check out my spotify (ft. diagetic playlists made by characters)
all works are female!reader unless marked otherwise
all sexual content is afab!reader unless marked otherwise
ć 18+
ā± Explicit
ā Obi-Wan Kenobi ā
ā Gangs of Coruscant | AO3
Mafia AU; 23-year-old reader gets a fresh start in Coruscant after landing a sign language interpreter gig at one of the biggest hospitals in the galaxy. However, that plan flatlines after reader's attempts to be punctual land her somewhere she really really shouldn't be, where she sees something she really really shouldn't see. As luck would have it, that something just so happens to be the business of the most terrifying (and strikingly handsome) man in the city. Fem!Reader
Chapter One: Dire Straights
Chapter Two: The Godfather Espresso Blend
ā Wholesome Headcanons
ā Jason Todd ā
āSionis!Reader
quid pro quo | AO3; Official beginning of the Jason Todd x Sionis!Reader timeline. You have an argument with your piss poor excuse of a father, only this time, it results in him draining your bank account. Angry and freshly broke, you use the only logical coping mechanism; you fuck his rival's sexy son on a rooftop. ā±
pride & periods | AO3; Your regularly scheduled hook-up session with Jason Todd is rudely interrupted by the arrival of your period. As tragedy strikes, you have to ask Jason to buy you pads, perhaps throwing a curveball in your still emerging relationship.
is this love? | AO3; You started hooking with Jason Todd, the second eldest Wayne child, so that both of you could royally piss off your father, Roman Sionis. Now that you've accomplished that, you're still hooking up. And spending the night. Frankly, you aren't quite sure what this is anymore. But you know you like it. ć
tremble & shake | AO3; Jason doesn't show up for your hook-up. You don't think much of it until he comes barreling through his window in a distressed state. He's desperately in need of your comfort and you don't have a clue why, but you can't stand to see Jason Todd hurting. ć
scorn to change my state | AO3; Jason and Sionis!Reader exchange valentines and make it clear that they really really really like each other. Featuring sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare.
āblurb: what would a bat do; Jason finds you crying and does what a bat would do. no gender mentioned for reader
āGeneral Headcanons
āRomantic Headcanons; no gender mentioned for reader
the tricky thing about Jason and Sionis!Reader is that neither of them are willing to confess first. their relationship is built on implication. Jason calms you down after a fight with your father, therefore he loves you. no like, he really loves you because otherwise he would ignore your wishes and just beat Roman up, right? you clean up his wounds when he comes home from patrol in blood soaked clothes. he does your grocery shopping while youāre at work. you leave coffee grounds and cinnamon in the pot for him to wake up to. he picks up books you might like from the library. you replace his socks when they start to wear thin. real undercover lovers.
but what if saying the quiet part out loud ruins the whole thing? who's to say?
plz ignore this if it annoys you but every time i read your sionis reader fics i headcannon reader as a fashionista who lovessssss to dress her bf bc heās a fashion disaster (but doesnāt care) š«£ i always imagine reader wearing designer clothes and jason in a ratty band tee and basketball shorts and i have to kick my feet and giggle š¤
sweet anon, you could never annoy me, headcanons are always welcome. especially because yes! you're right! Sionis!Reader IS a fashionista! i have an entire board of pieces that i think would be in reader and Jason's respective closets because i'm a costume designer at my core
you can pull together an outfit for any style, trend, occasion with the guarantee that, unless Selina Kyle is in attendance, you will be the best dressed person in the room. of course you're a style icon - your daddy's the most fashionable gangster in Gotham City, after all.
Jason's closet isn't as dandy. he dresses for his priority; his typical Red Hood costumes are simple and allow for whatever movement he needs, but also emphasis his size and weapons. his priority in his free time is comfort. 'ratty band tee(s) and basketball shorts' about sums his civilian clothes up. hey, it's hard to find comfortable jeans when you're built like a brick wall. but whether or not his realizes it, Jason can wear just about any article of clothing well. who's gonna look at the man with the flash of white hair and the numerous facial scars and the eyes that know when and how everyone will die and immediately go 'this guy's outfit looks like shit.' you can wear basketball shorts with Timberlands when you have aura.
naturally, his every day fashion starts coming together once you get your hands on his wardrobe. genuine fashion advice is clearly a love language you speak. you've got such a keen eye for what he looks best in that he almost considering enlisting you to update his Red Hood costume way before he was ready to admit his secret identity. it makes him feel handsome.
...and to his credit, he isn't style blind. he did pull the Prince of Gotham look together. and the Task Force Z get up with the red stripe on the boots. and that sick Dark Knight suit of armor that one time. and those knee high boots with the buckles going all the way up are pretty fucking badass, if a little Hot Topic-core. so maybe a criminal element is the key to polishing up a Jason outfit. lucky for him, he does happen to be sleeping with Black Mask's daughter...
do you think jason is the kinda guy whoād wanna wait til marriage/be ok/respect a partner who wants to wait til marriage?
Jason's libido tends to align with his partner's. he would definitely respect wanting to wait. he isn't someone who sees marriage as a particularly viable option for himself, however, he does typically like to wait until a relationship is more established before getting too intimate.
if you're interested in having sex earlier on, then his interest can be piqued as well. if you'd rather wait, then he's more than onboard. he's not really into casual intimacy because he's the kind of guy who can't be normal about people and things (not that anyone reading or writing this can relate). it's not that sex isn't important to him. it's that sex is really intense for him, so it's important to have someone who understands that. he feels more secure bearing his whole body to someone who's seen his scars, knows where he's been, understands what he likes and doesn't like.
so yes, he would totally be okay with a partner who wanted to wait :-)
the official beginning of the jason todd x sionis!reader timeline
you have an argument with your piss poor excuse of a father, only this time, it results in him draining your bank account. angry and freshly broke, you use the only logical coping mechanism; you fuck his rival's sexy son.
tw: mndi 18+, problematic reader, daddy issues, oral sex, p in v sex w/ fem!reader, top!Jason, voyuerism (rooftop sex), brief daddy kink, jason is a little ooc but it's for the plot. reader doesn't know jason is red hood here.
a/n: it's the prequel, baby !!
quid pro quo | pride & periods | is this love? | tremble & shake | scorn to change my state
"Are you sober?"
