My name's Kandy and this is my fanfic writing blog. I’m 24 and I started writing fanfic in November of 2024 with the first chapter of my Jason Todd x Reader series Do I Know you? (DIKY) The first 20 or so chapters and a few one shots that I wrote early on were posted on my side blog that I originally used for reblogging fanfics. Since then I’ve created this blog around April of 2025 as designated place for for my fanfic writing. It has been a phenomenal journey to write and to interact with the beautiful people of the world wide web.
I hope you enjoy your visit here! And if you have anything on your mind, let me know. It can be about my fics or about life. I’m a nosey body when I want to be and I love hearing what people think.
As you know, I love me some GermanShepherd!Tim and blackcat!reader 🤭
So, as the lore goes, they had a competitive thing going on back in high school where the only one smarter than her was Tim (a literal detective). He's the reason she got 2nd place in literally every competition, and it had her SEETHING.
Flash forward 3-4 years, and they're dating🥰 all those juvenile feelings dissipating and replaced with love and adoration, right? right??? Yeah, that's what she thought, too. Turns out, it was all hiding away deep down inside of her, waiting for the chance to show its ugly head. Who knew that Wayne Manor would be the place for it to happen😅
Okay, so now to the request! Tim brings her to meet the family over dinner, but beforehand, they have some alone time, and he takes her on a tour of the manor. There's that distinctive hall of family photos that people tend to enjoy seeing, but of course, for black!cat reader, this brings back memories from highschool. There's an entire section dedicated to Tim (as all the kids have) and a lot of his accomplishments and trophies and competition photos are up on the wall. And she can't help but feel all that juvenile anger bubble up inside her because "oh yeah, you ARE the guy who stole first place from me for 4 years straight😤😤" she can't even look at him anymore without giving him the side eye, because what do you mean this IDIOT is smarter than her??? The idiot who forgets to sleep, eat, and other normal human functions? The idiot who doesn't understand how too much caffeine will fuck him up?? The idiot who thinks pineapple belongs on pizza??? THIS GUY???? Now that she's gotten to know Tim, she just can't believe that the boy even made it to 21 let alone beat her at ANYTHING!
Cue her ignoring him the entire dinner to a point where the family is whispering, "Does she even like him?" Of course, poor Tim is going through the 5 stages of grief in the seat next to you trying to earn forgiveness for crimes committed, unintentionally, 4 years ago😂 he usually the only one who can get blackcat!reader to relax, but this time that mean energy is directed towards him, while she's absolutely pleasant to the rest of the family.
Now that I'm at the end, I feel like this wasn't a request, just me blabbering 😅😅 feel free to do something with it. If not, I'll be sending some others in too and I'll be sure to make it real requests 😇😇
@herodedicatedblog
I love this so much. For some reason, I decided to make Tim a bit of a freak about it, but I think it's funny. Anyway, thank you for the request, babe! I hope you like it!
--------------
“What do you think?” Tim hums in a soft question. He had his arm over your shoulder as you both walked down one of the halls.
You shrug loosely, “It's not as oppressive as I thought it’d be.”
“Oppressive?” Tim laughs under his breath.
“Yeah,” you nod against his shoulder, “I thought I would be able to figure out why you're like that.”
Tim snorts, “Like what?”
“You know, great detective, no survival skills,” you tease as you slip out from under his shoulder to walk backwards in front of him. It was a game, and you could see Tim could read you for it.
He shakes his head, “You're gonna get me in trouble.”
“You are a grown-ass adult, Tim. Come on,” you turn and lightly jog away from him. You hear his footsteps pick up and jolt to run faster down the hall with a bout of laughter. You make it to the bend in the hall before you're hauled and spun, Tim blowing a raspberry against the back of your neck. You make a mournful, disgusted sound at the spit he leaves behind as he sets you down.
He pays you no mind, squeezing you back against him as he says, “Worst goon chase ever.”
“I am not a goon,” you say, indignant. You're about to turn around, to kiss him in mock fierce upset about being called that, but you still at the flash of a bright bronze you hadn’t seen in years.
You pry your way out of Tim’s grip and step down the new hallway to look at where the bronze medal hangs in a shadow box on the wall; Gotham Academy’s Elite Academic award. You find yourself glaring before you could stop yourself. You'd spent years trying to get one, but it was always out of your fingertips because of one person.
“That’s Damian’s,” Tim says casually, “he’s a real twerp about it cause he got it earlier than I did.”
“You poor thing,” you scoff, a bite to your words hadn’t carried in a long time. Tim’s eyes widen at the tone. His cheeks flush, but your moving down to stare at his accolades. Your hand presses to the frame of a certificate from the Honors Chemistry course you had taken together. “I wanted this so bad. God, you were annoying”
Tim stares. You hadn’t used this kind of tone with Tim in years, not since you reconnected, not since you started dating. He forgot how much it got him hot under the collar. You hadn’t even really directed it at him yet, and he was already feeling flustered. He thought it was hormones then, puberty making the worst of your little rivalry. Perhaps he had been wrong.
You, on the other hand, are fuming. All those silly little school awards that you worked so hard to get were here hanging on a wall of accomplishments for your boyfriend. God, that idiot was your boyfriend. He couldn’t even bother to pay attention to a clock to go to bed, but he beat you out in nearly every higher education competition Gotham Academy had.
Tim’s watch beeps as a reminder for dinner. It knocks Tim out of his own stare at you, but it does nothing to stop you from glaring at the framed photo of him with the awards.
“Baby?” He murmurs. He curls his hand around yours. You don’t pull away, but you don't thread your fingers like you usually would. “It’s time for dinner.”
Your gaze finally leaves the photo to look at him. You squint at him, and Tim has to stop himself from dragging you into the nearest room instead of down to dinner. Your voice is clipped when you speak, “Right. Dinner.”
You move without waiting for him, arms crossing so he can’t take your hand again. It should annoy Tim, emphasis on should. God, he hopes you lighten up at dinner.
*****
You do lighten up at dinner, regrettably not with Tim. Or not regrettably, Tim can't quite decide yet. You'd been your usual mildly friendly self, making conversation with everyone. Everyone but Tim.
He definitely wouldn’t hold it against you. The Wayne family was too big for its own good. There were plenty of people to talk to without you ever having to meet Tim’s eye. Most people would mark it off as just that. Unfortunately, the Wayne family was also made up of the greatest detectives in the world. The side eye he was getting from Cass was not giving him any confidence.
It’s fine, he told himself; she was just a little miffed, is all. It would pass.
“So Damian,” You say lightly, but Tim knows that tone. He shifts in his seat, preparing for the dig about to happen. “ Tim tells me you received the Elite Academics award two years before he did. That’s amazing, kid.”
Tim feels the shift immediately, all eyes on him. Tim ignores it to glare at Damian, who looks overjoyed that you seem to dislike Tim at the moment.
“Yes, Drake has always been a little slow,” Domain mocks. It makes him want to strangle the kid…
Although not as much as he wants to drag you upstairs for the way you smile, cocky and a little mean as you say, “only when he chooses to be, which is a lot more than it used to be.”
Tim is dumbfounded, shockingly turned on, and seriously wrapped up in this mood you're having. His entire family seemed put off by your mood, aside from Damian, of course, but that wasn’t surprising. Nobody comments at the time, thankfully (He did not want to explain that he was very much into you right now to them). It’s later as things are wrapping up and you’ve seemingly settled, that he's dragged away from you. Steph and Dick are on him in seconds, badgering him.
“Are you sure you're dating?”
“I thought you said she was shy and sweet. Why’d she look like she wanted to bite you?”
And so on. Tim flusters under the questions before he gets them to hush, “She was just a little upset tonight, is all.”
“Oh? What’d you do?” Steph asks right off the bat.
Dick’s offering advice before Tim can answer, “Just apologize, girls love it when you can admit you're wrong.”
Both Tim and Steph roll their eyes at him. Tim comments, “You use that check to get in their beds?”
Dick shrugs, “Sometimes?”
“You're such a whore sometimes,” Steph scoffs before she’s back on Tim, “So? What is it?”
“High school.” He says plainly.
“What?” they say at the same time.
“We used to hate each other in high school… she used to hate me in high school. I was trying to right by the Drake and Wayne name. She always got second,” Tim explains.
Dick quirks a brow, “That doesn’t make sense why she’s upset now.”
