verses, breaking everything down.

Fuck, he’s an idiot. You have an allergy to compliments and he’s just given you a damn book oversaturated with them. You must be uncomfortable, you look uncomfortable. This is too intense for you. It's too much all at once. It's suffocating. Embarrassing. Needy.

Why can't he just be normal? He's scared you off. This is why he can't be in relationships. He can't not fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“It's like the most basic one after the one about a summer's day," he mumbles. At this point he's kneading a sore in the nape of his neck. "I know, it's-"

"It's beautiful," you correct whatever he was about to say. You finally raise your head and your eyes are misty. He straightens his spine as he realizes he’s made you cry. "It's really beautiful, Jaybird. It's..."

You draw your arms into your side. You're getting shy on him.

"What is it?"

But he's not much braver.

"Is this...Why did you pick this one?"

“I…What do you mean?” he asks dumbly.

You shift, looking down at the sonnet, “It’s just that you said in the inscription, ‘to my Sonnet 29.’ What’s special about this one?”

HIs cheeks burn something fierce. He has no good answer. Well, he does, but you’re going to think it’s stupid, "It just...it, y'know, it stuck out to me."

You peer back at him with that laser sharp precision, “Why?”

“Why?” he repeats, leaning forward like he hadn’t heard you correctly. You nod, cocking an eyebrow like you’re suspicious of his intentions. He trips over his tongue as he tries to come up with some nonchalant answer, “it’s just…it’s, like, really iconic, y’know-”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly. There’s an insecure waver in your voice.

Jason blinks.

“Do I like you?” It’s a stupid question. He’s shocked you even have to ask. No shit he likes you. He adores you. He loves you. “Of course, I like you. You’re my Valentine, of course, I like you.”

“I’m…yours?”

His heart races. It’s been so long since he actually did this.

“Would you like to be?”

You immediately open your mouth, but your answer hesitates on your honeyed lips.

Cruel cold doom spreads through Jason’s chest, icing over all the joy he just felt. You’re going to tell him no. You’re going to tell him no and he’s going to have to live with that.

But instead you say, “Are you being serious?”

You’re scared. He’s scared you. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t risk a tone. He nods slowly, holding your gaze.

“Because I do want to be yours. I want you. I-I…I really like you,” you continue with a slight shake. “But I just have to make sure that you’re one hundred percent sure that you want me. Like really want me. Like in this poem.”

You’ve never been this vulnerable without the influence of substances. He has to take a moment to admire your bravery. When it first became clear that this relationship warranted more than sex, you would’ve rather died than be this open. If you’re being this honest with him, then he owes it to you to do the same.

After all, he’s already let you this far into his life. He’s already told you he’s the Red Hood. He’s already shown you every inch of his body. He’s already given a book of sonnets.

“If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have given you that poem. Fuck, baby, I wouldn’t even be here with you right now,” he swears. He gently takes the book from you and wraps his hands around yours. His palms cover the backs of your hands completely, calluses on lotioned knuckles. Just touching you made him softer. If only you could see yourself the way he sees you.

When you drop your eyes to your lap, he keeps going, “Look, I know I’m not Shakespeare and I’m not…great at being romantic. But I don’t get close to people very often. I definitely don’t get this close to anyone ever. I don’t even do hook-ups, but from that first night in that bar, I knew there was something special about you. I…”

“But why? I mean,” you shift uncomfortably. “I’m mean. I’m not even nice to you when all you do is tell me I’m beautiful and give me fucking sonnets. So why-” your voice catches in your throat and you blink rapidly, as if to hold back tears. “I just…I’m not worth more than the sex, Jay.”

For a fleeting moment, Jason congratulates himself on picking the right Valentine’s present. You really do get each other. However, the horror that you aren’t feeling the same relief keeps him from preening.

“No, no, no, baby,” he shakes his head vigorously. “You-” he lets go of your hands. “Are-” he grips your hips. “The light-” he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Of my life.”

You sniffle as you roll your eyes, “Don’t be cheesy.”

Jason snorts, hugging you close to his chest, “I’ll be as cheesy as I want.”

He kisses your cheek and when it makes you smile, he kisses your nose, then all the way down both sides of your jawline. He catches either corner of your lips before leaning you back to shower your neck, basking in the way your throat vibrates with laughter.