"Am I what?"
You and Jason Todd were meant to be rivals. At least, you considered him a rival. He had never seemed to care. Granted, he was presumed dead for most of high school, taking any hope for legitimate academic competition with him. By the time he reappeared in Gotham, your father had already decided you weren't cut out to destroy anybody - although he hadnāt failed to remind you of what couldāve been the entire time Jason owned the Penguinās hangout.Ā
You still hated the guy. His apparent death had killed all the worth your father saw in you. For him to have been alive this whole time was a major slap in the face.Ā
Secretly, you always thought your father wanted you to destroy Jason because he wished you were Jason. Was it really so fair that Bruce Wayne really had everything handed to him, including all the sons he could want. What was Roman Sionis stuck with? A squeamish daughter with no ambition, who couldn't even prove she was better than some adopted street kid.
Now you exist as more of a pet to him than anything else. Something for him to own, something he could keep leashed at his side, something he could brag about, as if he had any real pride for you. Which was why a single, sham threat to change your last name was enough to have your personal bank account closed.
Well, if you don't need daddy's name, you don't need his money either. It's just a lesson in responsibility.
Yeah, right. Like he wasn't going to find a way to keep you from making money of your own.
But, you could still prove your ownership over yourself. After several minutes of staring blankly at the wall when you realized your father hadnāt been bluffing, you dug to the bottom of your laundry to locate the cherry colored dress that got you into anywhere for free. You werenāt sure what it was you were aiming to accomplish, but the damn dress was going to ensure you didnāt need the Sionis money or name to get what you wanted. Your feet moved with a mind of their own right into your favorite bar, right into the perfect tall, dark and handsome ride.Ā
You hadnāt recognized him at first. You hadnāt seen him in person in God knows how long, not since you were 15, probably. There was nothing special about his jeans, Mickey Thompson t-shirt and leather jacket. He didnāt look like a prince with the lazy way he slouched against the counter at the far end of the bar. From the entrance, his face blended in with all the others, unremarkable and unimpressive. Until the slight tug of his upper lip suddenly had you back in freshman year English, pouting as the teacher praised your would-be rivalās take on Romeo & Juliet.Ā
Finally, a six-foot-something, Wayne branded plot began to formulate.
Of course, now you're rolling your eyes at him. You hate having to repeat yourself, even over the loud buzzing of the bar.
"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"
Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.
"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"
You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.
"Do you know who I am?"
He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.
"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.
"My dad hates you."
He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.
"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"
You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.
"Fuck me."
IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.
"What?"
Ugh, again with the repetition.
"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.
The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear, his crooked nose nudging the side of your head.
"Hey, you sure you're sober?"
The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.
"I'm dead sober."
"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."
You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"
"Todd."
"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."
Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose.Ā
"And why'd he do that?"
You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm.Ā
"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow.Ā
"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."
"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."
"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin.Ā
Something in your belly tightens. Maybe heās a more worthy opponent than youād initially assumed.Ā
You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath.Ā
"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,ā your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. āAnd I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."
"You should know youāre worth more than just bragging rights, princess,ā he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath.Ā
"Prove it."
"...and you're sure you're sober?"
"Wanna test my breath?"
He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.
You can taste the single sip of beer, but itās not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.
"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"
You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.
"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."
***
"You're freaky, you know that?ā Jason teases as you push open the roof access.Ā
"The cameras up here have a delay. My dad's people won't be able to snitch until tomorrow morning, so we have all the time in the world,ā you smirk at the way his eyes bug out, tugging on the collar of his jacket with a sly wink. āDonāt worry. The cameras donāt pick up anything that happens on the ground. Plausible deniability.āĀ
He gestures to the roof set-up. The ledge comes up high enough to hide from peeping neighbors, but a string of yellow Christmas lights keeps the spot well illuminated.
"Yeah? And what about other prying eyes? You aren't worried Batman's gonna show up and scold us for public indecency?āĀ
The mental image is funnier than you let him think. You give him an amused little hum as you press yourself against his chest, walking two fingers up his ridiculously prominent bicep.Ā
"Hmm, technically this is private property and besides, this is Red Hood's territory."
"Red Hood? You really are freaky.āĀ
His lips are twinged ruby from being a human breathalyzer. A thin sheen of your lip gloss reflects the warm light surrounding you. Little scars decorate his hard face like freckles. You trace over a recent nick under his eye.Ā
"Please fuck me, Jason.āĀ
His arms are still at his side. His fingers twitch, either from anticipation or anxiety.Ā
"You're sure you want this?"
"Fucking positive. Do you?"
The green of his eyes are shadowed by his hooded eyes. His unflinching gaze is locked in on you. Thereās a weight to it that seems to put pressures on all the right places.Ā
"Oh, fuck yeah, I do."
