thinking about jason todd waking you with the soft press of his lips against your neck, trailing slow, lingering kisses down to your collarbone. he whispers sweet words and reassurances between each one, his warm hand gliding over your arm before settling at your waist, tugging you closer until your bodies are flush. he presses his morning wood against your thigh in a quiet invitation, patient and content whether you take it or leave it. but if you do? his hand slips beneath the sheets and into your panties, a thick finger sliding through your folds while his thumb circles your clit with lazy affection, making sure youâre slick and ready. âsuch a sleepy princess,â he murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep as his fingers explore you deeper. âyouâre so pretty like this,â he breathes against your ear, hips slowly grinding against your thigh. and when youâre finally wet enough, he pushes into you with a deep, sexy groan, burying his face in the curve of your neck as his slow, sleepy and lazy thrusts take you both over the edge.
Small. Stupid. Jason shutting down the second things got too real.
Youâd asked him - gently - why heâd disappeared for three days after a rough patrol. No text. No call. Just radio silence while you sat in your apartment worrying yourself sick.
âI was handling it,â heâd said, voice flat, arms crossed like he was bracing for impact. âYou donât need to know every detail of my shit.â
âIâm not asking for every detail,â youâd replied, trying to keep your voice steady. âIâm asking you to let me in. Iâm your girlfriend, Jason. Not some civilian you have to protect from the truth.â
Heâd laughed - short, bitter. âYeah? Well maybe I donât want you in. Maybe I donât want you seeing the parts of me that are still fucked up from the grave.â
The words had landed like punches. Youâd stood there, chest tight, and said the thing youâd been thinking for weeks.
âMaybe we need a break.â
Not a breakup.
A break.
Time. Space. Air.
Jason had gone very still. âWhat?â
âJust⊠a break,â youâd said, voice cracking. âNot forever. I just need to breathe, Jason. And you need to figure out if you even want me in your life or if Iâm just another person youâre protecting from yourself.â
He hadnât argued. Hadnât fought. Heâd just nodded once, jaw tight, and left.
That was nine days ago.
Jason Todd had never been good at feelings.
Heâd spent years building walls so high no one could climb them. Death had only made them taller. But you - quiet, patient, stubborn you - had somehow slipped through the cracks anyway.
Now those cracks felt like canyons.
Heâd spent the first few days throwing himself into work. Patrols. Warehouse raids. Anything to keep his hands busy and his mind quiet. But every night he came home to an empty apartment and the silence screamed louder than any gunshot.
He told himself it was nothing. Just a friend. You were allowed to have friends. But the image stuck - you smiling at someone else while he was falling apart.
That night he did something heâd sworn heâd never do.
He drank.
Not a beer. Not a glass of whiskey.
A bottle. Then another.
The alcohol burned going down, but it didnât quiet the noise in his head. It only made it louder. By 2am he was drunk for the first time in his life, sitting on the floor of his apartment with his phone in his hand, thumb hovering over your name.
He pressed call.
You answered on the third ring, voice sleepy. âJason?â
âYouâre out there smiling at other guys,â he slurred, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. âWhile Iâm sitting here like a fucking idiot thinking about you every second. You said a break. Not a breakup. But it feels like youâre already moving on. Like I was just a phase. Like-â
âJason,â you cut in, sounding more awake now. âAre you drunk?â
He laughed â ugly and raw. âYeah. First time in ages. Congratulations. You made the emotionally constipated zombie drink. Happy now?â
There was a pause. Then your voice, sharper. âStop it. Youâre spiraling. Come over. We need to talk.â
âNo,â he snapped, but his voice cracked. âYou wanted space. You got it. Go smile at your new friend. Iâm sure heâs nicer. Doesnât have blood on his hands. Doesnât wake up screamingââ
âJason Todd,â you said, voice firm but gentle, the way you always got when he was like this. âStop. Youâre breaking my heart right now. Iâm coming over. Do not hang up.â
He didnât.
He sat on the floor, phone pressed to his ear, listening to you move around your apartment, the sound of keys, the door closing. Twenty minutes later there was a knock.
He opened it.
You stood there in sweatpants and one of his old hoodies, hair messy, eyes wide with worry. The second you saw him - red-eyed, swaying slightly, looking smaller than youâd ever seen him - your face crumpled.
âOh, JayâŠâ
He broke.
The tears came fast and ugly, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold them back. âIâm sorry,â he choked out. âIâm so fucking sorry. I thought⊠I thought you were done. I saw you with that guy and I just⊠I panicked. I donât know how to do this. I donât know how to be someone worth staying for.â
You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and pulled him into your arms. He collapsed against you, burying his face in your neck, arms wrapping around your waist like you might disappear.
âIâm not done,â you whispered, holding him tight. âIt was a break, Jason. Not a breakup. I needed space because I was scared too. Scared that youâd keep shutting me out until there was nothing left of us. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.â
He cried harder, the kind of raw, broken sound that tore at your chest. You guided him to the couch, pulling him down so his head rested in your lap. Your fingers stroked through his hair, slow and soothing, the way you knew he liked.
âI love you,â you said quietly. âThe angry parts. The scared parts. The parts that think theyâre too broken to be loved. All of them. Youâre not too much. Youâre not too damaged. Youâre mine. And Iâm yours. Okay?â
He nodded against your thigh, fingers clutching the hem of your hoodie. âOkay,â he whispered, voice hoarse. âIâm sorry I got drunk. Iâm sorry I said those things. I was just⊠scared. I saw you smiling and I thought Iâd lost you for good.â
âYou havenât,â you assured him, leaning down to kiss his temple. âIâm right here. And Iâm staying. Weâll figure out the rest. Together.â
Jason stayed curled in your lap for a long time, breathing gradually evening out as your fingers continued their slow path through his hair. Every so often heâd press a kiss to your thigh or your wrist, like he needed the constant reminder you were real.
âI love you,â he said again, softer this time. âMore than I know how to say. Iâll try to be better. Less⊠constipated.â
You laughed quietly, the sound warm. âI love you too. Even when youâre emotionally constipated. Especially then.â
He shifted, pulling you down so you were lying beside him on the couch, your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you like you were the only safe thing left in the world.