“We walked down that cheesy awards hall Bruce has for us.”
“Oh? Oh.” Steph nods in understanding, “She’d forgotten she didn’t like you. That’s kind of funny.”
“Thanks,” Tim huffs, “We're gonna talk about it tonight.”
“Good luck, bud,” Dick pats him on the shoulder, and he rolls his eyes before your calling out for him in the foyer.
Goodbyes are had, and then you and Tim are off to a silent car ride home that makes Tim squirm. He lets you get ready for bed before he even attempts a conversation.
“Baby,” he murmurs as you climb under the covers without a peep. You give him a noncommittal hum that he takes as a reason to continue, “I’d forgotten that you hate me.”
That pulls your attention. You turn on your side to face him, where he sits up on his side. “Timmy, I don’t hate you.”
He sinks on his pillows and turns to face you too, a teasing smile on his lips. “Not now. You used to though… You know I was never intentionally trying to beat you out on things. I-Bruce had just adopted me. I had to make him proud both in and out of the Robin uniform.”
“I know,” you say quietly. You’d had a similar conversation about the weight of the legacies Tim bears, one that concluded in his showering for the first time in a week and crashing in bed.
“Yeah?” Tim’s hand finds yours under the covers, squeezing.
You finally squeeze back, “I didn’t hate you then either. You were just very irritating, and the reminder got me all worked up, and I don't know, it's dumb.”
There’s that biting tone again. Tim tries to be normal for the sake of the conversation, but you’ve always been able to read him for filth. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Tim,” you say almost a scold. That he was accustomed to, but this topic was harder to explain.
He lets out a sigh, “I think I liked you in high school.”
Your nose scrunches, and then your turning your face into your pillow to laugh. It makes Tim flush a little, but he's happy to see you happy again. You peek at him, “You think?”
“Uh, yeah?” he shifts closer, hooking a hand around your waist to tug you against him, “I thought it was like puberty and stuff back then, but you got mean again tonight and I just-”
The groan that follows his words is not something of innocent thought. The pure glee on your face is something Tim only mildly regrets.
You pinch his side playfully as you murmur, “Timothy Drake, you freak.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles, dipping his head to tuck his face against your neck. Your hand slithers up into his hair to tug him back out.
“Don't hide now,” you scoff, and it thrills right up Tim's spine. You feel it. You know, and it makes you laugh. You shove his shoulder, forcing him to lie down so you can climb on top of him. Tim flushes dark at the glare you give him. It's not the same as back then. There’s still that lovey-doveyness in your eyes, but it's got him riled anyway.
As you know, I love me some GermanShepherd!Tim and blackcat!reader 🤭
So, as the lore goes, they had a competitive thing going on back in high school where the only one smarter than her was Tim (a literal detective). He's the reason she got 2nd place in literally every competition, and it had her SEETHING.
Flash forward 3-4 years, and they're dating🥰 all those juvenile feelings dissipating and replaced with love and adoration, right? right??? Yeah, that's what she thought, too. Turns out, it was all hiding away deep down inside of her, waiting for the chance to show its ugly head. Who knew that Wayne Manor would be the place for it to happen😅
Okay, so now to the request! Tim brings her to meet the family over dinner, but beforehand, they have some alone time, and he takes her on a tour of the manor. There's that distinctive hall of family photos that people tend to enjoy seeing, but of course, for black!cat reader, this brings back memories from highschool. There's an entire section dedicated to Tim (as all the kids have) and a lot of his accomplishments and trophies and competition photos are up on the wall. And she can't help but feel all that juvenile anger bubble up inside her because "oh yeah, you ARE the guy who stole first place from me for 4 years straight😤😤" she can't even look at him anymore without giving him the side eye, because what do you mean this IDIOT is smarter than her??? The idiot who forgets to sleep, eat, and other normal human functions? The idiot who doesn't understand how too much caffeine will fuck him up?? The idiot who thinks pineapple belongs on pizza??? THIS GUY???? Now that she's gotten to know Tim, she just can't believe that the boy even made it to 21 let alone beat her at ANYTHING!
Cue her ignoring him the entire dinner to a point where the family is whispering, "Does she even like him?" Of course, poor Tim is going through the 5 stages of grief in the seat next to you trying to earn forgiveness for crimes committed, unintentionally, 4 years ago😂 he usually the only one who can get blackcat!reader to relax, but this time that mean energy is directed towards him, while she's absolutely pleasant to the rest of the family.
Now that I'm at the end, I feel like this wasn't a request, just me blabbering 😅😅 feel free to do something with it. If not, I'll be sending some others in too and I'll be sure to make it real requests 😇😇
@herodedicatedblog
I love this so much. For some reason, I decided to make Tim a bit of a freak about it, but I think it's funny. Anyway, thank you for the request, babe! I hope you like it!
--------------
“What do you think?” Tim hums in a soft question. He had his arm over your shoulder as you both walked down one of the halls.
You shrug loosely, “It's not as oppressive as I thought it’d be.”
“Oppressive?” Tim laughs under his breath.
“Yeah,” you nod against his shoulder, “I thought I would be able to figure out why you're like that.”
Tim snorts, “Like what?”
“You know, great detective, no survival skills,” you tease as you slip out from under his shoulder to walk backwards in front of him. It was a game, and you could see Tim could read you for it.
He shakes his head, “You're gonna get me in trouble.”
“You are a grown-ass adult, Tim. Come on,” you turn and lightly jog away from him. You hear his footsteps pick up and jolt to run faster down the hall with a bout of laughter. You make it to the bend in the hall before you're hauled and spun, Tim blowing a raspberry against the back of your neck. You make a mournful, disgusted sound at the spit he leaves behind as he sets you down.
He pays you no mind, squeezing you back against him as he says, “Worst goon chase ever.”
“I am not a goon,” you say, indignant. You're about to turn around, to kiss him in mock fierce upset about being called that, but you still at the flash of a bright bronze you hadn’t seen in years.
You pry your way out of Tim’s grip and step down the new hallway to look at where the bronze medal hangs in a shadow box on the wall; Gotham Academy’s Elite Academic award. You find yourself glaring before you could stop yourself. You'd spent years trying to get one, but it was always out of your fingertips because of one person.
“That’s Damian’s,” Tim says casually, “he’s a real twerp about it cause he got it earlier than I did.”
“You poor thing,” you scoff, a bite to your words hadn’t carried in a long time. Tim’s eyes widen at the tone. His cheeks flush, but your moving down to stare at his accolades. Your hand presses to the frame of a certificate from the Honors Chemistry course you had taken together. “I wanted this so bad. God, you were annoying”
Tim stares. You hadn’t used this kind of tone with Tim in years, not since you reconnected, not since you started dating. He forgot how much it got him hot under the collar. You hadn’t even really directed it at him yet, and he was already feeling flustered. He thought it was hormones then, puberty making the worst of your little rivalry. Perhaps he had been wrong.
You, on the other hand, are fuming. All those silly little school awards that you worked so hard to get were here hanging on a wall of accomplishments for your boyfriend. God, that idiot was your boyfriend. He couldn’t even bother to pay attention to a clock to go to bed, but he beat you out in nearly every higher education competition Gotham Academy had.
Tim’s watch beeps as a reminder for dinner. It knocks Tim out of his own stare at you, but it does nothing to stop you from glaring at the framed photo of him with the awards.
“Baby?” He murmurs. He curls his hand around yours. You don’t pull away, but you don't thread your fingers like you usually would. “It’s time for dinner.”
Your gaze finally leaves the photo to look at him. You squint at him, and Tim has to stop himself from dragging you into the nearest room instead of down to dinner. Your voice is clipped when you speak, “Right. Dinner.”
You move without waiting for him, arms crossing so he can’t take your hand again. It should annoy Tim, emphasis on should. God, he hopes you lighten up at dinner.
*****
You do lighten up at dinner, regrettably not with Tim. Or not regrettably, Tim can't quite decide yet. You'd been your usual mildly friendly self, making conversation with everyone. Everyone but Tim.
He definitely wouldn’t hold it against you. The Wayne family was too big for its own good. There were plenty of people to talk to without you ever having to meet Tim’s eye. Most people would mark it off as just that. Unfortunately, the Wayne family was also made up of the greatest detectives in the world. The side eye he was getting from Cass was not giving him any confidence.
It’s fine, he told himself; she was just a little miffed, is all. It would pass.