He doesnāt stop to think this time before he kisses you. Itās harder than earlier, his hands roaming your body. He had his moment to explore your cherry flavored mouth, now heās taking what he wants. What you both want.Ā
Thereās no shared breath between you as you suck on his bottom lip, ensuring your lip gloss is smeared everywhere. A large hand snakes its way up your spine to grip the back of your head. You gasp as fingernails dig into your scalp and Jason takes advantage of your parted lips to run his tongue over yours.Ā
You rack your nails over his stomach, catching the muscular grooves of his abdomen to make his shudder. You flatten your palm to sneak it downwards when he retaliates by grazing over your tailbone. You quiver under his touch, feeling that obnoxious smirk on his face.Ā
āTell me,ā he pants between wet smacks, āifā, smack, āif anythingāsā, smack smack, ātoo much.āĀ
This gives you pause. What a chivalrous sentiment from a man whoās about to ram his cock into you on the dirty ground of a bar rooftop where Red Hood might see just to trifle with your father. Actually, you werenāt sure anyone had offered you that sentiment before. It has you rubbing your thighs together.Ā
Something unmistakable and hard pokes your belly as your hips meet. His tongue feels along the ridges of your lips before licking between them, once again filling your mouth with him.Ā
Cigarettes have never tasted so good.Ā
The arm around your waist slides to fill his free hand with your ass. You alarm yourself by letting out a muffled moan when he squeezes. Heās going to make a mess of you much quicker than anticipated.Ā
Itās just because the cameras are picking this part up, you think to yourself, Iām still in charge, Jason Todd isnāt going to get the best of-
Your thoughts are interrupted by the hand on your ass rounding your hip. Two fingers play with the hem of your short dress and pull the skirt up to reveal the skimpy thong underneath. Jason finally pries himself away from your mouth to get a good look, letting out a low whistle as he admires the coordinating colors.Ā
āYouāre so organized, arenāt you?ā He croons in a much gruffer voice than heās been using. The rough pads of his fingers knead circles into your thigh, making you keen. āDaddy must really be stressinā you out, baby girl. Youāre so tight, need to unwindā¦āĀ
You let out a little breath as the hand on your head moves to cup your chin. Jasonās lips are satisfyingly swollen and a rash of scarlet has started to spread across his cheeks, although itās nothing compared to the heat rising in yours. The fingers at your thigh skim inward, ghosting over the elastic of your underwear.Ā
āThis alright?ā
Later youāll curse yourself for not saying something snarkier or dirtier, for not grabbing the outline of his cock and reminding him whose idea this wasā¦but right now, thereās nothing in the world you want more than for this man to touch your pussy.Ā
You nod, āPlease, Jason-ā
āPlease, what?ā
Oh, this fucker with his little smug expression.Ā
āPleaseā¦Please touch me, Jason.āĀ
Although every time you say his name, his chest tightens up beneath your palms.Ā
He cups your sex, feeling along the thinning string keeping you covered. Your eyes widen as you realize itās clinging to your lower lips. His index and middle fingers are cold against the thin fabric of your thong. It's a sharp juxtaposition from his hot breath on your lips, then your jaw, then your neck.Ā
Dagger-like canines whet the skin of your throat. The tip of his tongue drags a straight line down your jugular while the tips of his fingers trace circles over your flimsy underwear.
āSo wet,ā Jason lets out a pleased hum, snapping the string with a thawk to make you jolt. āAnd in these pathetic excuse for panties? I wouldnāt be surprised if you left something behind in the bar.āĀ
Your natural instinct is to retort, but you donāt have a chance to get a word in before heās pushing the flimsy fabric aside and swiping his middle finger through your slit.Ā
āDaddy makes you mad and the first thing you do is parade yourself around with your fucking pussy out. You just went out looking for trouble, didnāt you.āĀ
āNuh-ah-uh,ā you protest weakly, gripping his shoulders for support. Heās massaging your lower lips with false mercy. āWasnāt looking for anything until I-ah-until-ahh-til I saw you.ā
His canine bites down as his thumb presses your clit like itās a button. Two fingers slip inside you with an embarrassing amount of ease and you whine as they scissor you open.Ā
āYou really know what youāre doing,ā you huff, a half hearted attempt at a joke. He pauses, as if heās surprised to hear you say that. His fingers freeze up inside you, then start to pump in and out carefully - cautiously even.
āMaybe thatās just what you needed, hmm,ā he muses into your skin, planting another wave of kisses along your jawline. āSomeone who knows what heās doing to help you loosen up.āĀ
Heās straining painfully against you. It seems unfair to let him do all the work when heās also begging to be fucked to shreds. You reach for his cock, only for his fingers to retract from your cunt and curl around your wrist.Ā
You whine, both at the sudden lack of him inside you and your foiled attempts to gain some control. Your knees nearly buckle as he removes his arms all together to shrug off his jacket. But he merely tuts, āNone of that, princess. Why donāt you lay back down? I think the cameras got enough.āĀ
Well, fuck it. You told him to treat you like a trophy, no point in confusing the man now.Ā
He drapes his jacket on the ground before twining his arms around your waist and shoulders to lower you down on top of it. The inside is surprisingly soft against the exposed parts of your back.Ā
āYou just gotta let me take care of you, baby,ā Jason coos, gently grabbing your ankles to move your legs apart. He takes his sweet time dragging your panties off, letting each callous on his hands hit your smooth thighs. āLook at that pretty fuckinā pussy. Youāre gonna taste so fuckinā sweet.āĀ
Taste?
āWhatāre you-ā
āShh, trust me,ā he says, coming up to kiss you. He pushes your dress up to your waist, stopping to rub your hip affectionately. āYouāre gonna be glad I did this. We can stop if you get uncomfortable.āĀ
He kisses either thigh as he dips his head between your legs, his black hair tickling your skin. You suck in a breath of anticipation, but he steals it when he places an open mouth kiss on your slit.Ā
You crane your head to look at him. Not a single other person has done this to you before. You were beginning to think it was just some sort of myth, but the way Jason licks from your hole to your clit with a blistering, flat tongue is suddenly very real - and very good.Ā
He blows a harsh breath on your clit before delving back into your cunt. He licks his way into you, filling you with a new strange, wet sensation. His tongue is hot on your already burning core and you think you might melt into a puddle. You bite your lip, but itās not enough to stop the pathetic cries that come out of you as Jason Todd, your alleged nemesis who never paid you any mind, the son of the dull pain in your fatherās ass, eats you out.Ā
The sound is obscene and loud, masking your soft pants. The wet noise echoes off the high walls of the ledge while Jason works your cunt with a stupid amount of precision. His mouth is sloppy, engulfing you whole. But, his tongue is tactical, taking its time to draw out a map of all the places that make you moan and squirm.Ā