The city hummed far below. The argument, the fear, the drunk call â all of it faded into the background as Jason held you close, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
âIâm keeping you,â he whispered into your hair. âFor as long as youâll let me.â
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. âGood. Because Iâm not going anywhere.â
In the quiet dark of the apartment, Jason Todd â the man who came back from the dead, the one who built walls so high no one could climb them â finally let someone in.
And you?
You stayed.
Because loving Jason Todd had never been easy.
But it had always been worth it.
a/n : this is a newer request I got but Iâm working on older ones sorry! (Reqs open <3) @moviecritc bc u wanted to be tagged babe đ· ac as usual : @/ciricearts
you werenât sure how this whole predicament started: you wake up in silky sheets with messy hair and a rosey bite mark on your collar. you remember being thrown over a really large manâs shoulder, squealing excitedly and kicking at his torso and something about a very loud whine of âdaddy daddy daddyâ
youâre mid thought when you hear the sound of feet tapping on the floorboards, moving towards you.
âhey, sleepy head. drink this for me.â bruce demands as sweet and quiet as possible. his arm is extended out to you with a glass of water in his hand. you take it with a small, shy nod.
bruce watches to make sure you drink everything before he sits down beside you, taking the cup and putting it on the nightstand. he rests his achy back against the headboard with a tiny groan. You look up at him with big puppy eyes,wondering if you did something to hurt him.
ââm okay, just gettinâ oldâ he chuckles and pats your head playfully.
âyouâre not oldâ you laugh softly and lean into his hand.
âyou barley know me,honeyâ bruce murmurs and takes his hand of your head to cover you back up with the comforter.
Later in the morning, you leave the bedroom with a yawn, hoping to find bruce looming somewhere. turns out he was napping on the couch like an old grandpa. cute!
you giggle quietly and bend over the back of the couch to run your hand through his hair, just like he did to you. you knew bruce was insecure about your age difference: itâd been obvious the first night you slept together. he doesnât know that you love having a big strong old man to take care of you.
bruceâs eyes flutter open, looking up at you with one eye barley open. he sits up and grabs your waist from over the couch cushions, pulling you over them gently like a baby kitty. He places you on his lap as he runs his hands up and down your sides.
you smile down at him, hands on his chest, waiting for some form of attention from the handsome guy below you. slowly, your fingers travel to his jaw and rub against his salt and pepper stubble.
âhotâ you whisper, trying not to make eye contact with bruceâs gorgeous eyes, that are roaming your entire body like youâre some sparkly treasure he found.
your hips grind slowly against his lap with a small hum coming from your throat, whilst you grab his huge hands and force them onto your tits.
âpleaseâ you pout, begging for nothing in particular, youâre already taking everything you need.
âi gotcha, bunnyâ bruce grumbles, his hips moving away from your pussy so he can pull down his sweats and move your cute little panties to the side.
you squeak a little as his cock fits snug inside of you, your walls contracting roughly. âbruce, oh fuck!â your whimpers and whines pour out your lips as you struggle to move your hips onto him.
bruce, being the most observant man, lifts you up, his cock never leaving you, and lays you softly on your back.
âyeahh, there we go, ainât that nice?â he grins down at you, he wants to get rough just like you want but he canât hurt his baby. youâre tiny compared to him, his body engulfing yours, making you feel every vein and muscle on his body as his dick kisses your cervix.
his soft stomach presses against yours as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. âsweet girl, always so good for your daddyâ he growls. oh so he did remember what you called him last nightâŠ
âoh shit, bruce!â you pout and grab at his forearm.
ânot my name, honeyâ bruce snickers as he leans down, pushing your legs back slightly, meanwhile pushing all the way into your pussy. âtell me, and iâll let you cum with me.â
âdaddy, oh gosh, youâre my daddyâ you moan out before bringing your hand to your mouth and biting down, trying to stop yourself for saying something even more icky and embarrassing. âm cummi-â you attempt to scream until bruce thrusts completely inside of you once again, painting your walls just like he did the night before, and before and before.
âgood babyâ he pants taking his cock out of your pussy and looking at his art. he uses his thumb to part your folds, watching your mixed climax drip out of your hole.
You want to wake up like this every morning, with your old man that you sometimes called daddy.
this man would be so tired and drained after stopping another one of riddlerâs riddles and preventing city hall from blowing up. âagainâ that the first thing he needs to do when he comes back home is to immediately wrap you in his arms and not let you go
even when he was in the bathtub, his hands couldnât learn to let you go.Â
âgod, i needed thisâ he groaned on your lips, cock buried deep in your pussy and hands on your waist to hold you in place while you straddled him. the air smelt of lavender from the bath salts and jasmine from the candle you lit, along with the faint aroma of soap enveloping it altogether. this was different than the sex you two would often have. this time, it was slow. you were taking your time with him, not with lust, but with love. the thrusts were slowâ deep, but slow
you let out a soft moan, feeling his lips swallow your sound and trail his lips down to bury his face in your neck. your arms around his neck buried his face more to your body, something that bruce would gladly take up on
the water would slightly swish from each movement of your hips. bruce would feel his body absorb the warmth from the water and the warmth of your walls around his cock, his pants on your neck now turning into love bites.Â
âi love youâ he whispered on your skin, his mouth now pressing a kiss down your throat. âso muchâ on your collarbone. âso so fucking muchâ and on your chest, right where your heart was
you felt one of the veins slowly brush on your walls just right, right enough for you to softly gasp and clench on him for just a second, making both of you moan at the same time. god, if bruce wasnât tired, he would have you bent over the damn tub to fuck you properly
he lifted his head from your body to whisper on your lips without touching them, a smile on his face as his eyes met with yours. âtakinâ me so well, sweetheartâ bruce cooed. âfeelinâ so much better alreadyâ
your hands went to push his wet hair back and to get a good look at him. the tiredness and fatigue in his face were a contrast to the slightly bleary look in his eyesâeven then, he still looked gorgeous and still the man you fell in love with.Â
from there, you pull him into a kiss and move your hips deeper to swallow a groan from his lips, meeting them with a soft, deep and slow kiss. the type of kiss that bruce definitely needed tonight, the type of kiss only you could give him
bruce being a man who absolutely believes in the sacredness of marriage so ofc he only ever wants to make love to you in your marital bed, in the comfiest corners of the manor when you provoke him just to watch him pounce because you like knowing that heâs not the stuffed shirt he thinks he is when it comes to needing his wife (heâs still getting used to saying that btw, his wife, oh boy) and he will take every bit of time to let you know that because heâs not sloppy or rushed and he claims he doesnât do quickies
BUT !! it gets to a point because then his batsuit is barely half off and youâre on your knees while he fucks his cock into your mouth like heâs about to die at the claws of his impending orgasm and your hands are pushing at the hard line of his abs (or is that armor?) because itâs so much and heâs so much and your poor husband just needed the relief after the stressful night heâs had, so how could you not help him out? and now all that bs about the sanctity of the marriage bed is lost on him tbh
because tldr : bruce wayne is nasty. heâs a nasty, needy man. who is absolutely NOT above begging you for some sloppy toppy and moaning like a bitch in heat at 2am in that spacious echo-ey batcave because god forbid a man needs his wife????
cw: bicep biting, teasing, male whimpering, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talking you through it, hair pulling, he's described as big, back scratching, creampies, not proofread.
