jason todd who makes everything in your home kiss.
it starts with your toothbrushes.
when you wake up before him, groggy and yawning. rubbing at your eyes as you pad to the bathroom when you see it. both of your toothbrushes facing one another and touching at the bristles. part of you is grossed out by the germs, but the other part thinks it’s the cutest thing to just naturally happen.
but you didn’t know he’d meticulously placed them like that the night before, giggling to himself before he shut the door after him to sneak into bed.
when you finishing brushing your teeth, you move them apart, leaving yours on the other side of the ceramic cup.
though when you get home, there they were, kissing again.
he did it after washing the dishes too, setting aside your mug next to his and letting their handles touch one another like an inanimate lovers embrace. when he’d brew both of you coffee in the morning, he’d have the handles facing outwards and the mugs clinking together until you took yours. he wouldn’t even take a sip until you pulled them apart first, watching you drink over his own mug. glasses fogging up as he pretends to read and drink at the same time.
sometimes he’d take pictures of it like people do with their food at restaurants.
the front door that was littered with different pairs of shoes, he made sure were also in love. the inanimate objects touching the other pair close. he’d even take a shoe off on either side of yours, pressing your pair between his.
the teddy bears he won you at the fair were also not safe from this. especially while sitting on your bed, he makes them face one another and smooch with the arms of the bigger bear around the smaller one. sometimes he does it while you’re in bed. he moves them to the bedside table, being sure to squeeze them face to face again.
after a long day of work you walk into your bedroom with the bed still made and jason out on patrol. you plop onto the bed when you open an eye and huff at what he’s done. the jingling of his keys and the crinkle of takeout echoes through the apartment.
he calls out your name, “i’m home princess. where are you?”
“jason get in here,” you call from the bedroom, already standing up. when he gets there your arms are crossed and your looking back and forth from him to the bed. “what is this?”
you pointedly ask as he looks to where you were. blinking at him, you struggle to compose yourself and giggle too at the position he’d placed them in. the pink bear, that was supposed to be you, was bent over and the red one that was him was pressed up behind, mounting teddy bear you.
he genuinely blinks, “uh, two bears in love?”
he says it so seriously that you can’t help but burst out laughing.
“you’re so annoying,” throwing your head back and putting your hands on his chest as he crowds over you, staring.
that familiar hunger in his eyes that makes you feel like you feel all warm and fuzzy. the calculated kind of stare that told you that sleep was not longer at the forefront of your mind.
without realizing it, he walks you backwards until the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed. he gets you off balance just to press you against the mattress and leave his hands on both sides of your head. like a familiar dance, your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in even closer. jason smiles with that irresistible face of his that lets you know you’ll cave on whatever he says next.
shifting his eyes to the bears before training them back on your face, his grin spreads more.
Jason Todd x Reader
As part of my Quiet Affections mini series
The time has finally come, as Jason and his lover finally get married. A beautiful day to start the beginning of the rest of their lives together. It's also the one time Jason's love manages to gift him a flower.
Very Fluffy
• word count: ~2.4k
You almost can’t believe that this was happening.
After a few hours spent getting ready, surrounded by Steph, Barbara and Cass, who ensure you have the best morning before the big moment.
All leading to now.
As your eyes trace your figure in the mirror, committing every detail to memory as the delicate white fabric drapes you elegantly. Your fingers tracing the fabric as it smoothens beneath your touch.
Hair pinned, curled, and whatever else the hairstylist had managed for you, all in an effort to flatter your features.
Makeup done to best suit you, with painted lips and a glimmer of shimmery eyeshadow coating your eyelids.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Babs says, while she slightly rearranges your veil.
“Honestly, move over Jason, I’ll marry you myself!” Steph jokes, causing you to lightly push her arm laughing at her antics,“I can see the headlines now, runaway bride of billionaire’s son, gets hitched with bridesmaid” causing you all to fall into a fit of giggles.
Cass then holds your hand, conveying everything you need to know with a simple “Jason’s very lucky.”
“Thank you, Cass. But I think I’m the lucky one to be honest,”
“No, Cassandra is quite right. It is Jason who is the lucky one,” a new voice enters the conversation, as Damian walks into the room.
As soon as he’s in reach you pull him into a hug in greeting. “Now, why did you call me here?”
Pulling away from him, you move to the other side of the room pulling out a clear plastic box from your bag. A small piece of twine wrapped around it with two tags attached.
Within the box itself is a beautiful boutonniere, arranged with Lisianthus, the hues of pinkish reds compliment nicely with the white Delphiniums threaded among them. The flowers themselves match those of your bouquet, all picked out precisely and with intent.
You hand the box to Damian with a little wink, “If you could please make sure that Jason gets this.”
He takes it into his hands carefully, eyes darting to yours with a silent quirk of the brow.
He notes the little tags attached to the box.
Now he knows why you had him tail Jason those few months ago, all in the hopes of finding where Jason sourced all the flowers he had given you over the years of your relationship.
You had wanted to return the favour.
He gives you a firm nod, as though he was tasked with the most serious job of them all. Before leaving you all be.
As Damian walks down the hall to where Jason is getting ready, he inspects the flowers. Upon the little tags he sees the one addressed from Anna and Franklin.
– Congratulations on the Wedding! Wishing you many years of happiness xx we’ll always have a bouquet ready for you both for your anniversary, from Anna & Franklin
These were from the florists he had found to be the source of Jason’s flower arrangements.
A smile finds its way onto Damian’s face as he remembers the encounter all those months ago. Their lack of shock when he as Robin appeared to them asking if Red Hood had been frequenting the market.
~~~~
“You mean the lovesick hero who always comes by to get flowers for his lover?” the woman, Anna, had asked dryly, a twinkle in her eyes, amused at his presence.
He had simply nodded at her words.
While her son, Franklin, was quite excited by the prospect of meeting another one of Gotham’s vigilantes. “He comes by quite often. Always wanting flowers that hold a certain meaning”
“Thank you.” Damian says as he begins to turn away, having gathered all the information he required.
“That’s it?” Anna quirks her brow.
Damian looked at her puzzled, “yes”
“Don’t we get to ask why you’ve come here?” Franklin presses on.
“Red Hood’s lover wanted to know. That is all”
“Well, tell his lover thanks,” Anna replies before handing him a handful of pink carnations, “because of Red Hood’s love for them, we get to make some pretty nice bouquets”
Damian takes a hold of the flowers, before disappearing into the night. Not before nodding to them with a silent acknowledgement.
“Hey Mom?” Franklin asks
“Hmm?”
“Do you think I’ll get to meet Nightwing next?”
Anna simply laughs, before waving her son off, “Who knows. Weirder things have happened in Gotham before, maybe you’ll even meet Batman”
~~~~
It was one of the more unique experiences Damian has had as Robin. But one he enjoyed nonetheless.
Who would have known Jason would be getting ready, about to be married.
A far cry from the person he once was.
It was a good change, Damian decided.
Opening the door he sees Jason standing there, dressed formally as he readjusts his hair.
Hands fidgeting slightly. Nerves getting the better of him.
Damian simply extends his arm before handing the box to Jason, “From your future wife.”
Jason takes it within his hands inspecting it carefully, as he reads the words on the tags, the one from Anna and Franklin, who he could not believe you had tracked down.
To the simply words neatly written by your hand,
– To my darling husband, just this once I’d like to gift you a flower. A flower that holds all of my feelings that I’ll never be fully able to express. As a reminder of my love and promise to you, forever yours, Y/N
He gently opens the box, taking out the little floral arrangement, as Alfred comes up beside him and helps him pin it to his lapel.
Looking in the mirror, he feels complete.
If someone was to have asked him years ago when he was first prowling the streets of Red Hood. If he had ever imagined himself marrying the love of his life. He would’ve surely scoffed.
Who would ever love him? Would’ve been the silent question upon his lips.
But now standing here, with the flowers pinned to his chest.
He now knows that he is deserving of your love, just the thought of being able to love you forever and tell the world essentially that he has found the one person he can be himself with, wholly and truly, no shame or secrets.
He could not have wished for anything more.
A hand falling upon his shoulder, he looks up to see Bruce. “It’s time,” Jason nods at his words, “I am so happy for you, son. You’ve really made something special”
“Thanks. Dad.”
While the exchange was short, it held a great weight.
Now he stands at the altar, waiting for you. He’s told to face the front, and only just as you begin walking down the aisle does Dick pat him to signal him to turn.
Walking down to the altar, radiant and beautiful, all eyes upon you.
But there’s only one set of eyes that matter to you at this moment.
All anxieties and worries, irrational fears of tripping down the aisle simply melts away as they meet Jason’s.
Those deep sea green eyes that you’ll never tire of. Framed by his dark lashes that flutter just slightly as he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in.
To Jason it felt like an eternity had passed, standing there, watching you. His beautiful bride to be. As you walked up to him. Smiles wide and beaming as you finally reach him.
Reaching his hand out he grasps yours with a tenderness reserved only for you.