āOh God, oh God!ā You cry out, your hands flying to grab a fistful of black and white hair as he laps at you. His arms hook around your knees to yank you closer. Heās unreal, unrelenting in his dining. When he switches to deliver kitten licks to your clit, two fingers take his tongueās place in your hole.Ā
You buck upwards as his fingers curl inside you, easily stroking at that sweet spot just out of reach of your own fingers. His free arm pins your twitching hips down, and thatās when you officially relinquish all control to him.Ā
āJason, ahhhā you groan, every muscle and nerve in your body quaking. āJason, Iām gonnaā¦please let meā¦ā
He doesnāt need to be told twice. He sucks down on your button, letting his teeth graze the nerves in just the right way to send that unforgiving twinge up to your belly until it whites out your vision. Your orgasm floods his face, but he keeps licking until it stops. Only then does he pull away, giving you a shit eating grin dripping in more than just lip gloss and beer.Ā Ā
āThatās a good fuckinā girl, asking so nicely. And so damn sensitive, itās cute.ā
Your heart races at being called a good girl. You should be spent already, but something about the fact that he made you cum in only ten minutes makes you want even more.Ā
He rises to his knees and you stare at him in awe as his body towers over you, blocking out anything but the hungry gleam of his eyes, the carnivorous bite of his lip, the mounting sweat of his skin. Anything but him.Ā
The lights glow gold behind him, crowing your own personal Apollo with his halo. His pupils are blown out, but his stare hasnāt lost its cool. You, on the other hand, are trembling beneath him, your pussy clenching at the sound of his zipper coming undone.Ā
Your eyes bug out to match the size of the cock he pulls from his jeans. Itās stiff as it fills his grasp, already leaking into his palm. He grins proudly at your awe.Ā
āSee why I wanted to warm you up, pretty girl?ā
The adrenaline of the moment gives you the strength to sit up and press your worshipful lips to the ruddy head, revealing in the way it twitches. The remnants of your lip gloss add to its shine. Jason mixes it with his spit as he spreads it across his veiny flesh.Ā Ā
āYouāre a God, Jason Todd.āĀ
He bends down to reward your praise with a kiss, a briny tang replacing the burn of tobacco. Your hands come up to caress his jaw before dropping to his shoulders, proactively digging into his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his to connect to his neck, repaying him for the bruises he decorated you with earlier.Ā
He hums in pleasure, tipping his head to give you better access. He smears your lipgloss residue onto his hand and lubes his cock with a Lime Crime Wet Cherry and spit cocktail.Ā
Youāre so wrapped up in leaving a toothy imprint in the junction of his neck that you miss the hard switch in his expression. You yelp as he grips your thighs and hooks them over his hips, pinning you beneath him. Your torso flies back, but he reflexively catches your head before it can smack against the concrete.Ā
He continues to cradle you, steadying himself as he drags his tip along your slit excruciatingly slow. He tuts and taps your clit when you bite back a moan.Ā
āDonāt hold back now, beautiful,ā he taunts, prodding your entrance with his blunt head. āWhatās the matter, worried Red Hood might hear you?ā
You try to grind against him and snarl when he pulls his cock away, āDonāt fucking tease me, jackass.āĀ
Jason slaps his cock against you, then rests it on your belly. He lets out an amused scoff, āWasnāt I a God thirty seconds ago?ā
āForgot to mention Iām an atheist.āĀ
You cross your arms like you arenāt flat on your back with your legs up, but no poker face can hide the desperate squirm of your hips.Ā
The bastard shakes his head and the weight of him shifts over your gut, āYou just canāt help being a brat, can you? And to think, you were being such a good girl fāme.āĀ
āOnly because you were being nice-ā
āI can be nice again, sweetheart,ā his voice is low as he spits out the pet name. āBut you gotta be patient.āĀ
āI wasnāt raised to be particularly- AH!āĀ
The head of his cock bullies its way past your labia and sits at the ready. You can already feel yourself stretching to accommodate him. Itās just the tip and itās already bigger than anything youāve ever had.Ā
āYou ready?ā He whispers. You nod with a strained whine, but itās not enough for him. āTake a breath, I gotta hear your voice, pretty girl.ā
āI-ā
Your heart pounds so fast, it stops for the split second that those sharp greens irises soften. His thumb rubs a circle behind your ear.Ā
āYeah,ā you suck in one last breath. āIām ready.āĀ
āJust - hmm - Just tell me if you need me to stop.āĀ
Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in. When you first saw his size, you had expected it to sting. But instead of sharp pain, he fills you with an instant and, based on the snailās pace heās moving at, neverending pressure.Ā
āOh, babyā¦Oh, thatās it, thatās it, nice and slow.āĀ
Itās so much. Itās so good. Every bump and groove makes itself known as he buries himself inch by inch, rubbing against you.Ā
"Fuck, you have a big cock," you groan, letting your head fall back on his jacket. He has the audacity to snort as he sinks the rest of himself into you, until his hips finally grate against yours.
The hand holding your head slips out from under you and pulls down the strap of your dress. Your already stiff nipple becomes absolutely statuesque when it meets the night air.Ā
"Yeah? Well, you got a big fuckin' attitude, asking a man you barely know to come fuck you on a rooftop. You do this a lot?"
The edge of a callous catches your nipple.Ā
"No! Just f'you!" You squeak with a jolt.Ā
The callous turns into an entire paw, squeezing your entire breast harshly. You push upwards into the base of his palm, brushing your nipple against the defined lines.Ā
"Just for me? Just had to have me?"
Jason leans in closer, so you can feel each hot strained exhale.
"Had to have you!"
Thereās little more than a hair between your noses. That big strong hand finds its way to your throat.Ā
"No one else pisses off your daddy as much?"
You have no explanation for what slipped out of you next.Ā
In your entire sexual experience, you had refused to speak them. And more determined men than this one had tried to squeeze it out of you.Ā
But something about the hand on your throat and the breath on your lips had you shouting,Ā
"You're my daddy!āĀ
Something flashes in his eyes and for a moment, youāre worried you fucked up. He freezes up. His face falls blank and his mouth goes taut as he considers your words. The hand supporting his weight jerks next to your head while you pant anxiously. You get the sense that this is a first for him too.Ā
Then he lets out a breathless laugh.Ā
"Yeah. Yeah, that's right, baby. I'm your daddy.ā
He pulls out of you without warning or sympathy. Your hips chase his blindly, your hole weeping for his cock to come back. He sits back on his knees and hauls your ass over his thighs, spreading you open on his wide lap.Ā
"You holding on tight, baby?ā
You waste no time securing fistfuls of his shirt, the white logo distorting in your clutch. He lines himself up to your entrance again, brushing the sweat off your brow.Ā
"You tell me if it's too much, yeah?"
