22. Latina. Professional yearner. love writing but Iβm not very consistent. In love with Jason Todd, Kade Mitchell, Malachi Vize, Killian Carson and Jeremy Volkov.
β¦..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.Β
i really love this trope when group of friends (or not friends but they all pretend to be such) kill someone together and the rest of the plot is just batshit spiral of the consequences of that and attempts to fix the mess. black humour is a must-have. it is even more funny if none of them are good people and no one cares about the victim they just want OUT. and they still hate each other. bonus points if there are still messed up hook-ups and other weird dynamics going on.
using violence to liberate people from sweatshops, unsafe mines, and grinding poverty isn't the same as using violence to impose those things on people. the idea that violence is morally repugnant regardless of context is a belief that every oppressor throughout history would love for the oppressed to hold
A COVERT OPERATION . youβre not jasonβs girl, except you kinda are. pairing ! ex!jason todd x fem!reader wc ! 4.5k warnings ! sfw. fluff. written like a disaster rom com with more com than rom, jealous ex bf! jason, mr. spanky appearance sorta, a creepy unnamed guy appears + a misogynist asshole. reader does not take any shit. so yeah. mentions of alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking (reader & jason) + nicknames used : baby & amore (towards reader).
ποΈ based on this request and italian-american bf jason i & ii. also yeah, heβs pathetic and grovels a little.
art creds : @/shr0uds
now playing ! why donβt you do right β peggy lee π§
The first time it happened, you felt bad for the poor guy.
βJayβs girl, huh?β You turned at the sound of the voice, the warm bar lights casting a harsh glow over the manβs frame.
Sly, slimeball, or whatever the hell the guy told the bartender his name was as he racked up his tab β eyed you up and down, dark hair gelled to the side and a finger idling at the rim of his glass. He was huge, even from where he sat hunched against the side of the bar, his head tilted to the side and legs open in your direction.
You ignored him, plucking the toothpick from your glass and sinking your teeth into the cherry. How long had it been since you and Jason broke up? A week? Two maybe? Not that youβd seen him around lately to keep the score.
He was like that, with his profound ability of becoming a ghost and slinking away to the darkest crevices of the world, never to be seen unless he willed it, which you cursed the son of a bitch for because here you were with the utter bad luck of not being able to do the same.
His neighborhood was also your neighborhood.
His friends were your friends β some who you consider family, and while it mightβve been cute at first to be known as Jayβs Girlβ’ from here in some washed up family owned bar all the way to the best food joints in Little Italy then to every bookstore in the Bowery and back β it afforded you no anonymity. Or rather, no time to mourn your failed relationship while pretending not to, because God forbid a girl just wants to get a drink at 9 PM without someone mentioning Jay.
βThis guy givinβ you trouble?β Paulie, sweet, pure hearted Paulie whoβd never hurt a fly β except for that one time he put three guys in the hospital for casing his joint sometime last Christmas β murmured to you, his hands busy drying a glass with the fluffy white towel slung over his shoulder.
βCause I can get him outta here if heβs giving you a hard time.β
βIβm all good, thanks P,β you smiled, lifting your glass over the bartop to nudge his wrist. βBuuuut, you can top me up again.β
βYouβre out of it, kid,β he laughed, but took the glass from you anyway. He hadnβt asked you about Jason the whole night, and despite how refreshing it was, it still felt sort of odd.
Did everybody know where he was except you? Or was the alcohol finally turning you into the pitiful sap you always knew you were?
That solace turned reflection was cut short however.
βIβm just saying, everybodyβs skirtinβ around it and looking at me sideways.β The Slimeball chuckled to himself, as if he expected the tiny crowd to join in his amusement. βBut youβre a good looking girlβ¦ like a fine piece aβ somethinβ you know?β
Paulie, in the middle of mixing your drink, looked to you, then to the guy, and back to you again.
You only shrugged. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.