“So Damian,” You say lightly, but Tim knows that tone. He shifts in his seat, preparing for the dig about to happen. “ Tim tells me you received the Elite Academics award two years before he did. That’s amazing, kid.”
Tim feels the shift immediately, all eyes on him. Tim ignores it to glare at Damian, who looks overjoyed that you seem to dislike Tim at the moment.
“Yes, Drake has always been a little slow,” Domain mocks. It makes him want to strangle the kid…
Although not as much as he wants to drag you upstairs for the way you smile, cocky and a little mean as you say, “only when he chooses to be, which is a lot more than it used to be.”
Tim is dumbfounded, shockingly turned on, and seriously wrapped up in this mood you're having. His entire family seemed put off by your mood, aside from Damian, of course, but that wasn’t surprising. Nobody comments at the time, thankfully (He did not want to explain that he was very much into you right now to them). It’s later as things are wrapping up and you’ve seemingly settled, that he's dragged away from you. Steph and Dick are on him in seconds, badgering him.
“Are you sure you're dating?”
“I thought you said she was shy and sweet. Why’d she look like she wanted to bite you?”
And so on. Tim flusters under the questions before he gets them to hush, “She was just a little upset tonight, is all.”
“Oh? What’d you do?” Steph asks right off the bat.
Dick’s offering advice before Tim can answer, “Just apologize, girls love it when you can admit you're wrong.”
Both Tim and Steph roll their eyes at him. Tim comments, “You use that check to get in their beds?”
Dick shrugs, “Sometimes?”
“You're such a whore sometimes,” Steph scoffs before she’s back on Tim, “So? What is it?”
“High school.” He says plainly.
“What?” they say at the same time.
“We used to hate each other in high school… she used to hate me in high school. I was trying to right by the Drake and Wayne name. She always got second,” Tim explains.
Dick quirks a brow, “That doesn’t make sense why she’s upset now.”
“We walked down that cheesy awards hall Bruce has for us.”
“Oh? Oh.” Steph nods in understanding, “She’d forgotten she didn’t like you. That’s kind of funny.”
“Thanks,” Tim huffs, “We're gonna talk about it tonight.”
“Good luck, bud,” Dick pats him on the shoulder, and he rolls his eyes before your calling out for him in the foyer.
Goodbyes are had, and then you and Tim are off to a silent car ride home that makes Tim squirm. He lets you get ready for bed before he even attempts a conversation.
“Baby,” he murmurs as you climb under the covers without a peep. You give him a noncommittal hum that he takes as a reason to continue, “I’d forgotten that you hate me.”
That pulls your attention. You turn on your side to face him, where he sits up on his side. “Timmy, I don’t hate you.”
He sinks on his pillows and turns to face you too, a teasing smile on his lips. “Not now. You used to though… You know I was never intentionally trying to beat you out on things. I-Bruce had just adopted me. I had to make him proud both in and out of the Robin uniform.”
“I know,” you say quietly. You’d had a similar conversation about the weight of the legacies Tim bears, one that concluded in his showering for the first time in a week and crashing in bed.
“Yeah?” Tim’s hand finds yours under the covers, squeezing.
You finally squeeze back, “I didn’t hate you then either. You were just very irritating, and the reminder got me all worked up, and I don't know, it's dumb.”
There’s that biting tone again. Tim tries to be normal for the sake of the conversation, but you’ve always been able to read him for filth. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Tim,” you say almost a scold. That he was accustomed to, but this topic was harder to explain.
He lets out a sigh, “I think I liked you in high school.”
Your nose scrunches, and then your turning your face into your pillow to laugh. It makes Tim flush a little, but he's happy to see you happy again. You peek at him, “You think?”
“Uh, yeah?” he shifts closer, hooking a hand around your waist to tug you against him, “I thought it was like puberty and stuff back then, but you got mean again tonight and I just-”
The groan that follows his words is not something of innocent thought. The pure glee on your face is something Tim only mildly regrets.
You pinch his side playfully as you murmur, “Timothy Drake, you freak.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles, dipping his head to tuck his face against your neck. Your hand slithers up into his hair to tug him back out.
“Don't hide now,” you scoff, and it thrills right up Tim's spine. You feel it. You know, and it makes you laugh. You shove his shoulder, forcing him to lie down so you can climb on top of him. Tim flushes dark at the glare you give him. It's not the same as back then. There’s still that lovey-doveyness in your eyes, but it's got him riled anyway.
Okay, I know I said I was on hold for Jason stuff... but this was almost done anyway! Plus, Shrek anon asked, so I finished it right up.
First of all, I would like to say these freaks are horny. They can't help it. I originally was just going to have them fuck this chapter, but then decided to drag this out a little bit. Jason also deserved a little bit of his own thing, I think. Also, as I was editing, I was giggling a little bit because, like, Ms Girl is still a virgin through this. I just think it's a little funny. Anyway, enough chatting. Enjoy!
Warnings: SMUT, grinding, handjob, some cum eating at the end, allusion to homegirl getting ate out. Let me know if there's more!
Western Outlaw Jason Todd Masterlist
----------------
You wake up warm. Your half-asleep thoughts assume that the summer heat has finally hit a high. Hot enough that it wasn’t cooling down at night. You shift and suddenly don't think that at all.
You're pressed closer to the wall than you would have usually slept, and you're trapped, the bulky weight of an outlaw pressed to your backside. His arm sits heavy on your waist. You don’t move much, surprisingly content with Jason so close. Your hand settles on his forearm, and you rub against his skin. You feel his fingers twitch against your stomach and smile.
The window in your room was open, and now that you were awake, you could tell it wasn’t too warm out just yet. The sun was up, though. You could see the shadows of light on the wall in front of your face.
You needed to get up. You needed to check on the animals, give them their breakfast, feed yourself and Jason…
But you were so warm and comfortable. Your wiggle back against Jason, into his warmth and body. You still, brows pinched. You squirm more intently back at the odd hardness there.
Jason groans against you, and his hand that had only been twitching against your stomach presses firmly against it, pulling you back more, “Easy.”
You freezes. Had you done something wrong? A quiet startled noise leaves you as his hand slips lower, pulling you back again. His hips move, and that hardness presses against your ass again.
“Jason,” you murmur, afraid to break the quiet.
“Hmm, sweetheart?” He grinds against you more. His hand shifts from your low belly to your hip, holding you in place.
You wiggle your hips to feel him more, “What is that?”
He chuckles, warm and soft against your ear, and then kisses just under your ear. You wiggle your hips again. His grip turns firmer.
“Stop yer wiggle,” he kisses your neck again, “remember what I said about how innocent you were.”
“I'm not that innocent, just don't know nothing about pleasure,” you murmur, cheeks pinking as your mind starts to understand what he's getting at.
He hums against you and grinds again, “know nothing about your pleasure. Y'know anything about male pleasure?”
“You're teasing me,” you huff, feeling suddenly indignant. He knows you don't know.
“Am I?” His voice comes out hitched, low, and a little breathless as he grinds harder. His nose presses to your neck as he groans.
You let out a sigh and squirm again, “Jason.”
“God, stay still,” he moans. He squeezes your hip tight as his own body pauses in its grinding. He takes a moment to breathe against your skin. The soft kisses return as his hand flexes and loosens.
“Jason?” You rub at his forearm in question, head tipping in an attempt to look at him.
“It's alright,” he murmurs, “stay put.”
His hand slips down your hip to the side of your thigh until he finds the rucked-up hem of your chemise. He takes a moment when he finds your bare skin, then he's pushing the fabric up just enough for his hand to slip under.
You gasp softly as his fingers dip low between your thighs. “Thought this was about male pleasure?”
He laughs again and picks up his grinding again, “It can be ‘bout both, sweetheart”
His finger prods at your entrance, and you squirm again. His kisses at your neck turn open-mouthed and then sucks gentle at your pulse. A soft noise slips from your throat as his slick finger moves back up to rub at your bundle of nerves. You wiggle back on instinct, but his fingers stay pressed. He groans against your skin as he grinds against your ass.
“Does that-” you pause to wimper and attempt to find the question, “Is that really pleasure for you?”’
His fingers stutter against you at a particularly hard grind, “It’s definitely something.”
“Wanna help,” you say, and your hand dips behind you and down to where he grinds.
He pulls right back off of you before you can get any close, " Whoa, easy.”
