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oohyasumi · 21 hours ago

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The moment you said Jason was your fave Robin I knew I had to share this brain rot. Can I please request a one shot for Jason x male!reader? This takes place a year after Jason has come back, he's still gruff, intimidating, and seemingly aggressive. Right now he's rooming with reader cuz it's either that or the Wayne Manor... Reader is a teacher for an elementary school in Gotham, and is a chubby guy with glasses and is overall a chill person. In the beginning things are tense and awkward since Jay is keeping his distance whenever R is trying to strike up some small talk, cuz he isn't interested and also trying to hide his secret identity. While R is none the wiser they do end up noticing that Jay doesn't take care of himself well, eating lots of junk food, coming home late (whether from patrol or hookups) and it seems to affect his mood. R then makes the decision to cook proper meals up for Jay. This leads to them getting closer and Jason willing to listen to R talking about their students' daily antics. Basically, I wanna see Jason falling in love with reader cuz of the domesticity and normalcy he feels whenever he's around reader despite the dichotomy between a shredded crime fighter and a round 3rd grade teacher. Can you tell I love opposites attract?

【❝Oh my god…they were roommates…❞】

【Synopsis: In which Jason Todd finds himself in desperate need of a place to say, while you find yourself in dire need of a roommate. Shenanigans ensue.】

【Featuring: Jason Todd】

【Tags: chubby male reader, reader is a teacher, domestic fluff, roommates to lovers, opposites attract, mentions of death, loverboy Jason】

【Word count: 2,158】

【a/n: tysm for blessing my inbox once again!! Im so happy to share in your Jason brainrot!! This was so much fun to write, like I was giggling and kicking my feet while typing fr!! I love domestic fluff so this was such a treat!! The title is based off of this iconic vine lol. Hope you enjoy (please request again I love seeing you pop up in my inbox) <3 】

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You and Jason Todd first met not through any sort of happenstance or miraculous stroke of fate — no, it was a mutual desperation that brought the two of you into each other’s lives.

Rent in Gotham is surprisingly high in spite of the abject squalor that many of its inhabitants reside in. When your landlord informs you that your rent would be rising a whole eight hundred dollars — likely due the gentrification the neighborhood has been going through — your fist instinct is to take up a part time job on the side, or to just find a new place. Thankfully, you eventually come to a better conclusion that won't see you running yourself ragged or stressing out over packing up your whole life into a dozen boxes.

Unlike most people you adore your job teaching thrid graders English, but a teacher's salary isn't gonna cover an unexpected price hike on your rent. It's stressful work, but it's incredibly fulfilling to be able to nurture and mold the next generation into good people. You definitely don't have time for a part time job and you sure as hell don't have the time to move either, so that only leave you one real option — finding a roommate.

The applications that come in aren't exactly very promising. You're incredibly careful about vetting your potential roommates — going so far as to check Gotham's public arrest records and the like. It's hard to find someone in Gotham that doesn't have a record, but you do manage to find one very promising candidate — that being one Jason Todd.

Jason is just as desperate to find a place as you are to find a roommate. Since his return to Gotham he's stayed in some pretty shitty hovels down in Crime Alley while he been settling into the city again. Jason's quite used to living in run down, borderline falling apart housing — a was literally homeless for a while — but he's a bit tired of the rats in his walls and the constant shootouts in the area.

Any other rational person in Jason's position would just go to back to the Wayne Manor, but he would rather die again than face Bruce anytime soon. It's late at night when he's scrolling through various apartment listings that he stumbles across your ad for a roommates. While Jason would much prefer his space, your offer seems a lot more affordable — not to mention more comfortable — than any of the other listings he's looked at thus far. So, Jason makes the impulsive decision to message you at three in the morning to inquire about applying before calling it a night with the hopes that he soon won't have to fall asleep to the sound of the rats scurrying around in his walls.

When doing your precursory background check on Jason, you come up with absolutely nothing. There's no criminal records linked back to him and he's thankfully not on Gotham's registry, so you finally think you've hit the jackpot. You message him back the next day after getting home from work, letting him know that you're interested before asking him if he can meet up over the weekend so you can go over the lease with him. You're surprised when he responds not even ten minutes later sending you an address for a coffee shop downtown with the promise to meet at eleven that Saturday.

You're not sure what you were expecting Jason to look like, but the six-foot-something behemoth of a man the you meet for coffee bright and early on Saturday morning isn't it. Is it bad that you're attracted to him? Probably, but you're sure that anyone with a pair of working eyes would have to agree that Jason Todd is hot.

"Hi, Jason, right? It's so nice to meet you. I hope I'm not ruining any of your weekend plans, I just wanted to go over some stuff before I put in the application to my landlord." You beam awkwardly as Jason takes the seat across from you in the small, quaint cafe. You're almost ashamed to notice the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he removes his leather jacket before running a hand the the messy shock of shock of white that streak through his otherwise dark curls. You're thankfully able to stop gawking by the time he looks up to meet your eyes — oh God, even his eyes are gorgeous — offering you an tight lipped smile and a stiff nod.

"Right, yeah. Nice to meet you too."

Well, Jason isn't exactly the best conversationalist — frequently responding with a single world or a nod while you can't help but run your mouth. He seems a bit rough around the edges, but he's nice enough — at least his looks make up for his lack of sociability. After getting him to sign and fill out the lease you part ways with the plan that Jason will be moving in the next weekend in place.

Upon Jason finally moving in, you realize that he's not what you initially made him out to be. He's quiet and gruff — preferring to stay in his room whenever he's home — but there's also something…off about him. There have been times that you've stayed up particularly late into the night to finish grading assignments only for Jason to come barging in like a bat out of hell. You don't get a good look at him, but the bloody bandages you find in your bathroom wastebasket the next morning fills you with dread.

Jason tries his best to keep his activities as Red Hood as far away from you and your shared apartment as possible, which is easier said than done. It's a diffcult task to hide all his gear and weapons in a two bedroom one bath apartment, but he manages to make it work. You don't ask a lot of questions, thankfully. Jason admittedly feels a bit bad for having to pull the wool over your eyes, but it's what's best for both of you in the long run.

You're not one to pry into Jason's life, but you can't help but notice all these little things about him now that you live under the same roof. For one, his diet is positively terrible. You each by your own groceries, but it's hard not to notice the buldak ramen in your pantry, the pizza rolls in your freezer, and the beer in your fridge. It's honestly surprising that Jason manages to stay in such good shape when he eats like your average college student.

Jason's beyond surprised to wake up one morning to find an already prepared breakfast in the fridge waiting for him next to his protein shakes. He initially thinks it's yours, but the sticky note stuck to the Saran Wrap encapsulating the bowl of oatmeal with chia seeds and berries tells him otherwise. The note reads: 'Hey, Jason, I had some leftovers after making my breakfast and thought you might want some — it's better than that stuff you usually eat lol! Hope you like it!'