βWhat? Are you shy?β The guy turned to face you now, the sleazy grin of his face growing by the second. βDonβt pay attention to them, baby, focus on me.β His stool scraped the floor with a high pitched squeak and in the next second he was on his feet towards you.
Immediately, you tensed, but he leaned forward just as quickly. βYou actually need to back upββ
βHey, manβ you need to watch it. Jace doesnβt play about that one,β came a random voice youβre sure you recognize, another neighborhood cousin or something.
βAnd you need to mind your fuckinβ business,β Grimey Guy whipped his head around. βCause if thatβs true, itβs his fault for not watching his girl.β
Upon turning around though, he reached a hand out to touch you.
Your drink was already raised halfway when Paulie and another guy rounded the counter and practically yanked the guy out of his chair. For good measure β and some well needed release of frustration β you downed half your drink then threw the rest in his face, after which he was dragged out back and kicked out β and maybe kicked around a bit, who knows?
But, Jayβs Girl remained triumphant, and the fairytale lived on, until it didnβt. Sort of.
βWell, that sure is a sight.β Roy whistled long and low over the thumping bass. He twirled a Marlboro Red between his fingers idly, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
Meanwhile, Dickβs mouth fell open, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as a hand reached up to clutch his chest. βNo way... isnβt thatβ¦?β
βShut up,β Jason, who stood only a few steps away from their little wives-at-teatime gossip huddle grumbled. His lips were set in a deep frown, eyebrows knitted tight and gaze dark.
A humorous sight, if one were to take into consideration that all three of them were in βdisguiseβ for tonight, gathering intel on some high profile guest here at Eden, aka The Cathouse, one of if not the most popular nightclub in East End.
It was alive, electric, bass vibrating through the floorboards and the scent of fruity liquor cloaking the air.
Across the sea of bodies was you, dressed in a silky little thing that was borderline obscene, and the very picture of everything Jason did not want to see, but so desperately needed to.
In truth, this was supposed to be Royβs job but the fuck-up fucked up and so now heβs here with reinforcements β a bored Dick Grayson who shouldβve been back in BlΓΌdhaven yesterday but caught wind of the breakup, which he called βThe Great Departureβ and figured heβd stick around to boost his poor little broβs morale β so now Jason is here.
Heβs here in this shitty club where some illiterate hog had his hand inching closer to your ass by the second.
You were dancing, hips swaying and chest heaving with the rhythm, yet despite the effort you looked perfect, every bit of you.
From the slight staticky halo of your hair to the soft shine of sweat on your collarbone that looked like glitter and stardust and all things sweet, to your lips that moved in sync with the lyrics of the loud music β those lips, even when painted or lined or plain he can remember the exact curve and shape of them around the syllables of his name, the hiccup of a ti amo, the whisper of an amore mio, the shout of a fuck you, when he suggested that maybe another break is what you two needed.
βWow,β a whisper came from Roy and Dick nudged him so hard with his elbow that the fake mustache he was wearing hung loose on one side.
βShut your fuckinβ mouth,β Jason huffed, downing the last of a shot of something whoever left on the bar counter. And that fucking mustache just kept itching him, Jesus Christ.
The hog in question, God forgive him, had his hands on your hips, chest pressed tight against your back β a little birdβs chest, Jason thought.
His uncle, or really his neighbor that he called Zio Laurenzo because it was just how he grew up β would say itβs a cardinal sin to not have some meat on your bones to keep a woman warm.
Did he keep you warm? Jason wondered. He knew he always ran cold, youβd tease him for it all the time but he didnβt even know why he was wondering about that now. Zio Laurenzo was a bum with a beer belly and two divorces under his belt. The only thing warm about him was his zuppa di pollo.
Madonna, he cursed in his head. Heβd been listening to punks and bums all his life, no wonder he messed up with you.