â Featuring how sexy Dick Grayson is for his pretty girl.
boyfriend!dick who muffles your moans with his bicep whenever you're staying over at his father's, cooing, "You need to be quiet" so his family won't find out how dirty you are, as if he isn't the one fucking into you so hard the headboard's slamming against the wall.
+ Bonus points: Whenever you finish, and he pulls back to see drool on his arm along with the teeth marks, he knows he did well.
boyfriend!dick who can spend hours teasing you before getting to work, with light brushes of his fingers up your thigh, light kisses to your lips, and rubbing the tip along your slit, but pulling back once you start begging him to just fuck you already.
Eventually, you wear each other down; you're moaning out his name & he's struggling not to finish in two minutes.
boyfriend!dick loves when you go down on him, fists clenching against the sheets as he struggles not to guide your head, biting down the sweetest moan every time you swirl your tongue around his blushing tip.
After he finishes in your mouth, he'll always wipe your lips clean & whisper how pretty you are in the shakiest, hottest tone known to man.
boyfriend!dick who tends to get a little needy & sometimes ends up dry humping you till he's creamed his boxers instead of just fucking you like he'd originally planned. Noting "it felt too good to stop" while letting out a choked laugh & burying his face in your throat.
He'll always joke about it afterwards. But it's kind of obvious at the moment how embarrassed he feels about it.
boyfriend!dick likes to finger you after a blowjob, scissoring you open on long fingers so he can stare at the wetness pooling on your skin while telling you just how sexy it looks to him & licks you clean after each orgasm.
He likes to give you at least two orgasms per one of his.
boyfriend!dick has grown used to your nails sinking into his back every time he bottoms out; he's even grown to like how every few thrusts bring the sweet sting of your nails scratching at him in sync with sharp moans.
boyfriend!dick who is well aware just how endowed he is & always takes it slow to let you adjust, making sure to whisper sweet little praises in your ear.
boyfriend!dick who has made himself well acquainted with your clit, happily goes down on you every time you're being bratty or not in a good mood, knowing his tongue can be an instant mood booster.
He always moans at the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp, pulling & begging for more, loving the sensation of feeling your pleasure through the sharp tugs.
boyfriend!dick who has a bad pullout game & ends up accidentally filling you up more often than he'd like to admit. He's so embarrassed when he pulls out and sees his seed spilling out, but your fucked-out expression always makes him feel better about it.
cw: bicep biting, teasing, male whimpering, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, talking you through it, hair pulling, he's described as big, back scratching, creampies, not proofread.
â Featuring how sexy Dick Grayson is for his pretty girl.
boyfriend!dick who muffles your moans with his bicep whenever you're staying over at his father's, cooing, "You need to be quiet" so his family won't find out how dirty you are, as if he isn't the one fucking into you so hard the headboard's slamming against the wall.
+ Bonus points: Whenever you finish, and he pulls back to see drool on his arm along with the teeth marks, he knows he did well.
boyfriend!dick who can spend hours teasing you before getting to work, with light brushes of his fingers up your thigh, light kisses to your lips, and rubbing the tip along your slit, but pulling back once you start begging him to just fuck you already.
Eventually, you wear each other down; you're moaning out his name & he's struggling not to finish in two minutes.
boyfriend!dick loves when you go down on him, fists clenching against the sheets as he struggles not to guide your head, biting down the sweetest moan every time you swirl your tongue around his blushing tip.
After he finishes in your mouth, he'll always wipe your lips clean & whisper how pretty you are in the shakiest, hottest tone known to man.
boyfriend!dick who tends to get a little needy & sometimes ends up dry humping you till he's creamed his boxers instead of just fucking you like he'd originally planned. Noting "it felt too good to stop" while letting out a choked laugh & burying his face in your throat.
He'll always joke about it afterwards. But it's kind of obvious at the moment how embarrassed he feels about it.
boyfriend!dick likes to finger you after a blowjob, scissoring you open on long fingers so he can stare at the wetness pooling on your skin while telling you just how sexy it looks to him & licks you clean after each orgasm.
He likes to give you at least two orgasms per one of his.
boyfriend!dick has grown used to your nails sinking into his back every time he bottoms out; he's even grown to like how every few thrusts bring the sweet sting of your nails scratching at him in sync with sharp moans.
boyfriend!dick who is well aware just how endowed he is & always takes it slow to let you adjust, making sure to whisper sweet little praises in your ear.
boyfriend!dick who has made himself well acquainted with your clit, happily goes down on you every time you're being bratty or not in a good mood, knowing his tongue can be an instant mood booster.
He always moans at the feeling of your nails scratching at his scalp, pulling & begging for more, loving the sensation of feeling your pleasure through the sharp tugs.
boyfriend!dick who has a bad pullout game & ends up accidentally filling you up more often than he'd like to admit. He's so embarrassed when he pulls out and sees his seed spilling out, but your fucked-out expression always makes him feel better about it.
đđđđđđđđ â· just Bruce being down bad for his woman :p
đđđđđđđ â· bruce wayne x f!wife!reader
âHoney.â
Bruceâs voice carried through the bedroom for what had to be the sixth time that evening, low and patient in that practiced way only he could manage, though the faint strain beneath it betrayed him entirely. He sat in the leather chair near the windows of the penthouse suite, one ankle resting over his knee, a crystal glass of whiskey balanced loosely in his hand as the amber glow of Gotham shimmered behind him. Rain threatened beyond the glass, clouds smothering the skyline in silver and charcoal, the city alive beneath him in distant sirens and flickering lights.
