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[gothamslittlejester]

Jester ♥ 𐐪 she/her, 26, virgo, entp | 18+ blog Devoted to Gotham's best 𓆩𓆪 ... and its worst 🂡 Rules. Requests + DM's are Open! AO3

⋆‧.°‧ Masterlist ‧°.‧⋆

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Christmas Event 2025

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[chubbybuunyy]

𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ──── shower time .ᐟ

in which dick hates being left out of shower time!

( dick grayson x fem!reader | fluff | can be tied with this! )

richard grayson was a clinger, you already knew that, you loved that, but sometimes you just needed a moment to yourself and the shower should be that moment—except it never was. he’ll pout when you announce that you’ll be in the shower, alone, he’ll complain that you’ll take forever and leave him bored or he’ll go on a rant about how it saved water if the both of you shower together but you paid him no mind. instead you grabbed your stuff and left.

surprisingly he was good for the first ten minutes but quickly afterwards he found any and every excuse to weasel his way into the bathroom.

“sorry babe, gotta pee”

“sorry sorry i forgot my phone!”

“hey what do you want for dinner? ill order it!”

“did i leave my phone in here again?”

you wanted to be annoyed, you wanted to lock the door after the second time he barged inside with some insane excuse but ultimately you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

he rushed in again, cheesy smile on his face as he stood there for a moment, watching as you washed your hair, admiring how the bubbles covered parts of your body.

“what is it now?” you sighed out, eyes closed tightly to avoid the shampoo from entering.

“just wanted to say that i love you and you’ve been in here for like an hour and im bored and i miss you and—”

“just get in the shower already” you said, a small smile creeping up on your face as you heard the door slam shut and his pants unzip.

“don’t gotta tell me twice” he muttered as he fought to rush out of the clothes that got in the way of you, him and a warm shower.

[gothamslittlejester]

Me waiting for him to get in

[gothamslittlejester]

˚.⋆ Jason Todd: Fluff Alphabet ⋆.˚

Jason Todd/ Red Hood x gn!reader

| Fluff

| A/N: Happy Leo season, especially to my favorite Leo Mr. Jason Todd. Like, reblog and comment!....... or else I’m going to write a 100k word 5 part series of pure angst where Jason only feels unloved and uncared for and never finds happiness. Ball is in your court.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jason is more affectionate than people initially expect, even more so when he is in love.

While verbal affection is something that takes a while for him to get used to, every other love language is on the table. Physical affection, acts of service, quality time both playful and steamy. Jason Todd adores you, and he’s always trying his best to show it to you. In spite of his size and strength, there's something sweet about how careful and doting he can be.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Having someone like Jason as a best friend is a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Even before the romance began, Jason always made sure to prioritize you in his life, and you spent many nights in each others company. Gaming, late night walks, drinks at the dingy bars downtown… it's never a dull night when you two are together.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh, best believe Jason likes to cuddle. At the beginning of your relationship he’s too shy to outright ask at first- what if you say no?- but he has yet to turn down a cuddle session should you initiate. Cuddling him is like being engulfed in protective, muscle-y cloud. He’s gentle enough not to hurt you, but big enough to squish you just a little bit.

He loves it when he lays on your chest, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, while your fingers run through his hair and scratch his back. He’ll let out soft groans and sighs of bliss, goosebumps creeping up his torso.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Being domestic is one of those things that had never really crossed his mind before he met you, but now it's something he wouldn’t trade for the world. Coming home after a long patrol and seeing you peacefully sleeping in your shared bed… in your shared home… he loves you and this little life you’ve built together so much.

He’ll always hold his weight when it comes to cleaning after himself or chores around the house. Like hell he’d leave a mess behind just for someone else to clean. He’s also not too bad in the kitchen.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would hurt him, and he would be holding back tears the entire time. If Jason ends something with a romantic partner, it’s out of fear. Fear of losing you, of hurting you, of getting you dragged into a world that is merciless and violent. One that takes and takes until there’s nothing left. It would be after a close call, one where he almost lost you for good, when he finally makes the decision to push you away. He refuses to be the reason you no longer breathe.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Contrary to some belief, Jason Todd isn’t afraid of commitment itself, if anything his hesitation stems from worrying he isn’t good enough to deserve it in the first place. Commitment to a partner is not something he takes lightly, and casual dating has never really been his forte. He takes exclusivity quite seriously even from early on, even if he doesn’t immediately use labels. Once Jason is in, he’s in it for life.

Jason would never rush to get married, and the idea likely wouldn’t even cross his mind for a year or two. But once he knows, he wouldn’t see much of a reason to wait any longer before popping the question. Poor boy would be so nervous about picking the right ring, where to propose, what if you- God forbid- say no. He’d overthink it until the moment he’s down on one knee and looking up at you with a look so solemnly in love it takes your breath away.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Jason is the most soft and sweet when you two are in private. Around others he keeps affection subtle; a hand on your shoulder, a quick smile, a teasing remark. It’s when you both are alone that you see another side to just how gentle he can be.

It surprises him one day, when he realizes how gentle he can be with you, especially when you need him to be. He may not always have the perfect words or solutions when you’re feeling down, but Jason makes it a priority to support you in other means. Holding you close, making sure you eat after a hard day, or quietly sitting near you when you just need him by your side.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He sure as hell does. Physical touch is incredibly important to this boy, and hugging is one of his favorite ways to feel you close to him.

His hugs are engulfing and warm, and the weight of his strong arms around you is a quiet reminder that he’s here; he’ll protect you, cherish you, and keep you close as long as you let him. He hugs like he could lose you at any moment- like any hug could be your last.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

To be completely honest, it would most likely be you who says it first.

The words I love you is a commitment in itself- a bond set in stone from the moment they leave his mouth. It’s a sentiment much deeper and vulnerable than confessing a crush or attraction, and even then those feelings weigh heavily in his chest. I love you is something he'd say only when he's absolutely certain he means it, and that very well could take months. He needs to be sure, because once he says it, he wants you to trust that he means it and will prove it to you every day for the rest of his life.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jason has experienced hurt, loss and betrayal on levels so complicated it leaves him broken on some days. To him, jealousy would be an emotion of the same vein.

Now that isn’t to say he would get jealous over trivial things, like you being hit on at the bar, or someone giving you a compliment. But to be constantly put in situations that leave him questioning your loyalty or love for him would severely dig into those old wounds. On his worse days, a part of him assumes you will leave him like everyone else.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He likes kissing you on your knuckles, and he’ll blush if you call him a romantic for it. He does it subconsciously for the most part- the movement bringing him comfort when he’s stressed, or thinking about something far away. On the flip side, Jason likes it when you kiss his cheek. He finds it very endearing and sweet, especially when you have to lean up to do so.

That being said, if your lips linger a bit too long on his scars especially in the beginning of your relationship, his face heats up in discomfort. The self-consciousness is a hurdle that takes him a long time to overcome.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Jason is like that uncle that says he’s not good with kids, yet all the little ones love him to bits and can't get enough of his presence. He’d never admit it, but it always made his day when babies would smile at him on public transport when he was young, and he always made sure to smile back.

Things changed after the incident. He’ll never forget the first time a kid saw his scars and began to cry, or how his mother nervously held him closer. It was the last day he ever took the bus.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are a quiet haven for you both. Tangled limbs, soft groans, groggy good mornings and I love you’s. He’d die (again) if his brothers ever found out, but Jason is a complete baby in the early hours. If he’s feeling especially sappy, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and just outright refuse to let you leave the bed.