āOf course, daddy.āĀ
He grins, his sharp canines glinting. āGood girl.āĀ
He abandons his slow and steady routine to shove himself into you. He so graciously gives you a moment to re-welcome him with a little squeeze before heās pounding into you, ramming in and out of you at an unforgiving pace.Ā
You make a valiant attempt to move with him. Really, you do. But the man is actively reducing you to a huffing and puffing ragdoll. The angle he has you at leaves you nowhere to go but the end of his cock. You want to say something, to egg him on, however all that tumbles out of your gaping mouth is a series of choked uhs and ahs.Ā
That is until he hits a spot you didnāt even know existed and you let out an honest to God scream. In your defense, the speed at which he fucks you is utterly inhuman. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was Superman taking his fill of you.
He slows, moving just enough to rub up against that sensitive point. He revels in the way your legs crush his sides, your trembling knees digging into his ribs.Ā
āOh, that feels good, doesnāt it, baby,ā he groans. He plunges in as deep as he can go, lifting your hips like youāre made of clouds. Something in you pinches and burns as you open up even more for him.Ā Ā
He readjusts you with a grunt and sets a new brutal rhythm; fucking you fast and hard, then easing up when he strokes something that makes you shudder.
āPretty girl,ā he mutters, āGood girlā¦so goodā¦so so fuckinā goodā¦ā
Like clockwork, you gasp every time he slows down and drags his cock in or out of you. He lets you feel every minute detail, graciously allowing you to appreciate what he's giving you, before he's striking every sweet spot like lightning again.
āCome on, let Red Hood hear you.āĀ
White, red and gold flashes before your eyes. Your mouth falls open dumbly as you cry out for your former woud-be-rival. Although there was ecstasy exploding from your core to your belly, the best feeling was him gasping your name in turn.Ā
He pulls out of you just as he finishes, your name still falling from his swollen lips. With a heave of his chest, he rolls off of you and lands with a thump at your side. You pant together, waiting for the stars to pause their dancing.Ā
āGonna tell me why your dad took your dough now?ā He finally puffs out.Ā
āFuck, I donāt even remember,ā you laugh hoarsely. Jason snaps his head up to look at you. Dumbfounded is an adorable look on him.Ā
āSo you lure me into making a sextape for you, then conveniently forget your end of the bargain?ā
āItās not my fault you fucked my brains out,ā you shrug as you sit up. You take an agonizing moment to stretch so you can enjoy the glare on his face. āWhy do you wanna know so badly anyway?ā
He sits up next to you, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair, āIām gonna need another deal if you want me to start revealing my secrets.āĀ
Jason Toddās a quick thinker, you have to give him that. You consider him, consider the possibility of extending this hook-up into a full fledged thing. There has to be more to gain than lose. If you play your cards right, maybe you can beat your father to destroying the Wayne legacy. Orā¦maybe you can get your revenge by weaving yourself into it. Either way, youāll ensure you come out on top.Ā
āTell you what,ā you say, standing up and trying to ignore the way your legs shake. āIām free tomorrow night. Do that thing with your tongue again and it might jog my memory. Iāll do something with my tongue and see if that doesnāt inspire you to share.āĀ
He scoffs, āYouāre a little business mongrel, yāknow that?ā You roll your eyes, but extend your hand out to help him up. He looks at your hand for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Then he accepts it, cautiously wrapping his large hand around your smaller one like heās handling a snake. āNo more rooftops,ā he decides. āAnd no more up close cameras.āĀ
You nod, āFair. But Iām not calling you daddy again either. That was a one time thing.āĀ
Jason laughs. Itās just a short bark, but itās genuine. āNo problem. Itās not really my thing either. I just appreciated its dramatics for tonightās purposes.āĀ
The corners of your lips twitch upwards.Ā
āSoā¦We have a deal?ā
He gives your hand a firm shake, although it doesnāt betray the suspicion in those unnerving green eyes.Ā
āI think you said it best yourself, princess. I think we have a quid pro quo.āĀ
Something heavy settles in your chest like a weighted blanket as you shake his hand. Itās not an uncomfortable feeling, itās just that you sense Jason Todd is going to be around for a long time. And youāre going to get everything you can out of him.Ā
Sorry to send in two asks, but I accidentally submitted the last one before I was done typing
The Cinephile in me wants to know what Jasonās Letterboxd top four are. I know you said he would have terrible taste, like really bad action comedies, but surely he must like at least one good movie
skekekek i fear Jason does not know what letterboxd is, but you are correct. so-bad-theyāre-good type movies are his go to in terms of his top four favorites, my vote is
Jason watched you with amusement as you carefully peeled the pickles off your burger, stacking them neatly on the side of your tray like they were some kind of crime against humanity.
āYou know,ā he said, leaning his chin on his palm, āyou could just ask for no pickles.ā
You wrinkled your nose with a huff. āYeah, but then you wouldnāt get extra.ā
He just smirked. āYou giving me all your pickles now?ā
You wordlessly slid your tray closer to him, a silent offering. He huffed out a laugh, plucking one of the pickles off your pile and popping it into his mouth. āYouāre too good to me, sweetheart.ā
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, taking a bite of your burger. The diner around you was alive with noiseālow chatter, clinking plates, the sizzle of something fresh on the griddleābut sitting here with Jason, it all faded into comfortable background noise.
Jason reached over, stealing one of your fries. āSo, this some kind of love language?ā
You arched a brow. āWhat, giving you my pickles?ā
āYeah.ā He chewed thoughtfully. āLikeā¦ āIād die for you, and also, you can have my unwanted burger toppings.āā
You snorted. āSure, letās go with that.ā
Jasonās smirk softened just a little, something warm settling in his eyes. He nudged his plate toward you. āWell, then you can have the last onion ring. Yāknow, ācause Iād die for you, too.ā
You grinned, taking it without hesitation. āRomantic.ā Your voice came out sarcastic but still playful.