You turn on your back at his departure to really look at him. He’s pressed far enough back that he looked like he was going to fall off the bed. Your brows pinch, “Did I do something wrong?”
He shakes his head, a dark flush on his tan skin, “Not that, sweetheart. You're perfect. It’s just…”
The trailed-off words make your brows pinch more, “It’s just what?”
He clears his throat, trying to shut down the odd embarrassment with what he’s admitting, “I haven't been touched in a while. Not by someone else's hand at the least. I don’t think I’ll last much.”
“Okay?” Your brows stay pinched. “Is that bad?”
Jason laughs, clearly put off by the question, “It can be, sweetheart, but I suppose right now doesn’t matter, does it? You just want to see.”
It’s your turn to fluster at his words, easily caught and called out, “I- no-well yes, but that ain’t the only reason.”
“No?” He shifts closer on the bed again, and it has you pressing your head into the pillow, “What’dya want then?”
“I want to help. I want to make you feel… pleasure, like you did for me,” you admit.
Jason stares a moment, and then his hand dips under the sheet to the point that had been grinding against you. He lets out a groan, “God, you're so sweet, ain’t ya?”
He moves soon after, climbing over you to straddle your hips. Your gaze dips as the sheet falls away, eyes widening slightly at his hand wrapped around himself. You murmur to yourself, “Oh.”
Jason pays your surprise no mind other than a smirk. His free hand moves to press your chemise up higher and higher until it's bunched up under your chin, breasts exposed to the cool morning air, nipples hardening. Jason groans louder at the sight as the hand wrapped around himself strokes nice and slow.
His hand that had pulled up your dress dips to pinch light at a nipple. Your thighs squeeze under him as a startlingly aroused noise leaves you. Jason grins down at you as he drops the pinch to palm at your breast.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, “couldn't help myself.”
You don't have a response. You don’t know what to say, don’t know what to do. His hand on himself slows at your wide-eyed look, pausing at the head and squeezing. A bead of precum leaks out and drips on your belly. You only stare.
“Am I scaring ya?” he asks, hand leaving your breast to hold your face, tipping your head back slightly, forcing you to look at him, “Tell me and I’ll stop.”
You stare a beat longer before you shake your head. He clicks his tongue at you, thumb tracing your bottom lip, “use your words, remember?”
Your breath catches against his thumb. “You’re not scaring me, Jason.”
“Good,” he murmurs. His hand leaves your face to curl around your fingers curled into your sheets. He gently pulls your hand up, watching your face the entire time as he wraps your fingers around the base of him.
You stare in surprise at how warm and hard he is. The hand wrapped around the head of him curls over your fingers and slowly guides your hand in an upward stroke. Jason shudders at the sensation of your smaller-than-his-hand wrapped around him. He squeezes your hand tighter on the next upstroke, his eyes fluttering closed as he moans quietly.
You stare, nearly enamored, eyes flicking between his face and cock as he guides you, “That… feels good?”
His eyes find yours, heavy with pleasure as his hips press into our hand, “Like you wouldn’t believe, sweetheart.”
He pulls your hand off of him and brings it to his mouth, spitting into your palm. Your nose scrunches in mild disgust, “What’re you doing?”
“It makes it easier,” he laughs as he wraps your hand around his cock again, resuming strokes. He shudders, cursing under his breath as his hand tightens yours. You still can’t decide where to look. His cock leaks and drips on your belly more; the sensation strange to you, but you don't pull your hand away.
Instead, your other hand creeps up his thigh. “Can I use both hands?”
Jason nearly falls on you with another jut of his hips. He catches himself on his forearm, hovering over you. He presses his forehead to your cheek, "Jesus, you're killing me, sweetheart.”
“Is that a no?” you hum as his land loosens on yours, stroking him. You don't lighten your grip or slow your pace, and soon his hand leaves to let you handle him.
“That was a resounding yes,” he groans against your skin, “god, yes.”
Your hand joins your other around him, stroking in tandem, squeezing just to feel him drip on your belly. He moaned loudly, hips meeting the movements of your hands as he buried his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin that made you pant and squirm under him.
“Doin’ good, honey,” he mumbled against your neck, “gonna make a mess of you, alright?”
He pulls back as he asks, his hips stuttering, but when you meet his eyes, it's not just lust you find. The way he looks at you is the same way he’d looked at you when you’d met in the market. It made you squeeze him tighter rather than answer.
Your eyes widen when he bends back down and abruptly kisses you, pressing his gasped moans into your mouth as he shudders. Your own gasp follows when he spurts across your chest and stomach, sticky and warm. Jason pants against your lips as he grabs at your hands to pull you off him. Your head dips. His lips drag against the side of your nose as you try to look at the mess.
“Oh my,” you murmur at the white streaking your body. New and unknown, but not scary like you thought. Jason’s hand cradles your jaw as he looks down too.
“Sorry, pretty baby,” he kisses your cheek, “I’ll clean you up.”
Your eyes meet his for a moment, and you tip to kiss him again, softer, “Jason, would you… If it's alright…”
He pecks at your lips as you slowly lose the will to ask, “If what's alright?”
Your hips shift under him, thighs squeezing together in search of some pressure. That same nagging feeling that had led to him between your thighs last time had settled once again low in your belly, “Would you… pleasure me?”
He grins against your skin, “Did touching me rile you up, sweetheart?”
“I, um, yes. Is that okay?” you murmur.
His kisses trail down your collar to your breast. A light suck to your nipple as you squirm again, arching slightly. He hums before his lips trail lower, licking up some of his cum on your skin, “It is more than okay. It’s only right I make you feel good after you’ve done such a good job.”
There’s a kiss to your hip bone, and then his mouth is on you once again. Your hand slides into his hair as your body melts into the now more familiar sensation, chores for the day entirely forgotten to pleasure.
--------------
Masterlist
Make a request!
Tag list: @nooneatthemomento, @nathalieeee, @junglewoos
I love you dearly, Shrek anon. You are the funniest person ever to me.😂
First, I have a halfway-done smutty chapter for Outlaw Jason. I might finish it today while I am at work, but we will see.
On the Peter Parker side of things, please send me a request! I've only written that little one off one and would love to write more, but I don't have any ideas of what to write!
I saw your post about all your writing prompts being about Jason, which fair love him, but how about something for Tim? something something Tim saves reader mayhaps? little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, whatever you're feeling. I love your writing, and I've been following since probably chapter 25ish of diky and I love when you post new things 💛
Thank you for sending something! I, for some reason, decided on this little backstory the second I got this request. Here are the tidbits: Reader and Tim met in California while he was working with the Titans. She is a civilian; she does know he's Red Robin. I don't know if any of that matters, but please enjoy!!
--------------
You hated every part of this. You thought people were being dramatic about Gotham and all the robberies and bombings and what have you. It was a city, like New York, like LA. It couldn't truly be that bad.
You had tagged along with Tim to the bank, something to do with Wayne Enterprise business. You weren’t going to argue; you were happy to follow him, considering you’d come all the way across the country to spend time with him.
But now, you were regretting it. You should’ve never left California, should’ve never come to Gotham, because now you were sitting on the floor as an armed masked man yelled for the money. Everyone seemed annoyingly unbothered by it, looking more bored than scared as they all sat on the floor. You were pretty sure the couple on the other side of the bank was playing Go Fish.
You slump against the wall where you and Tim had sat before he promptly vanished. You were going to kick him for it. You understand why. It's just annoying.
“What did I say?” you jolt back as a gun is pointed in your direction, “Where’s your little friend? I know there was someone with you.”
You point a finger at your chest, and the masked man steps towards you, hand grabbing your arm and dragging you, “Where is he? No one was supposed to move.”
“I don't know!” You trip over your own feet as the man drags you to the center of the bank lobby. Tim! You were so going to kill him. Your knees hurt the second you're shoved back to the floor. But you don't dare complain as the barrel of a gun is pressed to your head, “Oh, come on, man.”
“Don’t move,” the man orders before he addresses the rest of the hostages, “Let this be a lesson for the next time you're in the middle of a robbery. Sit your asses down and stay-”
The glass ceiling of the bank shatters above you. You duck and cover your head as the glass rains down. A gunshot goes off, and you drop to the floor on your side into a fetal position. Glass digs into the side of your arm, but you don’t move at the sound of fighting and more gunshots. Soon the fighting settles.