He’s often up before you are just out of habit; he isn’t sleeping for longer than a few hours unless something unusually strenuous happened the night before. He’ll close his eyes and let himself relax next to you until he feels you stir next to him, signaling you're coming to.

N = No’s (What are some “no’s” of theirs when it comes to dating? What are they unattracted to?)

Clinginess and over-dependence would be a huge turn off for him. It’s one thing to spend the nights consumed with one another… but the whole day? 24/7? Jason, while still madly head over heels for you, still needs his space.

He appreciates a partner who can be independent and has their own thing going on; honestly the more assertive and self-reliant someone is, the more Jason finds himself attracted to them. A partner who can understand his need for space without taking it personally would be the most ideal for him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Very much the latter; Jason would never be so naive to spill his life story to someone he doesn’t trust with every fiber of his being. It’s not that he’s emotionally unavailable, he’s just a bit guarded is all. He's not the type of man to share his most darkest secrets and fears on the first few dates, but if he trusts you, he'll gradually open up as the days turn into weeks. Like all good things in life, it just takes a little patience and time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Speaking of patience, Jason has done a lot of self-work to stop being consumed and defined by the rage he carries from his past, especially since you entered his life. It would genuinely eat him up inside if he ever lost his temper around you, and just the thought of you having to see that side of him makes him sick. He’d never do anything to scare you.

If you both start to argue to the point where it starts to get loud, and he feels himself getting genuinely angry, he’d withdraw and get some space before it gets to the point of him lashing out.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Jason remembers everything. Your favorite snacks, what books you like to read, what shampoo you like to buy. While verbally saying it may take some time, showing his love for you is like second nature. You never have to question if he pays attention, or second guess if he remembers the little things. You’re always on his mind.

He’ll put in extra effort during anniversaries and birthdays; damn straight he’s gonna make sure you feel loved when it matters most.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Call him a romantic, but his favorite memory will always be the day he confessed his feelings, which coincidentally led to sharing your first kiss.

Jason is not the type of man to fall in love at first sight or wear his heart on his sleeve, especially after everything. It took a decent amount of time for him to acknowledge the feelings he had for you were real, and an even longer time to believe you felt the same. But then he saw it in the way you acted around him- shyness? Reciprocity? Attraction? He didn’t have an exact name for it then, but it was the final push he needed.

Once he knew his feelings were mutual, he pulled you in a kissed you so deeply it took your breath away.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

How protective is the Red Hood over his significant other, in a city like Gotham where crime runs rampant? Take a guess.

If he ever feels even an inkling that the night feels off, the Red Hood is following you home from the shadows. He’s taking you to a private gun range on your days off, and teaching you anything he can when it comes to self defense. He begs you to carry a weapon with you at all times, to the point where it makes him nervous if you don’t. Your safety is not something he’s willing to compromise on; if he comes off as overprotective then so be it.

T = Talking (what do they love to talk about?)

Anything and everything. Seriously- nothing is off limits. Weird topics, animal facts, new movies, which books are the best pieces of literature to ever be created. Jason just loves to be able to talk with you for hours. Sometimes he’ll just watch and listen as you gush about people in your life or whatever you’re passionate about that day with the softest look in his eyes.

He’ll get uncharacteristically excited if you want to discuss or learn more about his interests. Cars, books, guns… he could go on all night if he was certain you really wanted to listen.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Jason’s biggest flaws would be more subtle than outright toxic. Since meeting you, he’s done a lot of growing and self-reflection on the kind of person he wants to be, but that doesn't mean he’s perfect, and he never will be.

Jason is the type of person who still struggles with healthy emotional habits, and that means bottling things up or just outright leaving for the night if he feels upset. He’ll insist everything is fine for days, just to get out of having to be vulnerable and talk about it, and then end up snapping at the smallest of things.

He’s also stubborn and a bit of a hardass, but let’s leave that for another day…

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

The scars bother him, and they always will. He’s never been one to obsess over his appearance the way that Dick does- as long as he’s clean and doesn’t smell like shit he’s good to go- but things changed since the scars. It’s less about vanity and more so self-consciousness and hatred. Some days he can’t bear to even look in the mirror.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Your absence is noticeable, especially when his definition of home is no longer what roof he’s under, but instead who is under one with him.  It wouldn’t be that he believes you ‘complete’ him , per se, but you’ve changed the way he lives and looks at the world, and you not being around him for prolonged periods of time would affect him.

He’ll catch himself looking over to tell you something only to remember you’re not around, or feeling strange in an eerily quiet apartment that’s usually filled with laughter and music. It’s less I can’t live without you and more my life is so much more alive with you in it.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Jason likes it when you wear his clothes. Loves it, actually. Leather jackets, hoodies, big t-shirts… the more oversized it fits on you the better. He loves it even more when you return them back to them, and each piece smells distinctly like you.

One day he caught you trying to put the Red Hood helmet over your head and his heart did a funny little leap in his chest.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Like touched upon earlier, clinginess and co-dependency is something he wouldn’t like in a partner, and also frowns upon it when he notices these things in other people. If he sees his teammates start to fall into those kinds of relationships, he’d be the friend to pull them aside and give them a pep talk (or at the very least, try to give them one in a very Jason fashion way).

He’s also not a fan of very selfish or ignorant people either. It’s always going to be kind hearted people, or at the very least people who try to do good in world despite everything life throws at them, that catch his attention the most.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He doesn’t move. Not an inch. No snoring, no drooling, no rustling around. He sleeps on his back and wakes up in the same position. Even the smallest things are enough to wake him up; sometimes you wonder if he’s even truly asleep at all. It’s rare you get to see Jason still asleep by the time you come to; he’s almost always up before you are, his schedule militant, so cherish those moments as much as you can.

[sumuse]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ring ring ring pick up the phone !

⠀⠀ how would the batboys react to you calling them once and immediately hanging up

— fem!reader, fluff & swearing, 0.4k words each (approx.), established relationships, husband!bruce, boyfriend! dick, jason, tim and damian (separately)

bruce wayne

you were at home having a you day, he knew that. so much so that he made everyone leave you alone that night and him himself, kept busy at wayne enterprises.

so imagine to his surprise his dear wife calling him out of nowhere and immediately hanging up?

bruce prides himself on answering your calls on the second ring at most. yet you didnt give him a chance for the first ring to come… somethings up. and his first thought is to call you until you answer.

you dont. you let your phone ring on the couch as you giggle at it. dick had told you to do this prank on him since hes seen it on tiktok. you thought it was cruel at first, bruce has always a lot on his plate and is too extreme, what if he thought something happened with his beloved wife?

my hubby🖤: [5 missed calls]

my hubby🖤: my love are you alright?

my hubby🖤: im on my way home, be there in ten.

he comes in the manor like lighting, calling out your name immediately. you can hear him already calling someone up since the house was too quiet for his liking.

then he hears a giggle from the kitchen that makes him lower his phone. you emerge from the open space to the foyer where you laugh at him, coming to give him an embrace.