βYouβre a natural,β the guy whose name youβd already forgotten murmured against your ear. βYou related to Lola Falana maybe?β
You laughed loud and loose, just the slightest bit tipsy and feeling yourself too much. Itβs been a minute since youβve gone out, a couple more minutes since youβve entertained a guy just for the sake of it.
βMaybe.β It felt good. Not exactly fulfilling, but fun. You needed fun.
His hands guided your hips into a steady rhythm, your heartbeat matching each bump of the heavy bass.
You got lost in the music, in the heat rather quickly, your collarbones and forearms slightly slick with sweat and cold to touch but the alcohol hot inside your veins, the bumping and grinding of your hips against his even hotter.
βYou still havenβt told me your name,β he shouted near your ear over the music, taking a gentle hold of your hand and spinning you around to face him. And oh boy, was he fine.
You told him your name with a playful smirk teasing at your lips, eyes hung low and a hand on his bicep.
The moment the last syllable left your mouth, the guy looked at you as if heβd seen a ghost, the heat of the club long diffused and an expression on his face that read bewilderment instead of sex.
βRepeat that?β
You said your name again and a hand came over his mouth instantaneously in utter shock. You could hardly believe it. βWoman, you tryinβ to get me killed?β He exclaimed in horror.
βWhat the hell are you even talking about?β Your lips curved into a frown.
He drew in a sharp inhale through his nostrils. βLook, youβre a nice girl and allβ¦β he met your gaze and cringed just a little, fearful. βLike what I mean is, youβre niceβ in a friend kinda wayβ like I wasnβt tryinβ to put no kind of word to you or nothing like thatββ
The longer he spoke, the more your shoulders slumped and your nose scrunched up in confusion. Was this guy one of those fucking mood-swing-having kind of drunks, because the fuck?
βItβs justβ¦ you know, I donβt know whatβs the situation with you two and if youβre steppinβ out,β he went on, scratching the back of his neck. βBut I canβt go thereβ not that I was trying to, of course! Letβs get that solidβ cause youβre Jayβs girl and Iββ
βExcuse me?β
βNah, Iβm good.β He shook his head firmly. βEverybody knows he doesnβt play about you.β
βEverybody knows this?β Your face screwed up in a mix of disbelief and offense. βListen, we broke upββ
He barked a laugh, right in your face. βLook, dolly, I came for a good time, not to get my ass beat. So I suggest you sing that little freshly divorced song with like, I donβt know, at least six feet between us.β
βAre you serious right now?β
βYou have a good night,β he shrugged. βAnd congrats when you two get back together,β he said, giving you a quick nod before he walked away, easing between swaying bodies in the direction of the bar.
βFucking punk!β You yelled after him. What a drag.
βDo I have to keep wearing this mustache?β Dick groaned, index finger itching at his upper lip. He was sitting on one of the barstools, attempting to survey the crowd.
βOh, lookey here!β Royβs posture straightened and his teeth shone in a grin, a tiny umbrella that he plucked from a glass idly twirling between his forefinger and thumb. βCassio is steadily approaching.β
He turned to Dick who gave him a quizzical look.
βYouβre not well read at all, man,β he continued, tossing the umbrella towards a brooding Jason, leaning against the bar with his hands crossed over his chest.
βAnd who are you supposed to be, Bianca?β Jasonβs brows rose, then his expression shifted as he realized who Cassio was in question β the fucker that was dancing with you earlier.
A silence fell over the group as the guy rounded the bar and ordered a drink, scratching at his brow. He looked at Roy, then at Dick, both pretending not to look back at him.
Then he looked at Jason who was staring him head on.
βDo I know you?β The guy squinted, brows furrowed and head tilted forward. βYou from around here?β
βNo.β Jason responded, voice a little deeper for his disguise, or maybe something else entirely. Either way, it was fucking hilarious.
βAh,β the guy nodded, looking away. The air was heavy and awkward, and Royβs lips pursed with the effort of holding back a laugh.