“Everyone alright?” a voice asks. You know that voice. You were going to kick that voice. You finally lift your head as some of the hostages give a meager applause. Your eyes find your boyfriend, all geared up in his Red Robin uniform. It's unfair how good he looks in it because you really were upset with him. He walks towards you and crouches, offering you a hand in a show, “You alright, missy?”
You stare at him, stare at his hand before you sit up and wrap your arms around his neck in what you hope looks like a grateful civilian hugging the man who just saved her. You whisper in his ear, “I’m so upset with you right now, it's not even funny.”
When you part, his hands are hovering in a way that would be instinct that he managed to mostly tamp down. His lips press grimly before he looks at your arm, “shit, you're bleeding.”
He helps you up without thought, leading you towards the entrance where most of the hostages had already filtered out. The paramedics are already there, but you’re their only patient, pulling bits of glass before wrapping up your arm. Tim disappears again. Ten minutes later, he’s back by your side as a loyal, worried boyfriend. You only click your tongue at him with an eye roll. You're excused from the paramedics soon after. You don't even wait for Tim, walking around the block where he’d parked his car. He trails after you like a recently punished puppy.
You two sit in the car in silence for five minutes, you glaring out the passenger window. Tim finally speaks up, “Baby, I’m sorry.”
“For?” you ask, turning to look at him, already unimpressed.
“Uhhh.”
You scoff, “Tim, you left me.”
“That's not fair,” he retorts, “I saved you.”
You shake your head, “The only reason I was in any real danger was because you disappeared. They notice, and they were going to use me as an example to not move, and it's your fault, and I don’t like Gotham at all.”
Tim stares at you for a moment. “Are you done?”
“Timothy Drake, I swear to god,” you point a finger at him, and he holds his hands up in defense.
“Take it easy, okay? I’m sorry left you alone in the middle of a robbery,” he reaches for your hand in your lap, “And I’m sorry you got hurt, and I’m sorry you got threatened with a gun. I never wanted anything like that to happen to you. Baby, please forgive me.”
You take a moment to stare at him. Tim had warned you before you even came to Gotham that it was an entirely different world, especially compared to California. You knew that if something came up, if he needed to be a hero, that he would ditch you. You were mostly used to it because he had done it a few times before when the Titans needed something. None of this was Tim's or your fault, and you need to let go, or the rest of your trip would suck.
You press your lips together and finally nod, “Okay, fine.”
Tim relaxes in the driver's seat beside you, “Thank you, babe, really it's-”
“I’m still not happy,” you interrupt, “Not with you but the situation. We are not going to any more banks while I’m here.”
Tim nods in concession as he starts the car, “How's your arm?”
You shrug, hand ghosting over the bandaging, “Okay, I guess.”
“We’ll have Alfred take a closer look at it, he murmurs.
“Tim.”
He glances at you, “Yeah?”
You tip over the console and press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you for saving me.”
He flushes softly, “You're welcome. I always come to save you. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you nod, hand curling in his after he puts the car in drive. You let out a yawn, suddenly exhausted.
“Good,” he squeezes your finger, “let’s go relax, yeah?”
Original request on AO3:
ok since you're open for requests! Maybe one WHERE SHE does like the lipstick trend where girls like kiss all over their boyfriend's face and she posts it on her personal insta and steph sees it first and then spreads the vid like hayfire and within a week everyone in batfam has seen Jason Todd looking absolutely whipped totally covered in red kisses and they tease him about it?!
I am actually kind of of obsessed with this request. It's so cute and I love myself a lovesick Jason. I hope every one else likes it!
---------
The colors were similar, very similar. It shouldn't matter which specific shade you’re gunning for, they all would work for your date night.
You needed a blot to be sure. There were tissues right there, but there was also your boyfriend in the living room reading.
You collect your lipstick tubes and your compact mirror and skip into the living room.
Jason was right where you left him. Slouched against the couch, ankles crossed and propped on the coffee table. He was in sweats and black tank top, set for a cozy night in and he was wearing those dumb reader glasses you'd gotten him for his birthday as a joke.
You drop the lipsticks and compact on the cushion next to him and he barely looks away from his book. You hover, waiting for him to find a stopping point before he looks up at you.
“Hi, baby,” you murmur, taking the book from him and placing his book mark. You set it down next to your lipsticks as you slide into his lap, straddling. His hands find your hips, helping you get comfortable.
“Hi,” he leans forward and kisses your lips then your cheek, “what're you doing, pretty?”
You slump against him slightly from the affection before you remind yourself of what you're supposed to be doing.
You pull yourself straight, hands to his shoulders, “can’t decide what lipsticks I want to wear for our date tomorrow.”
“Any of them,” his lips find your jaw this time, “all of them.”
“All of them?” you push him back so he'll look at you.
“None of them?” Now he just sounds confused. You pat his cheek in consolation.
“Help me pick,” you say as you pull a random tube from the pile and you compact.
You settle back on his thighs and pop open the compact, catching yourself in the mirror. You offer the lipstick to Jason and his hand wraps around the cap. You tug slightly, the tub separates leaving you an open lipstick.
You take your time applying the color only momentarily distracted by Jason's thumb rubbing over your hip, sneaking slightly under your shirt. You rub in the layered color, for more product than you needed but you have the best blotter right in front of you.
You snap the compact closed and take the cap from him, closing the lipstick and tossing it to the side table. Your hands find Jason's jaw and you tip his head back slightly as you lean forward.
“What're you doing?” he asks, voice soft, eyes softer as they watch you.
“Kissing you,” you answer as you press your lipstick lips to his briefly and pull back, the color transferring to his lips. If he was aware of said transfer, he doesn't speak up or stop you when you tip his head to the side to press your lips firmly to the apple of his cheek. Nor does he stop you when you twist his face the other way for your lips to find the hinge of his jaw on the other side.
You pull compact back up as you pull back to assess the color. The mirror was too small to give it justice. You tip over in his lap reaching for your phone on the changer. His arm curls around your waist, tugging you back.
“Take it easy,” you tease, "I just need my phone.”
His arm loosens enough for you to reach the object you desired. The cameras brought up easy, twisting to find the light you wanted before taking a photo for reference.
You set the phone down to search for a wipe so you can move on, “dang it.”
“Hmm?” You find Jason staring at you in that dizzying in love manner he gets sometimes and it gives you the perfect idea. You pull his hand at your hip up and in between you and kiss gently at his wrist, skin stained. You move up his arm until most of the color disappears.
“Marking me? Kinky.” He mumbles with a grin that tells you he doesn't mind it.
“Don’t be weird,” you tell him as you pull open your next lipstick applying it.
Your hand holds his head again as your lips find the center of his forehead this time. Then you repeat your process, kissing in various spots across his face before pulling your phone to take a photo for reference.
A few lipsticks in you forget what you were doing, merely mourning the loss of space on his face before moving down his neck and collar bone.
You manage to make it to the last tube barely, pecking just above the hem of his tank on his chest before settling back on his thighs to observe your masterpiece.
Jason grins at you. You don't know how or when but his hands are under your shirt, massaging the skin at your waist
“Gonna take a picture, sweetheart?” He asks, sounding pleased and content with himself.
Your eyes drop to your phone, “yeah?”
It's a tease and you mean it whole heartedly because Jason wants a picture? You'll happily take a picture.
You grab your phone, camera already pulled up, before leaning back slightly in his lap and snapping a photo of him. You giggle to yourself as you settle forward again to look at the photo on your phone.
Your boyfriend was far too pretty for his own good. The soft lamp accenting his jawline even as its stained red. His features appear a bit surprised, lips parted. Though his eyes still look in love.
“-that?” You miss his question.
“What?” You look back up at him to find him pouting. You giggle again at his pinched features.
“What was that?” He repeats. You lean forward to drape your arm over his shoulder and behind his neck to sit a little to the side as you show him the photo on your phone.
“You wanted me to take a picture,” you turn the brightness up on your phone slightly and murmur, “my pretty boy.”
You watch his cheek turn pink, then darker to the point it almost matches one of the lip shades. You bite your lip to keep quiet about it.
“Of you, sweetheart,” he grumbles, “you were taking one of your lips every time you changed them.”
You kiss the corner of his mouth, there was already a stain there but you pay it no mind, “what are you going on about, love?”
He huffs a sigh before his arms shift to hug you against him entirely, “supposed to take a picture of yourself, not of me.”