From the adjoining bathroom came the familiar sound of shuffling, the clink of makeup brushes against marble, and then her voice.
âIâm almost done!â
Bruce closed his eyes slowly.
Almost done.
Right.
The soft ticking of the watch on his wrist felt louder now, mocking him. Seven oâclock reservations had become seven-thirty nearly twenty minutes prior, and somewhere downtown an irritated maĂźtre dâ was undoubtedly giving their table away to someone else. Bruce had specifically cleared tonight for her. No meetings. No patrol until later. No Wayne Foundation calls. Just dinner. Just her.
And despite all of that, despite the irritation simmering quietly beneath his composed exterior, he still couldnât truly find it in himself to care.
Because he knew what was coming.
He knew eventually that bathroom door would open, and she would walk out looking devastating enough to make him forget every coherent thought in his head.
She always did.
Bruce tipped his head back against the chair and exhaled slowly through his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he rolled the whiskey over his tongue. He could hear her moving around again, muttering something under her breath, followed by an annoyed huff.
A smile threatened at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
The bathroom door finally opened.
Bruce looked up immediately.
And there she was.
Every ounce of annoyance vanished so quickly it almost embarrassed him.
She stepped out carefully, one hand braced against the doorframe while the other adjusted the fabric hugging her waist, and Bruce felt something in his chest tighten with dangerous intensity. The dress clung to her like it had been made specifically for her body, elegant and dark, the kind of thing designed to ruin men quietly. Soft skin glowed beneath the warm bedroom lighting, her hair falling around her shoulders in effortless waves that probably took far too much effort to create.
Bruceâs gaze dragged over her slowly, helplessly.
God.
âIâm sorry, my love,â she sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at her lips ruined any sincerity. âI was struggling with my zipper.â Her eyes met his then, warm and teasing. âHelp me?â
Bruce set his glass down carefully before he did something reckless like shatter it in his grip.
Without a word, he sat forward in the chair as she crossed the room toward him, heels clicking softly against the hardwood floors. She stopped directly in front of him before turning around, sweeping all her hair over one shoulder to expose the bare line of her back and the half-zipped dress hanging scandalously low.
Bruceâs jaw tightened.
His hands found her hips instinctively, large and warm against the silk fabric, and he guided her backward until she settled onto his lap with a soft laugh.
âBold,â she murmured.
Bruce barely heard her.
His attention was fixed entirely on the exposed skin inches from his face.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the zipper.
His fingers brushed against the small of her back first, and he felt her shiver instantly beneath his touch. That alone nearly undid him. Bruce pulled the zipper upward at an agonizing pace, eyes following every inch as the fabric closed together little by little. Not because it needed to take that long.
But because he wanted an excuse to touch her.
To look at her.
To keep her exactly where she was.
Once the zipper reached the top, Bruceâs hand lingered there. His fingers flattened gently against the back of her neck before he leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss against her shoulder.
The tension in the room shifted immediately.
âDo we have to go?â he asked quietly against her skin.
She smiled instantly, hearing exactly what hid beneath his voice.
âWhat do you mean?â she asked innocently, though amusement danced in her tone. âOf course we do. Itâs date night.â
Bruceâs hands tightened almost imperceptibly around her waist.
âI know.â His voice dropped lower, rougher now. âBut weâre already thirty minutes late.â Another kiss brushed against her shoulder, slower this time. âThe restaurant has probably given our table away.â His nose skimmed lightly along the curve of her neck. âAnd I know I just helped put this dress on butâŠâ
He trailed off deliberately.
Because his hands were already moving.
One slid from her waist to her thigh, fingers spreading over bare skin where the slit of her dress exposed her leg. The other traveled upward, gliding along her waist before settling against her stomach, holding her firmly against him.
She felt warm.
Too warm.
Bruce lowered his head again, pressing another kiss just beneath her ear, and her breathing hitched softly.
That sound nearly destroyed whatever restraint he had left.
âBruce,â she warned, though the laugh in her voice weakened the effect entirely.
âHm?â
âWeâre supposed to be going out.â
âWe can reschedule.â
âYou made those reservations two months ago.â
âIâll buy the restaurant.â
That made her laugh properly.
A real laugh.
Bruce finally allowed himself to smile against her skin, eyes closing briefly as he soaked in the sound of it. God, he loved that sound. More than the quiet of the manor. More than victory. More than sleep after patrol. Her laughter was one of the few things in the world capable of silencing every violent thought in his head.
âYou cannot buy every problem away,â she informed him.
Bruce leaned back slightly, finally looking at her face.
âYes, I can.â
The confidence in his tone made her roll her eyes affectionately, but Bruce noticed the way her cheeks warmed beneath his stare. He always noticed. Bruce noticed everything about her.
The way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat when he looked at her too long.
The way she unconsciously leaned into his touch even while pretending to resist him.
The way her lips parted slightly whenever his hands settled on her waist.
He knew her tells better than he knew his own.
And right now?
Right now she was seconds away from giving in.
Bruce rested his forehead lightly against her shoulder and exhaled slowly, his voice quieter when he spoke again.
âYou look beautiful.â
Not flirtatious.
Not teasing.
Honest.
That was what made her fall silent.
Bruce Wayne was charming with everyone else. Effortlessly charismatic. Polished. Untouchable. But with her, the act disappeared. What remained was something rarer and infinitely more dangerous: sincerity.
He looked at her like he truly couldnât believe she existed.
And maybe he still couldnât.
His fingers brushed slowly up her arm as his gaze moved over her face again, softer now.
âI spent the entire week looking forward to tonight,â he admitted. âNot the restaurant. Not the reservations. JustâŠthis.â
Her expression melted a little at that.
Bruce noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His thumb traced slowly along her thigh again before he leaned closer, voice turning quieter, intimate enough to make heat curl low in her stomach.
âSo forgive me if Iâm struggling to care about dinner when youâre sitting on my lap looking like this.â
Y/n smiled while shifting carefully on his lap, she turned until she was facing him fully, one leg sliding along either side of his thighs as her hands rose to cradle his face. The sharp angles of Bruce Wayne always softened beneath her touch. His jaw unclenched first. Then his shoulders. Then those impossibly pretty eyes lifted to hers with that quiet intensity that still made her chest tighten after all this time.
