jason spooning tim is probably going to cause permanent damage to tim in the long run.
but does tim care?
he probably should, given a how jason's curled around him like a fucking teddy bear, a five ton arm squeezing him and the ten ton leg draped over both his legs.
this always happens in the middle of jason getting a little too comfortable in his sleep, crushing tim against his chest like a lifeline.
however, calling it a problem would be wrong. tim doesn't really want this 'fixed.' he doesn't need it 'solved.' in fact, he welcomes it.. not that he's ever telling jason that.
it's very uncomfortable at first and has smacked the shit out of jason off him on multiple occasions but during fall and winter? it's the perfect weighted blanket.
jason's shitty apartment, despite all their tinkering, never really had a proper heater enough to equally warm the space (it's a gotham experience) and jason usually doesn't care enough for it because he usually runs warm. sometimes, tim even starts sweating after a minute of cuddling.
jason flexes the arm tim was pillowing on around his neck, biceps and forearm squeezing him.
tim was going to die like this.
"jason—"
he presses more, until jason was breathing in his ear and tim was barely breathing. his other arm snaked around tim's waist constricts like a belt and he's at jason's mercy. again.
luckily, tim has his own secret weapons.
gingerly, he slips his icy, cold fingers under jason's garter, splaying over his ticklish spot on his hip.
the effect was immediate.
"hmm—what in the fuck-" jason groans, rolling away from tim jusst enough for the boy to finally breathe properly again.
"why are you still trying to kill me after all this time.." tim wheezes, poking his fingers on jason's side again and he curls away with a snicker from the frosty tickle attack.
he catches tim's hands, immediately enveloping them with warmth that was unfairly soothing.
"can't help it. maybe all those trackers you put on me might be magnetic to yours."
"didn't you remove them all already?" tim scoffs. "..wait. i have—you put what-"
jason had him pressed against his chest again, lips sealed on tim with a knowing smile.
"good night, timmy."
"jason-" jason squeezes him again, with another matching playful sleepy kiss. tim sighs as he rolls his eyes.
then tim relents, melting back into his designated role of personal live teddy bear to his personal live heater.
he's acting like it was nothing but he definitely saw tim getting bent over by jason on his kitchen counter.
he feels sore from the jason-cock-shaped echo inside him from how fast they had to scramble up and off each other and onto a semblance of normalcy.
the silence was suffocating,
and dick was just wading through it as if he wasn't just setting down the leftovers he's actively stealing from jason's fridge on the very same spot he was just literally fucked on.
okay, maybe dick didn't actually see them.
maybe he'd probably have some decency to not put his food there.
jason didn't even dare yell at him for ransacking his stuff, too busy trying not to crawl into a hole and die, fidgeting over his book on the other end of the lumpy couch.
they weren't sure what was making this whole situation awkwardly dreadful: they fact that they were fucking or the fact that they—him and jason—were fucking.
"so," dick clears his throat and tim almost flinches, like he was just shot. "you guys are close now."
that's one way to put it.
dick smiles at them, like he was proud of something. "that's great! don't gotta worry about leaving you two alone anymore." he jokes. like this was funny.
the tension in jason's shoulders leaves for a moment, slightly. "nobody's killing anybody here, dickie." he rolls his eyes.
"we're working on a case together," tim supplied, and it was true! for the most part!
"well, good luck with that. i'm heading back right now with this." dick waves another container over, heading for the window he crawled into.
tim finally breathes as dick fired his grappling hook—
"use protection!" dick laughs.
jason groans beside him, melting into the couch and tim throws a pillow at him.
"this is why we do this in my place!" tim hisses and jason doesn't even bother budging up to look at him.
"..do you think he's gonna tell bruce?" jason says instead.
tags: somnophilia, dubious consent, cockwarming, exhibitionism (? still not sure of this one), under-negotiated kink, incest kink
—
In the haze of his sleep, Tim vaguely feels wandering hands mapping his torso, gripping at his waist and groping his chest. The shape of them was familiar; warmth of them soothing in the bitter cold, and he melts against them against his better judgement.
He lets out an involuntary mewl as calloused fingers pinch at his nipples.
“Shhh,” A voice coos softly against his ear, unlike the rough touch. Tim mindlessly hums in response, arching into them or away, he's not sure.
The pleasure slowly crawls all over his skin in goosebumps, rousing him more awake by the second, but the fuzzy comfort it brought crippled him still. Helpless, content, and.. full.
Ah. There was a cock lodged inside him, half-sheated through.
“Hng–” Tim’s breath hitches at the pressure in his cunt, slowly creeping itself within his soft inner walls. Reflexively, he clenches. He hears a breath sucked behind him.
“Yes, baby.. just like that,” a purr on his ear.