βSo, uh,β Dick cleared his throat, fingers thrumming against the bartop. βThatβs a nice necklace, man.β
The guy looked up at him oddly. βYou tryna rob me or something?β
There was a pause, and Dick stuttered slightly before the guy chuckled. βJust fucking with you, sorry. But, yeah, thanks,β he reached a hand up to finger the chain. It was a silver cross with a few tiny diamonds. βMy girl got it for me.β
Jasonβs jaw ticked.
βOh, you donβt say?β Roy grinned. Dick turned away to stifle a laugh under his mustache. βDamn. Thatβs real sweet, huh, Johnny?β
Johnny β or Jason, grunted under his breath in response. βLi mortacci tua.β
No way you moved on already. And least of all with BirdChest. No way, thereβs just no way.
He reached for the Marlboro Red that Roy abandoned on the bartop and fished a lighter out of his pants pocket. Before he could light it, Dick snatched it from his hands.
βYeah, sheβs a real nice girlβ¦ nags like hell though,β Random guy who you mightβve possibly moved on with, said. βJust the way these broads are, I guess.β
βItβs a bit much talkinβ shit about a lady who canβt defend herself βcause sheβs across the room,β Jason intervened. Which he might as well, now that the scrub was calling you out of your name and he didnβt have a cigarette between his teeth because somebody felt like parenting him on what should be a covert operation.
βOh, that one? Nah, not her.β The guy shrugged, sipping his drink. βThat one just set me up to fucking die, can you believe that shit? Came out to escape the nagging and what I get instead is a one way ticket to Death Row.β
βWhat do you mean?β Dick leaned closer, and when Roy looked at him with a bottom lip drawn between his teeth to hold a laugh, he only shrugged. Good goss is good goss.
βSheβs a real cute thing, you saw her right?β Roy and Dick nodded simultaneously. Jason scoffed. βWeβre dancing, right? And Iβm feeling her and sheβs feeling meββ
βYeah, fuckinβ stunadβ¦β Jason grumbled to himself.
βThen I go and ask her name, she tells me, and Iβm thinking to myself, where do I know this piece from, yβknow?β The guy continued. He shook his head. βMan, would you believe thatβs Jayβs girl?β
Dick and Roy exchanged a look, then shrugged in faux ignorance.
βJay? You know how many Jays are in Gothamββ Roy started.
βFuckinβ Jay from the Alley, man,β the guy exclaimed. βBig, burly son of a bitch. The one with the scar on his face. Motherfuckerβs built like a matadorββ
βOh, really?β Dick rested a hand against his jaw.
βReally,β the guy huffed. βAnd sheβs just out here looking like that and dancing on peopleβ have you seen the size of that guyβs fist? Fuckβs sakeβ¦ I couldβve lost my life...β
Jason smirked to himself then shook his head to get rid of it. You werenβt his girl, you werenβt. Not really and not in all the ways that mattered.
Was he wrong for feeling a liiitle bit on cloud nine at the notion of Bird Chest the Handsy Hog fucking off because of two words? Maybe. But heβd been wrong about plenty of things in his life, he could do with another on his conscience.
βYo, Benny!β Came a shout and the guy in question whipped his head around. Oh, Bird Chest Benny. You wouldβve loved to witness this in real time, he thought.
βGo easy, fellas,β Benny said, downing the last of his drink and stuffing a few bills under the glass. βAnd watch out for that girl I told you about. Wouldnβt wanna see any of you on the Missing Personsβ list.β
When Benny left the bar there was silence between the trio, a heavy, amused silence as Dick cradled his stomach to keep from bursting out into a guffaw.
Roy was the first to speak, and he sighed, long and dramatic, rising from his stool to stretch his aching arms. βO beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds onββ
ββYouβre done.β Jason interrupted, damn near lunging towards Roy who cackled with mischief, and Dick, who was still sitting there holding his stomach, had his lips pursed in intense thought.