His eyes wide open as he drinks in your appearance, “holy shit…”
“What?” Your eyes crinkle slightly as you smile bemused at his words.
Leaning in, speaking words only meant for you “You look fucking stunning” and you know he means it by the way he seems totally enamoured by you,
“Do I not look fucking stunning everyday?” you teasingly remark,
“You do, doll. But you look even more fucking stunning today” he says as he places a chaste kiss upon your cheek.
Only leaning away as Dick, who’s standing beside Jason as his best man, chastises him “Jay! You guys haven’t even said I do yet”
Causing both you and Jason to roll your eyes, as those around you laugh.
You whisper back to him, “well I think you look fucking handsome right now”
You feel as though you and Jason are in a bubble, as the ceremony goes on. Words are exchanged and spoken, all on the topic of enduring love and everlasting trust.
Jason may or may not have quoted Pride & Prejudice in his vows.
Hands intertwined with Jason’s, as he faintly rubs his fingers against yours, the slight roughness of his skin contrasting greatly against the softness of his hold.
You felt at peace in this very moment.
A sense that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
Here, surrounded by all of Jason’s family, the clear love they had for one another. Despite any differences or difficulties they had faced in the past or will face.
You felt extremely lucky.
Not only were you about to gain a loving husband. But you had also gained a loving family.
In the years leading up to your wedding, as Jason’s walls continued to crumble as you grew closer and closer.
Slowly and steadily you had met more and more of his family.
Each one, holding a special place in your heart.
Treasuring each and every moment spent with them.
From when Damian comes over to your shared apartment with Jason, to him becoming particularly close to you as though he was your little brother.
He never failed to tell Jason just how lucky he was to have, and you quote “an extremely adequate partner, who for some reason has settled for Jason.” You’d often tell him off while laughing when he said that.
To Dick, relentlessly teasing you and Jason, and insisting upon a ‘girls night’ with you which involved face masks, take out pizza and a whole lot of rom-coms, while you gossiped and laughed. Occasionally Steph, Babs and Cass would join you as well.
Whenever you needed the advice of an older sister, you would seek out Babs’ wise words. Finding solace in her grounding nature.
Whenever you needed some help with your laptop or simply wanted to find some good coffee you always called Tim.
While the beginning was a little rough, meeting Bruce was good. He was awkward, almost wary of making a mistake. As though it would scare Jason away.
You’ll never forget the way it warmed your heart, when he told you how much Jason had changed for the better, all thanks to your presence. The clear pride he held in his eyes for his son. Something you hoped he would one day verbalise to Jason.
You were so lucky to have them in your life now.
Especially Alfred.
Who was the very first person Jason introduced you to.
Hosting him at your shared apartment, he was the very first guest you and Jason had over. As you laughed and ate together. While Alfred told you stories of Jason when he was younger.
It was clear just how much they meant to each other.
It would be your little secret that you and Alfred had actually met months earlier, in a grocery store by chance. He instantly recognised you from a photo Jason had once shown him.
He may or may not have you given you the exact recipe for the chocolate chip cookies he made, “as a little comfort, for you while you build a life together”
You made these cookies anytime Jason was feeling low. Or in need of a pick me up.
The hours he spent out on patrol grew shorter and shorter. As every minute passed, he realised he only wanted to spend it with you. Wrapped up in the comfort of your arms.
Sleeping peacefully in the home you both created.
The occasional flowers he would give you never once stopped.
There was always a new beautiful bouquet or posy for every occasion, big and small. Even if there was no occasion he would sometimes surprise you.
And with each passing flower, they became pressed, dried or bottled. All doted around your home in frames, jars and even upon bookmarks.
You loved Jason. And Jason loved you.
“You may now kiss the bride!”
Without any hesitation, Jason pulls you towards him as he deeps down. Catching your lips in a moment of passion, holding you closely, as if never wanting this moment to end.
Savouring every second melded against you.
With a swift move, he hoists you into his arms before walking down the aisle, peppering kisses against your face throughout, mumbling sweet, I Love Yous, as you did the same with him.
You could get used to this…
~~~~~~
Bonus Little Moment, where Jason and you have a moment alone together.
Arms wrapped loosely around each other as they swayed slowly to the faint music, a small respite before they return to their reception with their closest and dearest all there to celebrate.
While it wasn’t their first idea to have a reception party, quite content with just having the ceremony a little dinner and cake. Bruce would be damned if they didn’t have a big celebration all together for them. As a wedding a gift of course…along with the many other gifts he had decided to spoil them with.
“Hey,”
“Hmm?” Jason hums into the crook of your neck, pure contentment
“Should we ever tell your family that we were technically already married before today?” A small smile creeps up onto your face at the memory,
It was only a few weeks ago that you and Jason had enjoyed yourselves a small ceremony, nothing impulsive, just a private, intimate affair.
A moment for yourselves, without having to share it with anyone else.
It was Jason's idea. Not wanting to spend any longer of not being yours. His heart simply ached for you, and he would spend the rest of his life making you knew just how much he loved you.
“I think that’s something we should keep to ourselves…just for now”
“I suppose.” You take in a deep inhale, taking in his scent as it encompasses you completely,
“It’d be a nice little story to tell the kids one day” Jason says without much thought, it just slips out.
Realising what he had said, he stills a little, gently pulling away slightly to glance at your face. “I mean, only if that’s what you want” He asks a little timidly.
A lovesick look adorns your face, “Yeah, that’s what I’d want too”
Leaning up to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, he turns slightly to capture your lips.
“You’ll make a great Dad.”
“Well you’ll be an incredible Mom, I know it”
Bouquet of Lisianthus (represents lifelong bonds, Great strength, rising above challenges and gratitude, appreciation and enduring love) and White Delphiniums (new beginnings, candid love, open and honest expression of love)
I hope that you enjoyed!
This one was kind of more focused upon your relationships with Jason's family and how through Jason you've gained not only a very loving partner but also a family that will look out for you both.
Feel free to explore my other works found on My Masterlist
Reblogs, comments and likes are always welcomed and appreciated 💕
(I’ve got another part planned where Jason and his love welcome their first kid! Also them having a growing family)
"still so good f'me, after all these years…" (or, dilf!jason takes his sweet, sweet time with you~)
dilf!jason todd x wife!reader
a/n: i have been plagued with thoughts of this man for far too long. seriously. huge thanks to @artficlly for helping me figure out how to get that moodboard sorted mwah mwah mwah <333333
word count: 2.1k
decription: jason todd comes home from patrol, only to start realising he's actually aging when he looks in the mirror. lucky for him, you're here too~
content: this is smut. don't like, don't read! dilfson todd has me in a chokehold oh my GOD MDNI! they get freaky, soft sex.
dc fics ♡ f'(uck) me
Jason Todd stands in front of the bathroom mirror this fine Gotham morning (read - horrible, terrible downpour, fog that can only be described as 'Silent Hill-esque' in nature, and that strange feeling that someone's always somewhere that only Gotham carries), looking back at his reflection.
Well, no.
He's not really looking, is he?
He's.. staring. With that crease between his brows that only you can kiss away, those piercing eyes that seem to glare at everything and anyone that isn't you and a frown plastered across his face, he's staring.
Because Jason Peter Todd has greys. In his hair…
Not the ones after he was resurrected! No, no, those were always there. And to be honest - he'd come round to them. At the time, they felt like a silent, quiet rebellion (one he hadn't chosen, but still).
No, these were the other greys. You know, the greys that come with… age…
Not just greys though. The crow's feet beside his eyes, lines accentuating his face. The way his bones ached a little more after every patrol. How he'd wake up every morning with a new muscle cramp or pain. How he could no longer push himself past his limit without severe consequences (lying face down in bed and groaning as you rub your hands over his aching muscles).
The way he looked like.. him.
It was strange, to be honest. Still is, he thinks, as he stares at his features in the mirror - hand grazing over the stubble before he sighs and slowly begins shaving it down. Of all his children, Jason was the one that looked most like Bruce. Jason. You know, Jason 'not the golden child' Todd. Jason 'shoot first ask questions later' Todd. Jason 'oh I died except not really so now I'm back. But also different from before. Hey what's up?' Todd. That very same Jason, now stared back at himself in the mirror.
And this time, his eyes don't find his own. No, instead they find a softer, kinder set of eyes - looking back at his with a love and adoration he still doesn't feel he deserves. One that he still blames himself for corrupting, for ruining with… well, him. Your arms snake around his shoulders from behind him, chin barely resting on one shoulder as you stand on your tip toes. There's something in your eyes today - something that glimmers and glitters as his thoughts shift away from the depressing thoughts bathroom mirrors often hold, to a more natural calm. As if you know exactly what he's turmoiling himself with.
Things weren't always like this. Once upon a time, Jason was a man filled with a rage so unbridled, so unrestrained and unstoppable, that he'd rarely know such a calm like this. Then again, you had changed that.