“‘Cause,” he continues, cupping the back of your head. “It’s Valentine’s and the most beautiful girl in the world is crying ‘cause she doesn’t know how beautiful she is. Or how she’s made an amateur romantic out of scraggly old miser.”

He grazes his teeth along the crook of your neck, groaning as his crooked nose brushes against where you sprayed your perfume this morning. “I think about you every second of the day. I count down the minutes until I get to see you again. There are days where the thought of coming home to you keeps me going through the worst kind of bullshit. Because when I’m with you, life is worth living - just like the sonnet said. You make everything worth it because you are worth everything.”

You let out a tiny gasp when Jason rolls you onto your back. His biceps flex as he hoists himself on top of you and bends his elbows to trail his reddening lips down the v plunge of your shirt. The medallion sits heavy on your bra line. You can feel its coolness seep through your shirt, if only because it’s such a stark difference from his body heat.

“Haply I think on thee, and then my state,” he recites between the kisses he’s leaving on your collarbone. “Like to the lark at the break of day arising.”

You give him a full belly laugh and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. Now he lets himself preen, rubbing his cheek along the green stitches dotting your neckline.

“I like who I am when I’m with you,” he hums along your sternum. He can’t believe how easy these words are coming to him. “I like having something to feel happy about all the time. I like you.”

“Even when I’m mean to you?” You whisper cautiously.

He repositions himself to rest his forehead against yours, “You’re not mean.”

“Yes, I am-” you protest, but Jason’s having none of it.

“No, you’re not. You’re a little snarky, but it’s sexy as hell,” he says. “But yes, I like you even when you’re snarky. Especially when you’re snarky.”

He kisses you again, deeper this time. He lavishes your favored lip, setting a comfortable rhythm. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body flush against yours. Manicured nails comb through the base of his hair, the way only you know he likes it. A large hand cups your cheek, a thick thumb stroking your cheekbone because only he knows how it makes you purr.

“Like to the lark at the break of day arising,” he croons when he comes up for air, pink mouth newly adorned with gloss. “From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate.”

“For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,” you pick up, taking a moment to admire the silver pendant hanging in your face before tangling your fingers in the chain and tugging your man back to you.

You sink into each other with ease. Your touch exchanges a thousand sonnets without speaking a single word. Maybe he didn’t buy the book for the flowers or the drawing or your desire to read. Maybe he bought it because the universe saw a chance for him to tell you the things he can’t quite say himself.

“That I scorn to change my state with kings.”

#reblog #:-)#jason todd x reader

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kenobers · 6 months ago

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i hate to grovel but does anyone have any good jason headcanons or thoughts because a man just ruined my month and i could use some comfort

#i promise i would not grovel unless it was serious #i cant even enjoy the snl 50 show why do i keep men around #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd/reader #red hood/reader #jason todd #red hood #bat family #jason todd headcanon #help #send help

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kenobers · 6 months ago

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What kind of car do you think Jason would drive (having a discussion with my friend)

i said this in my jason headcanons, but i actually think jason is a shit driver when it comes to cars. he’s functional, but he’s going to hit several curbs and do a poor parking job. he’ll take a motorcycle over a car any day, BUT i do think he has one or two super old sport cars hidden around the city just in case. like a beat up mustang that really has no business running but he can get it up to 90 miles per hour.

i do think he knows a lot about cars and has an interest in them- i am a connoisseur of mechanic!jason - but it’s like an art critic that can’t draw. it drove (haha) him crazy when he first came back to gotham, but honestly? you don’t need a license when you live in a city as big as gotham. motorcycles and public transportation are cooler anyways.

#hard to say if he actually has his drivers license #like he definitely meant to get one #but then he’d have to go to bruce for his birth certificate and all the other paperwork #and that requires being a little too civil #jason todd #red hood #bat family #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #kenobers asks #jason thoughtdd

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kenobers · 6 months ago

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have valentine’s day, beloveds 🫶

scorn to change my state | jason todd x fem!reader valentine's special ♡

Jason is fairly certain there’s a small amount of dynamite lodged in his chest, ticking along with his heartbeat.

But then you’d thrown him through a loop the other morning when you let out a sweet sigh and declared that you “just love Valentine’s Day.”