She leaned down and kissed him gently.
The kind of kiss that lingered.
Bruce immediately chased after it when she pulled away, his mouth brushing hers once more before she could speak, clearly unwilling to let her go that easily.
âHow about,â she began softly, her thumbs brushing along the stubble shadowing his jaw, âwe go to the restaurantâŠâ Another small kiss touched the corner of his mouth. âIâm sure theyâll magically find a table for Mister Bruce Wayne.â
Bruce huffed quietly through his nose, neither confirming nor denying the very obvious truth of that statement.
âWeâll eat their ridiculously overpriced pasta,â she continued, smiling now, âdrink wine weâll both pretend we can actually taste the difference between, and have a wonderful time.â
Bruceâs eyes never left her face.
Not once.
The attention was almost unbearable when he looked at her like this. Like the rest of the world had ceased existing the moment she climbed into his lap.
âAnd then,â she whispered, leaning closer, âweâll come home.â
Her lips brushed his jaw.
Bruceâs grip on her waist tightened immediately.
She felt it.
Enjoyed it.
Slowly, deliberately, she pressed another kiss beneath his ear before trailing them upward, lingering just long enough to feel the subtle hitch in his breathing.
âAnd then,â she murmured directly against his ear, âyou can take this dress off me, hm?â
The silence that followed was heavy.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Bruceâs hands spread wider against her waist, large enough to nearly span it completely, and his head tilted slightly as he looked at her with an expression that was becoming increasingly dangerous.
âOr,â he said slowly, voice roughened into something velvet-deep and unfairly attractive, âwe skip dinner entirelyâŠâ
One hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
ââŠand cut straight to the part where I take the dress off.â
The bluntness of it made heat bloom across her cheeks.
There it was.
Not billionaire Bruce Wayne smiling for cameras.
Not Gothamâs charming prince.
Just Bruce.
Direct. Certain. Possessive in a way he only ever allowed himself to be with her.
Y/n rolled her eyes despite the smile tugging at her lips. âWeâre going.â
Bruce stared at her for a long moment.
Genuinely stared.
Like he was reevaluating every life decision that had led him to this exact moment.
Then, with all the exhausted dramatics of a man being sent unwillingly to war, his head tipped backward against the chair and a long sigh escaped him.
It was such an exaggerated sigh that she nearly laughed again.
âYouâre very cruel to me,â he muttered darkly.
âMm,â she hummed. âYouâll survive. Youâve survived worse.â
Bruceâs gaze slid back to her immediately, entirely unconvinced.
âDebatable.â
That one earned him a laugh.
A real one.
Soft and bright and warm enough to pull the faintest smile from him in return.
God.
Bruce would burn cities down for that sound.
She slid carefully off his lap before he could change her mindâor before she changed it herselfâand smoothed the fabric of her dress back into place. The silk settled perfectly against her body as she turned toward the mirror near the doorway to check her appearance one last time.
Behind her, Bruce remained seated.
Watching.
Shamelessly.
Completely shamelessly.
His eyes tracked her every movement with open appreciation, dark and unwavering as they moved over the elegant line of her spine, the curve of her waist, the soft sway of her hips beneath the dress he had been seconds away from peeling off her body himself.
Most men looked casually.
Briefly.
Bruce never did anything briefly.
He looked at her like a man committing artwork to memory before someone stole it away from him.
Like every glance mattered.
Like he still couldnât fully believe she was real, let alone his.
And perhaps some wounded, guarded part of Bruce truly never would.
Because thisâdomesticity, softness, love uncomplicated by blood or violenceâhad never belonged in his world before her.
Yet there she stood in his bedroom, fixing an earring while his tie sat crooked because sheâd distracted him fifteen minutes earlier.
Normal.
Beautiful.
His.
âCome on, Wayne,â she called finally, reaching for her clutch.
Bruce rose from the chair with the kind of effortless grace that always made him look dangerous even in a tailored suit. Six-foot-something of broad shoulders, expensive cologne, old money confidence, and concealed violence wrapped neatly beneath black Tom Ford.
He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before tugging once at his tie.
Then he paused.
A nearly invisible grimace crossed his face as he subtly adjusted the front of his trousers.
Y/n caught it instantly.
Her eyes widened in amusement.
âOh my God.â
Bruce looked entirely unapologetic.
âYou whispered in my ear,â he said flatly, as though that explained everything.
âIt was one sentence.â
âIt was a very effective sentence.â
She bit down on her smile as Bruce grabbed his wallet from the dresser and crossed the room toward her, every movement composed despite the situation he was currently blaming entirely on her.
When he reached her, he rested one hand against the small of her back automatically, grounding himself there like second nature.
âThis,â he muttered as he guided her toward the bedroom door, âis going to be a very long night.â
The smirk she sent him over her shoulder was downright lethal.
Summary: You and Jason are out on a date when some onlookers start picking on you. Jason takes matters into his own hands.
TW: SLIGHT homophobia
It was date, the first you and Jason had enjoyed in a while. He was normally so busy doing God knows what. Truthfully, you didnât want to think about it. You were less concerned about the trouble he was getting into, rather it was the danger.
But tonight he was here, safe, and all yours. He was treating you to a simple dinner. Neither one of you was a fan of fancy restaurants. Instead you both enjoy the simple things, so you were having your romantic date at a hole in the wall diner. Just how you liked it.
It was going well, as it always did. Jasonâs rough exterior everyone told you about was always almost nonexistent when he was talking to you. The lights of the diner were dim, and you held hands across the table. He listened to you talk about your job.
Eventually, the two of you were about ready to go, with dinner eaten and your desire of eachother growing. âI am going to ask for a to-go box,ââ you said, standing up.
âIâll do it,â he protested, as you knew he would. Jason was always doing things for you, especially with others around. His protective nature mixed with his distrust of most people.
âNo no,â you replied, smiling at him, âIâll do it, in exchange for what youâll give me later.â You teased. As protective as he was, he was never controlling. âIâll be right back,â you said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
As you went to the counter of the bar you asked the waitress for a to-go box. She kindly handed you one when a gruff man at the bar with his friends asked, âIs that your boyfriend?â
Taken aback by the question, you felt your face flush. The harder you tried not to, the more you felt your cheeks heat up. âUhhh, I-â you stammered, unsure what to say.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. âFigures,â he took a drink of his beer. As you grabbed the box to walk away, he pushed your back causing you to collapse on to the floor.