You're not quite sure of what goes on in Jason's brain right now (though, who is?), but the softened smile across his face as his eyes shift from that overly critical glare he stares back at himself with to a much gentler, sweeter look he keeps reserved just for you has you practically melting. All without saying a single word.
He turns towards you, raising an eyebrow as he pulls your body against him. He thinks about you for a moment. Properly. The way you never stopped loving him - even in his worst days. How fiercely you fought for him, held him close to you after every horrible night. And now he holds you close before lifting you over his shoulder. Of course you squeal and gasp as he walks the two of you over to your shared bed. Where the young, fiesty Jason would have thrown you down and teased you, the older, gentler Jason lowers you with a sweetness that makes your heart melt. Gently pulling off his shirt and pants - leaving him just in his boxers.
And year - he could rush into this, get straight to fucking you into the mattress until you're raw and sore. You wouldn't complain, but he would. So instead he sits on the edge of the bed, beckoning you closer as he waits for you.
You join him, hands immediately splaying across his collarbone first as your thumbs roll circles into his skin. He sits patiently as you eagerly explore his body, his own hands pulling you into his lap and holding you steady.
You've changed too, he realises. Where once you'd look at him with that lustful gaze, now you look at him with a sweete- No, wait. It's still there. Still that lustful gaze. Except there is a sweetness to it now. Something softer underlines it this time.
Your nails lightly trace over each and every scar, lips pressing a kiss to them as you reclaim him to be yours once more.
For at night, he may belong to the city of Gotham and its people, but now? Here and now? He was yours. And only yours.
Nothing else matters as he leans back onto the bed, his own hands trailing up your body - slowly pushing up the night shirt that held back what he had yearned to see all night, pulling it up and off you. All as you lower yourself down to him - pressing your body against him as lips trail up his body. Starting low at his abdomen, snaking up towards his chest as you pause. He knows what comes next, and a smile graces his face. He watches you slowly lick your lips, tongue flicking across them as if to wet and prepare them for him. He's not much better - biting his lower lip and lowering his gaze as your hands splay across his chest once more. Your arms push your body closer as you do, and he still can't tear his eyes away from your chest. His hands snake up higher, finding the sides of your chest as his thumbs move out over your already hardened nipples.
Just like always, your back immediately arches - body leaning further into his touch as your own hands lift ever so slightly from his chest. He continues to circle his thumbs across your chest, slowly picking pace as you begin to roll your hips over his painfully hard cock - still restrained by the cloth that separates the two of you. Your hips move faster, eager to relieve the growing heat in your lower belly, until his hands snake back down.
Stopping you.
And suddenly you're frowning, sighing as you pout back at him.
Dear Gods is he a susceptible man, when you look at him like that. He should be stronger, able to hold himself back from giving in to anything. Surely he can hold out longer, no? But then your eyes are so pretty and wide, practically begging he take you so sweetly. And your lips push out in that pout that only makes him want to drag you down to him and bite you. And you're so, so soft and gentle - how could he ever deny his sweet girl like that?
Plus, that delighted gasp you make when he finally takes control - flipping you over as his lips press against your ear - is so very worth it all,
"Hello there, pretty girl. Miss me last night?"
"Miss you every night, Jay…"
"Still so good f'me, after all these years…"
Now - just because Jason is older and takes his sweet time loving you, does not mean that he wastes time. Not when he knows you, so well like this. He knows you're practically soaked at just the thought of him making love to you, and you're already so antsy - twitching and shifting around as you whine at him.
So Jason does what every good husband should.
He starts by pulling your panties up and off you - finally letting the cold, cool morning air around you hit your folds as his hands spread your thighs open. Then, he lets himself free - tugging his boxers off as his achingly hard cock springs out, coated in cum. You giggle and he sighs, raising his eyebrows,
"Oh, Jason!"
"What's up, pretty baby?"
"Wet and ready f'me? I'm flattered~"
"…You can't use my own words against me, ya know that, right?"
"Yet here we are?"
"Yet here.. we are.."
Despite his words, he can't stop himself from smiling as your blissfully saccharine giggles bounce around the room, tickling his brain in all the right ways. All as he lines his cock up to your folds once more, tapping it against your clit. He practically revels in how your body writhes and stretches as he slowly sheathes himself into you - pausing only when each and every thick inch of him fills you.
When he pauses, he lowers his forehead to yours. Chapped lips find your own, and traces of stubble tickle against your cheeks. His hands find the small of your back, holding you up to him once more as he begins to very slowly rock in and out of you. Savouring you. He hums into your lips, eyes pressed closed as you hum back. And there's nothing more you'd want in the world, than him like this right now.
Because sure - you could have him pound you over and over again, body twisted and contorted into angles as he works you the way only he could. Your nails could be digging into his back, dragging down as he fucks you into the mattress below - bed creaking aggressively as he entirely ruins you.
But that's not what you want. Not right now, when he feels so tender and loving. Filling you with both his thick, long cock but also a sweet warmth that trickles into each and every part of you. Each thrust is slow and gentle - only picking up pace when you ask him, with that satin soft voice of yours,
"Please, Jay! Faster, baby, faster!"
"Anything for my pretty girl.."
Yet even when he picks up pace, he still keeps himself just slow enough to really relish in each movement you make. The way your walls still remember and welcome him after all these years. Or how you push up further into him when he thrusts in at that one specific angle.
Especially though, he savours your sweetened, cock drunk babbling. Words entirely lost as you lose yourself entirely on him. And there's something else about it too - the way you trust him entirely, to feel comfortable enough to be like this with him. Reminding him that he is your safe space.
Similarly, his own thoughts begin to tear and wisp away - because what is your safe space is also his safe space. He allows his thoughts to loosen, and strands practically float around in clouds of lost thoughts as the only thought remaining is just how perfectly you wrap around him,
"F-fuck, pretty girl, you take me so well, huh? So fuckin' pretty, all f'me, all like this. Always f'me baby, fuck.. Never, ever gettin' tired of this.."
You're long past words, your walls tightening around him as you feel yourself climbing higher and higher with each thrust. He's messier now - less practiced and accurate, and more needy and desperate. One hand sneaks lower as his thumb teases over your clit, rolling circles into you as you only grip on to his forearms even tighter.
He drives you over the edge, hand only leaving your clit when you begin to shake under him. And then it finds your back again, holding you close as he now flips you to be on top of him. As much as he'd love to continue, rounds and rounds of endless sex as the two of you find your releases in one another, he only thrusts up into you long enough to finish his own high. You sigh as he finally cums, thrust stuttering in you as he holds your body flush against his. One hand raises up to your hair, pulling your head into his chest and slowly stroking your hair as you sigh (somewhat wistfully, he might add).
"My love… you have bewitched me… body and soul…"
"Pride and Prejudice, Jay?"
"Mhm."
The two of you remain entangled within one another for a while, actually. Before, Jason might've rushed to clean you up and hold you in his arms - the two of you drifting into dreamland -but now he reaches for his reading glasses (you know - the one's that drive you wild, the one's that practically have you foaming at the mouth, biting your lip as you whine and moa- another time.) and slightly tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice. He flicks through the pages, before landing on Chapter Thirty Four (where the two of you had last left off, last week), and begins to read to you,
"When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr Darcy…"
And so - as Gotham resumes its regular hustle and bustle of every Gotham morning (oh, you know. The horrible, terrible weather, the crowds of people brushing past each other and the absolutely awful traffic), the two of you lie in bliss and in peace.
For Jason Todd has aged gracefully, with his sweet wife.
xoxo, roe~
btw yall need to see what my setup was (watching re5 playthroughs as i write smut LMAO):
WARNINGS: SMUT!! slight plot, porn :D, fem! wife! reader, established relationship, slight sub!reader, use of 'good girl', use of other pet names/names of endearment, dirty talk, praising
WORD COUNT: 1.4k
"Please—"
The word breaks from your lips, broken and whining, and Jason's mouth curves against your throat, the shape of his smile pressed to your pulse point.
"Please what?" His voice rumbles through you, calloused fingers slowly trailing along your inner thigh. "Use your words."
You whine, hips canting toward his touch, and he tsks softly.
"Jason," you whine, and your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. Desperate. "You know what I need."
He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the sight of him steals what little breath remains in your lungs. His white streak catches the low light, those soulful eyes dark with want. There's silver threading through the black of his hair now. At his temples, too. Evidence of time passed, of life lived together. It only makes him more devastating.
"Yeah," he murmurs, fingers dancing higher, never quite touching where you ache. "I do know. But I want to hear you say it."
"Jay—" It comes out broken, pleading.
His thumb brushes against you through damp fabric, the barest pressure, and your whole body trembles. He watches your face with an intense focus that borders on animalist— something predatory and instinctual. The realization that you're the target of that attention makes heat pool low in your belly.
"Are you gonna be good for me?" He murmurs as his fingers hook into your underwear, dragging them down with agonizing slowness. "'Hmm?"