He just wants you to like it.

Now he's not so sure.

“A box within a box? How did you know!”

“C-orny,” you blow a raspberry at him. “It’s in the box, dummy.”

Nestled in plush cream satin is a round silver rendition of di Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on a thin curb chain.

“You have the same glower,” you simper with a full set of teeth.

“Flip it over,” you urge him, your voice shrinking ever so slightly. He does so, holding the coin sized pendant to his eye to read the engraving.

For My Hero.

“Geez, dude, take a breath,” he snorts.

“So, you like it?”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, running the pendant through his fingers.

“I’m never taking it off,” he swears on your lips. He means it too.

You laugh again and when you pull away, Jason catches the heavenly scent of your skin. The rustle of newspaper on literature yanks him back down to earth.

Fuck, he got you such a bad fucking gift.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, the words rolling out of his mouth before he can grasp them.

You snatch the package with a bounce and your mattress creaks like a disappointed groan.

“The comic section? How’d you know!” You tease, poking the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

Your eyes narrow in what he hopes is concentration, following the flowers and vines to the title. “Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets and Poems,” you read aloud in a tone too flat for his liking.

“I know it’s not…You said you wanted to get more into reading, so I just…thought…It’s…” he trails off dumbly, rubbing the back of his overheated neck. “Poet..try?”

You don’t seem to be paying his bumbling much mind, however. You flip open the front cover and recite, “To my Sonnet Twenty-Nine. With all my love and respect, J.T.”

Oh God, he forgot he'd written that.

He sucks in a breath when you land on the right page. You read the poem in dead silence, your lips moving soundlessly in tandem with your eyes flying along the words.

Why can't he just be normal? He's scared you off. This is why he can't be in relationships. He can't not fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“It's like the most basic one after the one about a summer's day," he mumbles. At this point he's kneading a sore in the nape of his neck. "I know, it's-"

You draw your arms into your side. You're getting shy on him.

"What is it?"

But he's not much braver.

"Is this...Why did you pick this one?"

“I…What do you mean?” he asks dumbly.

You shift, looking down at the sonnet, “It’s just that you said in the inscription, ‘to my Sonnet 29.’ What’s special about this one?”

HIs cheeks burn something fierce. He has no good answer. Well, he does, but you’re going to think it’s stupid, "It just...it, y'know, it stuck out to me."

You peer back at him with that laser sharp precision, “Why?”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly. There’s an insecure waver in your voice.

Jason blinks.

“I’m…yours?”

His heart races. It’s been so long since he actually did this.

“Would you like to be?”

You immediately open your mouth, but your answer hesitates on your honeyed lips.

Cruel cold doom spreads through Jason’s chest, icing over all the joy he just felt. You’re going to tell him no. You’re going to tell him no and he’s going to have to live with that.

But instead you say, “Are you being serious?”

You’re scared. He’s scared you. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t risk a tone. He nods slowly, holding your gaze.

After all, he’s already let you this far into his life. He’s already told you he’s the Red Hood. He’s already shown you every inch of his body. He’s already given a book of sonnets.

You sniffle as you roll your eyes, “Don’t be cheesy.”

Jason snorts, hugging you close to his chest, “I’ll be as cheesy as I want.”

“Haply I think on thee, and then my state,” he recites between the kisses he’s leaving on your collarbone. “Like to the lark at the break of day arising.”

You give him a full belly laugh and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. Now he lets himself preen, rubbing his cheek along the green stitches dotting your neckline.

“Even when I’m mean to you?” You whisper cautiously.

He repositions himself to rest his forehead against yours, “You’re not mean.”

“Yes, I am-” you protest, but Jason’s having none of it.

“No, you’re not. You’re a little snarky, but it’s sexy as hell,” he says. “But yes, I like you even when you’re snarky. Especially when you’re snarky.”

“Like to the lark at the break of day arising,” he croons when he comes up for air, pink mouth newly adorned with gloss. “From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate.”

“That I scorn to change my state with kings.”

#repost #jason todd x reader #jason todd

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kenobers · 6 months ago

Text

scorn to change my state | jason todd x fem!reader valentine's special ♡

Jason is fairly certain there’s a small amount of dynamite lodged in his chest, ticking along with his heartbeat.