Jason hates to say it, but that was probably the best oatmeal he's ever had — even better than Alfred's, and that's saying something. It's this one bowl of oatmeal that serves as the catalyst for a change in your previously distant relationship with your roommate.

You continue to make breakfast for Jason and he appreciates a home cooked meal more than you know. As thanks, you come home one day to find Jason in the kitchen whipping up dinner for the both of you to share. He claims that it's no big deal and that he's just paying you back so he doesn't feel like he owes you, but this very quickly becomes a routine for the both of you.

"You make a mean bolognese, Jason. This is seriously the best sauce I've ever had. What you did you put in here to make it so good?"

"The secret ingredient is love. Also some sun dried tomatoes, but mostly just love."

Neither you, nor Jason expected to grow as close as you do. Late night talks and movie nights become commonplace in your tiny apartment. You've learned that Jason is a big fan of classical literature — something that makes your inner English teacher ecstatic. Soon you two even start hanging out outside of your apartment — going on trips to the book store to pick up anticipated new releases and running errands in each other's company.

"Geez, everytime I come here I see more and more poorly written romantasy trash on the shelf. Is a good book too much to ask for these days?"

"We used to be a proper country. Back in my day people wanted to fuck vampires, not fae. We've strayed away from the light of god as a society — truly a shame."

For the first time since dragging himself out of the Lazarus pit, Jason feels at ease. It's strange that only you seem to be able to give him this feeling of comfort and security. He's tried just about everything — from random hookups to booze — to distract himself from all the feelings he's got bottled up inside, but only you seem to be able to sooth his weary soul.

It's late one Sunday evening when Jason realize what these feelings for you are. He's got some documentary on in the background while you prepare handmade valentines cards for each of your students. Your glasses are precariously perched on the bridge of your nose — daring to fall off before you finally push them up — and your shirt has ridden up to expose a sliver of your plush stomach as you babble on about your precious students.

"One of my students was telling me about this thing called 'skibidi toilet' the other day, right? So I look it up because I've heard some of the other kids talking about it and it's just, like, a toilet that has a head sticking out of it. I'm not entirely sure what it's all about, but it's certainly…interesting."

Jason's only half-listening as you speak, too busy admiring you from your spot on the floor in front of the coffee table to pay much attention. He's never bothered to put a label on his sexuality — he's slept with men, women and people outside of the binary — but you're not the type he usually goes for. You're cute and soft — the complete opposite of Jason's sharp edges.

That night, Jason lies awake staring at the ceiling replaying the last few months over in his mind as he tries to pinpoint the moment these feelings started. Perhaps it was the oatmeal that won his heart, or maybe it was the night the two of you stayed up watching movies adaptations of the classics. Either way, Jason's pretty sure he's fallen for his roommate.

Your plans for Valentine's Day include staying in, ordering takeout, pouring yourself a glass of wine or two, and watching My Bloody Valentine — both the 1981 original and the 2009 remake — before hitting the hay for the night. Unfortunately — or rather fortunately — for you, those plans go out the window when you come home to find a romantic dinner set up in your living room.

Initially, you think that Jason has a date coming over — a thought that disappoints you more than you care to admit — but you quickly realize who it's for when he meets you in the entrance of your apartment with a bouquet of roses. You look between him and the flowers with wide eyes, your brain failing to compute that your hot roommate is basically asking you to be his valentine.

"I know you might think this is weird, but I've been thinking about our relationship lately and I want to see if this can be something more. You can turn me down and if this makes you uncomfortable, then I'll move out, but I want to give this a shot if you do."

Your mind goes blank at Jason's confession. Hot, shredded, bad boy Jason Todd wants to explore a relationship with you? You're just some quiet, nerdy English teacher — nothing like the attractive people you've caught him sneaking out of the apartment in the early morning hours after a hookup. This has to be a prank. In fact, you're sure it is until you really look Jason in the eyes. There's a vulnerability in his sea green eyes that almost instantly makes you second guess yourself. Jason can't be serious, right?

"I-I don't think this is weird at all. I'm actually flattered that you've come to think of me that way. I'd— I would really like to give this a try if you're serious about this too."

"Hell yeah I'm serious about this, sweetheart. You think I bought you flowers and made you dinner just for the hell if it?"

Well, that fair enough.

Maybe falling for your roommate isn't so bad after all.

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oohyasumi · 21 hours ago

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Hiiiiiya! I'm a sucker for your Jason Todd fanfics and was thinking if u maybe have more headcanons to share with us? ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

Ofc i can nonnie!!! ty for the ask!! i think about this guy a LOT i always have more headcanons for my guy

he will NOT use doors when returning from patrol. you get the pleasure of hearing heavy boots on your fire escape and your bedroom window opening at 3 in the morning. and sure you get used to it but what if its not him one day huh?? then youre desensitized to it and ripe for the murdering

oh but he'd never let that happen. your apartment is tricked out with every security measure possible. Gotham is a dangerous place, he'd never let anything happen to you

he doesnt have secret cameras in your house or anything, but he'd know if someone was there and he'd handle it

you're one of the only stable things he's had since being resurrected. he'd rather die again than lose you

after a long night of getting hit in the head he gets to peel off his gear, take a shower to decompress, and climb into your warm bed as quietly as he can. sometimes he doesnt even wake you up! look at him go

not often though. hes the size of a tree

he cant really vocalize that. he's pretty emotionally stunted. he shows affection through actions, such as keeping you safe by any means necessary

youve given him a sense of normalcy, he just wants to look after you

but when you look after him...

he'd been in a piss poor mood before leaving for patrol. he was working on a case with B so that cheesed him. and it was going genuinely nowhere. and then he had his 7 hour shift at the getting hit in the head factory so he didn’t come home in a good mood

but then he got home…and there was pasta on the counter for him….and a pepsi max in the fridge with his name on it!!!!

he nearly sobbed

i think he has a thing with soda. like when did he get a chance to develop an adult pallet? never. he eats like a 14 year old boy

i know i said in the last one he liked african curry but thats cause you took him to a ghanian restaurant. hes always liked spicy food, but previously his version of spicy food was franks red hot like a real red blooded american poor person

anyways he eats like hes 600 pounds. and he has a particular thing for faygo. because a) it was dirt cheap so he had it as a kid even before B so its nostalgic. and b) its the sugariest shit the FDA will allow. he likes the root beer one particularly

and despite your attempts to get him off it its not happening. that shit will be in your house until you die

big fan of taco bell too

hes the kind of dude that will eat anything. so when you take him out somewhere actually edible and have adult food for actual adults he will eat it and enjoy it. but when hes left to his own devices its bean and cheese burrito o’clock

hes a shirt/pants dude. no thought goes into the outfit past if its weather appropriate. he puts on pants, he puts on a shirt, phone/wallet/gun/keys and hes out the door. he doesnt care for shopping. he just owns clothes, nothing is that special