βOh, wait a minute, I get it now!β Dick shouted, rising from his seat. βOthello!β
βNeed a light?β
Your entire body went stiff for a moment and a yelp escaped your throat. βFuckinβ hell,β you whipped your head around, cigarette dangling carelessly between your fingers and eyes wide with momentary fright.
βAnnounce yourself first, Dracula.β
Jason could only fix his face in a sheepish little smile, stuffing a hand into his jacket pocket to fish out the lighter heβd intended to use earlier but didnβt have the chance.
The music from inside the club was muffled, the bass reduced to something like a tickle under your feet from where you both stood at the darkened back entrance.
You leaned forward, hands cupped and raised up to the click of his calloused thumb against the lighter, the small flame warming your fingertips.
βYou got a ride home?β Jason asked, one hand cradling both of yours and raising them nearer to the flame, the tip of the cigarette finally catching light.
βSomething like that,β you murmured, drawing in a puff, a soft plume of smoke leaving your nostrils. You withdrew your hands from his and he nodded, shoving the lighter back into his pocket.
He understood why. Of course, this wasnβt a thing, not exactly and not anymore. So he kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, still unable to hide the long gaze that raked over your features from where the timid light of the cigarette and the brightness of the moon cast shadows over your face. You were beautiful.
βWhatβs with the mustache?β
He blinked. βHuh?β
You were so beautiful and he was so stupid.
βOh, thatβ¦ that, uhβ¦β Jason reached up to peel the embarrassingly fluffy, hairy thing off his face. βThat was part of a covert operation,β he said, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended it to.
You laughed despite yourself. βA covert operation?β
βWhatβs it to you, Columbo?β He grumbled, a smile stretching on his mouth. He missed you. You hadnβt even been apart for long and he missed you.
You dug your heels into the asphalt, taking a deep drag of the cigarette between your fingers. With a long exhale, you looked over at him then looked away, but he caught your gaze in between, his gaze shooting to the ground.
βSoβ¦ you and that guy in thereββ
βIs that seriously how you wanna start right now?β You turned to look at him. βYou were watching me?β
βI was gonna say sorry,β he looked up at you. βFor ruining your night. He didnβt seem to stick around long, so I figuredβ¦β
βNo, youβre not.β You shook your head, an almost bitter laugh of disbelief leaving your mouth in huffs of smoke. βNo, youβre not, you fucking assholeββ
You were laughing, hiccuping through each harsh draw of breath and wheeze of laughter. Jason bit back a shit eating grin because of course you knew him well enough to call his bluff.
βYouβre right,β he nodded, the words coming as a brief mumble under his breath. βIβ¦ I donβt know, I just canβt remember why we broke up.β
βIf I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted a breakββ
He turned his body towards you and interrupted. βA break, not a break up.β Jason sighed, raking a hand through his hair. βAnd then you just started throwing shit at me, what was I supposed to do?β
βI donβt know, Jason,β you flicked your cigarette away, outing the meek flame under your shoe. βMaybe call? Maybe come look for me? Maybe donβt spy on me with the Jay sanctioned protection squad?β
He straightened his posture, blinking slowly. βIf this is about what happened at Paulieβsβ¦β
You scoffed. βWhat happened at Paulieβs was none of your business. I can handle myself.β
Jasonβs eyebrows rose in mock pride. βYeah, word on the street is you waterboarded the guy with a glass of rum and coke.β The smile on his face faltered slightly, and his voice came quieter. βI know you can. I know that. Itβs just different becauseββ
βBecause Iβm yours?β Your gaze met his, and youβd be lying if you said he didnβt look the slightest bit pathetic. Good, he deserved that. You wasted half a rum and coke because of his stupid ass. βDonβt make me laugh.β
He swallowed, taking his hands from his pockets and wiping them on his jeans. Okay, so yeah, he did deserve that. βI was an idiot. Iβm still an idiotβ¦ And I didnβt mean to disappear on you like that.β
βBut you did.β
βBut I did,β he hung his head. βI did, and I fucked up, and you shouldnβt even hear me out. Because I was too much of a fuckinβ coward to come find you but seeing you here tonight, I justβ¦.β
βYou just what?β He watched the way your mouth curved over the syllables. βGot jealous?β
βFollia,β he huffed. βDonβt get hasty, I didnβt say all thatββ
βOh my God, you were jealous,β you grinned wolfishly, eyes bright with amusement as you stepped closer to him. βYou thought I was with that guy in there.β
βAs if,β Jason rolled his eyes. βLook at him and look at you, in what world would you ever go for that sortaββ
βBut I was with him and not you,β your lips pursed just the slightest, a tease, but nothing short of the truth. βDid it make you mad?β
A brief silence passed between you two, his dark blue eyes drifting from your eyes down to your lips, then back up again.