You settle your cheek against his shoulder even as you feel waxy lipstick transfer from his skin to yours.
“Sorry,” you mutter, “how could I not? Can i-”
You want to ask if you can post it. It wasn't often that you got photos of Jason. He wasn't fond of social media either, but you wanted people to know that you had a very handsome boyfriend that you loved and that loved you.
“Can you, what, baby?” His voice has softened a lovely cadence to it that makes you feel warm.
“Can I post it? My account’s private. Please.”
He sucks in a heavy breath, turning to press his nose to your forehead before letting out the warm air, “let me see it again.”
You show him the photo of his confused lipstick stained face, “please, Jay.”
“If you have to,” he finally answers and you’d think he dreaded it if you couldn’t feel the twitch of the smile against your forehead.
*****
“I knew you were in love but I didn't realize you were this whipped. I mean lipstick, come on.”
Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes for the umpteenth time that night, “I’d happily break your nose, Red Robin. That stupid cowl of yours won't stop me.”
“That’ll look good on the news. ‘Red Hood back to his old ways. Attempts to murder fellow vigilante.’ what a new line that’ll be.” Tim spreads his gloved hands out as if to showcase the headline. Jason hears a stifled giggle across the coms that he’s sure is Steph.
“You act like that’ll stop me,” Jason gets a half step towards his brother before Bruce’s tired voice rings through the coms.
“Red Robin, Hood. Save your debates for later. Focus on patrol.”
“Right, debates,” Tim makes a kissy face towards Jason that has him stepping closer, fist curled.
“There’s break in at the Gotham National Bank,” Barbara’s voice cuts through, halting Jason’s attempt of violence, “Hood-”
“We’re on our way.” He responds before pointing a finger at Tim, “Count yourself lucky.”
I saw your post about all your writing prompts being about Jason, which fair love him, but how about something for Tim? something something Tim saves reader mayhaps? little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, whatever you're feeling. I love your writing, and I've been following since probably chapter 25ish of diky and I love when you post new things 💛
Thank you for sending something! I, for some reason, decided on this little backstory the second I got this request. Here are the tidbits: Reader and Tim met in California while he was working with the Titans. She is a civilian; she does know he's Red Robin. I don't know if any of that matters, but please enjoy!!
--------------
You hated every part of this. You thought people were being dramatic about Gotham and all the robberies and bombings and what have you. It was a city, like New York, like LA. It couldn't truly be that bad.
You had tagged along with Tim to the bank, something to do with Wayne Enterprise business. You weren’t going to argue; you were happy to follow him, considering you’d come all the way across the country to spend time with him.
But now, you were regretting it. You should’ve never left California, should’ve never come to Gotham, because now you were sitting on the floor as an armed masked man yelled for the money. Everyone seemed annoyingly unbothered by it, looking more bored than scared as they all sat on the floor. You were pretty sure the couple on the other side of the bank was playing Go Fish.
You slump against the wall where you and Tim had sat before he promptly vanished. You were going to kick him for it. You understand why. It's just annoying.
“What did I say?” you jolt back as a gun is pointed in your direction, “Where’s your little friend? I know there was someone with you.”
You point a finger at your chest, and the masked man steps towards you, hand grabbing your arm and dragging you, “Where is he? No one was supposed to move.”
“I don't know!” You trip over your own feet as the man drags you to the center of the bank lobby. Tim! You were so going to kill him. Your knees hurt the second you're shoved back to the floor. But you don't dare complain as the barrel of a gun is pressed to your head, “Oh, come on, man.”
“Don’t move,” the man orders before he addresses the rest of the hostages, “Let this be a lesson for the next time you're in the middle of a robbery. Sit your asses down and stay-”
The glass ceiling of the bank shatters above you. You duck and cover your head as the glass rains down. A gunshot goes off, and you drop to the floor on your side into a fetal position. Glass digs into the side of your arm, but you don’t move at the sound of fighting and more gunshots. Soon the fighting settles.
“Everyone alright?” a voice asks. You know that voice. You were going to kick that voice. You finally lift your head as some of the hostages give a meager applause. Your eyes find your boyfriend, all geared up in his Red Robin uniform. It's unfair how good he looks in it because you really were upset with him. He walks towards you and crouches, offering you a hand in a show, “You alright, missy?”
You stare at him, stare at his hand before you sit up and wrap your arms around his neck in what you hope looks like a grateful civilian hugging the man who just saved her. You whisper in his ear, “I’m so upset with you right now, it's not even funny.”
When you part, his hands are hovering in a way that would be instinct that he managed to mostly tamp down. His lips press grimly before he looks at your arm, “shit, you're bleeding.”
He helps you up without thought, leading you towards the entrance where most of the hostages had already filtered out. The paramedics are already there, but you’re their only patient, pulling bits of glass before wrapping up your arm. Tim disappears again. Ten minutes later, he’s back by your side as a loyal, worried boyfriend. You only click your tongue at him with an eye roll. You're excused from the paramedics soon after. You don't even wait for Tim, walking around the block where he’d parked his car. He trails after you like a recently punished puppy.
You two sit in the car in silence for five minutes, you glaring out the passenger window. Tim finally speaks up, “Baby, I’m sorry.”
“For?” you ask, turning to look at him, already unimpressed.
“Uhhh.”
You scoff, “Tim, you left me.”
“That's not fair,” he retorts, “I saved you.”
You shake your head, “The only reason I was in any real danger was because you disappeared. They notice, and they were going to use me as an example to not move, and it's your fault, and I don’t like Gotham at all.”
Tim stares at you for a moment. “Are you done?”
“Timothy Drake, I swear to god,” you point a finger at him, and he holds his hands up in defense.
“Take it easy, okay? I’m sorry left you alone in the middle of a robbery,” he reaches for your hand in your lap, “And I’m sorry you got hurt, and I’m sorry you got threatened with a gun. I never wanted anything like that to happen to you. Baby, please forgive me.”
You take a moment to stare at him. Tim had warned you before you even came to Gotham that it was an entirely different world, especially compared to California. You knew that if something came up, if he needed to be a hero, that he would ditch you. You were mostly used to it because he had done it a few times before when the Titans needed something. None of this was Tim's or your fault, and you need to let go, or the rest of your trip would suck.
You press your lips together and finally nod, “Okay, fine.”
Tim relaxes in the driver's seat beside you, “Thank you, babe, really it's-”
“I’m still not happy,” you interrupt, “Not with you but the situation. We are not going to any more banks while I’m here.”
Tim nods in concession as he starts the car, “How's your arm?”
You shrug, hand ghosting over the bandaging, “Okay, I guess.”
“We’ll have Alfred take a closer look at it, he murmurs.
“Tim.”
He glances at you, “Yeah?”
You tip over the console and press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you for saving me.”
He flushes softly, “You're welcome. I always come to save you. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you nod, hand curling in his after he puts the car in drive. You let out a yawn, suddenly exhausted.
“Good,” he squeezes your finger, “let’s go relax, yeah?”
Hi! I saw you are doing a challenge and wanted to ask for Tim Drake because he’s my favorite Robin.
Tim, who once admitted to being touch starved and quietly wished for affection. His wish was granted when he started dating his current girlfriend, who loves giving him affection.
🥰 and 🥵 please?
This did come to me after the challenge ended, but thank you for sending something in! I hope it is enjoyed!
---------------
“You're kidding,” you scoff, head hanging over the edge of Tim's bed in Titans Tower. He types quietly for a second at his desk before he responds, “I grew up an only child and trust me when I say that physical touch isn't exactly Batman's love language.”
Your purse your lips at the thought. Poor little robin. Someday you'll have so much love you won't know what to do with it.
You didn't think a year later, you'd be a major part of insuring just that.
“How is this wrestling?” Tim laughs as he tries to shake you off his back.
You stay put where you're wrapped around him like a koala, piggyback style. Your face presses to his neck in terribly aimed kisses as you laugh with him, “It's like, taekondow.”
“Like?” He gives up a moment, hands curling around your knees at his hips, “Are you a super-trained fighting machine?”
You squeeze him tighter. He makes an overdramatic choked noise against the arm you have around his neck as you tease, “Aren't you a super-trained fighting machine? These attempts are pathetic.”
He takes a step backwards, and you cling more knowing what's about to happen, “pathetic? Is that how it's gonna be?”