SAVE FOR the one singular leather jacket he owns. growing up for him a good leather jacket was like one of the most important things you could own. its durable so you never really need to get a new one, and itll keep you perfectly warm

he would wear his dads as a kid. but now that hes a big boy he has his own

and he doesn’t necessarily value it more than you. but if he had to rank everything in his life that he likes youre first definitely. but the jacket is like a secret number between 1 and 2

his favourite kind of dates are dates that cost little to nothing

and not like he doesnt like spending money on you. he absolutely does! his millions arnt gonna spend themselves. but if you’re planning something for him he prefers stuff like buying street hot dogs and people watching in the park

hes kind of a catty bitch though. he loooves judging peoples outfits

i think he grew up really enjoying fashion police like unironically. like his mom would just leave E! on and jason would sit and pray that fashion police would come on

okay kind of a crack headcanon but i think itd be funny if Joan Rivers (rip) passed away while Jason was dead. and you had to break it to him one day while watching re runs cause he just wasnt informed

he was devastated

this was a tad sappier than most of my other works sorry guys (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ i leave for university a week from today....very spooky. anywho!! tysm again for the ask PLEASE people send me more asks it makes me feel so special pspspspsp. okay thank you for reading drive safe

#Best

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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jason todd who comes back from the lazarus pit ‘all wrong’. a bit twisted…a bit more obsessive.

tw: stalking, 'coming back wrong' as a trope, obsessive/yandere jason todd, slight sadistic behavior, jealousy, toxicity, corruption kink, voyeurism, hints at somnophilia, nsfw (18+) content, dubcon content. read at your own risk.

MDNI. 18+ only or I will kick your shins in.

He keeps stalking you ‘accidentally’ while patrolling as Red Hood - in his previous life, he had been obsessed with you, his first friend and first love. He just wants to make sure that you’re doing okay.

You seem okay, for the most part. College and work occupy most of the time, and Jason seethes as you smile amongst the students that surround you and how your laugh sounds as pretty as windchimes when your friends distract you during a boring lecture. And how determined you are as you navigate the toils of being an intern at an esteemed company for extra credits and pay.

So this is it, huh? This is all he was to you, now that he's gone. Just a forgotten memory, while you move on with your life and do whatever the fuck you want.

Anger runs like hot lava in his veins as Jason feels jealous of how easy you have it. How he wishes you could feel what he feels, how you could've gone through what he had gone through because of Joker, because of Batman...

Maybe if you were just as damaged as him, he would not resist the selfish urge to take you all for himself...

But once you’re back in the safe confines of your shitty one-bedroom apartment, you grieve every loss you have encountered - starting with his. Crying yourself senselessly to sleep every night as you pray to god to ease your pain…praying for him to have mercy and let you have Jason back in your life.

He hadn’t anticipated that his death affected you all that much, except he was wrong. He felt guilt for underestimating how much he really meant to you - and a sense of relief over the prospect that he mattered enough for someone to mourn him.

He wishes he could hold you in his arms while you cry, leaving soft kisses on your forehead and playing with your soft hair as he murmurs soft affirmations that he’s here now. he’ll never leave you now.

But he now makes the streets of Gotham bleed red, and he has twice as many enemies now - all looking for Red Hood’s Achilles’ heel, the very thing that would make him kneel over and surrender.

Everything he has ever desired has been lost. And he’d be damned to lose you too.

So he contents himself with walking you to and fro from work, maybe occasionally accompanying you to the bar your friends hang out at - silently seething at the irrelevant men who try to make a pass at you. You bask in the glow of the yellow bar lights, shying away from any attempts at courting as you nurse your drink. Jason coos at the lovely sight, almost wishing he could praise you for being such a pretty girl, so good for him. Only for him.

With the buzz of alcohol keeping you warm against the cold night, you stumble your way back home and Jason follows you. You are quick to get out of the black mini dress that hugs your curves. Jason can feel his face flush; it feels wrong to spy on you in such inebriated state - when you have no idea who is looking in as you undress yourself and climb into your bed in nothing but the red pair of panties that make your ass look amazing.

But Jason had died, and so has his morals all those years ago. He has killed, maimed and lied to keep the streets of Gotham clean. He has very few qualms about stalking you or spying on you as long as it keeps you - poor, naive you safe from the cruelty of Gotham. The fact that you have decided to give him a show tonight is reward for his unending protection, he thinks.

Just this once, he will let himself have it.

You are quick to rub yourself through the soaked fabric and Jason groans at the wet spot that he can barely see through the moonlit window. Slowly, you slide your panties to the side and your fingers make quick work of your throbbing clit - and Jason is helpless enough to rub his half-hard dick through the fabric of his tactical pants, tempted to join you as he imagines how you'd touch him if he were there.

You are so hasty, and he mentally chastises you for rushing so fast. If he was in the room and not outside on your balcony, Jason would take his sweet time with you. He would kiss up your thighs and slowly part your legs to make space for him. He would gently kiss you between your legs as his fingers curl inside you to find that one spot that makes you cry and pull on his hair harshly - and he would keep at it until your back arches and you finally slump down on the bed - all putty and warmth under him.

And then he hears you moan his name out. Oh, you nasty girl...

You always knew how to drive him crazy.

As you rush through your quick release, and slump into your bed in slumber. Jason makes quick work of the latch and climbs into your room, careful not to make a noise. He looks at you with brimming eyes, as he softly pulls some wild strands away from your face. You look angelic, so peaceful as you sleep under the sublime light of the full moon tonight.

Jason barely resists the urge to reward you for being so good for him - thinking about how you'd react if you woke up to him eating you out, or maybe you'd wake up to the stretch of his cock opening you up slowly as he thrusts into you and finally attains the release he has denied himself earlier. Maybe you'd wake up and fight him off, despite your smaller frame...or maybe you'd moan for him, sing like the pretty bird you are and egg him on to claim you all for himself. Forever.

And then his pager beeps.

He curses under his breath, making sure that the noise did not wake you up from your drunk stupor. He kisses you goodbye as he whispers to you, 'Until next time, princess'.

And if you were awake right now, you'd have believed him.

And then he silently leaves your apartment, swearing that he'd make good on his promise some other day.