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. āYeah, yeah. Eat your damn burger.ā
And you didāwithout pickles, but with Jason sitting across from you, stealing your fries and giving you onion rings like it was a promise.
ngl iāve been rethinking some of my previous headcanons as iāve been going through and annotating his stories, appearances and mentions.
he deals with a lot of chronic pain, specifically in his shoulders and lower back. heās constantly stuck in a vicious cycle of his terrible posture making things worse but straightening his posture also makes things worse.
it took him a while to fully get his vision back after he came back to life. he still doesnāt have full 20/20 vision and one eye is worse than the other.
always carries a little note pad around with him!!
at his core, jason just wants family. he wants to be a part of his family, he just struggles to stand them all at once for longer than an hour.
he loses his train of thought and says um a lot in casual conversations. it frustrates him because the conversation will move on before heās finished speaking but itāll look super pacif aggressive if he says anything about it.
in his nsft alphabet, i mentioned heād be really into you wearing red. i stand by that, but the thing is that his favorite color is actually green. ever since coming out of the lazarus pit, his eyes have been green (slowly turning hazel). so while he absolutely adores seeing you in red, his favorite sight is you being a vision in sage - especially if you do it on purpose because that means youāre making an effort to match jason todd, not the red hood. he likes when you wear red to go out and green to stay in.
oh, and he digs it when you wear low rise jeans with a whale tail
so sorry this is a stupid question but are the Jason x sionis!Reader all in the same series n ur just posting them out of order?
hey, this is a totally fair question !!
yes, all the jason x sionis!reader stories are part of the same series. iām cooking on a few concepts to establish the timeline and the relationship more, but atm i donāt have an overarching plot or arc. i just write one shots as they come to me, so itās very slice of life in gotham city.
i do have the parts listed in chronological order on my masterlist ! if when i crank out stories with pivotal moments between jason and the gorgeous reader, iāll make an official timeline you can follow. (iām so close to having the first time they get together done, however i have discovered that i hate writing actual sex scenes)
itās a little confusing for sure, but i hope this helps !!
scorn to change my state | jason todd x fem!reader valentine's special ā”
but first free palestine !!
jason and sionis!reader exchange valentines and make it clear that they really really really like each other. featuring sonnet 29 by william shakespeare.
tw: insecure reader, slightly less insecure reader. lots of kissing. abuse of italics
a/n: this is my over the top boquet of valentines flowers for all of you, forgive the corniness. for more sionis!reader, see the links below.
magic hands | is this love | tremble & shake
Jason is fairly certain thereās a small amount of dynamite lodged in his chest, ticking along with his heartbeat.
Heās beginning to worry that this was a stupid Valentineās present. But what else was he supposed to get a woman who didnāt need anything? He wasnāt well versed enough in jewelry to not fuck it up and neither of you had time for some kind of excursion. A fancy date seemed like too much of a given, like that couldn't be the present.
Maybe it wasnāt even the right move to get you something. You're...prickly. Heās prickly. Outward affection is a rarity in this relationship. Physical affection makes him jump. Praise makes you defensive. Neither of you are good at receiving gifts - you hadnāt even exchanged Christmas presents. Youāve been lowering your emotional walls brick by stubborn brick, so maybe such a direct gift would be too much. Maybe making a point to celebrate a holiday all about love would be too much for you.
But then youād thrown him through a loop the other morning when you let out a sweet sigh and declared that you ājust love Valentineās Day.ā
Then this had quite literally fallen from the shelf and into his hands with a mighty thump in Gotham Used Books. The worn cover was the same shade of red as his helmet. The rose pattern looped around the title in a similar fashion to the floral stitching on your favorite top; the one you always wore on formal dates. And when he flipped the book open, the medieval sketch in the forward could easily be you.
You had mentioned that you wanted to read more this year. And the cashier with the English degree had assured him that this was a safe pick. It's sweet, the kind of thing a good boyfriend buys. The content is romantic, but itās not over-the-top-teddy-bear-diamond-ring-romantic. Most importantly, he thought you would like it.Ā
He just wants you to like it.Ā
Now he's not so sure.
Of course youāre wearing the damn flower shirt. His eyes keep drifting to the swirl of gold, blue, pink and red flora that thread your chest; particularly the blush petals that sit right over your nipples. Your perfume turns the room into a garden, clean like iris, dark like cherries and warm like chocolate. Even simply sitting crossed legged in your bed, youāre regal.
You shove a small white box wrapped with expensive ribbon in his hands. Heās never seen such a look of pride on your face until he pulls the ribbon and opens the lid to find another box, this time in black leather with a gold trim.
āA box within a box? How did you know!ā
āC-orny,ā you blow a raspberry at him. āItās in the box, dummy.ā
āWill wonders never cease,ā he teases back, flipping open the clasp. You scoot forward in anticipation. Your excitement canāt mask the anxiety in your eyes. Takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever lays inside. Youāre not the kind of woman to waste her time. Whateverās in the box, heās deserving of. At least, he is in your eyes - but that counts for a lot.Ā Ā
Nestled in plush cream satin is a round silver rendition of di Vinciās Vitruvian Man on a thin curb chain.
āYou have the same glower,ā you simper with a full set of teeth.
Jason scoffs in amusement. You really arenāt wrong, he thinks to himself as he traces over the meticulous detail, trying to be as feather light as his heavy touch can be. Heās just not sure if thatās a good thing.Ā
āFlip it over,ā you urge him, your voice shrinking ever so slightly. He does so, holding the coin sized pendant to his eye to read the engraving.
For My Hero.
Jasonās chest swells with something that must be joy. A amygdaloid chorus of āShe loves me! She loves me! She loves me!ā drowns out every other noise in his brain. For a moment, a red filter colors his vision and heās certain the only explanation can be that his pupils have morphed into comically large cartoon hearts.
But when he looks back at you, youāre about to combust. Your eyelids have receded into your eyebrows, which in return have receded half way up your forehead. Youāre keeping your rosy fingernails from fidgeting by digging them into your heated cheeks. The corner of your lip is twitching and he can tell that youāre resisting the urge to chew on it. The smudge of lipstick on your front teeth tells him youāve already given in at least once.
āGeez, dude, take a breath,ā he snorts.
āIf you donāt like it, we can always return it and exchange it for something else,ā you squawk nervously. āOr we can find a different chain if you want it longer or-or a different style or, yāknow, like whateverā¦ā
Jason grins a dopy, lopsided grin. Itās such a rare treat to see you so goosey. He knows he should probably feel bad about much heās savoring the nervous look on your gorgeous face. However, his usually so ceaseless voice of guilt cannot be heard as the āShe loves me! She loves me! She loves me!ā chorus begins to belt.
āItās beautiful, baby,ā he says, lifting it out of the box and clasping it around his neck. He can feel the weight of it on his sternum; not too heavy, just enough to remind him itās there. He glances over at your full length mirror and admires the way the metal gleams from across the room, proudly shining against his charcoal t-shirt. His face contorts into the same glower as the design, turning back when it makes you giggle sweetly.