“Timothy don't-” you screech as he falls backwards on his bed. You groan as he momentarily crushes you. Your arms loosen. He takes the opening, turning around to pin your hands back on the bed. Your head presses back against the bed as you grin at him, “You think you're so smooth.”
“I am very smooth,” he nods, squeezing your wrists.
You jut your chin and pucker your lips softly, “Come here.”
“You're gonna cheat.”
“Says you,” you stick your tongue out, then repucker your lips. He folds easily, happily, lips pressing to yours. You kiss him back, humming softly. One of his hands leaves your wrist to cradle your jaw, tipping your head so he can deepen it. Your now freed arm hooks behind his neck and gives you wiggle room. Your thigh presses to his hip, gently pressing him until he rolls onto his back. Your lips never part in the movement as you straddle him. Your hand leaves his neck to slide down his chest and up under his shirt.
He pulls back with a laugh and a murmured, “What’re you doing?”
“I’m touching you,” you smile as your lips press to his cheek and down his jaw. His head tips back without argument.
“Why?” he asks as his hands settle on your thighs, squeezing.
You shift atop him as you suck on his pulse. He lets out a suppressed groan that makes your smile widen. Your hand presses to his chest, feeling his heartbeat as your other hand moves up to stroke his hair, “because I can. I’m your girlfriend; it's like my right.”
“You're right?” he hums, pleased and melting under your touch.
“Yeah,” you kiss his cheek again, “like voting.”
He snorts against you, hands leaving your thighs to move over your back. You settle atop him in a hug. He strokes your back as you both settle, “Interesting to know that I sit up there by voting on your list.”
“Trust me, Timmy. You sit much higher,” you murmur. He lets out another hum, the same pleased tone, filled with wonderful contentment.
Girlfrienddddddd! Ugh, just feeding us with this drabble challenge. The one with Dami is my favorite, he's such a little nugget. He makes me feel so maternal, I want to give him the world 🥺
@herodedicatedblog
Thank you!!
And honestly, yes! That's my son! He's a baby! We gotta take care of him!
Hi! I saw you are doing a challenge and wanted to ask for Tim Drake because he’s my favorite Robin.
Tim, who once admitted to being touch starved and quietly wished for affection. His wish was granted when he started dating his current girlfriend, who loves giving him affection.
🥰 and 🥵 please?
This did come to me after the challenge ended, but thank you for sending something in! I hope it is enjoyed!
---------------
“You're kidding,” you scoff, head hanging over the edge of Tim's bed in Titans Tower. He types quietly for a second at his desk before he responds, “I grew up an only child and trust me when I say that physical touch isn't exactly Batman's love language.”
Your purse your lips at the thought. Poor little robin. Someday you'll have so much love you won't know what to do with it.
You didn't think a year later, you'd be a major part of insuring just that.
“How is this wrestling?” Tim laughs as he tries to shake you off his back.
You stay put where you're wrapped around him like a koala, piggyback style. Your face presses to his neck in terribly aimed kisses as you laugh with him, “It's like, taekondow.”
“Like?” He gives up a moment, hands curling around your knees at his hips, “Are you a super-trained fighting machine?”
You squeeze him tighter. He makes an overdramatic choked noise against the arm you have around his neck as you tease, “Aren't you a super-trained fighting machine? These attempts are pathetic.”
He takes a step backwards, and you cling more knowing what's about to happen, “pathetic? Is that how it's gonna be?”
“Timothy don't-” you screech as he falls backwards on his bed. You groan as he momentarily crushes you. Your arms loosen. He takes the opening, turning around to pin your hands back on the bed. Your head presses back against the bed as you grin at him, “You think you're so smooth.”
“I am very smooth,” he nods, squeezing your wrists.
You jut your chin and pucker your lips softly, “Come here.”
“You're gonna cheat.”
“Says you,” you stick your tongue out, then repucker your lips. He folds easily, happily, lips pressing to yours. You kiss him back, humming softly. One of his hands leaves your wrist to cradle your jaw, tipping your head so he can deepen it. Your now freed arm hooks behind his neck and gives you wiggle room. Your thigh presses to his hip, gently pressing him until he rolls onto his back. Your lips never part in the movement as you straddle him. Your hand leaves his neck to slide down his chest and up under his shirt.
He pulls back with a laugh and a murmured, “What’re you doing?”
“I’m touching you,” you smile as your lips press to his cheek and down his jaw. His head tips back without argument.
“Why?” he asks as his hands settle on your thighs, squeezing.
You shift atop him as you suck on his pulse. He lets out a suppressed groan that makes your smile widen. Your hand presses to his chest, feeling his heartbeat as your other hand moves up to stroke his hair, “because I can. I’m your girlfriend; it's like my right.”
“You're right?” he hums, pleased and melting under your touch.
“Yeah,” you kiss his cheek again, “like voting.”
He snorts against you, hands leaving your thighs to move over your back. You settle atop him in a hug. He strokes your back as you both settle, “Interesting to know that I sit up there by voting on your list.”
“Trust me, Timmy. You sit much higher,” you murmur. He lets out another hum, the same pleased tone, filled with wonderful contentment.
You've made it to requests! I love that for you!
Understand that I may never do your request or I may end up doing it months down the line. If you want to see if its something I'm working on, your welcome to send in and ask or DM me about it.
The Rules:
Who I write for:
-Jason Todd (on hold)
-Dick Grayson
-Tim Drake
-Steve Harrington
-Eddie Munson
-Bucky Barnes
-Peter Parker
-Clark Kent
-Johnny Storm
Feel free to ask for anyone else, but there's no guarantee I'll know who they are or how to write them or that I will want to write them.
AU's/Other stories I write:
-DIKY(Do I Know You?) Jason Todd
-Western Outlaw!Jason Todd
-Regency Era!Jason Todd
-Dad!Jason Todd and Mom/Pregnant!Reader
-Boxer!Jason Todd
-Witch!Reader W/Jason Todd
-VSM(Video Store Meetings) Steve Harrington
-Brother's Best Friend!Eddie Munson
What to request:
Give me an idea of what you want it to entail, or a prompt. It helps if you add what type of genre you want, i.e., fluff, angst, smut
Hard No's❌:
Any Loverboy injuring Reader, even by accident.
Possible additions the more I write
How to request:
Send it as an ask, then I can have the story with the request
So I thought that the writing challenge would kick me into writing gear but it didnt. I think im getting fried on my poor baby Jason. He's the only one really have any requests for. Not a bad thing! I just need something else.
Pretty please send in requests for any one else in my request page! I'll repost it too so its easier to find.
I'm finding these challenges help keep me focused on writing for a couple of weeks, so I am going to try and do one once a month.
Starting the evening of July 3 and ending the evening of July 5 (may extend it, but we'll see), you, yes you! 🫵 can send in a request.
The rules are as follows for sending in an ask:
1. Make it short and sweet!
The more information you send, the easier it s for me to get lost in the sauce of it which kind of defeats the purpose. Keep it simple, something that could easily be one scene and done.
2. You can request any mood!
Angst! Fluff! Smut! A mix! You're welcome to your choosing! Just to be fun, send in an associated emoji to request your mood.
Angst: 💔 Fluff: 🥰 Smut: 🥵
3. Character options!
I know I've written for only a few characters (and not even all the ones I have listed) but I'll keep this challenge open to all the ones that I have on my request guide! I will leave it open for more characters too. If there's someone you think I would write well for, send it in! No promises that I'll know who they are though.
Also, it doesn't have to be romantic! If you would prefer more platonic scenarios, you can do that to! Remember this is for me to practice and be better!
Also, I love Jason with all my heart, but he's all I got last challenge. Please try to request some different character!
4. An additional note!
Requests can be a whole new version of characters, or you can request a series/AU-specific one.
-> DIKY(Do I Know You?) Jason Todd
-> Western Outlaw!Jason Todd
-> Regency Era!Jason Todd
-> Dad!Jason Todd and Mom/Pregnant!Reader
-> Boxer!Jason Todd
->Witch!Reader W/Jason Todd
-> VSM(Video Store Meetings) Steve Harrington
-> Brother's Best Friend!Eddie Munson
If there is a one shot that you may want a wee bit more of, you could also request for those. I'm sucker for continuing things I've already written (its a problem), so it doesn't bother me much!
Also, please take it easy on me if I don't get your request done. This is a challenge for me. I am struggling to stay in the writing groove. If you do send in a request, thank you for helping me and trusting me to make your idea come alive! 😘😘
I will repost this a few times over the next few days as a reminder of the rules.