“brucie dont worry im alright” you mumble with a smile. he looks down at you, his grip white on his phone. he looks relieved, thats for sure, but he was shaken up. his black hair was tussled, like he was running his fingers through it in stress.

he gently cups your face, “darling…” his fingers slightly shaking as he lets his phone slip in his pocket. “why’d you scare me like that? i thought something serious happened to you” he says in one breath, dropping down his forehead with yours.

your laugh vibrates agaisnt his chest, coming to grab his hand in yours. “im so sorry… dick told me to test it out with you”. your soft hands come to rub against the slight stubble on his sharp jaw, smoothing out the wrinkles under his blue eyes. “let me draw you a nice warm bath yeah? ive stressed you too much for my own liking”.

his shoulders drop with a small smile on his face, nodding and pressing a kiss to your forehead “id love that”.

dick grayson

you were at a much needed girls night at your friends apartment. it was hard with schedules and the curve balls life throws at you all but here you guys are.

dick was excited for you to finally have a night off with your best friends, ever the supportive boyfriend. he told you to call him if any emergencies happen and to text him when you wanted to go home

and poor dickie didnt knew one of your girl friends had a prank in store for him. she had saw this trend on tiktok and wanted to see which boyfriend of the group would reply first

you laughed at it, saying it wasnt a good idea (as you open up your dear boyfriends contact and set it flat on the table as your other taken friends do)

after a hushed countdown, you press the call button and all hang up at the same time. you looked at your phone screen with dicks profile picture that you had for him, a photo of him smiling next to haley.

not even a beat after, your phone lights up again with a call and nonstop messages from your boyfriend.

your girls look at you shocked. their boyfriends didnt even leave a message while yours is blowing up your device. you give them a sheepish look as you grab your phone off the table and answer the second call he made, pressing your phone against your ear.

“baby? did something happen? are you guys in danger?” he spat out the second you called him back. you laugh much to his dismay and you bet he’s furrowing his eyebrows right now.

“no dick im sorry, me and the girls decided to do a trend on our boyfriends to see who called back first” you reply holding back your laughter. he groaned on the line which made you hold it a little less

“sweetheart dont do that to me, didnt i tell you to call me for emergencies?” dick whined on the line and you had to cover the bottom speaker with your hand so your girls would hear

“i hope i didnt scare you too much, i love you so much okay? i wont do it again”. you mumble to him with your warm voice, you swear you can hear him smile over the call

“i love you so much more, text me when your ready to go home”.

jason todd

jason has been through a lot, to say the least. hes constantly on edge, trying to keep himself and the ones he loves alive, that included you, his girlfriend.

you knew it was dangerous for you to play this prank on him, his responses to things are like a militaries, precise and fast.

so to your surprise, the second you hung up you hear silence. no call back, no message, nothing. its too quiet for your liking, its so… out of your boyfriend. you’d at least expect a call back or…

buzz. the sound of your doorbell rang, snapping out of your thoughts. it was late at night, late enough you know its not safe to be walking in the streets of gotham so.. who the hell was it.

you make slow steps to the door, reaching on your toes to check thru the peepy hole. a sigh leaves your mouth and the weight on your shoulders drops as you unlock your apartment door.

jason is there, holding his helmet in one hand as the other held the doorway. he was puffing and his neck trickled with sweat. he looks at you and drops everything. the loud of his helmet dropping is loud enough that definitely woke up some neighbors.

he grabs your face, checking for any sign of harm or blood before exhaling on your face and pulling you into a kiss. you sigh into it before pulling away with your hands on his chest, sweat sticking to the cotton makes you wonder if he ran up the stairs instead of the elevator.

“did you speed to get here? youre sweating and heaving like crazy” you murmur, rubbing your thumb on his cheek.

“maybe, you called me outta nowhere and hung up too quickly, scared me shitless babydoll…” he murmurs on your face, wrapping his arms around you, inhaling your scent that made him feel grounded.

safe to say that night you were cuddled by a very clingy jason todd.

tim drake

nights with your boyfriend at patrol were boring, especially when youre at the manoe. he insists you wait there until he gets back so he can sleep in your arms but.. what to do in this big but quiet place?

having seen the trend before made you wonder how tim would react to it, you think for a bit, maybe doing it while he is at patrol isnt the best idea but… dating a vigilante isnt either right?

after the first ring you hang up. you cant contain your excitement, giggling to yourself as you watch your phone for any type of response.

and it comes, a few messages but it… stops? you tilt your head confused before grabbing to see what had he sent.

love <33: love?

love <33: did you call by accident?

love<33: anything happened? let me know please

you scoff, audibly so. he seemed so… calm? what if you were in trouble? what if you were kidnapped? you were fuming and highly offended, pressing the call button with such force.

the second he picks up, you were already raising your voice “tim what if i were dying and that youd think it was an accident?”.

then a laugh cuts though the line, it makes you stop. why is he laughing? what could possibly funny in this?

“my love you do know i have access to all the cameras in the manor.. right?” tims voice finally dies down from the laugh but you can hear his teasing tone loud and clear

your face flushes, covering your face with your free hand. he keeps talking on the line, asking why youre so quiet but you cant help but feel ashamed… of course trying to prank your techy boyfriend would never work.

“i will be burying myself tonight, thank you” you mumble which makes him laugh even harder and you swear you want to hang up in his face.

“okay right, i love you too freak, see you soon” tim says with a light tone that makes you groan and hang up and you know he will tease you for life about this. lucky him that you love him too…

damian wayne

your boyfriend wasnt loud in any means, and that included protecting you.

of course you were his top priority, always being there for you. but that also meant that he sometimes took things too far… just like his father does.

so much so, that when you called and hung up, all you got was a call back and silence.

frankly you were worried for what might happen. maybe he didnt care? maybe he thought nothing of it in which would lead to another normal night.

but no… its never a normal night with a wayne. as you were about to call him back to see if everything was alright, your window crashes open.

you immediately duck down to see what the fuck broke your window or worse who broke your window…

as you peak your head up, you can listen to your boyfriends mumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps. ducking from out of the couch, you look at him shocked, because what did he just do??

“damian what the hell?” you sound out and his head whips to yours, his breath calms down and he looks… relieved?

he makes quick steps to you and flops on top of you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck while mumbling apologies to you.

“i thought you were in trouble and wanted to catch the bad guy unsuspected” he mumbles embarrassed while pressing small kisses on your neck and melting into you.

you just laugh and start to massage his hair. you can scold him tomorrow about jumping to conclusions and for breaking your window but for now, youre going to enjoy his affection.

⟢ 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: ive been trying to post this for the FIFTH TIME. tumblr please let this reach my people🙏

[gothamslittlejester]

Exactly the kind of shit I’d do

[tacticaldiary]

Break In

PAIRING: Jason Todd x Reader

SYNOPSIS: "Sure, baby." He smiles down at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, twirling it around his finger before tucking it behind an ear. "You'd think after the last-"

His body catches it before his mind does, and she watches in real time as Jason tenses, then trails off, the amusement draining from his expression. "What is it?" She whispers, confused. Her hand curls around his, squeezing.

Their front door breaks into splinters with a loud bang.

NOTE: It's actually been ages

MASTERLIST

"Let me up!" She giggles, trying to squirm away from under him. Jason is heavy, mostly muscle, and has no problem pinning her down with his body weight. A lazy smile stretches across his face, eyes glinting with amusement. "Jason!"

"Nah, you had so much to say earlier." He digs his fingers into her waist and yanks her back down under him easily. "Where's all that attitude now, huh?"

Rare were these days, where the Gotham smog cleared to show hints and flashes of the stars speckling the night's sky through their apartment's window. Days where neither of them came home with their shoulders set heavy, the slight weight of the world on them despite the years both of them have had to assimilate to the fact that that just is part of living in this city.

She doesn't even remember how they started play fighting, just that there had been a playful jab here, a chase around their kitchen table, laughter, and then the soft impact of Jason tackling her onto the couch cushions before dragging them both to the ground. Always careful, despite his strength, always cautious to cushion her landing physically and metaphorically.