There's a shift, a shallow drag out that Tim felt the sticky dampness coating his inner thighs as he pulsed around the dick, before it rocks back in, an inch deeper. It was a slow, methodic friction, almost like he was being lulled to sleep as every stroke hit an breath stuttering spot. His pussy ached, like it had been gaping for hours—probably more likely than he'd hope—and the resistance to the cock burrowing inside him were left to weak fluttering and involuntary clenches.
And Tim wouldn't mind being used like this, surrounded by Jason's warmth and his soothing touches, helping himself on Tim after a rough night on patrol and Tim is too sleepy to fully participate.
Tim buries his face on the pillow, taking a deep breath of the freshly washed lavender-scented covers, and sighing.
..But Jason doesn't do fabricons. It makes him itch and floral scents make him nauseous if its so prominent like this one.
No, this was—
Tim peaks through his eyelids, and he can vaguely make of a shape in the dark right in front of him, as Tim laid on his side, was Dick sleeping peacefully.
His heart lurched. Every muscle fiber went still.
There's a soft chuckle on his ear, sweet and suffocating, in a way Tim had forgotten the cruelty Jason could bring.
“Wha—” Tim gasps from a harsh tug on his nipple and thick fingers invading his mouth, almost gagging.
“Seeing big brother got you all more excited, huh?” Jason nibbles at his ear, twisting his nipple. Tim whines, eyes bleary. There's a saltiness in that tone he hadn't noticed til now. Mocking. Sly.
Tim chances a glance towards Jason, and he could see a green-eyed monster in that had nothing to do with the Pit.
He'd seen it earlier, when Dick had been recounting embarrassing misadventures of Tim as Robin, with a hand petting his hair like he always would when reminiscing.
Fuck. Maybe Tim had this coming.
He's been ignoring Jason for almost a whole week now, no calls of texts. Usually, that wouldn't be such an issue, if it weren't for their last argument which resulted to the cold shoulder. Their.. activities were threatened to be exposed the more Jason acts too handsy in public, to which Jason didn't like being kept like a secret. It’s too late to backtrack after everything they've did together, that they’ll just act like normal ‘brothers’ when what they have is more than that, he had argued, to which Tim took on as a petty challenge. It's shitty, walking out like that after Jason had just vulnerably spelled out their relationship they hadn't dared to address for so long.
Brothers. That's whats they're supposed to be, not fucking each other on back alleys post-patrol and getting handsy movie nights at their apartments.
So Tim went to the brother he'd always known for sure.
Dick had been more than welcoming, as always. He's moving to a new apartment in Bludhaven, so Tim had been crashing by to help. It was nice being around Dick, someone to turn to when things get murky. Company was enough. Tim didn't have the guts to talk about what was bothering him, but Dick was patient, which a heart felt smile and clap on his shoulder.
Dick had caught a nasty cold in the rapidly freezing temperatures.
Fortunately for his big brother, he has a willing Tim as a caretaker.
Unfortunately for Tim, Dick also had another not-so-little brother volunteering to nurse him.
Tim had come back from his grocery runs to Jason stirring a fresh pot of porridge and a very content Dickie swaddled on the sofa, cooling-patch stuck on his forehead.
Jason had acted like his usual self the entire night, with his corny quips and jokes with vague literary references that get your eye rolling, making fun of the mighty Nightwing somehow knocked out by a common cold alongside Tim. You know, like normal brothers, annoying their big brother.
There was nothing brotherly about how Jason's hand trails down from his chest to between his legs. Tim squeezes his thighs close, but his digits still find its way on his slicked clit. Tim jolts, biting a moan as Jason proceeds to rub rough circles on it, undeterred by the shaking thighs and hands clawing over his.
“C’mon, Timmy. Don't clam up so much..”
Jason forces his thigh between Tim's, shoving the rest of his cock with none of the carefulness a second ago, and Tim chokes.
“If you make it difficult for me, then it's difficult for you too… and difficult for Dickface to keep sleeping..” Jason coos, wicked. “Unless you.. like that, hm?”
Jason's fingers tug at his clit, pinching. Tim gags, yelping around the fingers in his mouth, pressing his tongue down. His thighs are quivering from the pressure.
