I think number 14 would fit Jason so well, either that or number 50 as a treat 🤞🤭
cher beloved hello 💛 got a 14 comin' right up!
14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”
You always figured the whole Red Hood side of Jason's life would pose some unique challenges for your relationship. Worrying came with the territory.
Tonight is no different. It's Gotham; you know things come up. Jason can't reliably predict when he'll come crawling through the window to you. Never stops you from wishing he could, though. At least then, you wouldn't be pacing the living room, anxiety in your veins like a live wire kiss, until you knew he was late.
Relief finds you as the window slides open. One thick thigh swings over the sill, then the other.
Jason slides inside gracefully, eyes on you immediately as he straightens up. "Sorry I'm late," he says.
You try not to rush to him, but you'd dug so deep into your worries for him, thoughts growing darker as the night did, each one a growing list of all the horrible things that could happen in an evening. Holding him feels like an urgent need.
"Glad you're home," you say, wrapping your arms around him tight. "I was getting worried."
Jason holds you, large hand cupping the back of your head to keep you against him. When he finally gets his fill, he moves, warm palms curling around your face. His broad thumb swipes across your cheek tenderly. His helmet is tucked away in the bag he carried in with him along with the rest of his suit. The green of his eyes catches in the moonlight, glistening as he holds your gaze.
Do you have any face claims for Jason? Does he look like in game Arkham knight? I’m always curious as to what people imagine when they read/write him <3
Thanks for the question! I don't believe I'm steeped in pop culture enough to have a face claim for any of the characters I write. 😅 But in my head, he mostly looks the same way he does in Arkham Knight!
I just head canon him to look a lot older than his actual age (somewhat like a less extreme version of Langstrom) because the stress and suffering aged him a lot. And with a lot of smaller facial scars that you'll only see once you get past the brand on his face.
I couldn’t choose so I’ll let you decide between sweet, or spicy
Giggling during sex—Sweater weather
One sounds so cozy, while the other is something I can only imagine you’d do with someone you trust very much <3
You can pick the character >:)
ahhh cher thank you so much for dropping by 💛
admittedly.............this got away from me. but you've told me bruce is growing on you, and i'm nothing if not a bruce enabler, so i bring you 🫴giggling during sex with bruce
18+ MDNI
***
The soft rumble of Bruce's snores wake you. Given the alternative of substantially louder snores--the chainsaw-sounding kind that can only come with a nose broken a few too many times--and him holding you tightly crawling to you in the early morning hours--a sign of a bad night--you'll take this as a win.
Still, you nudge Bruce gently with your elbow. "You're snoring," you murmur through the grittiness of sleep.
Bruce's eyes open. He lets out a groggy grunt before his arms snake around you, pulling you flush against his chest in the special way reserved for when he's too tired to analyze his every move.
Your sleep-slurried mind has you seeking comfort in your new position, slotting a leg between his. The skin of his neck is arm against your forehead. In half-consciousness, you press your lips against him. Only in the back of your mind do you register the firmness of his morning wood against your thigh.
As Bruce's fingertips brush up and down the small of your back, you think at first he's urging you back towards your dreams; most days he's dying for an excuse to sleep in.
Shifting again is what finally allows you to put the pieces together. He lets out a sigh, something frustrated and blissful all at the same time. Thick fingers curling up into the fabric of your pajamas.
He won't ask for anything. He'd allow you to sleep against him, using his endless resolve to ignore the aching of his cock, but he doesn't need to. You already know what he needs.
The details are hazy. Messy, sleepy kisses turned to grinding. Attempting to coordinate your leaden limbs turned to Bruce guiding you down onto his cock, hands gripping tightly at the thigh hooked around his hip.
But the stretch, being full of him, that sliced through the fog of your mind.
You face him on your side, hand on his shoulder to give yourself better leverage to rock against him. His bottom hand holds your body to his chest. His top holds the back of your head holding your forehead to his.
Blackout curtains make it utterly impossible to guess what time it is, but you imagine Bruce is only running off a few hours of sleep at this point. He hardly lets it deter him, as is true of all things in his life. You feel like you're in a dream yet again, something warm and syrupy, guided by the roll of his hips.
His eyelids flutter as you rock against him. You savor the sacredness of the moment. So seldom do you get Bruce before the many worries of his life do. The deep groans that come from him are some sort of reverent song dedicated to your body. He certainly has you singing as well.
The heat of his hand falls down your side and lands on your hip. Yet again, his hands sink into your flesh, holding you tight as he pulls you down deeper onto his cock.
You croak out an awkward yelp that does nothing to hide your surprise. Part of you meant to cry out whatever expletive came to mind first, but the word never fully formed.
Bliss ripples through your body from the warmth pooling in your core. Too caught up in that to even consider feeling self-conscious about how lost you already feel.
As your eyes open, you see Bruce smirking at you, still moving against you. And you laugh, though it turns into that same pinched sound again as he sinks back deep into you, this time slightly more dignified.
You rake through the strands of dark hair at the nape of Bruce's neck, pulling him into you for a kiss, the last breath of your laughter dying on his lips. His chest rumbles against yours as he speeds up. You're putty in his hands, apart from your hips, still desperately chasing after your high.
The moment suspends. You feel yourself inching closer. Every sensation feels so fresh and all-encompassing in your first few moments of wakefulness. It's just you, Bruce, and the sheets rumpled at the foot of his bed.
"Bruce--" you breathe, unsure even what it is you're trying to say.
"Yes," he replies anyway. His voice strains. Fingers sink into your thigh again. Yours bite into his shoulder, gripping him as tight as you can as the world gives out around you.
Your ears ring. Your body tingles. You feel utterly weightless. And then you feel Bruce's cock twitch inside of you, his forehead against yours again as he lets out a choked cry.
The sounds of your breath fill the room in the absence of both of your lusty moans. Your leg is still curled at his hip, sweat mingling between your bodies.
Once again, you meet his eyes. And then a second later, you laugh breathlessly again. Bruce's soft chuckle follows shortly after.
You press a soft kiss to his chin. "Good morning," you hum.
mags!! I need to know what version of Bruce you imagine (if any) when you write for him <3
cher honey hello!!!!!!!
this is such a fun question, and honestly, it bounces around depending on what i’m working on
i think about gregory peck-inspired bruce from batman: year one basically all the time, and this was kind of how i envisioned cowboy bruce
i also love kind of a 90s yuppie vibe from him too. no one in my opinion needs slutty little glasses more badly than bruce wayne. and like, this is how i envision brucie.
but the absolute most essential part of envisioning bruce for me is that he looks like he hasn’t gotten any sleep in a few days. and i am always thinking about his scars
As much as I wanted to ask about your WIP touch, wriwm really spoke to me 😌
Also hi!!
cher!!!!! hello lovely 💛 i hope you're doing well
touch is a jason fic i was working on when i was bonkers depressed about jason being really sweet with reader who is equally bonkers depressed. i haven't done anything with it for a while, but i'm saving it for a rainy day.
wriwm is vampire bruce, AKA the meat and potatoes of the little teaser I posted a few months ago before I couldn't write anything for like three months lmao
you’re gearing up in heavy armor, clicking things into place, wrapping weapon sheaths around your ankle, your upper bicep, boots that are heavy when you walk. You’re on your way to fight by Batman’s side, what music are you listening to hype yourself up for ass kicking?
omg cher thank you for stopping by. this is SUCH a fun question