āSo, you like it?ā
He leans forward and kisses you softly, running the pendant through his fingers.
āIām never taking it off,ā he swears on your lips. He means it too.Ā
You laugh again and when you pull away, Jason catches the heavenly scent of your skin. The rustle of newspaper on literature yanks him back down to earth.
āMy turn?ā You ask, the trademark coy smile returning to your lips. You tap the poorly wrapped package in his lap. The chorus in his head reverts back to the tick of the bomb strapped to his arteries, drumming in time with your fingers.
Fuck, he got you such a bad fucking gift.
āUh, yeah, yeah, sure,ā he says, the words rolling out of his mouth before he can grasp them.
You snatch the package with a bounce and your mattress creaks like a disappointed groan.
āThe comic section? Howād you know!ā You tease, poking the tip of your tongue between your teeth.
āJust open it, princess,ā he chuckles, despite how badly he does not want you to open it. He threads the ribbon from the necklace box between his fingers, painfully aware of how fine the velvety material is as he watches you tear back the coffee stained Garfield and Charlie Brown he used as wrapping paper.
Your eyes narrow in what he hopes is concentration, following the flowers and vines to the title. āShakespeareās Complete Sonnets and Poems,ā you read aloud in a tone too flat for his liking.
āI know itās notā¦You said you wanted to get more into reading, so I justā¦thoughtā¦Itāsā¦ā he trails off dumbly, rubbing the back of his overheated neck. āPoet..try?ā
You donāt seem to be paying his bumbling much mind, however. You flip open the front cover and recite, āTo my Sonnet Twenty-Nine. With all my love and respect, J.T.ā
Oh God, he forgot he'd written that.
Jason thinks he maybe makes another attempt at speaking that comes out as little more than a sad gust of air. You waste no time rifling through the book until you find the poem in question. Every swish of a turning page clangs like the beat of a death march.
He sucks in a breath when you land on the right page. You read the poem in dead silence, your lips moving soundlessly in tandem with your eyes flying along the words.
āWhen, in disgrace with fortune and menās eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this manās art and that manās scope,
With what I enjoy most contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at the break of day arising
From sullen earth sings hymns at Heavenās gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That I scorn to change my state with kings.ā
He recites in his head. Heād read it over and over and over again up until he wrapped it up this morning. It was as if Shakespeare had reached into the storm of Jasonās brain and pulled out the eye of the hurricane. How many times has he sulked over all the ways his life could be different and resented those who represented the things he could no longer have- only to look beside him and remember he had something they didnāt. You.
Despite everything heās seen, Jason is a skeptic. Heās not a non-believer, in fact, heās pretty sure he believes in God. But heās apprehensive about the forces of the universe. If theyāre out there, they arenāt looking out for anybodyā¦except for when Aphrodite or Jesus or Shakespeare created you.
Olā Will mustāve had a vision of you; the lark with the sharp mouth and the soft lips. He mustāve foreseen you sitting in your floral shirt with the petals over your nipples and the blue jeans that hug your ass, the ones that make you feel good about yourself. He mustāve dreamt about the way you make a saggy dollar bin paperback look like it cost a million dollars. It's the only way the poem makes sense.
Ever since Jason started seeing you, the whites of his eyes shine brighter and gold flecks have begun to twinkle in his hazel irises. His skin is clearer, his hair is softer, his posture straighter. Even the tension in the crease of his scowl has been alleviated. His laughter has become more frequent, much to the amusement of his friends. His fashion has become more deliberate. Maybe he's dressing for your approval, but it's made him feel more confident, attractive even. He doesnāt feel so in pain all the time.Ā
And his scarsā¦those ugly faults that become medals of honor when blessed by your holy caress. God only knows how you manage to soothe the discolored purple of his bruises into a dark cherry. And he had never noticed how the pale pink of his autopsy scar complimented his cool undertones under you had given him a wine-fueled verbal dissertation on why he looked so good in red.
You reach the end of the poem and Jasonās chest constricts with dreadful anticipation for you to say something. However, your gaze goes back to the start. Of course it is, of course youāre reading this stupid sonnet with care and attention. For someone who throws caution to the wind with her own words, youāre painstakingly analytical about everyone elseās. Jason adores that about you until itās him pinned under your microscope.
He's predicted the next movement of masked criminals based on the quiver of a nerve without breaking a sweat. For whatever reason, his skills mean nothing when it comes to you. He tries to analyze your face, but itās so furrowed in concentration. Your eyes are flitting back and forth between verses, breaking everything down.
Fuck, heās an idiot. You have an allergy to compliments and heās just given you a damn book oversaturated with them. You must be uncomfortable, you look uncomfortable. This is too intense for you. It's too much all at once. It's suffocating. Embarrassing. Needy.
Why can't he just be normal? He's scared you off. This is why he can't be in relationships. He can't not fuck it up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
āIt's like the most basic one after the one about a summer's day," he mumbles. At this point he's kneading a sore in the nape of his neck. "I know, it's-"
"It's beautiful," you correct whatever he was about to say. You finally raise your head and your eyes are misty. He straightens his spine as he realizes heās made you cry. "It's really beautiful, Jaybird. It's..."
You draw your arms into your side. You're getting shy on him.
"What is it?"
But he's not much braver.
"Is this...Why did you pick this one?"
āIā¦What do you mean?ā he asks dumbly.
You shift, looking down at the sonnet, āItās just that you said in the inscription, āto my Sonnet 29.ā Whatās special about this one?ā
HIs cheeks burn something fierce. He has no good answer. Well, he does, but youāre going to think itās stupid, "It just...it, y'know, it stuck out to me."
You peer back at him with that laser sharp precision, āWhy?āĀ
āWhy?ā he repeats, leaning forward like he hadnāt heard you correctly. You nod, cocking an eyebrow like youāre suspicious of his intentions. He trips over his tongue as he tries to come up with some nonchalant answer, āitās justā¦itās, like, really iconic, yāknow-ā
āDo you like me?ā you ask suddenly. Thereās an insecure waver in your voice.Ā
Jason blinks.Ā
āDo I like you?ā Itās a stupid question. Heās shocked you even have to ask. No shit he likes you. He adores you. He loves you. āOf course, I like you. Youāre my Valentine, of course, I like you.āĀ
āIāmā¦yours?ā
His heart races. Itās been so long since he actually did this.