It's carefree, for a moment. She's just her, and he's just Jason, and none of the darkness outside the rusty hinges of their front door exists.

Reaching around him, her fingers tangle in the hair near the back of his head, and she tugs him down. Jason fights it for a moment, just to see her giggle and then he relents, kissing her firmly, taking his time because God knows so much of it is already behind him. "I'm letting you win this time." She mumbles into his mouth, and Jason can't manage to hold back a snicker while he pulls away.

"Sure, baby." He smiles down at her, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, twirling it around his finger before tucking it behind an ear. "You'd think after the last-"

His body catches it before his mind does, and she watches in real time as Jason tenses, then trails off, the amusement draining from his expression. She moves to sit up upon sensing the change, but a hand to her shoulder pushes her back down and still. "Stop." He says, head cocked to the side, brow furrowed in concentration.

"What is it?" She whispers, confused. Her hand curls around his, squeezing.

His eyes narrow. "I think-"

Their front door breaks into splinters with a loud bang.

Jason swears, immediately throws himself forward to cover her body with his own, arms around her head as pieces of wood fly over the couch. Her hands come to grab at him in shock, and once the dust settles they only have a moment to pull away and make eyes contact before Jason is ripped away and thrown against the coffee table hard enough to shatter the glass.

"What the fuck?" He snarls, sitting up with a wince, adrenaline catching fire in his blood. "Who-"

When Jason's finally calm enough to blink the sudden wave of anger out of his vision, his back stiffens. Caught between the smoking barrel of a shotgun and a headlock, is her.

To her credit, she doesn't look panicked. If the pinch in her brow is something to go by she's furious, but there's a controlled glint in her eyes that tells him she's tampering down her real fear to unpack later.

"Stay down." The man says. Two others in similar cloth masks scatter around the apartment, pulling out drawers and shoving things into bags.

Jason stands, and the man shoves the gun against his girlfriend's head hard enough for her to stifle a groan. He catalogues the sound, remembers it for when he'll pay it back tenfold later.

He's cautious, but knows that the man likely won't pull the trigger so soon, not when he has easy leverage against him. Was this a random robbery, or a personal attack on him, is the main question. By the looks of it there's nothing to suggest that anyone is really interested in Jason aside from keeping him from making a move.

"The fuck do you want?" He snarls, hands bunching into fists. Something dark thrums right under his skin, infecting his blood with a poisoning green that Jason has finally come to co-exist with.

"Nothing personal." Jackass 1 says with a shrug, and the inflection in his tone suggests he's smiling. "Running low on cash, my boys and I gotta keep the lights on."

No way Redhood just got caught in the middle of a random robbery.

If Tim was here he'd be laughing.

Jason feels the farthest thing from amused.

If this were just his place, he'd be less bothered about it maybe, but it isn't. It's theirs. Something crafted from years of living together, every corner holding something of value may that be monetary or sentimental. His and his girls. Their bed where they sleep every night, their kitchen table they use for those sleepless nights, their living room Jason often than not collapses in after a long patrol. Echoes of them live in the rooms, and it's one of the few sanctuaries Jason feels he can shed his armour without the fear of it getting thrown back in his face.

And now it's been tainted.

Drawers emptied out, photo frames on the floor, and a gun pressed to his girl's head.

The freak goes to say something else, maybe to taunt him or demand the location of whatever he thinks he's going to find, but nothing but a howl comes out of his mouth as Jason watches the woman he loves rear her head back and crack it against the bastards nose, her free hand pushing the barrel of the gun away from her temple just as it goes off.

The noise is deafening, leaves a ringing in her ears that's almost unbearable, but the momentum is enough for her to shove the man off and stumble against one of the walls, hand pressed against her ear in pain. She trusts him to handle it, trusts him enough to squeeze her eyes shut and focus on not throwing up all over their new rug.

'Atta girl' Jason thinks viciously, and after sparing a glance just to see her whole and in one piece, he launches himself forward with an amount of grace surprising for a man of his stature.

Jason snarls, rips the gun out of the man's hand and slams the rear end of it into his head, kicking him hard in the chest to send him crashing into the wall. The other two men have abandoned their pillaging in favour of pulling out small knives and jumping into the fray, trying to take him down.

Like hell.

They go down easy, further proof that this wasn't a professional job, just an unlucky encounter for both ends.

Jason disarms them both, knocks them out, and leaves them on the ground before picking up one of their knives and approaching the first guy on the ground who's struggling to push himself up against the wall.

He grabs the man by the hair and yanks it backwards painfully, standing over him with a scowl. "Bad day to be you, shithead."

Then he drives the knife straight into the man's wrist that held the gun, twisting until he's screaming and Jason can feel his bones crack and separate. He leaves the blade in their, tightens his grip on the bastard's head and slams it down onto the floorboards to knock him out.

Silence. The noise is over as soon as it started, the threat neutralised, but Jason still feels the tell-tale anger coursing through his veins. It's a struggle to soothe it, to remember that this isn't who he is now, that taking the lives of these three men would not make him feel better in the long run no matter how much his fingers itch to pull the trigger. Shaking it off, he turns to more important matters.

He's by her side in seconds, a hand on her back and urging her to straighten up from how she's standing all curled into herself.

"Hey." He breathes, voice dropped to a lower register. "We're good, it's alright, c'mon."

She shakes her head.

Alarm rings through him. "What's wrong?" Jason says, shifting to stand in front of her, hands on her shoulders. He practically pulls her upright

"Hurts..." She grits out, pale. "I...I can't hear clearly. Ringing." "Shit." She inhales with a shudder.

"Let me see." It comes out firmer, and this time when he tries to tilt her head up Jason doesn't let her fight it.

Blood drips down the side of her face, slick between her fingers that were pressed against the wound. Jason's breath hitches sharply as he brushes away her hair to inspect the damage. It's nothing severe, the gun firing just grazed the side of her forehead but everything's still intact, and she's still breathing, and Jason hasn't lost the best thing to ever happen to him over dumb Gotham luck-

A hand winds around his wrist, one that he hadn't noticed was shaking. "I'm fine." She finally says, blinking hard a few times and straightening up. She wobbles, and offers him a weak smile when Jason immediately steadies her by the waist. "It's okay, Jay."

"It's not." He swallows, glancing over his shoulder at the wreckage of their home. Bloodstains and dents in the walls, possessions thrown around, and blankets torn up. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, a heavy sort of sadness settles in him.

"I don't care about all that." She says softly, holding onto him as the tinnitus starts to fade. The sound is still dizzying, but much more bearable now. "Just that we're alright."

Jason lets out a long breath, and allows himself a moment to bury his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. He winds an arm around her, digs his phone out from his pocket with the other.

The screen is cracked.

"That'll need stitches." He mumbles, pulling away to frown at the bleeding again. "We're going to the cave, Alfred'll help."

Tired, she settles for a nod. They gather the few essential things they need and Jason kicks aside one of the men in front of the door roughly to get past and back outside. There's a little bit of satisfaction in that.

Tonight he'll watch over her, stay by her side and hover. That's just what he does, what Jason has always done after a close call. His bones ache with the need to protect, to stay close, to safeguard. Tonight is for soothing that rush of anger in him that he's barely keeping a leash on, just enough to make sure that she's settled and recovering well.

Tomorrow, however?