Jason was up out of his seat instantly, and you stood quickly. âJason,â you said sternly, you knew where this was going. âIâm fine.â
âI am just going to talk to him,â he said, his tone calm, which was most chilling of all as you watched him approach your assailant.
-
Walking back into dingy studio apartment, you walked over to the bed. âSit down and take your shirt off,â you ordered sternly, âYou know the drill.â This was not your first time nursing his injuries.
He sighed, pulling his shirt off, revealing his muscular scarred torso. A few of the bruises were new, which you could tell very well. You had his every inch memorized. âIâm sorry,â he said with a groan, âBut how could you expect me to let him get away with that?!â
You were silent, going into the fridge and grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables. You tossed him the pack, and he caught it, placing it on his new black eye. You went back over with a cold wash cloth and dabbed his other bruises.
âI know youâre mad,â he said, wincing softly as you addressed his bruises, âBut he had it coming.â More silence. You didnât know what to say. âI am working on it, for you. If he wouldâve just said something I could have gotten over it, but heâŠ. No one lays theirs hands on you, and Iâm sorry but thatâs not going to change.â He was firmer in his resolve now.
As you knelt between his legs, looking at the warrior before you, you sighed. âI donât want to be the reason you get hurt.â Itâs all you could say but itâs all you needed. You didnât care he got mad or was even protective, but him having to come in and save you hurt him. You didnât want to be the cause of more pain for him. âI donât like seeing you like this, especially because of me.â
He grinned just a little, just enough for you both to know you two were ok. âThis is nothing, Iâve died remember?â
You couldnât help but laugh now, the rushes of emotions draining your decorum. Jason would do anything to make you laugh, even a joke like that. âI just canât believe we got out of there before the police showed up.â
âI canât believe I let those bastards get this many hits on me!â He exclaimed with another laugh. He patted his legs for you.
Smirking as you watched, you knew what it meant. You stood up, and let both of your legs straddle his, so now you were in his lap. Your arms instinctively wrapped around the back of his neck. âTo be fair, there were five of them by the time his friends joined.â
Grinning he leaned in and planted small kisses on your neck, âStill,â he said between kisses, his proximity to your neck muffling his words. âYou were distracting me.â
You let out a few very light moans then gasped a bit, âHow is this my fault?â
âYouâre too beautiful,â he said, working his way to your lips. He tossed his ice pack aside and smashed his lips into yours with a sense of messy passion. His hands gripped your hips but then slowly pushed your pantline down so he could start gripping your ass.
âJason!â You gasped between kisses. âYouâre still hurt!â
Back to kissing your neck, his hands were relentless in their quest to touch your naked body. âThere is literally nothing on this Earth that can stop me from fucking you right now.â And he meant it.
Assessing if the DC BOYSâ have a sleeper build ( r.j.g, j.p.t, b.t.w, c.j.k )
DICK GRAYSON has the leanest body of the lot, which is saying something, cause even he is pretty built. He generally likes to keep his work shirts a little looser than fitted for work â it got a little weird when everyone started staring â but you can tell that he works out if you look for the moments where heâs reaching for something. Itâs like a culture shock when he takes a hoodie off, because then someone realises heâs a Lome built than previously expected. To put it short, he has to wear ever-so-slightly loose clothes unless heâs with family or his girlfriend, else everyone will start staring.
JASON TODD wishes he had a sleeper build, his is the bulkiest out of all the dc boys. But heâs six-two, almost pure muscle, itâs hard to hide, especially after the pit, so no one will bat an eye if he says heâs Red Hood, because that tracks. Even with baggy hoodies or sweaters, people he passes on the street can tell that he benches. And boy, can he. Sometimes when getting shirts for Bruceâs galas or birthday parties he loses a couple buttons because they donât account for men with broad chests, so Alfred had to tailor shirts to him by himself. Everything about Jason spells âbodybuilderâ. Just saying. Even if he isnât a bodybuilder, he just keeps in shape, and the post-pit body made it hard for him to lose muscle. LOOK HEâS JUST HOTâ
BRUCE WAYNE is the godfather of the canât-hide build. He doesnât want to hide it, nor can he be bothered. Years of training kept him in shape and for a man in his late forties, he was well within his right to show off how the âold man past 30â label didnât apply to him. All his suits are fitted a little too tight. He didnât need vanity muscles added to his Batman suit, he instead had to replace the tech so the suit adjusted to the muscles of his body (bulking and cutting season, am I right). He has one guilty pleasure flex in the mirror before he goes to bed, his size will engulf anyone he fucks, he pretty much has a kink for it. Heâs in between Dick and Jason, the perfect balance of both, but he has the best v-line of all of them, just calling it.
CLARK KENT has to force the sleeper build, to hide his identity. He doesnât have one, he tore through a lot of the plaids he could wear back in high school, because the Kryptonian physique took over after puberty. He found that he went up at least a size in jeans because his thighs couldnât fit. His shirts strained at the buttons and threatened to fly off, so he changed those too, to be baggy, he didnât want anyone to question how he got ripped along with the growth spurt. Going from five-eight to six-four was a little concerning for a young boy in puberty, let alone gaining abs almost overnight. So he purposely got the largest size in all his clothes, which everyone knows he did on purpose. Especially Jimmy. Nobody has shoulders like that and doesnât bench. Little does he know, Clark can bench the Titanic.
i have an idea though no idea what you should do with it! idk if it's just me, but every time i see someone, especially a guy, taking off his belt... the clinking of the metal...... you don't even have to do anything else, i'm paying Attention. can't stop thinking of this with jason đ«
he gets off on your humiliation, he's very obviously on a power trip and the way you whimper, whine and beg for him makes it no better. he stands you up in front of mirrors, his gloved fingers moving at a pace that was almost torture. "don't look at me, look at that cunt... greedy." he fingers you until you're dripping down his gloves, laughs when your legs start to shake under you " 'm not done. stand up straight"
he's meaner while he fucks you too, it's never gentle with him, never slow and loving. he tugs your head back and laughs at how fast your mouth opens, tongue darting out as if he hadn't trained you that way, as if he wouldn't have forced it open. he spits in your mouth and makes you gag on his fingers as if he wasn't practically splitting you open. "you like that? y'get tighter every time you gag... fuckin' whore"
UGH and then he cums in you and just lets it drip onto the floor, he's standing behing you, still holding you up while he drips between your legs, kissing his teeth as if the mess wasn't his fault. "tsk, youre wasting it, you want more? gotta learn how to fucking keep it"
buffering
dick grayson x reader | fluff, suggestive
summary: aftercare with dick after a long night that leaves you a little out of it and him very smug (wc: 0.9k).