"Yes." You nod frantically. "I'll be good. I'm always good, I'll be your good wife—"
"You're always my good wife." Jason's other hand cups your face, thumb brushing your lower lip. "But tonight?" He leans in, breath ghosting across your mouth. "Tonight, I need you to be my good girl."
The distinction between the words, the promise embedded in their subtle shift, sends heat throughout your body. Wife implies partnership, equality, the life you've built together. Girl suggests something else entirely. Something that requires surrender.
You understand perfectly, and your lower half clenches in anticipation.
"Yes," you breathe. "Please, Jason, I'll be so good for you—"
He kisses you then, swallowing the rest of your words. The intensity is almost overwhelming. Dizzying and euphoric, like a drug that works on contact. His tongue sweeps against yours as his fingers finally, finally slip between your thighs, finding you slick and wanting.
You gasp into his mouth, hands scrabbling for purchase against his broad shoulders. Even now, after years, you're obsessed with the reality of him. The heat of his skin, the controlled strength in every movement. He knows exactly how much pressure to use, where to touch, how to make you forget everything except the feel of his hands on you.
"Shit," he groans against your lips, fingers exploring. "You're soaked."
The crude observation makes you clench around nothing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he slowly drags through your folds.
He trails open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, teeth scraping, and you know he'll leave marks. He always does when he gets like this—possessive, focused, determined to map evidence of his claim across your skin. You'll wear his bruises proudly. Tokens similar to fine jewelry. Visible proof at the base of your throat when you pour coffee tomorrow morning, evidence of your vow to be his in every way he'll have you.
"Going to give my wife what she wants," Jason murmurs against your collarbone, and there's dark amusement in his tone. One finger circles your entrance, dipping inside just enough to make you whimper before withdrawing. "Isn't that what I promised? For better or worse, in sickness and health..." He pushes two fingers in suddenly, and your back arches off the bed. "In desperate fucking need?"
You can't respond. Can't do anything but keen and clutch at him as he works you open, curling his fingers with perfect precision. He knows your body better than you do sometimes, knows exactly where to touch, how much pressure, what angle makes you see stars.
"There we go," he praises, and the approval in his voice makes warmth bloom in your chest alongside the building heat lower down. "That's my girl. Taking my fingers so pretty."
His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that contrast the increasingly urgent thrust of his fingers, and you feel yourself getting close already. Too fast. But Jason's been teasing you all evening—stolen touches while making dinner, his hand on your thigh during the movie you'd barely watched—and your body remembers. Anticipation wound tight through hours of waiting.
"Jason," you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, fuck. Jay, I'm—"
"Not yet," he murmurs, and his fingers slow to something torturous. Deep, long strokes that keep you on edge. "Want to feel you a little longer, sweetheart."
The denial makes you whimper, hips rolling to seek more friction, but Jason's free hand comes to rest on your lower abdomen—not quite holding you down, but a grounding presence. A reminder that he's in control.
"Look at me," he says, voice rough, and you force your eyes open.
He's so close now, shifted up so he can watch your face while his hand works between your thighs. The hunger in his gaze makes you clench around his fingers.
"Fuck," Jason breathes, and there's something almost reverent in his tone despite the crude word. "How'd I get this lucky, huh?" His fingers curl, hitting that perfect spot, and you gasp. "Pretty face. Pretty sounds." His thumb circles your clit. "Pretty pussy."
"Jason—" It comes out broken, desperate.
"All mine." He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and his breathing has gone ragged. "My wife. Get to touch you like this whenever I want. Get to make you shake and beg and—" His fingers speed up, and you keen. "—fall apart on my hand."
My wife. My wife. My wife.
He kisses you, hungry and deep, swallowing your whimpers as his fingers work you relentlessly. When he pulls back, it's only enough to speak against your lips, and his voice has dropped to something even darker.
"Gonna make you come so fucking hard, sweetheart." Another curl of his fingers, another wave of pleasure. "Wanna feel this perfect cunt squeeze my fingers. Wanna watch your face when you let go for me."
The devotion in his voice breaks something open inside you. You clutch at his shoulders, his neck, trying to anchor yourself as the pleasure builds higher.
"There you go. So close now, aren't you? Gonna soak my hand?" He kisses your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth—gentle touches that contrast with the increasingly urgent work of his fingers. "Let me see it, yeah? Let me watch you fall apart for me."
His thumb presses harder against your clit, his fingers curling just right, and you're right there on the edge. Trembling and desperate and so full of feeling you might burst.
"I've got you. Always got you."
His mouth is on yours again—swallowing the moan that tears from your throat as your orgasm finally crashes through you. You clench around his fingers rhythmically, pleasure rolling through you in waves, and Jason works you through every second of it.
"That's my girl," he murmurs against your lips when you finally still. "So beautiful."
He withdraws his fingers slowly, carefully, and you watch—dazed and boneless—as he brings them to his mouth, licking away what remains with a groan that vibrates through your bones.
You're still catching your breath when Jason shifts, moving down your body with clear intent. His hands are already pushing up your shirt, mouth following the revealed skin.
"Jason—" Your voice sounds wrecked. "Baby, I just—"
"I know." He presses a kiss just below your navel, and you feel his smile again. "But I told you, didn't I? I'm gonna take care of my wife tonight. Gonna make you come on my tongue until you forget your own name." He looks up at you through his lashes, and the combination of his rough face between your thighs and that surprisingly sweet gaze makes your heart clench. "You okay with that, sweetheart?"
As if you could ever say no to him. As if you'd want to.
"Yes," you whisper. "Please."
Jason's answering grin is sharp enough to cut. "That's my good girl."
And then his mouth is on you, and coherent thought becomes impossible.
authors note: dilfson todd....im purring and preening and crying and creaming!!!!! no other explanation for this
anyways as usually comments & reblogs are appreciated and loved 😽😽 i work like a dog on treats
you have no idea bruce wayne is the batman, but he knows everything about you—including your illegal extracurricular activities. what started out as recon on one of gotham’s most prolific art thieves quickly turned into something…new for a man like him.
contents: role reversal, m sub, impact play, biting, teasing
warnings: light pain play
it’s getting harder for bruce wayne to convince himself this is all part of his plan. he’s sitting in one of your velvet dining chairs, stripped down to his versace boxers, watching you circle him like a vulture, and he’s not even trying to hide the erection straining through the rich cotton. your long nails drag across his shoulders, sending shivers down his spine, and you give him a wicked smile that suggests no mercy.
his blue eyes rake over you, and he swallows hard at the black silk slip that clings to your body like liquid. his heavy breathing and the clicking of your high heels on your oak floors are all he can hear, and he can’t seem to get himself together. for fuck’s sake, focus on the mission, bruce, he scolds himself. oddly enough, he repeats that every time he finds himself back in your apartment; it’s become something of a mantra.
there’s a painting hanging above the fireplace behind you that he swears wasn’t there last time—in fact, it looks like a…rembrandt? jesus christ, how did you manage that?—but before he can take proper note, your fingers grab the dark hair at the nape of his neck roughly, pulling his head back to meet your gaze. he groans inadvertently, the ache travelling straight to the head of his cock.
“who was that at the gala tonight?” you ask, your tone balanced and soft as you tug at his scalp lightly. “the woman in the red dress.” bruce sucks in a sharp breath when your other hand trails down his muscular abdomen, your nails leaving fine red lines on his pale skin.
“nobody,” he mutters, his cock twitching at the way you trace the waistband of his boxers. “she’s a journalist. a-an acquaintance.” your finger hooks into the fabric, and you reach in to wrap your hand around his waiting length. you purse your lips as you begin to stroke him slowly, your fingers still tugging at his hair.
“nobody, a journalist, and an acquaintance,” you muse, noticing the way bruce shudders at your touch. “what was her name?” you release his hair, repositioning yourself so that you’re straddling his thighs, your other hand never leaving his cock. you sit on bruce’s lap, cool and collected as his cheeks get progressively more flushed. he ignores your question, instead leaning forward in an attempt to kiss you—god, he’s so needy.
you smile, endeared, but you push him back against his seat, tutting disapprovingly. “I asked you a question, mr. wayne,” you sigh, increasing your pace as you jerk him off. again, he ignores you, bringing his hands around to cup your ass and coax you towards his cock. you shake your head, feigning disappointment. with a huff, you bring your free hand to his face, and deliver a swift, sharp slap to his cheek—not enough to hurt him, but just enough to make him whimper.
you bite your lip as you soothe the blooming red mark with your thumb, feeling wetness pool between your legs at the starved look he gives you. the sting spreading along his jaw has bruce remembering why he’s let this little game go on for so long—fuck, she’s too good. “one more time,” you breathe, squeezing his cock a little tighter. “tell me her name.” your hand speeds up, and bruce’s abdomen begins contracting in a way you’ve come to recognise.