Tomorrow, the Red Hood goes hunting.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(30/07/2026)

[gothamslittlejester]

LOVE this so much, amazing read 💖

[gothamslittlejester]

What if I were to write a lil smutty x reader fic with both Selina and Bruce. What then

[gothamslittlejester]

Dick Grayson sends you the most tooth rotting, sweetest text messages throughout the day. Pet names, asking about your day, telling you he loves you. Telling you he’s thinking of you. Sending pictures of pretty birds cuddling together and then texting “us.” Spamming memes and videos he thinks are funny (they’re really not but who has the heart to tell him). There’s not a villain in Gotham who could stop him from texting his baby when he wants to, and that’s always.

Jason Todd texts like an old man who just got gifted a Nokia. Knowing him, that’s probably exactly what he’s using as a burner phone. Why send paragraphs when few words do the trick? Between living on the streets and outright missing most of his teen years, he never really got a hang of texting culture.

“Jason honey did you want to do something for dinner? Or we can order, when are you getting home?”

“K.”

“K what? When are you getting back? Are we ordering?”

“👍”

[gothamslittlejester]

Arkham!Jason Todd + Dating HC’s

| Jason Todd x gn!reader

| Set after the events of Arkham Knight. Soft Jason

| A/N: Arkham Jason my sweet boy 😢 Can't believe I've never written anything for him. A part of me wants to do a part 2 with more... romantic themes (cough cough), but this version of him just makes me want to cry and give him a hug 😭

✧ He met you not long after his reign of terror over Gotham had ended. After Arkham Knight was nothing more than a bad a memory, and the legacy of the Batman nothing more than a sad one. Could he even call it dating, what he had with you? It seems too mundane a phrase, too simple. How could such a casual term ever encapsulate the depth of emotion he has for you, the love you ripped out of him so effortlessly? The nights you’ve shared just loving him, holding him, touching him not to hurt him but just to feel him close? No, he wouldn’t call it dating… he scoffs at the word. What you had was something more.

✧ He was glad you never met the Arkham Knight, that it was the arms of the Red Hood you run to now. The civilians that had gotten stuck in the crossfire, the terror he caused, the river of blood he left in his wake… it was everything he had once stood against, a shame he now carries no matter what new mask he dons. He feels sick just at the idea of you meeting that version of him, and is beyond relieved you never had to. Besides, he’s always known he looked better in red.

✧ Falling in love with you was a wonky thing, and he had yet to stop feeling so damn clumsy with it all. It’s new, all of it, and he’s man enough to admit he’s scared shitless of losing you. He tries- goddammit he tries- to make you happy. He starts by doing what he knows he should do; letting his walls down, and letting you in.

✧ He’ll take you to a rooftop where the whole city is right at your feet, and the view nearly takes your breath away. You sit there together for what feels like eternity, and step by step, Jason lets himself finally be. He starts at the beginning; he tells you of his favorite places, where a younger Jason liked to eat or sneak off to after school. The best place to find vintage books and records, or enjoy a cold beer where no-one questions a scar or two. He tells you which areas to never find yourself in, chiding you if you don’t take him seriously. He asks you where you spend your time, and what occupies your day. You tell him about your favorite café and he instinctively makes a mental note of what you order, only for his scar to throb at the very thought of walking up to a cashier looking like he does. Your smile is bright enough to pull him out of wallowing on it for long.

✧ Somewhere between the well-meaning lectures and shy glances, he finds his fingers wrapped through yours. Soon after, he's watching you with a gaze that's moved way past friendly, and touching your back with hands more possessive than not. It comes with little surprise the night his strong arms wrap around your waist, and he finally pulls you flush against his chest. Your lips meet his for the first time, and Jason's in heaven.

✧ It catches Jason off guard one day, when he realizes how quiet his voice can be when he’s around you. The Arkham Knight, Red Hood… they commanded attention. He was used to yelling, bellowing commands to his militia, and hurtling insults to his enemies. But with you? His words are nothing louder than a quiet rumble, or comforting murmur. It’s different, this side of him, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. He couldn’t bare the thought of raising his voice at you anyways.

✧ Keeping secrets is second nature to him, and your existence is no exception. The thought of losing you because he wasn’t careful enough… he couldn’t live with it. Besides, it’s not like he had many friends nowadays to share the good news. And yet, sometimes, when you’re asleep in his arms and your safety is not an immediate concern, he dwindles on the past and the people he once shared everything with. The ones he barely talks to, even now. He wonders if they know. If Dick had picked up on his quiet happiness from the rare exchange through comms, if Barbara connected the dots. They would adore you, he thinks, but then the throbbing begins anew and he pushes the thought quickly from his mind.

✧ He leaves in the night, if the thoughts get too dark, and the memories too loud. He’ll shake his head to the side as if trying to rid them from his skull, but he knows it’s futile. His time in Arkham was branded into him in more ways than one, and the only thing he can ever really get rid of are the monsters who still lurk in the streets. He tells himself it’s to keep innocent people safe. He tells you it’s a necessary evil and every life he takes is one less that could hurt you. You never stop him- he always finds his way back before dawn anyways. It’s the Red Hood who leaves, but it’s Jason Todd who comes back to you.

✧ It’s a warm surprise finding out he enjoys it, the little stuff. The calls that last for hours, the soft words, the quiet kisses in the night. Oh, the night… the night belonged to the two of you. Pressing kisses on your face, cradling you close in his arms. Hearing you whisper his name so gently, whispering yours right back. Rubbing soothing circles on your skin as your stress all but melts away, kissing away your tears as he promises to always keep you safe. To always put you first, and prioritize this little life you’ve built together. Jason shows you the kind of love you never have to question; you just wish he would treat himself with the same kindness he shows to you.

✧ He cries to you, more than he’d like to admit. It’s like the floodgates open the moment he feels a hint of peace, which around you is often. He hates this part of himself, this sad and tortured soul that somehow always breaks under your gentle touch. He calls it weakness. Every tear and sob another show of a broken, useless man. The first time, he wondered how many more tears you could take before you left. It would be another year before he finally believed you never would. Some nights it breaks him all over again, but you’re never too far to help pick up the pieces.

✧ Being with you is a kind of bliss some men die trying to find. It’s a peace Jason had once begged for, and almost stopped believing existed. A peace he may believe he one day deserves. One day.

[ciricearts]

my bi queen for pride month<3

[gothamslittlejester]

Happy pride month lovelies!! 🏳️‍🌈💕

[groovymuzik]

Weee

[gothamslittlejester]

I luv her sm, what a cutie patootie

[strawberry-nugget]

⤿ Jason Todd x fem! reader

What’s a girl supposed to do when her jacked boyfriend is covered in grease because he’s fixing his bike with his bare. fucking. hands?

Tags/CW: 18+ MDNI, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, doggystyle, slight mating press, fingering, oral (f!receiving), cvckdrunk reader, hair pulling, switch dynamics, pvssydrunk Jason Todd, semi!public sex

“If you don’t stop working on that bike im gonna bite you”

That makes Jason look. 

Fucking finally.

He lifts his head slowly, helmet thrown somewhere you can’t even begin to care for, grease smeared along his knuckles and the edge of his jaw. There’s a pause—long enough that you think maybe he didn’t hear you, long enough for the hum of the massive Batcycle he drives to fill the garage again.

Then his mouth twitches, right at the corner where his scar begins.

“Y’know,” he says, straightening just enough to roll his shoulders, “most people threaten me with guns.”

His eyes flick to you—sharp, assessing, amused in that dangerous way that makes your stomach dip. He wipes his hands on a rag, not breaking eye contact and walks towards you in slow strides.

“But sure,” he adds, stepping closer, boots heavy against the concrete. “Biting. That’s totally new.”