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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Hiiiiiya! I'm a sucker for your Jason Todd fanfics and was thinking if u maybe have more headcanons to share with us? ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

Ofc i can nonnie!!! ty for the ask!! i think about this guy a LOT i always have more headcanons for my guy

oh but he'd never let that happen. your apartment is tricked out with every security measure possible. Gotham is a dangerous place, he'd never let anything happen to you

he doesnt have secret cameras in your house or anything, but he'd know if someone was there and he'd handle it

you're one of the only stable things he's had since being resurrected. he'd rather die again than lose you

not often though. hes the size of a tree

he cant really vocalize that. he's pretty emotionally stunted. he shows affection through actions, such as keeping you safe by any means necessary

youve given him a sense of normalcy, he just wants to look after you

but when you look after him...

but then he got home…and there was pasta on the counter for him….and a pepsi max in the fridge with his name on it!!!!

he nearly sobbed

i think he has a thing with soda. like when did he get a chance to develop an adult pallet? never. he eats like a 14 year old boy

and despite your attempts to get him off it its not happening. that shit will be in your house until you die

big fan of taco bell too

he would wear his dads as a kid. but now that hes a big boy he has his own

and he doesn’t necessarily value it more than you. but if he had to rank everything in his life that he likes youre first definitely. but the jacket is like a secret number between 1 and 2

his favourite kind of dates are dates that cost little to nothing

hes kind of a catty bitch though. he loooves judging peoples outfits

i think he grew up really enjoying fashion police like unironically. like his mom would just leave E! on and jason would sit and pray that fashion police would come on

he was devastated

#Best

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

Text

❆ CONFLICTING THOUGHTS

BLURB: while looking in the mirror you get caught up with the way youre viewed vs how you view yourself

a/n: wrote this because a guy told a few of his friends the best thing about me was my ass and that i know how to shut up when people that are smarter than me are talking.... needed a reminder that its not all men.

also this isnt edited lol, ill go back and edit it tomorrow probably

masterlist

The reflection stared back at you. Haunting, laughing as you noticed everything “wrong.” Daunting you with all the things you knew people preferred. Thousands of hours you spent on crafting conversations. Sculpting the person you wanted to be.

You never once cared about your looks before. You were once afraid to look in the mirror… scared to see what version might look back.

But today, the version of you was one you hated. Because you weren't quite sure how to feel. The voices in your ears telling to conflicting stories.

Every man before you, yelling, calling, begging to see you before them. They loved how your clothes fit, if “only there was less” they would tell you. Hands creeping up your body, telling you that it was okay to be a little dumb, because the way your curves felt made your IQ mean a lot less. And all of a sudden, every guy you've had the pleasure of being flirted with, made it clear that you were only good for one thing.

Yet the voices in the back of your mind screamed as your eyes danced across the mirror. Telling you how you could fix the way you looked. How you needed to be prettier. To care for your looks more. Because that was apparently all you were good for. And how could you be so terrible at the one thing they wanted you for.

“Babe?” His voice called for you, it was harsher than you remembered.

Then when he called your name you could hear the way his voice seemed muffled in the crowded memories of others.

“Hey—” Your eyes found his in the mirror. You couldn't help but shrivel up inside. “Shit— baby… Whats wrong?”

You didn't even notice the tears that fell until his hands came to wipe them away, as if he was a rainbow that came after the storm.

But you couldn't hold your sobs as you pressed into him. Arms wrapping around his neck. Face finding his shoulder, muffling your loud sniffles.

Minutes later, when you regained the ability to breath, you pulled away. His eyes searching your face. Not speaking, though, allowing you to find comfort on your own terms.

“It doesn't make any sense,” you finally breathed out.

“What doesn't?” You looked back into the mirror, analyzing the way your eyes puffed up and the stains left on your cheek.

“Why do people only want me for my body… if I'm so… so ugly?” You began to spiral before he could respond. “If my value is solely tied to my looks… does that mean I'm worth nothing at all?”

“Oh,” you could feel the crack in his voice as his hands gripped your waist. “You're so much more than the way you look. You're so pretty, the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, but that's not all there is to you. Sure, your smile lights up a room. And your waist is too perfect to not be held. And people might stare a bit too long when they see you.

But you're also smart, and you're kind, and you never fail to make me laugh and smile. You care so much about others you forget to care about yourself sometimes.” His hands cupped your jaw, forcing you too look in his eyes thru the mirrors reflection. “So yes, you might be the beautiful person in the universe. But you aren't just that. You are so much more than your looks.”

There was a long while in-between his next words. A silence that gave you a moment to feel what he was saying. To see it in its entirety.

“And you are worth the world and so much more. Don't you forget that…”

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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Bat-Boys and Bruce with a s/o who has trauma regarding sex and physically can't handle it but wants to try and get over it?

(You don't have to be if you're not comfortable!)

Dick Grayson:

The Gotham skyline painted the backdrop of your apartment, a city that was as beautiful as it was broken. Just like you. Lately, you found yourself draped in Dick's oversized shirts, the soft cotton a shield against the world – and sometimes, against yourself.

Tonight, you felt particularly fragile. Dick was due back from patrol any minute, and a storm of conflicting emotions brewed within you. You longed for his touch, his warmth, his closeness. But the mere thought of physical intimacy sent shivers of a different kind down your spine – the cold, unwelcome memories of your past.

The lock clicked, and Dick's familiar, bright presence filled the room. "Hey, starlight," he greeted, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He dropped a gentle kiss on your forehead, a silent promise of comfort.

"Hey," you managed, your voice a mere whisper.

He noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way you unconsciously pulled the shirt tighter around you. "Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You wanted to lie, to pretend that everything was fine, but Dick had always been able to see right through you. You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Come here," he murmured, guiding you to the couch. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, letting you simply be.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you finally spoke. "I want to be close to you, Dick. I really do," you choked out, the words thick with emotion. "But..."

He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes searching yours with infinite patience. "But what, my love? You can tell me anything."

You took a shaky breath and confessed everything. The trauma, the fear, the physical barriers that felt insurmountable. You spoke of your desire to heal, to move past the pain, but also of the overwhelming anxiety that gripped you at the thought of even trying.

Dick listened intently, his expression unwavering. He didn't interrupt, didn't judge, didn't offer empty platitudes. He simply held space for you, a safe harbor in your storm.

When you finished, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. "Thank you for sharing this with me, sunshine," he said softly. "I understand. And I promise you, we'll go at your pace. Always."

He explained that he understood that this wasn't something that would be 'fixed'. It was something you were working on and he was there to support you in any way you needed.

"Intimacy isn't just about sex, blossom," he continued, his voice gentle but firm. "It's about trust, vulnerability, and connection. We can build that in other ways. We can start small. Cuddles, kisses, holding hands... whatever feels safe and comfortable for you."

He proposed a "sensory exploration" – focusing on touch in non-sexual ways. A massage, a warm bath together (without any expectations), or simply holding each other while watching a movie. He stressed that the goal was to reconnect with your body in a safe, pleasurable way.

You spent the next few weeks exploring these options. Dick was a beacon of patience, always attentive to your cues, always ready to stop if you felt overwhelmed. He showered you with affection, not just physically, but emotionally. He wrote you love notes, cooked you your favorite meals, and spent hours simply talking and laughing with you.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to feel more comfortable in your own skin. You started initiating touch, reaching for his hand, leaning into his embrace. You discovered the joy of shared vulnerability, the power of being seen and accepted for who you were, trauma and all.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, you found yourself seeking solace in Dick's arms. You curled up on the couch, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting blanket.