But then you’d thrown him through a loop the other morning when you let out a sweet sigh and declared that you “just love Valentine’s Day.”

He just wants you to like it.

Now he's not so sure.

“A box within a box? How did you know!”

“C-orny,” you blow a raspberry at him. “It’s in the box, dummy.”

Nestled in plush cream satin is a round silver rendition of di Vinci’s Vitruvian Man on a thin curb chain.

“You have the same glower,” you simper with a full set of teeth.

“Flip it over,” you urge him, your voice shrinking ever so slightly. He does so, holding the coin sized pendant to his eye to read the engraving.

For My Hero.

“Geez, dude, take a breath,” he snorts.

“So, you like it?”

He leans forward and kisses you softly, running the pendant through his fingers.

“I’m never taking it off,” he swears on your lips. He means it too.

You laugh again and when you pull away, Jason catches the heavenly scent of your skin. The rustle of newspaper on literature yanks him back down to earth.

Fuck, he got you such a bad fucking gift.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” he says, the words rolling out of his mouth before he can grasp them.

You snatch the package with a bounce and your mattress creaks like a disappointed groan.

“The comic section? How’d you know!” You tease, poking the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

Your eyes narrow in what he hopes is concentration, following the flowers and vines to the title. “Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets and Poems,” you read aloud in a tone too flat for his liking.

“I know it’s not…You said you wanted to get more into reading, so I just…thought…It’s…” he trails off dumbly, rubbing the back of his overheated neck. “Poet..try?”

You don’t seem to be paying his bumbling much mind, however. You flip open the front cover and recite, “To my Sonnet Twenty-Nine. With all my love and respect, J.T.”

Oh God, he forgot he'd written that.

He sucks in a breath when you land on the right page. You read the poem in dead silence, your lips moving soundlessly in tandem with your eyes flying along the words.

Why can't he just be normal? He's scared you off. This is why he can't be in relationships. He can't not fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

“It's like the most basic one after the one about a summer's day," he mumbles. At this point he's kneading a sore in the nape of his neck. "I know, it's-"

You draw your arms into your side. You're getting shy on him.

"What is it?"

But he's not much braver.

"Is this...Why did you pick this one?"

“I…What do you mean?” he asks dumbly.

You shift, looking down at the sonnet, “It’s just that you said in the inscription, ‘to my Sonnet 29.’ What’s special about this one?”

HIs cheeks burn something fierce. He has no good answer. Well, he does, but you’re going to think it’s stupid, "It just...it, y'know, it stuck out to me."

You peer back at him with that laser sharp precision, “Why?”

“Do you like me?” you ask suddenly. There’s an insecure waver in your voice.

Jason blinks.

“I’m…yours?”

His heart races. It’s been so long since he actually did this.

“Would you like to be?”

You immediately open your mouth, but your answer hesitates on your honeyed lips.

Cruel cold doom spreads through Jason’s chest, icing over all the joy he just felt. You’re going to tell him no. You’re going to tell him no and he’s going to have to live with that.

But instead you say, “Are you being serious?”

You’re scared. He’s scared you. He doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t risk a tone. He nods slowly, holding your gaze.

After all, he’s already let you this far into his life. He’s already told you he’s the Red Hood. He’s already shown you every inch of his body. He’s already given a book of sonnets.

You sniffle as you roll your eyes, “Don’t be cheesy.”

Jason snorts, hugging you close to his chest, “I’ll be as cheesy as I want.”

“Haply I think on thee, and then my state,” he recites between the kisses he’s leaving on your collarbone. “Like to the lark at the break of day arising.”

You give him a full belly laugh and it’s the most lovely sound he’s ever heard. Now he lets himself preen, rubbing his cheek along the green stitches dotting your neckline.

“Even when I’m mean to you?” You whisper cautiously.

He repositions himself to rest his forehead against yours, “You’re not mean.”

“Yes, I am-” you protest, but Jason’s having none of it.

“No, you’re not. You’re a little snarky, but it’s sexy as hell,” he says. “But yes, I like you even when you’re snarky. Especially when you’re snarky.”

“Like to the lark at the break of day arising,” he croons when he comes up for air, pink mouth newly adorned with gloss. “From sullen earth sings hymns at Heaven’s gate.”

“That I scorn to change my state with kings.”

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