āWould you like to be?ā
You immediately open your mouth, but your answer hesitates on your honeyed lips.
Cruel cold doom spreads through Jasonās chest, icing over all the joy he just felt. Youāre going to tell him no. Youāre going to tell him no and heās going to have to live with that.
But instead you say, āAre you being serious?ā
Youāre scared. Heās scared you. He doesnāt dare speak, doesnāt risk a tone. He nods slowly, holding your gaze.
āBecause I do want to be yours. I want you. I-Iā¦I really like you,ā you continue with a slight shake. āBut I just have to make sure that youāre one hundred percent sure that you want me. Like really want me. Like in this poem.ā
Youāve never been this vulnerable without the influence of substances. He has to take a moment to admire your bravery. When it first became clear that this relationship warranted more than sex, you wouldāve rather died than be this open. If youāre being this honest with him, then he owes it to you to do the same.Ā
After all, heās already let you this far into his life. Heās already told you heās the Red Hood. Heās already shown you every inch of his body. Heās already given a book of sonnets.Ā
āIf I didnāt want you, I wouldnāt have given you that poem. Fuck, baby, I wouldnāt even be here with you right now,ā he swears. He gently takes the book from you and wraps his hands around yours. His palms cover the backs of your hands completely, calluses on lotioned knuckles. Just touching you made him softer. If only you could see yourself the way he sees you.Ā
When you drop your eyes to your lap, he keeps going, āLook, I know Iām not Shakespeare and Iām notā¦great at being romantic. But I donāt get close to people very often. I definitely donāt get this close to anyone ever. I donāt even do hook-ups, but from that first night in that bar, I knew there was something special about you. Iā¦āĀ
āBut why? I mean,ā you shift uncomfortably. āIām mean. Iām not even nice to you when all you do is tell me Iām beautiful and give me fucking sonnets. So why-ā your voice catches in your throat and you blink rapidly, as if to hold back tears. āI justā¦Iām not worth more than the sex, Jay.āĀ
For a fleeting moment, Jason congratulates himself on picking the right Valentineās present. You really do get each other. However, the horror that you arenāt feeling the same relief keeps him from preening.Ā
āNo, no, no, baby,ā he shakes his head vigorously. āYou-ā he lets go of your hands. āAre-ā he grips your hips. āThe light-ā he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. āOf my life.āĀ
You sniffle as you roll your eyes, āDonāt be cheesy.āĀ
Jason snorts, hugging you close to his chest, āIāll be as cheesy as I want.āĀ
He kisses your cheek and when it makes you smile, he kisses your nose, then all the way down both sides of your jawline. He catches either corner of your lips before leaning you back to shower your neck, basking in the way your throat vibrates with laughter.Ā
āāCause,ā he continues, cupping the back of your head. āItās Valentineās and the most beautiful girl in the world is crying ācause she doesnāt know how beautiful she is. Or how sheās made an amateur romantic out of scraggly old miser.āĀ
He grazes his teeth along the crook of your neck, groaning as his crooked nose brushes against where you sprayed your perfume this morning. āI think about you every second of the day. I count down the minutes until I get to see you again. There are days where the thought of coming home to you keeps me going through the worst kind of bullshit. Because when Iām with you, life is worth living - just like the sonnet said. You make everything worth it because you are worth everything.āĀ
You let out a tiny gasp when Jason rolls you onto your back. His biceps flex as he hoists himself on top of you and bends his elbows to trail his reddening lips down the v plunge of your shirt. The medallion sits heavy on your bra line. You can feel its coolness seep through your shirt, if only because itās such a stark difference from his body heat.
āHaply I think on thee, and then my state,ā he recites between the kisses heās leaving on your collarbone. āLike to the lark at the break of day arising.ā
You give him a full belly laugh and itās the most lovely sound heās ever heard. Now he lets himself preen, rubbing his cheek along the green stitches dotting your neckline.Ā
āI like who I am when Iām with you,ā he hums along your sternum. He canāt believe how easy these words are coming to him. āI like having something to feel happy about all the time. I like you.ā
āEven when Iām mean to you?ā You whisper cautiously.
He repositions himself to rest his forehead against yours, āYouāre not mean.āĀ
āYes, I am-ā you protest, but Jasonās having none of it.Ā
āNo, youāre not. Youāre a little snarky, but itās sexy as hell,ā he says. āBut yes, I like you even when youāre snarky. Especially when youāre snarky.ā
He kisses you again, deeper this time. He lavishes your favored lip, setting a comfortable rhythm. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his body flush against yours. Manicured nails comb through the base of his hair, the way only you know he likes it. A large hand cups your cheek, a thick thumb stroking your cheekbone because only he knows how it makes you purr.Ā
āLike to the lark at the break of day arising,ā he croons when he comes up for air, pink mouth newly adorned with gloss. āFrom sullen earth sings hymns at Heavenās gate.ā
āFor thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,ā you pick up, taking a moment to admire the silver pendant hanging in your face before tangling your fingers in the chain and tugging your man back to you.Ā
You sink into each other with ease. Your touch exchanges a thousand sonnets without speaking a single word. Maybe he didnāt buy the book for the flowers or the drawing or your desire to read. Maybe he bought it because the universe saw a chance for him to tell you the things he canāt quite say himself.
āThat I scorn to change my state with kings.āĀ
What kind of car do you think Jason would drive (having a discussion with my friend)
i said this in my jason headcanons, but i actually think jason is a shit driver when it comes to cars. heās functional, but heās going to hit several curbs and do a poor parking job. heāll take a motorcycle over a car any day, BUT i do think he has one or two super old sport cars hidden around the city just in case. like a beat up mustang that really has no business running but he can get it up to 90 miles per hour.
i do think he knows a lot about cars and has an interest in them- i am a connoisseur of mechanic!jason - but itās like an art critic that canāt draw. it drove (haha) him crazy when he first came back to gotham, but honestly? you donāt need a license when you live in a city as big as gotham. motorcycles and public transportation are cooler anyways.