"Can we just... hold each other?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Of course, my heart," he replied, pulling you closer.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you realized that healing wasn't about erasing the past. It was about creating a new narrative, one filled with love, trust, and the freedom to be yourself.

Later, as you drifted off to sleep in Dick's arms, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't experienced in a long time. The road ahead might still be long and winding, but you knew you weren't alone. You had Dick, your anchor, your confidant, your love. And together, you would find your rhythm, one breath, one touch, one moment at a time.

Jason Todd:

Your apartment was small, functional. Safe. Every item was carefully chosen, a fortress against the chaos of Gotham and the echoes of your past. Sunlight filtered weakly through the blinds, casting stripes across the bed where you lay, frozen.

You hadn’t slept well. Nightmares had kept you trapped in a loop of fear, the memories a constant, unwelcome intrusion. You wanted to get up, to start the day, but the thought of facing the world, of even simple interactions, felt overwhelming.

Suddenly, a crash from the fire escape shattered the fragile silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You scrambled for the baseball bat you kept under the bed, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The window slid open, and Jason Todd, aka the Red Hood, climbed in, his movements fluid and dangerous. He scanned the room, gun raised, before his eyes landed on you. He lowered the weapon slightly, a flicker of surprise in his gaze.

“Wrong place, princess,” he growled, his voice rough.

“You broke into my apartment,” you retorted, trying to keep your voice steady. "I think I have a right to be angry."

He hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He took in your disheveled appearance, the fear etched on your face. Something shifted in his expression, a hint of understanding.

“Look, I messed up,” he admitted, his tone softening slightly. “I’ll leave. Just… try to relax.” He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Wait,” you said, the word barely a whisper. You weren’t sure why you were stopping him, but something about his presence, his vulnerability, resonated with you. “Why were you here?”

He hesitated again, his jaw tight. “None of your business,” he muttered.

“Maybe it is,” you countered, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Maybe we have more in common than you think.”

He scoffed, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against the window frame, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the city below.

You took a deep breath and decided to be honest. You told him about the nightmares, the fear, the trauma that had taken root in your life. You explained how it affected everything, especially your ability to be intimate with anyone.

Jason listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When you finished, he remained silent for a long moment.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice low. “I know what it’s like to be haunted.”

He didn’t elaborate, but you could see the pain in his eyes, the darkness that mirrored your own. You realized then that Jason wasn’t just a vigilante; he was a survivor, just like you.

“So what do we do now?” you asked, the question hanging in the air.

He turned to face you, his gaze intense. “We salvage what we can,” he said. “We don’t let the past define us.”

He proposed a deal. He would help you feel safer, both physically and emotionally. He'd train you to defend yourself, to take back control. In return, you’d… well, you’d just be there for him. Someone who understood, someone who wouldn’t judge.

You agreed, hesitantly. It was a risky proposition, getting involved with a man like Jason Todd. But you were drawn to his strength, his vulnerability, his willingness to face the darkness head-on.

Over the next few weeks, Jason became a constant presence in your life. He taught you how to fight, how to shoot, how to be aware of your surroundings. He challenged you, pushed you beyond your comfort zone, but always with respect and understanding.

He also started opening up to you, sharing glimpses of his past, his fears, his hopes. You learned about his death, his resurrection, his struggle to find his place in the world. You saw the man beneath the Red Hood, the broken boy who just wanted to be loved.

One night, after a particularly intense training session, you found yourself sitting close to Jason, your bodies touching. The air crackled with unspoken tension.

You wanted to kiss him, to feel his touch, but the fear held you back. You closed your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart.

Jason sensed your hesitation. He gently took your hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

He told you about his own struggles with intimacy, his fear of hurting someone, his own trauma. He admitted that he wasn’t sure if he was capable of being a good partner.

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “We’re both works in progress, Jaybird,” you said, using the nickname that had slipped out a few weeks ago. “We can figure it out together.”

Slowly, tentatively, you began to explore your physical connection. You started with simple touches – holding hands, hugging, cuddling on the couch. You talked openly about your fears, your boundaries, your desires.

Jason was incredibly patient, always attentive to your needs. He never pressured you, never pushed you too far. He made you feel safe, respected, and loved.

One night, as you lay in bed together, tangled in each other’s arms, you felt a shift within you. The fear hadn’t completely disappeared, but it was no longer the dominant force. You felt a flicker of desire, a spark of hope.

You turned to Jason, your eyes searching his. He met your gaze, his expression filled with tenderness.

“I want to try,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. “Okay, my love,” he said. “We’ll take it slow. Together.”

The night was a revelation. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It was a testament to your courage, your vulnerability, and your love for each other. You found a connection, a rhythm, a sense of healing that you never thought possible.

In the end, you and Jason didn’t just salvage yourselves; you salvaged each other. You found love in the darkness, strength in vulnerability, and hope in the face of despair. And that, you realized, was a victory worth fighting for.

Tim Drake:

Your room was your sanctuary. Soft lights, plush textures, and carefully curated decorations created a haven of peace in the chaos of Gotham. Tonight, the fairy lights strung around the ceiling cast a warm glow on the bed where you lay, staring at the ceiling.

Tim was due back from patrol soon, and a wave of anxiety washed over you. You loved him, deeply, but the thought of being intimate with him filled you with dread. You knew you needed to talk to him, to explain your fears, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

The window slid open, and Tim entered, his movements quiet and efficient. He shed his Red Robin gear, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Hey, starling," he greeted, his voice soft. "Everything okay?"

You forced a smile, trying to appear relaxed. "Yeah, just thinking," you replied, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor in your voice.

Tim didn't miss a thing. He sat beside you on the bed, his eyes searching yours. "What's on your mind, love?" he asked, gently taking your hand in his.

You hesitated, your heart pounding against your ribs. You knew you couldn't keep this bottled up any longer. "I need to tell you something," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

You poured out your heart to him, explaining the trauma you had endured, the fear that lingered, the physical barriers that seemed insurmountable. You spoke of your desire to heal, to move past the pain, but also of the crippling anxiety that held you back.

Tim listened intently, his expression thoughtful and understanding. He didn't interrupt, didn't judge, didn't offer simplistic solutions. He simply held your hand, his touch a silent reassurance.

When you finished, he squeezed your hand gently. "Thank you for telling me, sweet pea," he said softly. "I appreciate your honesty."

He explained that he didn't fully understand what you were going through, but he wanted to learn, to support you in any way he could. He proposed a collaborative approach, a partnership in your healing process.

"I'm a strategist, darling," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I can apply that to this. We can analyze the problem, identify the triggers, and develop a plan to overcome them. Together."