You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. Of the heat coming off him. The way his triceps flex when he throws the towel to the direction of the bike, the veins on his forearms pumping with each movement. The fact that he’s still half in work mode—leather jacket open, sleeves pushed up, forearms tense, smelling like motor oil and something so unmistakably him — you’d be crazy not to try to demand his attention. Especially when you’ve done nothing but stare at him for a good amount of, what, forty five minutes now?

“I’m threatening you with a good time, actually.” 

Oh that line? Yeah, that usually earns you consequences.

He tilts his head at you like a puppy. “You gonna follow through,” he murmurs, “or is that just trash talk?”

There’s a challenge in it. Not loud. Not cocky. Jason is too soft—despite his massive, enormous muscles—to let himself be cocky with you, but he always indulges you with some sass.

Jason stops a half-step away from you. Close enough that the space between your bodies feels intentional, like he measured it. Close enough that the air shifts—hot, metallic, thick with oil and ozone and the faint bite of gunpowder that never really leaves him. Your fingers trap his chin between them, forcing his jaw to your eye level and you hate it— but you bite your lower lip so hard you feel your skin tingle.

The garage hums around you. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, one of them flickering just slightly. The Batcycle ticks as it cools, metal settling, protesting. Gotham presses in from outside—sirens somewhere far off, rain threatening but not yet falling.

Jason’s gaze drops. Not all the way. Just enough to register your mouth. The pause is fraction-of-a-second small, but you feel it anyway. He stills after, jaw tightening like he caught himself mid-mistake.

“What is it?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow up instinctively.

And you can’t help it— your hand comes to slap against his ass so you can make him jump a tad closer to you. Because, really, how can you even be expected to behave yourself while watching him screw nails with his fingers instead of screwdrivers? Thinking how he could be using his fingers instead to toy with your clit; one big, plushy thumb coiling tight circles on you while he fucks you with his middle finger instead of working on that stupid bike.

How can you be prompted to ignore how absolute snug his leather jacket fits, ready to burst at the seams when his bulky shoulders threaten to make it explode? When he could be using the same muscle to hold you against his chest while he fucks you from behind just so he can kiss you?

“Jesus—” His hand comes up on instinct, gripping your wrist, not to stop you, just grounding himself. His thumb presses into your pulse as your mouth already has found his “Someone’s horny.”

For a long moment, you let your lips brush his, your teeth softly grazing between your mouths When he finally manages to take a deeper breath though, you pounce, biting his lip into your mouth. And instead of hissing, Jason draws you even closer, his hips slamming against yours through your clothes.

“Your fault.” you whisper against his mouth.

He lets out a sharp laugh that dies halfway in his chest, but he’s smiling. Wide and unguarded. The kind you only get when he’s forgotten to keep the walls up. Not that he usually has his guards up when you’re around.

His hands come alive then—one sliding up your side, fingers splaying like he needs the contact, the other tangling briefly in your hair before he remembers himself and settles, sweetly for your shoulder instead. The kiss turns sloppy fast, uncoordinated, mouths chasing each other, teeth knocking, breath shared and uneven.

Your intent is to kiss him silly, until both of your chins are absolutely coated in drool, and you absolutely manage to deliver.

The bike behind him gives an irritated whine as one of the screwdrivers he rested on the seat falls to the ground, like it’s been personally offended.

Jason breaks the kiss just long enough to glance back at it, then at you—eyes dark, pupils blown, lips red and swollen.

“…Guess the bike can wait,” he says.

Jason’s gaze flicks to your mouth again—this time he doesn’t stop himself at all. Doesn’t hide it. His breath shifts, deeper now, slower, like he’s trying to steady something that’s already tipped. He wants you so bad when you’re set on freaking him out, it would be insane to try and fight it.

“Fuck—” he starts, then exhales through his nose, frustrated. “If you’re gonna—”

He doesn’t finish that either.

You close the distance for him.

It’s barely anything—just enough that your breath brushes his cheek, your chest almost touching his. You feel him go still again, like a loaded weapon set on a table. Waiting.

“Stop talking Jay,” you whisper. “I need you naked right now or I'm gonna explode!”

For a heartbeat, he just looks at you. Really looks. Like he’s weighing the risk. Like he knows exactly how badly this could end— someone walking in on you, you are in belfry after all— and he’s choosing it anyway.

Then his hand slides from your wrist to your jaw.

He cups your face with a care that doesn’t match his size at all, thumb resting just under your cheekbone. He hesitates there—one last pause, one last chance to pull away.

He doesn’t take it. Of course.

The kiss he gives you is slow. Hungry, but not rushed to its core. Jason leans in like he’s testing the ground beneath his feet, lips brushing yours first, barely there, a question more than an answer. When you don’t pull back, when you lean in too, shoulders dropping like you're melting in his touch, he exhales against your mouth and deepens it.

Warm. Firm. Careful in a way that feels almost dangerous.

His thumb shifts, tilting your chin up, keeping the angle just right.

The kiss breaks for a fraction of a second, just long enough for him to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. "Naked, huh?" he rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that you feel in your own chest. You take it upon yourself to kiss the rough pad of his thumb, the coarse skin on the inside of his palm and then, even more carefully, the inside of his wrist "You have any idea how much gear I'm wearing? It’s a process."

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hands move from your jaw to your waist, his large palms spanning nearly the whole width of you. In one fluid, effortless motion, he hoists you up, seating you on the edge of the metal workbench.

The cold bite of the steel against your thighs is a sharp contrast to his body heat. Tools rattle behind you—wrenches and screwdrivers clattering as you’re shoved back into his workspace. Jason crowds into the space between your knees, his heavy boots locking you in.

"You're gonna get grease on your clothes," he warns, teasingly, though he’s already reaching for the hem of your shirt, his eyes dark with a hunger that says he couldn't care less if the whole place burned down around you.

"That’s even hotter," you breathe, tugging at his leather jacket, pulling it off his shoulders.

He lets out a rough, truncated sound—halfway between a laugh and a growl—and dives back in, his mouth finding the sensitive dip of your neck while his grease stained fingers fumble with the buttons of your pants. When his palms finally make contact with your bare skin, the heat is staggering.

He breaks the kiss just enough to strip off his leather jacket completely, throwing it blindly over the Batcycle. He looks like a storm—hair mussed, eyes dark and blown out until the blue is just a thin, electrified ring around his pupils.

You're just a puddle for him really.

"You being in civilians tonight was supposed to be for easy access?" he laughs, his voice vibrating deep in his chest, you hum in response, casting kisses everywhere around his mouth. "Unfair."

“Unfair?” You tilt your head back as his mouth migrates to your jawline, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. “I think it’s a tactical advantage, Jay. You’re the one who’s over-prepared.”

Jason huffs a breath against your skin, a dry, jagged sound as he kisses your earlobe. “Tactical advantage,” he repeats, the words vibrating against your throat. “Yeah. I’ll show you a tactical advantage.”

He reaches back without looking, his large hand sweeping a row of heavy sockets and a torque wrench off the bench. They hit the concrete floor with a series of loud, metallic clangs that echo through the rafters, but Jason doesn't even blink. He uses the cleared space to lean over you, his weight pressing you back into the cold steel until you’re lying flat, your legs naturally hooking around his waist to keep from sliding.

The contrast is dizzying—the freezing metal against your spine and the scorching, solid bulk of him pinning you down.

“You’re gonna be covered in grease,” he mutters again, but this time it’s not a warning—it’s a promise. His hands, rough and calloused, slide under the hem of your sports bra. The moment his palms hit your ribs, you gasp. His skin is searing, and the faint scent of motor oil on him feels strangely right in the middle of this chaos.