you know he can’t answer you—he probably can’t remember the woman’s face with the way you’re touching, much less her name—but you refuse to let up. remind him why he keeps crawling back to you. you bring your lips to bruce’s neck and press a hot, sloppy kiss to his carotid artery, and the feeling of his heightened pulse against your lips sends you into overdrive; your free hand finds the nape of his neck again, and you drag your sharp nails against his sensitive scalp as you sink your teeth into the delicate skin of his neck, biting down gently.
the mix of sensations—your hands, your lips, the warmth radiating from between your legs—drives bruce over the edge; with a needy moan, his hips stutter in your grip, and hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his boxers and lower belly, coating your hand in the process. you keep stroking him through the peak of his sensitivity, bringing yourself back up to stare into his eyes as his moans get shakier, until he’s actually whining at your touch. finally, bruce slumps back in his seat, spent. his hazy eyes meet your satisfied smile, and he chuckles weakly. fuck, the rembrandt will have to wait.
a/n: had a TIME cooking this one up. find the source material here pookies 🩷
could i request a one shot of the reader finding out she’s pregnant with Jason’s baby but doesn’t want to tell him because she’s scared of his reaction and tries to leave without telling him but he finds out anyway? hurt/comfort please (with dick and Bruce and Damian appearances if you can) ?
of course darling! sorry again about the wait! i hope this makes up for it! <3
always with you - j. todd
dcu masterlist , main masterlist , teklarn’s cliche’s and tropes
jason todd x fem!reader
summary: convinced jason isn't willing to give up his current lifestyle, you attempt to hide your pregnancy and make a move to run away.
UNEDITED!
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Jason sits across from you, mindlessly scrolling on his phone as he gathers another spoonful of rice into his mouth. Before you, your dinner plate sat cold and untouched. While anxiety pounded at your temples, Jason was completely oblivious.
You and Jason had moved in together one year ago, almost right down to the date. And it has been wonderful. It was still wonderful. He’d go out at night, come back late, and being the night owl you were, you'd always have dinner prepared for him.
There was a routine just for the two of you. No hiccups or rifts for the past year. Even longer, considering you and Jason had been together for quite some time now.
Had you grown comfortable in this life for two? Are you just unwilling to bring in a third addition to your relationship? Was that selfish, or was your fear valid?
Jason eats silently. He likes to do his own thing and enjoy your company. That is until he notices your anxious stare. He swallows, wipes his mouth, then asks, “Is everything okay?”
You snap to attention. “Hm? Yes. Yes. I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. The farthest thing from it, actually. Because, not an hour earlier, realizing your cycle was three days late, you’d taken a pregnancy test. And it came back positive.
You’d heard somewhere that false positives were frequent, and false negatives were not. Or was it the other way around? You’ve seen so many videos on the internet about hidden pregnancies, fake pregnancies, women who didn’t know they were pregnant until they were twelve hours into labor.
“Are you sure?” Jason asks hesitantly. He reaches over and rests his hand atop yours. You don’t know where this senseless anxiety is coming from—it’s a little ridiculous—but it feels like he can read your thoughts if he touches you.
What if he secretly knows?
“Yeah,” you lie. “I’m just tired.”
But Jason knows you much better than that. He’s a master at studying all your silent tells. This is the one time you wished he was a stupid manchild who could never read into things. But that was why you loved him. Because he knew you.
Were you acting up too much? If you seem too concerned about something, he might go digging. Specifically in the trash for a suspected discarded pregnancy test, then find said test, and blow up about how you’re secretive and a liar and–
“I know when you’re not fine.” Jason’s words cut through the silence.
“I said I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than you intend. Stumbling over yourself, you give him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. Work was just…hell today. Can I just…go get ready for bed?”
Jason is instantly on his feet. Attentive bastard. “I’ll clean up.” He eyes your plate. “You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m just…not hungry.”
Jason isn’t the kind of man to let his woman go hungry, even if she doesn’t want to eat. Shockingly, since you two have gotten together, you’ve noticed that he keeps a strict routine for himself. Or tries to, at the very least. When life isn’t choking him out, that is. He was very adamant about maintaining said routine, and most of all, including you in it.
Since the beginning of your relationship, you’ve been drinking the perfect amount of water, three square meals a day, getting exercise and plenty of fresh air when you could.
So you aren’t surprised when Jason gives you a blank stare. “Eat,” he tells you.
And you want to. But the guilt is gnawing at your stomach and you fear you might throw up as soon as something enters your mouth.
Subconsciously, you wrap your arms around your abdomen where a tiny baby was beginning to brew. Would your child look more like him or more like you? Perhaps they would pop out and be a perfect half-half of both of your guys’ features.
You’ve considered the burden of a child before. You’re well aware of the financial and emotional challenges, plus any other child-related chaos that would inevitably come your way. Not to mention the strain it would place on your relationship with Jason.
Yet you can’t fathom the idea of leaving your baby behind. Of giving them up. This was your child. And you shared this child with someone you loved. Yes, your pregnancy was a mistake. But your baby was not.
Jason catches you staring. “What’s wrong?” he snaps again. “You’re giving me that look.”
“What look?” you say, flustered.
“The look you have when you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” Saying that felt like shoving nails down your throat. You hated lying to Jason. He hated when you lied to him, too. But this was something you both weren’t ready for. Did he even want to have the child? What if he blew up on you, screamed at you and blamed you for it?
Worse, what if he simply takes off? What if he decides that putting his life on hold for a family simply isn’t worth it? What if you’re no longer worth it?
Anxiety wraps a cold hand around your neck, strangling any truth that’s trying to weasel its way out.
“Can I please just go to sleep?” you urge.
“Please eat something first,” he challenges.
Knowing he’s not going to let up, you reluctantly take a bite of your food, and he ensures you finish every bite.
-
Morning comes and Jason claims he has some business to attend to. You don’t question it—you never do—and he leaves, but not before questioning you again.
When you deny that anything is wrong, he gives you a skeptical look but accepts the lie nonetheless. Jason lovingly pats your head as he always does before leaving.
That’s when the anxiety swarms you.
You’d been up all night thinking about it—the very likely possibility that he might not want to be with you. You’d weighed the pros and cons, and there were obviously more of the latter. Jason’s life would pause, so would yours. But he was much more irrational. Jason was accustomed to a life of spontaneity. How could you expect him to settle down?
Realistically, this burden wasn’t just on you. It was his mistake as well. It took two people to make a baby. And, if this was the situation of your friend or any other woman you know, you’d tell her to tell the man and if he leaves, take all his money and burn all his clothes.
And your friends would probably tell you the same thing.
But this was Jason. Gentle, erratic, poetic Jason.
You can’t ask him to pause his life for you. For this baby. Some part of you believes that Jason was never meant to settle down, and that telling him about this child would only push him away further. You’d rather squeeze your way out of his life without explanation, letting him hate you for a good reason, rather than hate him yourself.
So you began to pack your things. Just a week’s worth of stuff, that’s all.
Eating away at you was the knowledge of him coming home to an empty apartment. How void would he feel? Would he call you or stalk you or hunt you down and demand an answer? Jason’s unpredictability was one of the reasons you loved him—but it was also the thing that scares you the most right now.
He’d be heartbroken to know you’d left. But so long as he assumed it was only for a short amount of time, he’d be fine, right?
Probably not.
Gosh, you’re stupid, aren’t you? Knowing Jason’s nervous antics and ditching him like this? You’re not stupid. Maybe you’re just a jerk.
Your leg bounces up and down, your finger taps the steering wheel. And suddenly, you’re making a turn down a familiar road and you’re arriving at a vast driveway.
Two french doors yawn down at you as you park.
You knock at the door, heart beating so fast you thought it’d bruised your ribcage.
Soft footsteps follow and an old man greets you at the door. Alfred’s face lights up with joy, his wrinkles creasing as he smiles.
“It’s been a while,” he says, instantly welcoming you in. “Is there a reason for the visit?”
You wrap a hand around your stomach. “Is…is Bruce home? Or Dick? Or Tim or Babs or literally anyone?”
Alfred shakes his head. “Master Bruce, Master Dick, and Master Damian are all sharing lunch in the dining hall for the weekend. Unfortunately, the others couldn’t make it. Would you like to join?”
“O-oh.” Maybe that was a sign. Too many people in one spot. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Alfred. I’ll just…I should get going, then.” You turn and start for the door when the familiar butler clears his throat.
“Is something wrong, Miss?”
“Hm? I…nothing.”
“I’ve been near many children who have repressed their emotions. I know when someone is hiding something.” His lips quirk up in a smile. “How about I make us a few cups of tea? I’m sure the boys would enjoy your company.”
The warmth and lack of judgement in his tone makes you a little more eager to stay. His kindness is exactly what you need right now. So, shyly, you agree and follow him to the dining room.
Jason had brought you here once—reluctantly, of course—and everyone had fawned over you. Since then, you’ve consistently been over for family dinners and game nights. Alfred had always been kind to you. Had always been there for you and instantly accepted you as a part of the family.
Dick greets you with a warm smile, as does Bruce.
He throws an arm around you, blue eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Been a while since I’ve seen you! Jason’s been taking good care of you, right? You know I can always kick his ass if he’s not.”