He suggested researching trauma-informed therapy, exploring different techniques for managing anxiety, and creating a safe space where you felt comfortable expressing your feelings. He emphasized the importance of communication, of setting boundaries, and of going at your own pace.

You spent the next few weeks working on your healing journey. Tim was a constant source of support, always there to listen, to offer advice, to hold your hand when you felt overwhelmed.

He researched everything he could find on trauma and intimacy, sharing his findings with you in a gentle, non-pressuring way. He helped you create a journal to track your progress, identify your triggers, and express your emotions.

He also encouraged you to explore other forms of intimacy, such as cuddling, massage, and sensual touch that didn't involve sex. He wanted you to reconnect with your body in a safe, pleasurable way.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Tim suggested a "sensory deprivation" exercise. He blindfolded you and asked you to focus on your other senses – the feel of the soft blanket against your skin, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his voice.

He then began to gently touch you, exploring your body with reverence and care. He asked you to guide him, to tell him what felt good, what felt uncomfortable, what made you feel safe.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed the experience. Without the visual pressure, you were able to relax and focus on the sensations in your body. You discovered new erogenous zones, new ways of experiencing pleasure.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to feel more comfortable with physical intimacy. You started initiating touch, reaching for Tim's hand, leaning into his embrace. You discovered the joy of shared vulnerability, the power of being seen and accepted for who you were, trauma and all.

One night, after a particularly rough day, you found yourself seeking solace in Tim's arms. You curled up on the couch, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting blanket.

"Can we just... be close?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Of course, my heart," he replied, pulling you closer.

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you realized that healing wasn't about erasing the past. It was about creating a new future, one filled with love, trust, and the freedom to be yourself.

Later, as you drifted off to sleep in Tim's arms, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't experienced in a long time. The road ahead might still be long and winding, but you knew you weren't alone. You had Tim, your partner, your confidant, your love. And together, you would navigate the algorithms of the heart, one step, one touch, one moment at a time.

Damian Wayne:

Your room, a sanctuary of soft colors and calming scents, felt like a gilded cage tonight. The grand mirror in the corner reflected your image: a fragile figure in delicate lingerie, a facade of confidence masking a storm of anxiety. You wanted to feel beautiful, desirable, but the memories always seemed to creep in, tainting the moment.

Damian was late, caught up in patrol with his father. You appreciated his dedication, but tonight, you longed for his presence, his unwavering gaze, even if it meant facing your fears head-on.

A shadow fell across the window as Damian entered, his movements silent and precise. He shed his Robin gear, his eyes immediately finding yours in the mirror. He paused, his expression unreadable.

"You look..." he began, then hesitated, searching for the right words. "...vulnerable."

You turned to face him, your heart pounding against your ribs. "I need to tell you something, Dami," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You recounted your past trauma, the fear it had instilled, the physical barriers that felt insurmountable. You explained your desire to heal, to move past the pain, but also of the overwhelming anxiety that held you back.

Damian listened intently, his expression unwavering. He didn't interrupt, didn't judge, didn't offer empty platitudes. He simply stood there, absorbing your words, his presence a solid anchor in your storm.

When you finished, he remained silent for a long moment, his gaze piercing. "I do not fully comprehend the intricacies of your experience, عزيزي," he finally said, using the Arabic endearment he occasionally slipped into his speech. "However, I understand the concept of enduring hardship and overcoming adversity."

He admitted that he had little experience with matters of the heart, but he was willing to learn, to adapt, to support you in any way he could. He proposed a strategic approach, a carefully planned campaign to conquer your fears.

"We will approach this as we would any other challenge, حبيبتي," he declared, using another Arabic term of endearment. "With precision, discipline, and unwavering commitment. We will analyze the enemy, identify its weaknesses, and devise a plan to defeat it."

You couldn't help but smile at his unique approach. It was so quintessentially Damian, so intensely focused, so utterly sincere.

Over the next few weeks, you and Damian embarked on your unconventional campaign. He researched everything he could find on trauma and intimacy, presenting his findings to you with meticulous detail.

He helped you create a "safe word," a phrase you could use at any time to signal that you needed to stop. He also encouraged you to explore other forms of intimacy, such as cuddling, massage, and sensual touch that didn't involve sex.

One night, as you lay in bed together, Damian suggested a "trust exercise." He asked you to close your eyes and place your hand in his. He then led you around the room, guiding you through the darkness, trusting you to follow his lead.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed the experience. It was a symbolic act of vulnerability, a way of relinquishing control and trusting in Damian's strength and guidance.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to feel more comfortable with physical intimacy. You started initiating touch, reaching for Damian's hand, leaning into his embrace. You discovered the joy of shared vulnerability, the power of being seen and accepted for who you were, trauma and all.

One night, as you lay in bed together, tangled in each other's arms, you felt a shift within you. The fear hadn't completely disappeared, but it was no longer the dominant force. You felt a flicker of desire, a spark of hope.

You turned to Damian, your eyes searching his. He met your gaze, his expression filled with tenderness.

"I wish to attempt," you whispered, using his formal phrasing.

He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "As do I, قلبي," he replied, using the Arabic word for "my heart."

The night was a revelation. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. It was a testament to your courage, your vulnerability, and your love for each other. You found a connection, a rhythm, a sense of healing that you never thought possible.

In the end, you and Damian didn't just conquer your fears; you transformed them. You discovered that true strength wasn't about dominance or control, but about empathy, understanding, and unwavering support. And that, you realized, was a victory worth fighting for.

Bruce Wayne:

The sheets were cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. The bedroom, a carefully curated space of tranquility in the sprawling Wayne Manor, felt suffocating tonight. You longed for Bruce, his presence a comfort in the midst of your turmoil, but the thought of his touch sent a shiver of a different kind down your spine.

He was late, as always, his life a constant balancing act between Bruce Wayne and the Batman. You knew his dedication was unwavering, but tonight, you needed him, not as a protector, but as a partner, a lover, a friend.

The door opened, and Bruce entered, his movements silent and controlled. He shed his suit, his eyes immediately finding you in the dim light. He paused, his expression unreadable, but you sensed the concern beneath the surface.

"Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, his voice low and resonant.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I need to tell you something, Bruce," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You confessed everything: the trauma you had endured, the fear that lingered, the physical barriers that felt insurmountable. You spoke of your desire to heal, to move past the pain, but also of the crippling anxiety that held you back.

Bruce listened intently, his expression unwavering. He didn't interrupt, didn't judge, didn't offer simplistic solutions. He simply stood there, absorbing your words, his presence a solid anchor in your storm.

When you finished, he remained silent for a long moment, his gaze intense. "I understand more than you know, sweetheart," he finally said, his voice soft. "Darkness, pain... these are familiar companions."

He admitted that he might not fully comprehend the nuances of your experience, but he understood the weight of trauma, the burden of the past. He offered you not only his protection but his unwavering support in your journey toward healing.