βWhat do you think?β
βJealous, mad,β you raised two fingers, wiggling them slightly as you counted. βMad or jealous. Uno dei due.β
βBrava,β he hummed. βYouβre a natural.β
You tried to ignore the way your stomach did a somersault. βIβm still mad at you, and probably will be for a long time,β you said, lifting your head and pointing your nose at him firmly. βSo, if you felt jealous, boo fuckinβ hoo, thatβs your penance to pay.β
βI know that,β he nodded. βAnd I wouldnβt expect you to forgive me, not unless I really worked for it, Iβm sure.β Jason reached for your hand and you let him, a calloused thumb stroking the back of your hand.
He was so warm compared to you right now, even though he ran cold. βBut I do want to apologize, if youβll let me.β
You pretended to think about it, your other hand reaching up to scratch the side of your head. βI mean, it really depends on the quality of your apology. You did leave me high and dry to go dress up as Mr. Potato Headββ
βAgain, it was a covert operationββ
βI just donβt think a little apology is gonna cut itβ¦β you sighed with faux hurt.
βI swear to God, I will get on my knees right now.β Jason said, deadpan.
You quirked a brow at him. βYou wouldnβt.β
Before the last syllable had left your mouth, his knees hit the cold asphalt in front of you, those dark blue eyes staring up at you, electric and determined. Your heartbeat roared all the way up to your throat.
βIβm sorry,β he said. βIβm sorry, Iβm sorry, Iβm sorry.β
βJesus Christ, Jasonββ you ducked your head in embarrassment, a shameful heat prickling your skin. You were suddenly aware of everyone and everything that could witness this display. A car driving by, a girl slipping outside to answer her phone, a guy idling on a bike parked a decent few feet away.
βGuardarmi,β he whispered. You looked up at him immediately. βFocus on me. Let me fix this.β
Your breath stuttered but you nodded all the same. βApologize,β you said.
βI was wrong,β he scooted closer. βI was wrong and Iβm sorry and I swear to youββ
βDonβt promise me anything,β you interrupted, looking down at him. The faintest redness dusted the flesh of his cheeks. βApologize, better.β
βI messed up,β he continued. His hands rested on the dips of your waist. βI shouldβve called or come to you but I didnβt. But Iβll fix it, Iβll do better by you. I know I donβt own youβ¦ I know that, but when you take me backββ
βIf I take you back,β you clarified firmly. βIβm not your girlββ
Jason pressed a kiss to the hem of your shirt. βAnd if you donβt like it, Iβll set it straight so no one calls you that again, you know? I never need you to be my girl β maybe not even mine, I just need you.β
βNot your girl yet,β you murmured, finishing your previous sentence. βI donβt hear you apologizing.β
βMadonna Santa,β Jason nuzzled his forehead against your stomach. βI know, I fuckinβ know and Iβm begging on my knees here, doll,β he groaned. βMi dispiace, mi perdoniβ¦β
He looked up at you with those eyes and you covered your face in defense. βDonβtβ¦ donβt look at me like that, itβs cheating.β
βAmore,β he whispered but you shook your head with a muffled mm-mm. βHo bisogno del suo perdono.β
You peeked down at him from between your fingers, and he was still staring up at you with those big, wet eyes.