You chuckle a bit. It is nice to be surrounded by such familiar faces. “We’re fine, Dick.” Fine-ish. You take a look around the dining hall. “What’s the occasion?"
“Just had some extra time on my hands,” Dick shrugs. “And little Damian here needs to socialize.”
Damian grunts. “I was studying before he got here,” he tells you without turning from his food. “He won’t leave me alone.”
Bruce smiles. “It’s nice to have you joining us,” he says. “Is there any reason why?”
“Just…” your gaze flits downward. “Just stopping by, I suppose.”
Damian is the only one who eyes you suspiciously. He is always reading into things way too deeply, and you feel especially vulnerable as he continues to squint. You’re almost tempted to tell him that staring is rude and he should’ve grown out of that by this age, but you keep your sarcasm to yourself.
Alfred seats you and hands you a cup of tea. “Tell us what’s on your mind, Miss.” Politely, he crosses his legs.
“I…I don’t know. I’ve just been having some issues with Jason, I guess.” That wasn’t the best way to put it, but you didn’t want to bluntly expose yourself. You knew Jason was consistently a hot topic at the table. There was a lot to unpack about him. And you didn’t blame them for being curious—it wasn’t like everyone got to know him as intimately as you did.
Bruce cocks his head. “Is the boy acting up?”
“No…” you try to find the words. “It’s…it’s me.” Again, your hand finds your stomach, wrapping around your torso.
Damian’s eyes flicker to your hand and you notice the subtle recognition that flickers across his face. Mutual understanding is met when he meets your gaze once again—that same understanding passes throughout the room.
Dick’s face drops a little bit when he realizes. He doesn’t know if he should rejoice given your solemn expression. Pregnancy announcements were usually a happy thing. You seemed so…glum.
“Jason…doesn’t know?” Dick asks, brow furrowed.
“I…no. He doesn’t,” you admit. Bruce was the only one who seemed a bit scandalized. Everyone else was maintaining their emotions just fine. But, knowing that one of his many adopted sons was going to be a father—more than that, he himself was going to become a grandfather, he had every right to be worried.
“May I ask why?” he says a little harshly.
You shrug, a little bit of panic seeping into your voice. “There’s a thousand reasons why!” Tears begin to well up in your eyes. Everything from the last twenty-four hours comes spilling out. “What if he runs away? What if he hates me? What if he stays but he just…resents me because I represent everything he didn’t want and he lives a life he hates?” Everything spills out. Your plan to leave for a week and make up your mind about the pregnancy, your terror, your hopes.
Alfred gives you a comical look—it almost offends you. He sets down his tea and uncrosses his legs. “You still believe in Master Todd’s recklessness?” Before you can answer, he clicks his tongue. “To tell you the truth, Miss, I don’t believe his recklessness is something he will ever grow out of.”
You listen intently, finding a strange comfort in Alfred’s soothing words. It’s all in his tone, the way he carries himself. He’s admitting to something you’re desperately worried about, yet the way he says it doesn’t concern you one bit.
“Jason has always stood by what he’s believed in,” Damian starts, his voice cutting through the silence. “and even now we cannot change him. But those beliefs apply to you and your child.” He straightens. “I believe, if there is anyone in our family that knows what real love is, it’s Jason. He loves recklessly and without reason. He doesn’t need an excuse to stay or leave, so if he valued you and your child as little as you thought he did, he would’ve abandoned you long before this mistake ever happened.”
Damian’s voice is all logic and reason, but his words find a strange ringing truth inside of you. He says it all without even flinching. A little emotionless, but connecting with you more than anyone else has in a long time.
Your lips part.
Alfred sips his tea. “If you tell him and if you decide to leave, you will always have a home here. There is no need to run away and hide from him. We are also your family. But, Miss, to be as transparent as I possibly can be, Master Todd has never loved anyone quite like he’s loved you. And his love is not an easy thing to break.” Alfred leans forward and rests a hand on your knee. The feeling warms you, spreading fatherly comfort throughout your bones.
And suddenly, your child no longer feels like such a curse.
-
Jason knows something is up. He just can’t tell what it is for the life of him. It irritates him—not knowing what’s wrong with you. Did he do something to upset you? Has he been too absent?
Thinking the latter, Jason drops whatever he’s doing and reminds himself that there will always be time for other things, there will never be enough time for you. So he stops by the grocery store and buys some flowers and chocolates, plus a bit of wine to sweeten you up as he inevitably apologizes tonight.
He heads home early. With gentle, calloused hands, Jason pours you a glass of wine and begins to run the bath. As it fills, he tears up the petals of a single flower from the bouquet he bought you. Bubbles begin to froth as the water rises, and he sprinkles the shredded petals atop the white surface.
He lays out the chocolate on a plate and checks your location, wondering when you’ll be home. It isn’t like you to leave for long periods of time. But he’s just happy he gets to surprise you when you get home.
As the slow Wi-Fi loads in, updating your location, Jason sits down on the toilet and notes how full the garbage is. He groans, annoyed at the chore but knows you’d be happy to come home to a clean house. So he sets his loading phone down and bends over, wrapping the garbage around itself when he spots something in the bag.
Cringing, he reaches in. His heart stops.
A pregnancy test? What for?
And…two lines? That meant negative, right? Or…positive?
He doesn’t even think to wash his hands before he opens a new tab on his phone and searches it up. He nearly passes out.
You were pregnant. And you were trying to hide it from him? What for? Why would you even think that? He deserved to know. He would’ve wanted to know as soon as your results came back positive. Guilt wrenches his gut. Was there a reason you weren’t telling him? Maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe you blamed him.
Finally, your location loads in. Jason rinses his hands, leaves everything the way it is, and starts towards the manor.
-
You’ve finished another cup of tea and shed two more tears by the time you have concluded that you’re going to tell Jason about the pregnancy. He deserves to know. It was the right thing, after all. And whether he left you or not—which you now were beginning to be convinced he’d never do, though your fears were still there—you were able to sustain your own life and the life of your child.
But before you get a chance to drive home, the door swings open and a fuming Jason bursts in. He’s huffing like a wolf, cheeks rosy like an embarrassed child.
Your heart stops. He’s furious. At least, you think he is. Dick, Bruce, and shockingly Damian, all jump up, ready to defend you if Jason comes in with a negative reaction—because, judging by the look on his face, he most definitely knows something.
In his hand, he has your pregnancy test.
“Jason–” you sputter. “Jason, I can explain. I’m–”
“Pregnant,” he breathes. “You’re pregnant.”
Tears well up in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I promise I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how you’d react and now that I’m seeing you here I just–”
Jason crosses the room, practically sprinting. He wraps you in the tightest hug you’ve ever had and he twirls you around like a princess. You were his princess, of course.
“You’re pregnant!” he exclaims. He pulls you close to his chest. “We’re going to have a baby.” He kisses your head. Within his chest, you listen to the frantic beating of his heart. “We’re going to have a baby,” he repeats. “Oh gosh, I hope they look just like you.”
You’ve never heard him talk like this; so blunt yet eloquent.
“You’re…not mad?” you say, dumbfounded, as he sets you on the ground.
“Why would I be mad? My woman is carrying our child.”
You see a dream come to life in his eyes—something he’s hoped for but could never say aloud. Beyond the loverboy, the vigilante, the little child from a messed-up neighborhood, you see a Father.
“Everything’s going to change,” you whisper. “Our life, our home, our routine. What if you don’t love me even after it’s all over? What if everything’s changed too much for us to stay in love?” All your anxieties pour out.
Jason cups your face, lifting your chin so he can gaze into your eyes better. “I will always love you. No matter how much your mind, your body, or your very soul changes. You will always be the woman I fell in love with.”
Relief floods you. “You really want to do it?”
“Never with anyone else,” he says. “Just with you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Always with you.”
Dick, finally able to celebrate, cheers out a loud, “I’m going to be the best uncle ever!”
Jason smiles, annoyed as ever. But deep down, he can’t help but agree.
first clark kent post on this blog. please clap. do it now.
warnings: sweetie clark & overstim 🙂↕️
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
clark kent’s blue eyes are locked onto the heart shape of your ass as he fucks into you from behind, mesmerised by the way the plump flesh ripples off him with each thrust. “you feel so good, baby,” he groans softly, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he takes in the soft slopes of your body in front of him. “so good like this.”
you whine, balling your fist into the sheets as your free hand rubs tight circles on your clit. your lower belly tightens each time his cock grazes the over-sensitive spot inside you, the window between your orgasms getting ever smaller. “clark, wait,” you plead, your legs starting to twitch again. “I’m gonna cum, god—please—” you cut yourself off with a loud moan as he fucks into you impossibly deeper, desperate to tear one last orgasm from you before you tap out.