"This will be a long road, my love," he said, gently taking your hand in his. "But we will walk it together. At your pace. Always."

He suggested seeking professional help, finding a therapist who specialized in trauma recovery. He also offered to research different techniques for managing anxiety and creating a safe space where you felt comfortable expressing your feelings.

You spent the next few weeks working on your healing journey. Bruce was a constant presence in your life, always there to listen, to offer support, to hold your hand when you felt overwhelmed.

He made sure you had access to the best resources, the best therapists, the best treatments. He also made a conscious effort to be more present, more attentive, more emotionally available.

He started joining you for morning walks in the gardens, spending quiet evenings reading by the fire, and sharing intimate conversations over candlelight dinners. He wanted to create a sense of normalcy, of peace, of safety.

One night, as you lay in bed together, Bruce suggested a "mindfulness" exercise. He asked you to close your eyes and focus on your breath, to be present in the moment, to let go of your thoughts and fears.

He then began to gently massage your shoulders, his touch slow, deliberate, and incredibly soothing. He asked you to guide him, to tell him what felt good, what felt uncomfortable, what made you feel safe.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed the experience. It was a simple act of connection, a way of being present with each other without any expectations or pressure.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to feel more comfortable with physical intimacy. You started in itiating touch, reaching for Bruce's hand, leaning into his embrace. You discovered the joy of shared vulnerability, the power of being seen and accepted for who you were, trauma and all.

You turned to Bruce, your eyes searching his. He met your gaze, his expression filled with tenderness.

"I think I'm ready," you whispered, the words barely audible.

He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "Whenever you are, darling," he replied. "I'll be here."

In the end, you and Bruce didn't just overcome your fears; you transformed them. You discovered that true strength wasn't about power or control, but about empathy, understanding, and unwavering support. And that, you realized, was a love worth fighting for, a sanctuary amidst the shadows.

My comment: Please excuse the lack of ff this week. My relatives have too many birthdays this month

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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Wanting More But Saying Nothing

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Tiny bit spicy, short

Prompt: Giving your best friend a boner

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW

-With that said, it's all under the cut-

"Jesus woman, what did you eat?" Jason asked as you settled in his lap, the Batmobile only had limited seating, and with Bruce in the driver's side, Damian in the middle, and Jason in the passenger there wasn't much space for you but Jason had insisted Bruce pick you up.

"Shut the fuck up you big bitch, Todd." You smacked his arm with a smile, you knew he was only teasing. Jason told you constantly how pretty and gorgeous you are. Dick had teased Jason a while back, telling him he looked like a drooling dog whenever you're around him.

"Angel, I swear if you-" A bump in the road caused you to grind against him and he groaned but covered it with a cough feeling his pants tighten. 'Please don't notice, Angel. Please.' He thought to himself.

To his horror you noticed, looked down between you two, and then back at him, his broad chest pressed to your back and pink flushed your cheeks pink in the dimly lit tank of a vehicle. Jason's cheeks warmed just as yours did but neither of you said anything until you were alone in Jason's room at the manor.

"Are you ummm....do you need to handle that?" You asked, your face beet red as you noticed the still hardness in his pants and a fire pooling in your belly a little. You see you and Jason really like each other but you both are too scared to ask, scared to lose the love of one another by pushing this relationship further.

"Uh...yeah, I-" Jason scratched the back of his neck and headed toward the bathroom to handle his issue. The tension in the air is awkward and still. About forty minutes passed, and he had handled the issue, calmed down, and showered before returning to his room.

"I um- was wondering if you..." His lips fell silent as he noticed you there on his bed, asleep in one of his hoodies, curled up like you belong there and you do. You belong with him, it would just take a bit more courage to get him to ask you.

-> Masterlists

-> Send me requests/prompts if you'd like

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

Note

Hiiiiiya! I'm a sucker for your Jason Todd fanfics and was thinking if u maybe have more headcanons to share with us? ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

Ofc i can nonnie!!! ty for the ask!! i think about this guy a LOT i always have more headcanons for my guy

oh but he'd never let that happen. your apartment is tricked out with every security measure possible. Gotham is a dangerous place, he'd never let anything happen to you

he doesnt have secret cameras in your house or anything, but he'd know if someone was there and he'd handle it

you're one of the only stable things he's had since being resurrected. he'd rather die again than lose you

not often though. hes the size of a tree

he cant really vocalize that. he's pretty emotionally stunted. he shows affection through actions, such as keeping you safe by any means necessary

youve given him a sense of normalcy, he just wants to look after you

but when you look after him...

but then he got home…and there was pasta on the counter for him….and a pepsi max in the fridge with his name on it!!!!

he nearly sobbed

i think he has a thing with soda. like when did he get a chance to develop an adult pallet? never. he eats like a 14 year old boy

and despite your attempts to get him off it its not happening. that shit will be in your house until you die

big fan of taco bell too

he would wear his dads as a kid. but now that hes a big boy he has his own

and he doesn’t necessarily value it more than you. but if he had to rank everything in his life that he likes youre first definitely. but the jacket is like a secret number between 1 and 2

his favourite kind of dates are dates that cost little to nothing

hes kind of a catty bitch though. he loooves judging peoples outfits

i think he grew up really enjoying fashion police like unironically. like his mom would just leave E! on and jason would sit and pray that fashion police would come on

he was devastated

#Best

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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jason todd who comes back from the lazarus pit ‘all wrong’. a bit twisted…a bit more obsessive.

MDNI. 18+ only or I will kick your shins in.

So this is it, huh? This is all he was to you, now that he's gone. Just a forgotten memory, while you move on with your life and do whatever the fuck you want.

Maybe if you were just as damaged as him, he would not resist the selfish urge to take you all for himself...

But he now makes the streets of Gotham bleed red, and he has twice as many enemies now - all looking for Red Hood’s Achilles’ heel, the very thing that would make him kneel over and surrender.

Everything he has ever desired has been lost. And he’d be damned to lose you too.

Just this once, he will let himself have it.

And then he hears you moan his name out. Oh, you nasty girl...

You always knew how to drive him crazy.

And then his pager beeps.

He curses under his breath, making sure that the noise did not wake you up from your drunk stupor. He kisses you goodbye as he whispers to you, 'Until next time, princess'.

And if you were awake right now, you'd have believed him.

And then he silently leaves your apartment, swearing that he'd make good on his promise some other day.

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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I shouldn't cry, but I love it ?!?!

pt one | pt two

toxic asf Jason, recording (kinda???) (consensual)

everything was so good between Jason and you, he was so domestic to you, more than he had ever been. he leaves Eva to daycare, he comes back home, washes the dishes, go wake you up, gives you breakfast and lays on bed until you're ready to go to work.

but you knew it wouldn't last, it never does. Jason starts to get home later and later, he doesn't have time for anything anymore.

so after a big fight about him not coming to pick up Eva from daycare, you told him to leave. he didn't want to leave, but he kinda knew that it was the best for the moment.