He doesn't waste time. With a strength that feels effortless, he tugs the fabric up and over your head, tossing it somewhere toward the darkness of the rafters. His eyes rake over you, dark and possessive, before he drops his head to the valley of your chest, his stubble grazing your skin.

“Jason—” you breathe, your fingers tangling in the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck.

“I got you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that gravelly register that always makes your toes curl. “Stay right here.”

He pulls back just enough to deal with his own gear. The heavy tactical belt hits the floor with a dull thud, followed by the metallic clack of his holsters. He moves with a frantic sort of efficiency, his movements sharp and hungry. When he finally shoves his shirt off, the flickering fluorescent light overhead catches the map of his body—the jagged lines of scars, the heavy swell of his chest, and the sheer, intimidating breadth of him.

He looks like a wrecking ball in human form, and he’s looking at you with so much tenderness, like he’s more than eager for you to let him do anything to you.

He crowds back into your space, his bare chest slick with a light sheen of sweat as it meets yours. The friction is obliterating—your nipples drag along his chest and for all that’s worth it, you suppress the moan that threatens to spill over. He hooks his hands under your thighs, dragging you to the very edge of the workbench until your hips meet his.

“Now,” he pants, his forehead dropping against yours, his nose brushing yours in the dark. “About that biting threat.”

Jason captures your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make you whine, before his mouth devours yours again. This time, there’s no hesitation. It’s all teeth and tongues fighting and the heavy weight of him trapping you on your spot.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s see.”

One of his hands stays anchored on your hip, his thumb digging into the dip of your waist to hold you still, while the other slides down, shimmying underneath the band of your cotton panties. His fingers, calloused, scarred, tap their way over your mound, teasing just slightly when he feels the hood of your clit on his pads. His whole hand cups you under your underwear, middle finger circling a tight circle at the sopping entrance of your pussy. 

When his thumb finds your clit, the contact is electric—a blunt, heavy pressure that makes your back arch off the cold metal. 

“Wet already?”

“Forty-five minutes of staring at you screw nails with your hand baby,” you rumbles, his voice dropping into a low, satisfied vibration against your throat. “I almost bust a nut at the sight.”

And fuck, Jason loves what he hears. He loves when you talk so dirty to him.

His thumb hooks under the edge of your panties, dragging the fabric down just enough to get it out of his way, his palm never losing contact with your skin. He’s being so very delicate; Jason always does delicate even when he’s this far gone. He’s being thorough, his fingers slicking with your heat as he maps out exactly how much you want him, teasing the tip of his finger at your entrance ever so occasionally, until your pussy pulses around nothing but thin air.

Your breath hitches, a sharp, broken sound that echoes off the metal cabinets. 

Jason is pinning you down, though while his fingers do their work, his heavy thighs forcing yours wider until you’re completely open to him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. It’s not a question. He can feel the fine tremors running through your thighs, the way your muscles jump under his touch.

He leans down, his mouth finding the sensitive curve where your neck meets your shoulder, and he bites—not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark. He mirrors the threat you gave him earlier, his teeth grazing over your pulse point, trailing down a biting path on his way to one of your nipples, until you’re whimpering his name.

“If you hadn’t responded to my biting threat I would have dropped to my knees and I'd be begging you to put your cock in my mouth.”

“You wanted my attention this badly?” He pulls back just an inch, his eyes dark, hooding with a dangerous kind of intent. “You’ve got it. All of it.”

He slides two fingers inside you with such blunt pressure that makes your hips jerk upward, seeking more. He’s steady, his rhythm slow and torturous, his thumb never leaving your clit from the moment he finds it, grinding in tight, heavy circles that make your vision go blurry at the edges.

All the while he keeps kissing between your hardened nipples like a man starved.

The garage feels like it’s shrinking; the image of you, on your knees, begging for his cock is enough of a mind game to make him so painfully hard, that he feels his cock throbbing inside his pants. Instead of acting on it though, he’s watching you, his jaw tight, his own breathing coming in jagged, heavy pulls as he watches your face come apart under his hand.

“Jason, please,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his forearms, trying to pull him closer, trying to bridge the last bit of distance.

He lets out a sharp, ragged breath, his forehead dropping against yours again. “Not yet,” he grunts, his fingers curling deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body go taut. “I want to see you come on this table before I even think about getting these pants off.”

He increases the pace, his hand moving with almost mechanical precision. And it’s pointless to try to hold it in, he knows every spot that makes you gasp and moan, anyway. Knows when to slow down the pace, or pick it up again. And fuck, he knows that had it been any other day, you would already be pushing his head between your thighs, urging him to suck your clit between his lips.

But the sound your pussy makes for just his fingers tonight?—the wet, rhythmic friction as he fucks them into you—is drowned out only by the blood rushing in his ears and the needy sounds coming from the back of your throat.

Your breath is hitching in short, desperate stabs, your hips stuttering against his hand as the tension coils into a tight, screaming knot in your lower belly, your pussy pulses around his fingers like a vice and then—

Then, abruptly, he stops.

The sudden absence of his touch is like a physical blow beneath the belt. You let out a broken, frustrated sound, your eyes snapping open to find him hovering over you. He’s shaking like you did moments before—not just his hands, but his whole frame. The cool composure he usually wears like armor has completely shattered. His teeth are bared, his jaw worked so tight you can see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

"Jason—" you gasp, reaching for him, your fingers clawing at the hard muscle of his shoulders. "Don't stop. Please."

"I can't," he rasps, his voice a raw, jagged mess, as his eyes betray his exact words, lowering to where his fingers are toying with your slit. "Fuuuck—I can't just watch you. I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind baby.”

He pushes back from the bench just far enough to deal with the rest of his gear, his movements frantic, almost violent in their urgency. His heavy tactical pants and boxers are shoved down and discarded, hitting the concrete with a heavy thud of fabric and metal buckles.

His cock, free of any restraints and oozing in pre-cum, slaps heavy on his stomach.

When he moves back into your space, he doesn’t wait. He can't. He grabs your thighs, his grip bruisingly firm as he hitches your legs even higher over his shoulders, opening you up completely to the dim light of the garage.

He’s huge, intimidating in size, even, and pulsing with a heat that feels like it could melt the steel beneath you. He settles between your knees, the head of his cock catching against your entrance, slicking itself in and along the mess he already made with his fingers.

"Babe, look at me," he pleads, his voice dropping into a guttural growl. “How do you want it?”

You force your eyes to meet his. “Jason, if you don’t break my back with the meanest backshots right now, I swear to fucking god—”

He stops. The calculation in his eyes dies right then and there, replaced by something dark, jagged, and entirely unhinged.

"Screw this," he rasps, the words catching in his throat.

He doesn't just pull his hand away; he drags you off the edge of the workbench. Your feet hit the concrete for only a split second before he’s spinning you around. He shoves you back down, chest-first this time, your palms skidding across the cold steel of the table. The metal bites into your skin, but you’re barely aware of it because Jason is right there like a wall of scorching heat pressing right into your spine.

He kisses your shoulder, the nape of your neck and trails a series of sloppy pecks down your back, his tongue darting out on every single spot, until he reaches your ass. His broad hands spread you open and you arch onto him, moaning in the brattiest tone you can muster, just to urge him.

It only earns you a hard slap on the ass.

"Stay. Right. There," he whispers, his voice a warning and a plea all at once as he darts out his tongue to lick a clean stripe across your pussy, eager to catch the bead of slick that had been threatening to drip down your thighs.

You gulp in utter heat when he moans at the taste, but before you can arch your back further against his face, you feel him get up from behind you.