“it’s okay, let it out, baby,” he says sweetly, coaxing out another trembling climax from your overworked body. his large hands run over your lower back and hips lovingly as a small smile tugs at his lips. he doesn’t need his x-ray vision to know that when you start squeezing him like this, you’re past the point of no return. “do it for me.”
your eyes screw shut and the hand on your clit falters as your release rattles through you, drawing out a breathless cry from your lips. clark slows his pace, watching the way your body heaves with each laboured gasp. you’re still fluttering around him when he pulls out of you gently, watching you sink into the mattress and roll onto your back, your eyes hazy and your cheeks hot. no more, you think, your pulse thrumming in your ears. there’s no way he can—
clark props himself up above you, all dark hair and toned muscle, cutting off your mental protest. a boyish grin is plastered on his rosy lips; you glance down at his cock—still hard and now grazing your belly—and then back up at him. his gaze flicks between meeting your eyes and staring at your lips, but there’s an earnestness behind the lust in his expression that makes you giggle despite your exhaustion. you bite your lip as his smile gets bigger, showcasing his dimples and softening your resolve. well, one more time can’t hurt…
— 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𖹭 j. todd x reader
is it really love if you don’t try to devour each other like animals everytime you kiss? @redjayy
ㅤㅤJASON TODD held a presence as strong as liquor. every second with him was intoxicating. he left you trashed, wrecked, hammered, smashed, and every other word there possibly was for drunk. from the moment you saw him, you wondered how’d he taste in the rain, and just like that, you became an alcoholic.
your traitorous heart battered against your chest, and his lips found the pulse in your throat like it was pure instinct. his bothersome shirt was long gone now, and your hands were wandering along his skin, tracing his scars like they were beautiful cracks in the concrete, split like a meandering river. you were tempted to plant kisses in between them like flowers.
“hands are cold.” he mumbled against your neck.
“sorry..” you whispered back, your hands finding retreat over in his hair. he shook his head lightly, silently telling you your apology wasn’t necessary.
ugh, he was a terrible addiction. and like every addict, you were attached to him. you couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t quit him whenever you wanted. you weren’t fooling anyone, all talk no bite, you gave in everytime. flames danced over everything he touched, and you were so, so cold anyway.
his mouth returned back to yours, his kisses full of tongue and hunger, like he was starving. he fit so perfectly against you though, like he belonged right there and nowhere else. it hurt whenever he pulled away, and ever so cruelly, he did.
“i want you.” he said it like it was a promise, and he wanted to keep it—keep you so badly.
the smell of tobacco and old leather wafts into your nose as jason leans over your shoulder, a dark eyebrow cocked as his green eyes look down at the book in your hand. a soft piano melody plays through the aisle of the bookstore you’re in. probably one of the composers he likes to listen to at home, given the way his finger taps against his thigh along with the measure of the song. and though no one else is in the section with you two, you still feel the embarrassment of someone possibly overhearing him.
you playfully smack him with the hardcover, then motion towards the book he has tucked under his arm. “is that another limited edition of wuthering heights?”
he shrugs. “in my defense, emily is the best brontë sister.”
you feign offense with a mock gasp. “i know you did not just diss my girl jane eyre. besides, you’re only saying that because you love hareton.”
“he deserved his own book!”
“i know, baby.”
“he wanted to learn to read for her…”
“i know, baby.”
with a mischievous glint in his forest eyes and the reflexes of cat on adderall, jason snatches your book out of your grip, swatting away at your hands and protests as he flips to a random page and begins to skim through it.
“jay—”
“so what’s this one about?” he asks, completely ignoring your whine. “werewolves? fairies? an adult modern retelling of a classic children’s tale and the pirate is now a mafia boss with a gun fetish?”
“jay, i swear to god—”
“it’s rude to swear.”
“jason—”
and, of course, because jason wouldn’t be jason if he didn’t get on your nerves at least once during an outing together, he decides to hold the book above your head, just out of reach, a low rumbling laugh reverberating in his chest. he lets you try to jump and plead and bargain your way into getting your book back, a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time, and sometimes he even lowers it enough to allow your fingers to graze it before snatching it up again. you quietly curse and pout the entire time, and all he can think about is how he wants to be able to annoy you like this for a long, long time.
he does give the book back eventually. after a worker walks by and smiles in a way that lets jason know he’s being perceived fondly by someone that isn’t you, and he hates the way his skin crawls at it.
when he goes to pay for both of your stacks of books (he always acts so appalled whenever you offer to, and after he embarrassed you in front of a different bookstore clerk by sighing and huffing throughout the entire interaction, you gave up that fight), you’re delighted to see that it was, in fact, a limited edition of wuthering heights tucked under his arm earlier. this, in turn, leads to you teasing him as you two walk out of the store, to which he teases you about the fact that you bought the first three books to a series you haven’t even read just because the covers were pretty.
“i thought we weren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover,” he challenges you.
you easily counter with, “they wouldn’t make the covers so pretty if we weren’t meant to judge them.”
“did you judge me by my cover?”
“i found you cursing like a sailor and bleeding out by a garbage bin behind a walgreens.”
“and that’s a hollywood-worthy love story according to gotham standards.”
the banter between you two continues as you walk into the coffee shop you always pop into after bookstore trips, and both of you put in your orders between smartass quips and razor-sharp comebacks. jason tries to stealthily slide the barista his card while you defend your choice in literature, but you easily swat his hand away and offer your card instead without breaking eye contact.
once your drinks are ready to go, you both venture off to the park with the pretty, giant tree you love to read and sip under.
(“a weeping katsura tree,” jason had informed you when you first took him to the spot months and months ago. “they’re native to japan and china, but they can grow pretty much anywhere they’re planted as long as the soil is well-drained.”
you blinked at him. “how do you know these things?”
“doesn’t everybody?”)
jason watches as you settle yourself against the trunk of the tree, drink in hand while your book sits in your lap, and he can’t help but think that this is what all of the love songs are all about.
they’re about going on monthly bookstore dates with someone that matches him witty comment for witty comment.
they’re about being able to tease you about your taste in books, and you knowing that’s his way of saying, “i know what you like because i see you and i love you”.
they’re about having to compromise about who gets to pay for the books and who gets to pay for the coffee because both of you want to spoil each other and neither of you know how to give up.
they’re about sitting under a weeping katsura tree together, your head on his shoulder while you read your book and he pretends to read his but, really, he’s just watching the way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks.
they’re about the way you always always always kiss him when he gets back from patrol.
they’re about you knowing when he and bruce had another argument by the way his jaw is set and how quiet he gets when you ask him how his night went.
they’re about how you brush your lips over his knuckles and whisper, “i love you no matter what.” before falling asleep tucked under his arm.
“how’s your book, baby?” you ask him.
he has to blink a few times to remember that he’s supposed to be reading, and takes a sip of his iced black americano to give him time to think of a reply. “eh, you know how it goes. they meet in a café and fall in love. there’s probably an estranged rich uncle somewhere in the mix.”
you turn to face him, an incredulous expression on your face, and look at the book on his hands. “all of that happens in, what, the first forty pages of the wasp factory?”
oh, so that’s the book he’s supposed to be reading. he’s pretty sure it’s a horror book too, which makes his fake review of the plot so far even less believable. fuck. he decides to take the conversation off of himself instead of giving you the satisfaction of admitting he was too busy thinking about how sickly in love with you he is to read.
“how’s your werewolf-fairy-pirate-mafia-boss man book going?”
you scoff. “he is not…whatever the hell you just said. he’s a hockey player.”
“and they’re fucking, right?”
you swat the book at him, your lips pursed. “they are not fucking.”
he grins. “but they will fuck.”
you sigh in defeat at the knowing smile on his face and sink back against his shoulder, fully resigned. “they might fuck. i’m not sure yet. she’s pretty adamant about not fucking but he thinks he can win her over.”
he rests his cheek against your head and pulls you a bit closer to him. “he should try offering to teach her how to set trip wire around her apartment just in case someone tries to break in. worked for me.”
“jay, i only let you do that because you came crashing into my apartment at 4 in the afternoon fully ready to murder someone.”
“you didn’t reply to my text.”
“i was taking a nap—”
oh yes, this is exactly what stephen sanchez had in mind while he wrote until i found you.
—
“would you love me if i was the orphan nephew of the man who was in love with your mother, beat into being an uneducated farmworker, and then tried to destroy all of your books because i was insecure about being uneducated?”
“jason, my love, it is 3 in the morning. i am begging you to get some sleep.”
“…is that a no?”
“i think i’m going to haunt emily brontë in the afterlife.”
✉️ — contents : : aftercare , mentions of jay's scars , fluff , yearner!jason todd , first time having sex ( in their relationship ) , grammatical errors , ooc (?)