Dick says something, and you know this because his mouth moves, sound comes out, and he's looking at you with that patient little tilt of his head. The words themselves, however, fail to make it through the pleasant static filling your skull.
"Hm?" you manage.
"Do you want water?"
You blink at him. This time, the question filters through the haze in scrambled pieces, but you decide youâve got the general idea and answer with complete sincerity.
"Tomorrow."
Thereâs a beat of silence, and Dick goes very still.
You frown. Something about his expression isn't right. He's staring at you with his mouth pressed shut and eyes wide, like he's holding something in. You can't figure out what, because your brain is still running at half speed andâ
Dick breaks. He folds forward laughing, one hand braced on the mattress, the other covering his mouth, trying and failing to be kind about this. His shoulders shake helplessly, head dropping as the sound spills out of him bright and full and impossible not to love.
Then it clicks.
Oh no.
"No, because I meant yes," you say quickly. "I meant yes now. Right now."
"Right now?" he asks. "You sure? Don't want to sleep on it?"
âStop,â you groan, covering your face with your hands.
Heâs still laughing when he gently pulls them away, eyes shining.
âOh, sweetheart,â he says. âIâm never letting that go.â
"That was a vulnerable moment for me."
"It was a historic moment for me."
You glare at him, but it isn't as intimidating as you think, because his grin only sharpens.
"Okay, okay," he says, holding up three fingers. "How many?"
You stare at him. "You're not serious."
"I asked you a yes or no question and you said tomorrow. I'm doing my due diligence.â
"Three, you absoluteâ"
"Good. What's your name?"
You tell him, flatly.
"What year is it?"
"The year I become single if you keep this up."
He ignores that completely. "Who's the mayor of BlĂŒdhaven?"
You open your mouth, but pause for just a fraction too long.
Dick doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to.
"I know the answer," you insist. "I was going to say it."
"Sure you were."
"You did this to me." You point at him, accusatory. "This is your fault."
"I accept full responsibility." He bites down on his lip, voice strained with the effort of keeping a straight face. "I am genuinely so proud right now."
You exhale, sinking deeper into the mattress, and your exhaustion must show, because he quiets at once and his expression softens.
He leans in close enough that his breath brushes your cheek. âCâmere, beautiful.â
His hand slides behind your neck as he helps you sit up against him. The movement makes your limbs feel like wet sand, heavy and uncooperative.
"Easy," he murmurs.
He steadies you, one arm around your waist while the other reaches for the water bottle already waiting on the nightstand and brings it to your lips, and you drink obediently. The cold water hits your tongue and you actually sigh.
"There you go,â he says quietly, thumb brushing once at the base of your neck.Â
You hum, barely, and he presses a kiss to your temple. He reaches for the nightstand again and grabs a granola bar, unwrapping it and breaking off a piece before holding it up expectantly.
"I can feed myself."
"Can you?"
You open your mouth, and he places the bite on your tongue with a small smirk.
"That's what I thought," he says, but it's gentle.
You lightly flick at his bicep, and he only feeds you another piece.
The room glows amber from the bedside lamp. The sheets are tangled around your legs, the air still warm, the mattress dipping where he sits close beside you. Your body feels pleasantly overused, every muscle loose and humming.
Dick watches your face as you chew slowly, then swallow.
"Sore?" he asks, voice low.
You shake your head. "Just sleepy.â
He studies you for another second anyway, checking for anything you're not saying.
âYou sure?â
"Promise," you reply with a little smile.
His expression eases. He sets the granola bar aside and shifts behind you, drawing you fully into him until your back rests against his chest. The blanket comes up around both of you, tucked under your arms with absent practice.
"Proud of you," he murmurs.
You huff out a laugh. "For what?"
"Persevering through adversity."
"You're unbearable."
"And yet," he says, "still your favorite."
You're too tired to deny it properly. His hand slips beneath the blanket to rest on your stomach, palm warm and grounding. The other traces slow shapes against your arm: circles, lines, little absent patterns that make your eyelids heavier by the second.
Beneath your ear, his heartbeat knocks steady and sure.
"You know," you mumble, words starting to slur, "if you tell anyone about this, I'll deny everything."
"Wouldn't dream of it. I'll just treasure the memory forever."
"That's somehow worse."
He tucks his head over yours, and you let your heavy lids fall over your eyes, body sinking deeper into him. His fingers keep moving soothingly over your skin.
Just before sleep takes you, he speaks into your hair.
"Tomorrow," he repeats fondly.
You groan weakly, and his soft laugh follows you under.
jason slumped onto the worn out couch in his dingy apartment, the city's distant hum filtering through the cracked window. it had been a week since he'd last seen you. you were out a girl trip with your friends.
he pulled out his phone, thumb scrolling through the gallery he'd curated just for nights like this. pictures of you, one from last month's date, your lips curved in a smile as you leaned against him in that tight black dress, cleavage spilling just enough to make his mouth water. another from your shared bed, your hair tousled, sheets barely covering your bare breasts after a lazy morning fuck.
his cock twitched in his jeans at the sight, already half-hard from the mere thought of you.
"fuck, i miss you so much, baby." he muttered to the empty room, voice rough with need. "your tits look so perfectâi wanna suck on those nipples until you're soaking wet for me." he unzipped his pants, freeing his thickening cock. it sprang out, heavy and veined, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
wrapping his calloused hand around the base, he gave it a slow stroke, eyes locked on your image. in the photo, your eyes sparkled with that playful fire, the same one that had you begging for more when he'd pinned you down and thrust deep into your pussy.
"yeah, just like thatâremember how i fucked you hard, stretching that tight little pussy?" he growled under his breath, his strokes picking up pace. he switched to your social media, heart pounding as he found your latest post. there you were, in a bikini by the pool, the fabric clung to your curves, nipples faintly visible through the wet material, your ass arched just right as you posed on all fours.