βOh my God, get up, you look stupid,β you huffed, but a smile played at the corner of your mouth the whole time.
βDoes this meanβ?β Jason shifted, rising onto one knee.
βFuck no,β you rolled your eyes. βAt least take me home first,β you grumbled and he deflated slightly, the sadness evident in the smallest downturn of his lips. You had to bite back a laugh.
βBut, you do owe me a rum and coke,β you continued as he rose to his feet, already walking ahead of him. Jason tried and failed to hide his enthusiasm, a grin blooming on his features.
βYeah?β
βWhat about your little entourage?β You asked and he looked at you quizzically. βThe rest of Mustache Incorporated.β
Jasonβs brows rose in realization. Roy and Dick were still inside. Nevertheless, he shrugged. βTheyβre uhβ¦ working on some notes about Othello for me.β
βOthello?β You chuckled, and he caught up to your side.
βCovert operation, remember?β Jason whistled. βWe have to have codenames.β
the demonization of kink is so insane to me. if it is something you donβt like thatβs fine bc it isnβt for you, this goes for so many thing outside of kink as well. despite what social media might make you think, not everything is created to be catered to you. sometimes you wonβt like things. sometimes things will make you uncomfortable. sometimes you wonβt understand things. if it isnβt for you move tf on and stop playing morality/purity police just bc a girl wants a man to tell her what to do. yall just love having something to bitch about and feel superior for
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
ππππ ππ πππ βββ β± . . . as we drink his blood that was poured out for us, we are washed clean.
( πππππππ πππππππ ) blood, violence, ritualistic violence, religious extremism, sacrilege, blasphemy, corruption of faith, manipulation, mental instability, moral decay, coercive devotion, death, 18 + content (maybe).
βββ β± π πππππ ππππ became a priest after a childhood steeped in bad influences, petty theft, and drug addiction. when he died, he glimpsed what he could only describe as the great hereafterβthe heaven that waits for us beyond this life. but death did not keep him. he was given a second chance, and it was one he refused to waste. taken in by the church, he rebuilt himself from the ground up, devoting his life to god and using both scripture and the hard-won lessons of his own past to guide others through theirs.
but gotham is not the kind of city that lets a soul remain clean. father todd was raised in its rot, shaped by its violence, and now spends his days listening as men and women confess to atrocities far darker than ordinary sin. in a place like gotham, even the holiest soul can be worn thinβcorrupted not all at once, but piece by piece.
βββ FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED. AND AS I KNEEL HERE NOW; HANDS RED WITH BLOOD, I KNOW DEEP DOWN, THAT IβLL DO IT AGAIN!
church bulletin big shout out to @momololoco for the concept!! giving it my own little twist bc i am a sick bitch but thank you pookie for all your big brain ideas π this will obviously contain darker themes sooooo if that is not your cup of tea it's okay to not read it lol.
jason todd who makes everything in your home kiss.
it starts with your toothbrushes.
when you wake up before him, groggy and yawning. rubbing at your eyes as you pad to the bathroom when you see it. both of your toothbrushes facing one another and touching at the bristles. part of you is grossed out by the germs, but the other part thinks itβs the cutest thing to just naturally happen.
but you didnβt know heβd meticulously placed them like that the night before, giggling to himself before he shut the door after him to sneak into bed.
when you finishing brushing your teeth, you move them apart, leaving yours on the other side of the ceramic cup.
though when you get home, there they were, kissing again.
he did it after washing the dishes too, setting aside your mug next to his and letting their handles touch one another like an inanimate lovers embrace. when heβd brew both of you coffee in the morning, heβd have the handles facing outwards and the mugs clinking together until you took yours. he wouldnβt even take a sip until you pulled them apart first, watching you drink over his own mug. glasses fogging up as he pretends to read and drink at the same time.