✉️ — word count : : 1.9k
✉️ — vi whispers : : woohoo !! we reached 700!! also,, i'm still in the hospital, unfortunately. but i will be doing an event 😋 just expect,,, late responsdjes. back to my oldoldold format!!! NOW. this is acc for @fromdove !! like,, remember when i told you that i'll write you a reply?? well, here it is !! lol, how dare you be upset. + will be redoing my m.list. couldn't edit this bc my mom took my laptop
your skin still tingles. it's as if your entire body is remembering what just occurred in waves ▰ the weight of his palms, the way he spoke your name like it was something sacred. the air smells of sweat & heat & him. all is black except for the warm yellow light from the hallway seeping in through the half-open door. the blankets are kicked halfway off the bed, wrapped around your ankle. you're there with your chest rising & falling slow, like the only thing holding you to earth is the weight of his body beside yours.
he's on your side, one arm slung over your waist, forehead against your shoulder. breathing hard like he's still trying to come down. his palm glides up. your ribcage ▰ not sexually, just there, anchoring himself with you. his lips brush the back of your neck. you feel him smile a little.
"you okay?" he asks, but it's softer than normal. almost like he's afraid to screw this up.
you hum, nod, still panting. "yeah. better than okay."
jason pulls nack a little so that he can see your face. his hair is standing up in a dozen different directions, cheeks flushed, lips puffy. his eyes are dark & gentle & so, so exhausted. but they're all for you like you're the only thing in the world that exists. like perhaps he still can't get his head around you being with him, still with him after ▰ & not just forgotten like everything else.
"good," he mutters, but he still scans your face like he's trying to verify something. then, a beat behind, he adds, "didn't mean to be too rough."
you snort. "you weren't."
he's not looking convinced. his fingers are drawing small circles along your hip now. he doesn't say a word, just presses a kiss to your temple & exhales like his entire body is deflating. you reach down, grasp his hand in yours & bring it to your lips. kiss his knuckles. it's slow, gentle, & something in his chest stutters. cracks. hitched.
he rolls onto his back, arm still wrapped around your waist, & glares up at the ceiling as if it has answers scribbled all over it. his throat bobs as he swallows hard. you can tell he's thinking too much. his walls are still up, just thinner now ▰ llike he's cracking his door open a little, even if he's afraid.
"you sure you're okay?" he repeats. & it was the first time you both had sex ever since you two officially became a couple. & it's not just sex. it's everything. about how much he wishes he could be good to you. about the thousand demons in his chest that tell him he can't.
you shift closer until you're half on top of him, nose bumping his jaw. "jason," you whisper, & that's all it takes for him to relax a little.
his arm wraps tighter around you as if he's scared you'll disappear if he releases you. his other hand runs through your hair, hesitant at first, then more insistent, like he remembers you like it that way. he kisses your forehead, your cheek, the edge of your mouth. over & over, slow & soft, worshipping. he doesn't speak but his hands do ▰ they say thank you & i missed you even though we live in the same apartment & don't go.
his voice is hoarse when he speaks again at last. "lemme get you water."
"don't wanna move."
"i'll carry you."
you laugh into his neck. "you're naked."
he smiles, a little. "so are you."
"bold of you to assume i'm getting up."
"fine," he breathes, leaning his head to kiss you again on the jaw. "we'll dehydrate together. tragically romantic."
he doesn't actually get up for another couple of minutes. just stays there with you on top of him, fingers brushing the curve of your back, languid & awed. but after a bit he rolls over, pats your leg.
"alright," he says softly, "give me two seconds." & already he's slipping under & away from you.
he stands, stretches, runs a hand through his hair. & god ▰ you look. he's hot. you can't help it. the way his back curves, all that muscle shifting under skin like a sculpture made of marble that stood up & decided to look at you like that. he notices you looking & grins, wicked. bitch.
"take a picture," he jokes, picking up his sweats from the floor. "it'll last longer."
you toss a pillow at him. he catches it in mid·air, smiling. "what, can't handle the view?"
"get me water, todd."
he salutes, tugging the sweats on. "yes ma'am."
you watch him walk out & your heart kind of… swells. not just because he’s hot ▰ he is, but it’s more than that. it’s the way he hums under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening. the way he double checks the temperature of the water before bringing it to you. the way he wants to take care of you, even if he’s still learning what that means.
he returns with water & a protein bar. holds the cup to your lips like you're royalty & he's your servant, which cracks you up again. until he says "drink" with this expression that shuts you up real quick. you sip a few times. he stands there the entire time like your health is the most important thing in the world.
you remove the cup from him & place it, then pull him back onto the bed. "your turn," you tell him, pushing his hair behind his ears. "you okay?"
he stiffens a little. as if he wasn't expecting that. as if he forgot that people are allowed to ask him that too.
his voice is gentle when he speaks. "yeah. i just…"
he trails off. but you know. you know.
you run your fingers over his chest. "you don't have to say it."
he nods, then leans in & kisses you again. slow & deep & a little desperate. like he's trying to memorize this. the safety. the closeness. you let him. you kiss him back until he sighs against your lips, until he lets his shoulders relax under your hands, until he's not red hood or a broken boy or the bat's second sidekick ▰ just jason. just yours.
he buries his face in your neck afterwards, whispering, "you're really okay?"
you kiss his shoulder. "yeah. are you?"
he pauses. "i will be."
you hug him closer.
he's so close. you can feel the thump of his heart in the way he presses his chest against yours. it's a slow thrum. not quick, but gentle. intimate. honest. he's not letting you go anytime soon, & honestly, you don't want him to. his mouth leaves tiny kisses along your neck, slow & deliberate, like he's playing catch-up. perhaps he doesn't realize that you see it, but the way his hands are trembling ever so slightly is all you need to know. he's still hesitant, still so goddamned starved for you even though he already has you. there’s something in him that doesn’t stop needing to touch, to feel, as if it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.
you bite your lip, pushing your fingers through his messy hair. his eyes flicker open & meet yours, half-lidded with exhaustion but intense.
“you’re really here,” he murmurs. like he needs to hear it out loud.
"yeah, jason," you reply softly, tracing your thumb over his cheek. "i'm right here."
he leans his forehead against yours, releasing a breath as if he's not saying anything. his arms wrap tighter around you once more, as if he's worried that you're going to get away if he doesn't hold on. you roll over onto your back, pulling him along with you, the blanket wrapped around your ankles. it's silent for a bit, the only noise is the constant thrum of the city out there & the slow, thudding pulse of his breathing.
then, out of nowhere, he begins kissing you again. slow at first, just his lips grazing against yours. but then, he goes deeper. soft & hungry, his hands cradling your face like you could break. it's warm, it's soft, & you can feel every inch of him. when he pulls back, he gazes at you with uncertainty. his lips red, his hair disheveled, his face too vulnerable for the jason todd you once thought you'd known.
"don't go," he utters softly, & it's as if his entire universe hangs in the balance.
you smile, weaving your fingers through his hair once more. "i'm not going anywhere."
he sighs, a little relieved. but the moment doesn’t last long before his fingers start feeling your body again, gently this time ▰ tracing the line of your spine, the curve of your hip, your stretch marks. his thumb runs over your wrist, brushing lightly, like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t miss a single detail of you.
you reach up to touch his chest, & feel his muscles tighten beneath your fingers. he winces a little when your hand slips down, causing him to brush across a scar, but doesn't flinch. instead, he appears to lean into the touch, as though he's finding peace in it.
"sorry," he grunts softly, looking down. "forgot about the scars."
you glance at him, tracing the line of his jaw with your hand. "don't apologize for them," you tell him softly. "they're part of you. and i… i like all of you, jay."
he swallows hard, his chest tightening. "yeah? even the broken ones?"
"especially the hurt ones," you answer ( & corrected ) without hesitation, your eyes locking with his with all the sincerity in the world.
he nods, lips shaking, before he leans in to kiss you once more. this is a softer, slower kiss, like he's trying to say everything he doesn't know how to put into words. when he pulls back, his forehead pressed against yours. his hand wraps around your waist, his fingers digging in a little.
you lay a hand to his chest, tracing little circles over his heart. "you're good, jason," you whisper. "you're more than good."
he shakes his head slightly, closing his eyes for a moment as if your words are too much to take in. then, he nuzzles into your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t think i know how to do this,” he says quietly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "like. this. i don't know what you need."
you smile gently, tracing your fingers through his hair once more. "just be here with me," you breathe. "that's all i need."
he grunts in his throat. but he does not argue. instead, he glides closer, holding you against him as if he is afraid you might slip out of his hands. his lips brush the top of your head, & he stays there, his breathing slow & even against your skin.
you can tell he's going out of his way. attempting to do this right ▰ despite not knowing if he knows he's doing it wrong or not, he's learning, kiss by tender kiss, touch by tender touch. he wants you to feel at peace with him( you are ). he wants to take care of you, even though he's terrified that he's going to get it all wrong.
you lean into him, your body against his, & shut your eyes. "you're doing it right," you whisper. "this is perfect. so are you."
his arms wrap tighter around you once more, & for a second, you think you're the only thing that matters to him. his voice is husky when he talks, low & rough. "i'm not perfect, you know."
you kiss his chest, your lips touching the scar on his ribs. "you don't need to be," you say. "just.. be you. that's all i need, jason."
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