"goddamn, look at that ass. i wanna bend you over and ram my cock into you right now, make you scream my name while i pound your dripping cunt." jason groaned, pumping his cock faster. he imagined flipping you over right there, spreading your legs and burying his face between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit until you screamed his name.
his hand moved in steady rhythm, slick sounds filling the air as pre-cum lubed his shaft. "fuck, you'd taste so goodâi'm gonna eat that pussy until you cum all over my face." he whispered harshly, thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. he zoomed in on your face, that soft, parted-lip expression making him think of how you looked when he fucked you from behind, your moans muffled into the pillow.
"you have no idea what you do to me, slutâtaking my dick like a good girl, begging for me to fill you up." the tension coiled low in his gut, building with every stroke, every stolen glance at your body.
he opens his photo app again. you on your knees, looking up at him with those wide eyes, mouth open and ready. he'd snapped it mid-blowjob, your lips stretched around his cock, saliva dripping down your chin. jason's breath hitched, his free hand gripping the phone tighter as he jerked harder, hips bucking up into his fist. "suck it, babyâdeepthroat me like you did before, choke on my thick cock while i fuck your throat." he pictured your warm mouth sucking him deep, throat contracting around him while your hands fondled his balls.
sweat beaded on his forehead, muscles tensing as the pressure mounted. a video jason took played nextâa short clip of you dancing in a short skirt, hips swaying, teasing glimpses of your thighs. "that's it, baby, shake that ass for me. i'm gonna grab those hips and slam into your wet pussy until you can't walk straight." he growled, stroking from base to tip with urgent twists.
the orgasm hit him like a freight train. jason's head fell back, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as ropes of cum shot across his abs, hot and thick. "fuckkk yes, take my loadâi'm cumming for you, imagining shooting it deep inside your pussy." he panted, his cock pulsing in his hand, spilling more with each aftershock.
the release doing little to ease the longing. panting, he stared at your photo, wiping his hand on his shirt before typing a quick message. "miss you baby. can't wait to see you again."
Jason Todd comes home one night and it's when you're kissing him that you notice something peculiar... It's not the regular taste of smoke and cinnamon lozenges that starts to warm your tongue, but rather, something minty, spicy and strange. You break away from his mouth and put your nose right up to his lips.
"Is that..." you start, then sniff, then start again. "Is that Nicorette?"
Jason opens his eyes, not like he's ready to admit guilt, but still shifty, evasive, looking for a way out, like when you make his talk about other stuff he doesn't feel like talking about (sometimes about washing his gear more often, and sometimes about calling B outside of vigilante purposes.)
"Yeah," he says flatly. "And?"
You raise a brow.
"Why the hell are you chewing Nicorette?"
He makes an effort to half shrug, the lazy, half-hearted kind that gives off an air of nothing to see here, as if pretending itâs no big deal (like he always does when it comes to stuff like this: his health, his safety, his choices). He works the gum out from where he stuck it between his back molars and his cheek in order to kiss you without hassle.
âBecause...?" he says, chuckling slightly as if to laugh it off, then popping it between his teeth. "I'm trying not to smoke? Clearly?â
You furrow your brows, half amused, half genuinely agog. You made him swear not to smoke inside when you started living together in a new place, but you know he sucks down the cancer sticks when he's outside of your apartment like candy. You're just lucky he likes altoids and brushing his teeth twice daily, otherwise, you'd probably get on him about it more than you already do when you happen to catch him.
You stare.
âSince when?â
"Since I nearly choked on my post-sex cigarette and realized if I wanted to keep hitting it, I'd better stop."
"When?" you press harder.
â'couple days,â he confesses. "Richard said I smelled like a crematorium."
"Oh," you say dumbly. "For sex, and your brother...?"
Thereâs a long pause, a little too longâ
"Just joking," he presses a kiss to your cheek. "For you. I've beenâŠthinking about it for a while, anyway."
He smirks, but thereâs a little vulnerability to it now, softened by the way your wide eyes now peer up at him, no longer in shock, but in tender and pensive wonder. You run a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of him, the smell of ash no longer dancing in between you.
no because he does it on purpose. makes u drink water alll day, eats you out for over an hour too. he keeps you in a mating press while he fucks you, absolutely bruising your cervix. you've been whining and creaming around him and it's just not enough "c'mon baby... give me what i want and then you get a break" he laughs when you shake your head, voice breaking a little, "i cant!" and he sounds like he's genuinely being motivational "oh sure you can baby... c'mon" and he lifts your hips slightly, slamming against your g-spot over and over. sure, the whole compound can probably hear you, and you won't be able to walk tomorrow, but when you feel the wetness drenching the small space between you two and head jasons little "that's it... that's my fuckin' girl. make a mess f'me" over the fog of it all, it seems worth it.
tw - jason and reader are married; nothing gender specific; nothing appearance specific on reader or the twins; jason picks reader up
my bookcase
I hc that Jason and reader would be parents to twins.
Like I can picture him coming home after a day full of running errands and your twin little girls who just recently turned four take off towards the door the second they hear his motorcycle pull into the garage.
Once he actually hits the front door, he can smell the fresh cookies that you'd made with the girls. You're curled up on your guys' massive couch that he insisted on getting so he could cuddle with every piece of his heart at the same time.
Jason has like three seconds max before each of his calves has one of his daughters attached to it with a collective chorus of 'Daddy!'.
He doesnât even attempt to keep a big ass grin from splitting his face. Instead, he just reaches down and carefully pries them off, picking them up in his big, strong arms and proceeding forward until heâs standing in front of you, one tiny little human in each arm with a panty-dropping smile.
Meanwhile youâre busy trying to ignore how hot he looks. The broad expanse of his shoulders, the thickness of his chest. The way that his biceps flex as the girls squirm in his hold.
You look up, his smile morphing into a cocky grin as he catches you checking him out. Your husband gets this glint of mirth in his eyes and the next thing you know, heâs shifted both girls to one arm and thrown you over his shoulder.
Youâre protesting, mouth full of complaints and warnings about hurting himself. Jason just gives you a look that you know means, âAre you serious? Iâve fought Solomon Grundyâ.
The more you chastise him about being careful, the more he smiles at you until you finally fall silent after he says something stupidly sweet about holding his entire world in his arms.
Yeah Jason was made to be a girl dad.
what is Jason Todd if not love persevering @jasontoddscoochie - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
