cw/tw: sexual themes, obsessive behavior, dub con, mature language, violence, intimacy (If I'm missing any tags pls let me know and I'll edit to add)
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Word count: 800
Jason was screwed.
He wasn’t entirely sure when you became the only thing he was capable of thinking of but it was starting to become a huge problem.
Starting with Tim thawing him out after a botched patrol on Mr. Freeze because he was too busy zoning out trying to decipher the exact color of your hair, or when Dick had to carry him back to the mansion because he got stabbed in the leg during a fight with Victor Zsasz while thinking about what your favorite coffee flavor might be.
He'd never been distracted in the field before but he was struggling with caring about that. Struggling with thinking about anything not related to you. Because what was more important than you?
But you couldn’t have been that important to him, right? You’ve only known him for a year and while you’ve definitely gotten closer, there’s no way he was obsessed with you…
Except…
He definitely was.
He found himself thinking about all aspects of you. Writing down notes about how you loved sour candy (the song and the flavor.) How you could recite all of Hamilton from memory, but couldn’t remember if you turned the lights off before you left the apartment. He loved that you were double jointed, but also the clumsiest person he had ever met.
But his favorite thing about you was how you smelled.
It was never quite the same, but it was always exquisite. Sometimes it was floral, and when he was massaging your scalp after you washed your hair, he wondered if you’d be mad that he used your shampoo to get himself off.
Other times it was fruity and it reminded him of a ripe peach and how you would get so wet you would drip down his fingers while he was going down on you.
The worst is when it was musky. Because then he could only imagine the scene of you on your knees taking all of him, like no one had ever done before.
Your scent drove him crazier than any prank Steph could pull on him, or any villain he could go up against. The way you smelled was an aphrodisiac like no other. There was just one thing missing...
It all came to a head that night when you walked through the door looking absolutely exhausted. You shut the door behind you, tossed your keys into the bowl on the table and shrugged your jacket off onto the loveseat in the living room. You walked over to Jason who was sitting on the couch watching Vanderpump Rules, not that he would ever admit it to any of his siblings, and plopped down next to him.
You we’re tired as fuck and could only think about the douche who spilled a whole pot of coffee on your apron and later, got so drunk that you had to help carry him to his friends car.
But Jason’s mind was elsewhere. He smelled you the second you walked in the door, and you smelled off… Like something? No, someone else. He glanced over at your tired face and knew you weren’t aware of how his obsession with your scent was driving him crazy, but he knew what he had to do to fix it.
He slowly stood, hovering over your worn out body and picked you up, lifting with his knees. You tried protesting, but knew it was futile. When Jason wanted to care for you, there was nothing you could do to stop him.
He brought you into the bathroom and slowly began undressing you. He took his time. It wasn’t sexual, but it was intimate. Once you were down to just your undergarments, you expected him to be all over you teasing your panties off with his teeth, but he surprised you by lifting your arms above your head, taking your undergarments off and placing your body into the shower.
He washed your body with great care, allowing you to relax against him while he took his time cleaning the smell of the day off of you, replacing it with what you could only assume was his body wash, because while it definitely didn’t smell like yours, you were too tired to stop him.
When you both exited the shower, you expected him to be done helping you relax that evening, but with Jason, you could never predict his next steps. He started covering your body with Shea butter lotion and putting your braids in a bonnet. He carried you to your shared bedroom and started looking through his drawer. Before you could protest, he’d had your arms above your head again and his shirt was making its way onto your body.
You looked down at the black shirt, with the Arkham Knight logo with confusion, but when you glanced up at your favorite person in the city, all he could say, with a glint in his eye, was “I just wanted you to smell like me.”
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