Prescription For Pleasure
Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn
A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.
You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.
And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.
But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no.
“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.” Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne.
Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.
But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”
Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”
“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you.
“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder.
“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”
Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”
“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”
You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.
“Yes?”
“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.
“I am aware of it, yes.”
“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.”
Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”
“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.
“There appears to be a problem.”
“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.
“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.”
It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”
There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.
“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself.
“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”
A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you.
“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”
With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence.
And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.
The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session.
“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy.
“Yes.”
“Preference for the doggystyle position still?”
Your face burns. “Yes.”
“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”
You nod your head.
“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy.
“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.
“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go.
“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”
You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office.
Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit.
The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air.
His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”
“The sensors are-”
“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”
His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks.
Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic.
Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”
“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.
The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”
The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words.
“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”
Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled.
“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.
“Good girl. Take a breath.”
You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”
“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it.
“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur.
Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.
“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body.
With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion.
“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting.
“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”
He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.
“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading.
So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.
“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”
“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal.
“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”
You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”
“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”
“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”
Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected.
“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”
“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat.
“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.
“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”
One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?”
Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin.
“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”
Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out.
“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.
“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him.
“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment.
“I just had to be sure.”
Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.
You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat.
Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again.
“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.”
The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision.
Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well.
The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity.
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.
“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom.
“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation.
He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream.
Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips.
“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”
Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke.
“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”
The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm.
A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups.
Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.
“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation.
“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly.
“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body.
“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff.
“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.
“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes.
“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss.
“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies.
“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.”
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Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up
idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon
jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words
****
"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."
"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.
"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."
"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.
But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.
"You haven't visited in a while," you say.
You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.
"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."
And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.
And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.
But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.
Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.
"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.
This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.
Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."
You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.
"Do you even want to see me?"
He tilts his head. Dangerous.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"
Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.
The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.
Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?
He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.
"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.
Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.
You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.
But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.
"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.
"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.
"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."
Your eyes widen. "Wh—"
His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.
His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.
"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."
"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."
He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.
"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."
This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.
"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?
Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.
"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.
He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."
Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.
"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."
"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"
"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."
You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.
He is still. You have made him still.
"I'm yours too," you say.
He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"
"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.
"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."
Your heart is still. He has made it still.
"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."
"I do. I'm yours."
His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.
"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."
But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.
"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."
His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.
"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."
"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."
"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."
"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."
Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."
"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."
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Verified Palestinian fundraisers that have reached out to me recently/i am keeping an eye on:
@hyamshehabnew: €5,580/25,000 (22%). fundraiser here, verified (reblogged by @90-ghost) here. Muhammad has been fundraising for four months trying to save his family of 6, and his original account was deleted by tumblr. let’s spread his story!
@freepaleatine95: $5,533/$50,000 (11%). fundraiser here, reblogged by @/90-ghost here. Mahmoud has lost his brother, his house, his pets, and his work. His parents both need medical care which they hope to receive once they escape to Egypt and reunite with his sister. Mahmoud's original blog was also deleted by tumblr, so keep spreading his story!
@falesten-iw: kr7,918 SEK/kr2,000,000 (.4%). fundraiser here, reblogged by @/90-ghost here, #282 on @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi's spreadsheet. note that SEK = .096 USD, meaning that $5 = 52 Swedish Krona. Falestin has lost so many family members and is looking to escape Gaza with her three children, nieces and nephews, and elderly mother seeking medical care. She's one of the people on this list that i've had the pleasure of speaking with briefly in dms and she has so much hope for the freedom and safety of her family, let's make her dream a reality!
@fahedshehab051/@fahedshehab9/@danashehab: €40,063/€50,000 (80%). fundraiser here, verified by @/el-shab-hussein here. 14-year-old Sahar is raising money to evacuate her parents, grandmother, and 4 younger siblings. less than €10,000 to go!
@mahmoud-sharif: $6,841/$60,000 (11%). fundraiser here, reblogged by @/90-ghost here. Mahmoud's wife, Soha, has just given birth to their fourth child, and they are hoping to evacuate Gaza to give that child a life outside of a war zone and to receive urgent medical care for injuries. their fundraiser also has initial verification information.
@mazenmanal: €1,554/€100,000 (1.6%). fundraiser here, verified by @apollos-olives here. Mazen is a young child who has been severely injured and needs medical treatment. The Al-Mansi family is in desperate need of food and medication. i have also spoken with Feras, Mazen’s father, who has told me how dire the situation is, please donate to and boost this campaign as much as possible.
@olagaza: $30,874/$50,000 (62%). fundraiser here, #205 on @/nabulsi and @/el-shab-hussein's spreadsheet. Ola is a graduate student who began teaching seventh grade math to students in Gaza in August 2023, less than two months before the war constant bombings began. donating helps provide her and her family with basic necessities.
@karamrafeek: €13,100/€20,000 (65.5%). fundraiser here, verified by @/nabulsi here. Karam's mother is ill and the two of them must travel to Egypt in order to get her the care she needs and escape the devastation in Gaza. in addition, Karam hopes to return to his studies that were interrupted by the bombings and displacement.
@dinamahammed99: $3,031/$6,000 (50.5%). fundraiser here. Dina is the sister of @mahmoud1995 (proof here), whose campaign has been vetted by @/90-ghost here. Dina is looking for aid in getting basic needs such as milk and food for her children, one of whom is only three months old and was born amid the bombing. they are currently living in a tent with no medical care and subject to extreme weather and pests.
@mahmoud1995: $11,249/$50,000 (22%). fundraiser here, reblogged by @/90-ghost here. Dina's sister Mahmoud is hoping to evacuate Rafah with his fiancee Sujood alongside his brother Mohammed, his wife, and their 1 and a half year old son.
@bilalassadabedrabou: €7,535/€80,000 (9%). fundraiser here, verified by @/90-ghost here. Bilal has survived five wars, and is now hoping to evacuate through the Rafah crossing to Egypt with his family. in addition to the money it costs to evacuate, Bilal is also looking for money to help complete his studies.
@tahseenkhazen: $9,446/$25,000 (37.8%). fundraiser here, reblogged by @/90-ghost here. Tahseen has lost his house and his business in the bombing. He and his wife are struggling to feed their three young children, including one who has celiac and cannot eat many things, and are no doubt barely eating themselves. the money from this fundraiser will go towards food and water.
Namer Matar: €2,030/€20,000 (10%). fundraiser here, shared by @/el-shab-hussein here. Namer's wife gave birth to twins during the war, but due to the poor conditions and scarce access to medical care, they became sick. one of them, Zakaria, unfortunately passed away, but his brother Ali is still fighting for survival. In addition, Ali is lactose intolerant and Namer struggles to find milk for him. evacuating Gaza is a matter of life and death for Ali.
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