...

you started seeing a guy some weeks after breaking up with Jason, he didn't meet your daughter yet, you didn't want him to meet her, in the very deep you knew you were coming back to Jason.

you went with this guy to grab something to eat, you both were laughing and you playfully hit his arm softly, everything was perfect, until you saw him.

you froze, Jason walks towards you and smiles fakely.

"Jason?" you stare at him with your eyes wide open. "hey, princess" you rolled your eyes.

"who's this?" your new date asks.

"oh he's just-" "I'm the baby daddy" Jason cuts you off, you look at him with your fuck-you-eyes.

"oh, I understand, should I leave?" the guy asks.

"yes" Jason speaks before you could.

when your date leaves, Jason grabs you by your arm and drags you outside.

"what's wrong with you?" you try to get his grip off you.

"what's wrong with me? you tell me what's wrong with you...you want Eva to be all confused because god know how many men you've been with?" you slapped his face and started walking fast.

"cme on, baby, you know I didn't mean it like that" he chased you down the street trying to talk with you.

"don't you fucking call me that, Jason" you were about to cry "it's not like you haven't fuck any girl in this time"

he followed you to your apartment while he kept trying to do things right.

you let him in, deep down you know you love him.

"baby, please, just-" you turned around and gave him a kiss, a tongue kiss with so much hunger. Jason grabbed you by your waist and undressed you with ease.

you pushed him until your bedroom, both of your underwear were laying on the ground. he gripped your hair and kissed your neck.

Jason threw you to the bed slowly, making you face down and ass up. he spreaded your cheeks and gave light taps with his tip on your entrance.

when he inserted his dick he gave you a slap on your ass. "bet he can't fuck you like this" he grunted while he pounded at your cunt from the back. "hm, you're so tight, was that guy's dick that much smaller than mine?" you couldn't formulate a single word, you were just whining against the pillow.

he grabbed your hair and pulled you up. "answer."

"fuuck, ngh- Jay, he can't fuck me like this".

his hands traveled to your nightstand and he searched for the guys number.

he called him.

"can you say that again to your little boyfriend, doll?" he asks when the man picks up.

"he can't fuck me like this! ah- fuck!" you whined on the phone as Jason abused your poor hole.

"who do you belong to?, tell him"

"y-you, Jay! only you-"

"yeah, good fucking girl" !!

requests and reposts are appreciated :3

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oohyasumi · 1 day ago

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⭑ » ˚₊‧ ࿔ 𝜗𝜚 titty fucking jason todd after a bad day

thinking about… titty fucking jason todd and turns out? he loves being titty fucked by you. and you learn that in the best way possible… by testing it out.

jason was on his back, his legs spread, thighs flexing. his hands were forced behind his head, his shoulders sitting on the pillows as you sat by his legs.

“c’mon, sweetheart.” he murmurs, keeping his hands in his own black hair as he watches you line up with his cock… not with your pussy but with your tits.

he loves your tits, he didn’t care about the size of them, they were perfect in his eyes. he loves to grab them, suck them, licks your nipples and squeezing them whenever he slipped his arms behind you… and right now? it’s taking everything in his body to not cum already, just by the sight of you lining up your tits with his cock.

you angle yourself on your knees, both hands on each side of your breasts. “shush, jay, let me handle you… keep those hands behind your head.” you tell him.

he groans, but he does listen to you.

your hands push together and in an instant, your breasts are on each side of his cock, he’s long, around nine inches as your breasts press against his tip first, his precum smearing on your skin the moment you touch him.

“fuck…” he gasps, eyebrows furrowing and trying to keep it together— but really? he’s failing. miserably.

“there you go…” you teases, your own hands squeezing your breasts and seeing how he reacts, a groan leaving his mouth at the sight. he’s already straining, you can feel him twitch between your tits. “you look like you’re about to lose your mind…” you teases.

“sweetheart.” his voice strangled, fingers fisting the back of his hair because he refused to break your rule of not touching you. not yet anyway. “you know d-damn well what you’re doing to me… you’re fucking evil.”

you grin, a laugh spilling out your mouth as you continue to move up and down, his cock sliding between them, up and down with the slick noises of his precum and your skin echoing through the bedroom. you thrust your tits down to his balls, and then back up to his tip. “that’s the point, jason.” you purr, your breath ghosting against his cock, seeing it twitch. “you’re loving this, ain’t you?”

he nods, finally moving his hands but not to your body but to lean on his forearms, flexing his thighs as he grounds himself. “you know the answer.”

“say it.”

“…yes.”

you had him groaning with each slick glide of your chest, panting with each movement of your tits.

and you? live for it. fucking love it.

jason’s breath catches in his throat— half desperation, and the other half reverence, his fists grabbing on the sheets. “baby, I’m so god damn close.” he groans, moving his hips a little to thrust upwards, matching your tits. you grin as his tip presses against your chin. “keep doing this and I’m gonna fuckin’ cum on you, baby.”

your smile is a mix of fondness for him, and wickedness for being able to make him feel like this. you collect spit onto your tongue, and with eye contact with him, spit slides off your tongue and lands right on his cock, and you can see his eyes roll back.

“jesus christ baby.” he groans, seeing your spit drip down his cock as his hips sputter, veins bulge out of his hands as his balls tighten. the chokehold you have on him is insane.

you cock your head down enough for your lips to be right over his cock, and for a quick movement the moment his cock becomes close to your lips. you seal your lips around his bulbous tip, taking a quick suck, tongue flicking up and down in a teasing fashion— and before he could react? you pop off him and press your breasts back on his cock.

that’s how jason loses it. his hips bucked helplessly, his right hand moving out of the sheets and go to the top of your head, threading his thick fingers through your hair as his head rolls back.

he groans your name as you feel his cock twitch, and with no moment in between; his seed spills onto your breasts, threads of his white semen shoot onto your breasts and hitting your jaw.

your tongue sticks out, licking the cum that sloshes onto your jaw, tasting his semen. “taste so good, jay.” you groan as the taste of his cum hits the back of your throat.

his cum paints your breasts, jaw, and chin, your hands finally let up on your own breasts, red marks of your hands being revealed the moment you let go off them… and when you let go and your breasts relax? his cum streaks down in slow drips… and it’s the sexiest thing jason has ever seen.

“c’mere baby.” he mutters, tugging on your hair gently. and you didn’t waste a moment to straddle him.

jason todd is the one character I’m able to project my kind of mean! sex onto because I can but I will always make my men submissive, even if they’re the most powerful person on earth. just like the batman fic I wrote, this was written before bed, but didn’t want to forget it so sorry if this is a little sloppy!

✦ comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ✦

@murdock-slvt 2025!

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