Readers working at the diner about to close up, Jasons waiting outside for her when some drunk creep gropes her and Jason gets mad and beats the guy up. Pretty please 🫣🫣
I beg never stop writing. Ur so good at it. 💕💕
Okay, so a few things. I can not remember if I've given her a job post the series. So I think when you said diner, you meant her job at Jackie's that she had during the series. That is what I went with. I was also trying to remember the general timeline as I was writing. I don't have specific chapters, but this takes place after the penguin kidnapping, but before the brunch, I think. That's where my thought process was at least. That may not make total sense, but I did try my best. I hope it works!
Do I Know You? Masterlist (DIKY)
Kandy's Writing Challenge
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“Thank you,” you call out as the last customer trails out of the cafe, a to-go cup of coffee that you find too much for the late hour. You move about doing the last of your tasks before closing up shop. You return from the back offices after putting away the money, checking your phone for a text that Jason was nearly there. You round the counter, still looking at your phone.
“Oh Jesus,” you screech as you run into a figure in the dim lights of the cafe, “I am so sorry!”
Your phone slips into your back pocket at the sight of the man in front of you. College-age, slightly intoxicated based on his breath. A typical customer for the Cafe during the later hours. He gives you a startling, charismatic smile, “I didn’t mean to startle you, miss. I was hoping for a cup of coffee.”
You readjust your bag on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but the cafe closed about 10 minutes ago.”
“Oh, the door was open.” He points at the door behind him. You peek around him in hopes of seeing Jason.
With no luck, you only nod, “I understand that, but the kitchen is still closed.”
“Listen, sweetcheeks, that’s hardly a kitchen. I just need a drip coffee to get me through the rest of the night,” he huffs. You tense at the pet name and his tone.
“I get that,” you say placatingly, shifting back, but he follows your step. “There’s a Starbucks just a few blocks from here. They’re open longer than us.”
He scoffs, voice turning bitter the longer he speaks, “If I wanted Starbucks, I’d be at Starbucks, wouldn’t I?”
“Right, right,” you nod, stepping back towards the counter more. He abruptly grabs your arm, jerking you forward. You let out a gasp of pain in surprise.
“You can’t just walk away. I want my coffee. I’ll pay you double for it,” he bites, grip tightening.
Your hand grabs at his, trying to pry at it, “That’s not how it works. I can't- ah!”
His other hand moves up to grip at your jaw, “Yes, you can. You're a barista.”
Your eyes go wide as you stare at him. Your mind blanks. There’s panic, you know there is, but you cant quiet grasp at it. There’s a flash of blood in your memory and you freeze up more because it was happening again. Except it wasn’t at some body-dumping warehouse; it was at your job.
The door to the cafe dings open, and the man is ripped off of you. You stumble backwards to the counter. All your mind can think of is getting away. You round the counter and duck behind it, looking for a weapon, not really thinking about where the man went. You grab one of the glass pitchers for the coffee, tears bubbling in your throat. You hear the door of the cafe ding.
“Sweetheart?” You're still in your hiding spot. “You in here?”
You shift to peek over the counter, “Jason?”
His gaze finds you and slowly rounds the counter and crouches on the floor with you, “You okay?”
You look over the counter, “There was a guy and he-”
“Yeah, I know. He won't come back here,” He says. Your eyes return to his, and then you take him in. Your eyes settle on his hands pressed to his knees, one bloodied.
“Jay,” you set the coffee pitcher down and reach for his hand.
He tugs it out of your reach, standing to pull at the napkin dispenser and wiping it away, “He won’t come back, sweetheart. Okay?”
You stare up at him. You have one of those momentary flashes in your mind; that dumb jar that had all but left your mind briefly makes its return. Red Hood and Jason. You shake the thought entirely.
“Thank you,” you say as you move to stand with him.
“Why are you alone?” he asks as he looks around the cafe. “Thought we agreed you wouldn't work alone?”
You nod, kicking yourself mentally, “We did. Anna had a family emergency. I thought it would be fine, just a couple of hours.”
“You can't do that, not in Gotham. You have to call me,” he reminds you. “I will be here.”
You frown at him, impossibly annoyed with yourself for not doing it and impossibly annoyed at him for still taking care of you without thought weeks after the incident at the warehouse.
“Thank you, Jason,” you repeat.
He shakes his head, gives you a soft smile before reaching for your hand to pull you out from around the counter, “Let's go home, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you feel yourself smile at the easy way he says it, despite how the night's gone. Home. Like he lived there. Like you were something that had been labeled. You accept it anyway. Maybe one day in the future, you would talk about it.
Hey! I love your works! Could I request Jason x reader with platonic Damian? For the scene I imagine reader taking Damian to do normal kid stuff and Jason tagging along realizing his brother IS still just a kid.
Thank you!
I love Damian like a son sometimes. He needs to be a kid and whimsical and fun. Anyways, thank you for this lovely request. I hope you like it!
Kandy's Writing Challenge
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“The swingset?” Jason asks you incredulously. Damian kicks a rock on the sidewalk beside you.
You nod eagerly, “Yeah, just for a little bit. You can sit and read while Damian and I go play.”
“While you and Damian play?” his brows raise even higher.
You shove Jason’s shoulder at his tone as you laugh, “Yes, Jason Todd. I am going to steal your baby brother so that someone will swing with me.”
He huffs softly, “I’d swing with you.”
“I don’t want to swing with you,” you tease, “I want to swing with Damian.”
“Jeez,” He huffs before kissing you on the cheek, “I’ll sit and read then.”
“Great!” you cheer before your hand presses lightly to Damain’s shoulder so you can steer him towards the playground. Jason watches in curiosity as you both walk. He thought Damian would be dragging his feet a lot more.
He finally moves over to one of the benches on the walk near the playground, splitting his book open as he listens to you laugh at the swings. He shakes his head, smiling at your joy as he settles.
Five minutes in, Jason pauses in reading, not lifting his head, just listening. A cackle echoes across the playground. Kids were playing, and it could be any of them. However, Jason knows that cackle and the crackle is followed by your own laughter as you shout Higher babe!
Jason finally looks up to spot you and Damain. You're not in a swing yourself, but Damian is, to Jason's surprise, and swinging very high. You cheer as he swings forward, and when he comes back down, you're there to push him higher. Jason watches as the chains of the swing go lax at Damian's height, his laughter following before his swing back.
The book is shut and forgotten as he watches Damian, Robin, scream with laughter on the swingset. Damian laughs with each height of the swing. Jason supposes it's like the grapples when they’re on patrol, the brief moment where the line is loose and nothing is holding you up. It was usually followed by a tough landing, a roll or kick to some crook's stomach. The swingset held no such faults, just the moment of weightlessness.
You hand hooks on one of the chains, pulling slightly before releasing, slowing Damian slightly. Drag your feet, you instruct Damian, and soon his swing slows to a standstill. You're both grinning like fools as you leave the swings, giving them to the next few kids waiting.
“I think ice cream for dinner,” Jason hears you say as you both walk back over to him, “We won’t tell Bruce if you won't.”
“Todd,” Damian smiles, smiles at Jason, “Why did you never tell me how fun swings were?”
“Didn’t think you cared,” Jason admits guiltily because Damian was the heir to the demon head, son of Batman. He stares at him for a minute, and it’s almost like a gut punch. Damian was also a kid. It was something you always told Jason when he was being a little harsh. Jason clears his throat, “Ice cream?”
Your hand wiggles, and Jason takes it, standing up, “I saw a truck on our walk in. We can hit it on the way back to the car. You know what skipping is, Dami?”
Damian gives you a disgruntled look, but it doesn’t have the same heat as normal. “Yes, I know what skipping is.”
“Okayyy, do you know how to skip?” you reword.
Damian frowns a moment before he grumbles, “No.”
You seem far too excited as you let go of Jason's hand. “Let me teach you, bub.”
So Jason watches you teach Damian how to skip, something Jason learned in grade school. He silently beats himself up. The kid who leaped off of rooftops every night, the one who saved lives and complained about everyone being idiots, was being taught how to skip.
Jason looks at you with newfound gratitude. You always saw more than he thought, and he's not sure Damian would get the childhood he deserved from a family of vigilantes with beat pasts. No, your whimsical civilian ideas were much better