sometimes heβd take pictures of it like people do with their food at restaurants.
the front door that was littered with different pairs of shoes, he made sure were also in love. the inanimate objects touching the other pair close. heβd even take a shoe off on either side of yours, pressing your pair between his.
the teddy bears he won you at the fair were also not safe from this. especially while sitting on your bed, he makes them face one another and smooch with the arms of the bigger bear around the smaller one. sometimes he does it while youβre in bed. he moves them to the bedside table, being sure to squeeze them face to face again.
after a long day of work you walk into your bedroom with the bed still made and jason out on patrol. you plop onto the bed when you open an eye and huff at what heβs done. the jingling of his keys and the crinkle of takeout echoes through the apartment.
he calls out your name, βiβm home princess. where are you?β
βjason get in here,β you call from the bedroom, already standing up. when he gets there your arms are crossed and your looking back and forth from him to the bed. βwhat is this?β
you pointedly ask as he looks to where you were. blinking at him, you struggle to compose yourself and giggle too at the position heβd placed them in. the pink bear, that was supposed to be you, was bent over and the red one that was him was pressed up behind, mounting teddy bear you.
he genuinely blinks, βuh, two bears in love?β
he says it so seriously that you canβt help but burst out laughing.
βyouβre so annoying,β throwing your head back and putting your hands on his chest as he crowds over you, staring.
that familiar hunger in his eyes that makes you feel like you feel all warm and fuzzy. the calculated kind of stare that told you that sleep was not longer at the forefront of your mind.
without realizing it, he walks you backwards until the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed. he gets you off balance just to press you against the mattress and leave his hands on both sides of your head. like a familiar dance, your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in even closer. jason smiles with that irresistible face of his that lets you know youβll cave on whatever he says next.
shifting his eyes to the bears before training them back on your face, his grin spreads more.
More sheltered farm boy Clark because I love him <3
Clark whoβs obsessed with you riding him, practically begs for it every time you guys have sex. And donβt get me wrong, you love riding him. Heβs already thick and long, hitting every spot inside you with devastating accuracy. Cowgirl just emphasizes it. His bulbous tip smooches your cervix with every bounce. You can grind your clit against his stomach, and the soft friction has you twitching. But his size means you have to spread your thighs until theyβre burning, until youβre whimpering from the stretch. Each bounce has you panting from effort.
Clark was raised a gentleman, taught to always treat his girl like the pearl she is. He carries the mental load of living with you. Holds your purse and any bags when youβre together, carries you if your feet hurt, even has a little list of your orders at your regular places. So of course Clark wants to help.
His hips begin moving in time with yours, helping you bounce on it. His hands move to your ass, squeezing and grasping at the flesh. He even uses a bit of that renowned super strength to help lift you. The feeling of him taking control sends your head reeling, your moans growing louder. And that sends him into a frenzy. You like it. Heβs pleasing you. So his arms wrap tighter around you, and his hips move harder and fastee. Soon youβve lost control and now Clarkβs pounding into you from below, balls wet with your combined arousal as he keeps going.
Heβs whimpering about wanting to help, needing to take care of his girl. You canβt reply; each knock against your cervix has you creaming his cock and your vision whiting out. Youβre limp, just a wet, slick hole for him to fuck. When your orgasm hits, itβs without warning. Youβre thrashing in his arms from the force of it.
can i just make pretty graphics and aesthetics for the ideas i have and never write them? bc atp watching the way fandoms go for blood the minute they don't agree with something someone write is making me never wanna post a thing ever
I've seen a lot of ff writers apologize for their fic being "self-indulgent" which baffles me cause like is that not the entire concept of fanfiction?????
SAY IT WITH ME FOLKS, "FANFICTION IS SUPPOSED TO BE SELF-INDULGENT"