Jason’s hands return to you with vengeance. He hooks his fingers deep into the soft flesh of your hips, his grip so bruisingly firm it anchors you to the spot and you eel the throbbing tip of his cock pressing against your pulsing pussy. He’s trembling, you’re trembling and you just can’t take it anymore. You just want to cum on his cock for fuck’s sake.

"You want 'mean'?" he rasps, his voice a low rumble right against your ear as his thumbs tug your soaking folds open. "Fine by me.."

He lunges forward, burying himself inside you in one deep, staggering surge.

All air leaves your lungs in a broken, high-pitched cry. He bottoms out instantly, the sheer force of the impact sending a shockwave through your body that makes your elbows buckle against the steel. You barely have time to register the fullness before he’s pulling back—only to drive back in even harder.

He starts with brutal, almost mechanical rhythm. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of his heavy boots scuffing the concrete and the rhythmic thud of his hips hitting yours echoes off the rafters. The workbench, heavy-duty as it is, begins to protest. It groans, sliding an inch, then two, across the floor as Jason pours every ounce of him into every hit.

"Jason—!" you sob, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the surface underneath you, knocking over a tray of copper washers that scatter like metallic rain.

"Fuck— you’re so fucking tight, so wet,” he moans, his voice thick with unhinged hunger. “Perfect fucking pussy baby.”

He reaches forward, one hand leaving your hip to coil into the hair at the base of your skull, tugging your head back. He wants to see the way your eyes roll back, the way your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. "I was just... trying to work… And you’ve only been thinking about my dick."

“Yeah, yeah i have. And i still want it in my mouth Jay.”

The workbench screeches against the concrete, harsh and metallic as Jason’s weight and momentum force it back another few inches. He doesn't care about the floor, the tools, or the damage to the shop. He’s focused entirely on the way you’re taking him, on how your pussy squelches and floods around him, on the way your body is being jolted forward with every rhythmic, punishing hit of his hips, every yelp you let out that comes from the back of your throat.

"You want it in your mouth?" he rasps, his voice jagged, unadulterated. He leans down, his chest crushing against your back, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to yours. "Greedy. You’re so fucking greedy."

He doesn't stop. If anything, the pace turns more brutal. He’s delivering on every bit of your 'break my back' request, his hips slamming into yours with a sound like a physical collision. Plop, plop, plop. Every backshot is calculated to bottom out, one gradually harder, faster than the other..

He’s hitting you so bone-deep that your vision is going hazy at the edges, your forehead bumping against the cold steel of the bench with every fuck of his cock into you from behind.

“Please, Jay—please—”

“Please what sweetheart?” he whines, his voice dropping into a guttural, dark register.

He adjusts his grip, both hands now bracketing your waist, his thumbs digging into the soft skin of your belly to anchor you as he pulls back nearly all the way—before slamming home again. “You want me to stop? Or you want me to finish what you started?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. He’s a storm of muscle and heat behind you, his breathing coming in jagged, desperate hitches. Every time he bottoms out, you feel the vibration of it even in your teeth. Your pussy slick, a swollen mess working around him, begging for the release that’s coiling tighter and tighter in your gut.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah baby, come on my cock,” Jason kisses the back of your neck “just like you wanted.”

Jason lets out a sound that’s close to a groan, his fingers bruising your hips as he delivers three final, punishing thrusts—each one deeper, meaner, until he’s buried to the hilt. He stalls there, his entire frame going rigid, a choked-off shout tearing from his throat as he finally spills into you, his weight collapsing onto your back.

The garage is silent for a heartbeat, save for the hum of the lights and your shared, ragged gasps. Then, Jason pulls out with a wet, lingering sound of ‘plop’ that makes you whimper, the sudden loss of him feeling just a little overbearing right now.

Before you can even try to catch your breath, his hands are under your armpits, hauling you up and spinning you around. He doesn’t let your feet touch the ground; he just hitches your thighs over his shoulders and settles himself between your knees, his length still hard, still weeping, and looking absolutely lethal under the flickering fluorescent light.

He looks wrecked. His hair is a mess, his eyes are blown out to black, and he’s looking at your mouth with a terrifying sort of focus.

“You said you wanted it,” he rasps, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip to pull it down. “Show me.”

He doesn't wait. He crowds into you, his leaking tip pressing against your lips while you’re literally folded in half. He watches you, his jaw tight, waiting for you to wrap your tongue around his pulsing cock.

He reaches out, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek before sliding down to trace your lower lip—the one he’d bitten earlier. It’s swollen, pulsing, and parted as you pant for air.

"You said you wanted it," he rumbles, his gaze dropping to your mouth. He isn't asking, like he usually does; he’s giving you exactly what you literally begged for.

Jason looks down at you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair once more—not to pull, but to guide.

"Well?" he murmurs, a new challenge sparking in those blue eyes. "I'm not gonna be the only one who's distracted. I want you thinking about the taste of us all fucking day."

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2026. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

A/N: if you liked this just know this is GK!Jason, give than man some love UGH I love him.

Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but comments are the fuel my heart needs to keep pumping fics like this

Taglist: @starfiremylove @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @fanggq @cassiecasluciluce @tigerf-cker @cowboysaveme @osclerc @whosmev @mochiclouds @vanillacici @outpostsworld @deadbeatphobos

Dividers by: @/cursed-carmine

[gothamslittlejester]

Thank you computa

[ciricearts]

taking a riiide

[gothamslittlejester]

Went to cutie patootie town, they said he was the mayor

[gothamslittlejester]

Dating Jason Todd HC’s: eating out

Jason Todd/Red Hood x fem!reader

| A/N: this post is about food get ur head out the gutter. Also hello... it has been a while, huh? :P

✧ Will take you out on café, brunch and dinner dates frequently. Hey… his girl’s gotta eat.

✧ Unsurprisingly, this man is a total foodie. Sure, fast-food and burger joints do the trick just fine- food is food- but ever since getting with you, a once forgotten adventurous side of his has been slowly emerging again. Most of his social media feeds nowadays are full of food recommendations, and he has a constantly growing list of places on his “want to go”. Who else to share the adventure with than his one and only?

✧ He loves supporting local mom-and-pop shops around the city; the more underground and unknown, the better. 

✧ Holds your hand across the table, gently caressing your knuckles as he listens to you share the minute details of your day. He doesn’t interrupt and listens ever so intently, only grunting a soft “mm” every now and then to let you know he’s still listening.

✧ If you start to play footsie under the table, he’ll blush and refuse to make eye contact with you. Suddenly very interested in the choice of wallpaper.

✧ Likes to buy those obnoxiously big desserts for you both to share at the end of the meal, no matter which restaurant you go to. One time a waiter brought over a four-flavored pizookie and he just about heard the angels sing. Sure a slice of cake will do... but imagine how much better it would taste if it was 14 layers...

✧ He tips really well. Also, don’t even bother trying to pay.

✧ Insists on taking you home or back to his place afterwards, refusing to even entertain the thought of you going home alone. Always and forever the gentleman.

[ciricearts]

whatever dude

[ciricearts]

happy valentine’s day i want chocolate

[tb-png]

a cozy christmas day for the wayne family :]

[gothamslittlejester]

[gothamslittlejester]

pls write more Deadpool stuff 🙏🙏 it’s very desolate out here and you do him so well

thank you anon!! It genuinely is so desolate ugh, couldn't have described it better 😔😔 And I'm so surprised too, I thought he would be so much more popular?

Alas I wrote a little something for him, should be posted now!