“You would like that, wouldn't you? All wide open to show off your cunt for good ol’ golden boy?” Jason hisses, “How ‘bout you be a good little brother for me now, hm? Slut.”
i just had the stupidest fucking jealousy fake/dating (???) idea.
jaytim but neither of them say anything about it and they pretend this is all Fine and Enough bc what else would be there and then jason catching a sight of tim with his yj team, specifically how easily close tim and kon are, evident to Everyone. he says and does nothing about it but simmer in weird feelings he doesn't acknowledge and moves on with life like Normal.
then some other annoying fucking kryptonian clone (not exactly but the technicalities are lost to jason not giving a shit) starts bothering him to no end bc apparently he revived him??? and he's new to this world and bothers jason about it for god knows why and he would say it's sexual harassment from the way prime just kept pestering him around with shitty pick up lines and corny innuendos like an unkillable fly on his ear. well.. he wasn't that bad, if he could just shut up for more than 5 minutes..
and then he sees tim looking their way unabashedly glowering
and oh. oh yeah this fucker killed tim's best/boyfriend(?) and he's just hanging around jason a little Too much.
he doesn't know why but he feels a rush curl into him as he leans closer to prime. it's not like they were doing anything wrong? and it's not like tim and jason are anything beyond Colleagues at best-
"sorry, i've got something to discuss with hood." red robin says, icy but leveled.
"you do?" prime asks, raising his eyebrow.
we do? jason ponders.
tim smiles, a little too sweetly. "yes, let me borrow my brother for a while."
jason's ears were ringing and probably red. prime looks between them and whistles, before shrugging.
"ok, but bring him back before i miss him." prime makes kissy noises.
the grip on jason's bicep tightens as he's pulled away.
he doesn't know what to make out of it, just that being subjected in his attention gets tim squirming internally and he has to grapple down the fact it was not pleasant and actually very much disturbing. it itches on his nape in the worst kind of way–under the skin and in his veins.
tim feels it on him whenever they share the same space: intense, focused, unyielding. worst part about it is that jason acts like this was all normal and maybe tim was insane for thinking otherwise. that it's not just tim that he stares at like that. except jason's eyes crinkle softly when joking with dick, babs, or steph and a spark of fondness when it came to damian. it was always repressed hurt when it came to bruce or alfred, laced with a yearning never addressed.
it was neither of those when it came to tim.
it was like being pierced through, dissected, and jason was deciding which part of tim he should pick apart and take with him. like jason was scraping at a scab with his nails until it stings and brings a piece of tim with him.
jason keeps staring at tim.
tim's nape itches.
he keeps staring and staring and staring
until tim figures out why it itches because jason was staring at the scar on tim's neck.
the one jason gave him, carved into him and bled him out.
a growing pit settles in tim's gut because then, the itch crawlls down, turning into an ache pulsing from his cunt.
what big heart you have! (the better to love you with)
explicit | 12.8k words | chose not use warnings
for jaytim week 2026 day 4 → fairytale retelling (little red riding hood + sleeping beauty + snow white)
Tim is put into a sleep like death, and Jason has to put all he can in an act of love to break the curse, even if meant the only way he knows how to love is to ruins.
or, Big Bad Wolf commits to the Big Bad and fucks Little Red awake.
Brudick sickfic there was only one bed bit its Bruce and Dick sharing the bed the same way they always do but Bruce got stabbed and can't cuddle like they usually do and Dick only finds that out when Bruce pops the stitches and starts bleeding through his pajama shirt while trying to pretend nothing's wrong
they're in one of bruce's safehouses in the middle of no where, far away from gotham as a rendevous point. dick had already noticed bruce favoring to lean on one side when he arrived, but figured the damage may be at most from bruises from them escaping their pursuers.
unfortunately (?), there had only been a singular twin bed in the makeshift space, with no pillow but graciously with a gray sheet.
no matter. he's used to sharing one with bruce, albeit now in a significantly smaller size than their usual californian king bed.
bruce had always been kind enough to share his space whenever dick had nightmares or when it's a little too cold (or maybe just no reason at all). it's highly comforting to be perfectly pressed up against the solid warmth of his side and the security of his arm around his waist, rhythmically tapping his hip to sleep.
bruce was already fast asleep, having did the treatment on himself already apparently and dressed in a spare black shirt lying around the supplies. when dick had laid down, curled onto his usual place at under bruce's arm and at his side, he felt him flinch for half a second before settling down. bruce stirs awake.
oh. that's his bad side.
"sorry, b. i'll go-"
"no need," bruce croaks out, groggy and low. the gravelly tone warms dick's skin. "stay here."
he didn't really wait for a response when he pulls dick over to his other side with seemingly no effort, and so his back was pressed against the cold, hard wall. dick cringes away from the surface, clinging onto bruce carefully tighter. his legs wrap around his thigh, searching for more body heat. bruce squeezes back, and they settle down like that.
dick lets the steady heartbeat under his ear lull him to sleep, breathing in the faint scent of bruce. he'd always smelled so nice and he could never know how to describe it properly.
he wakes in the later hours, smelling fresh iron and a dampness on his palms. bruce was breathing harder.
he was bleeding.
he was bleeding and dick was squeezing at his injury.
he quickly scrambles up, eyes cataloguing bruce's expression—brows scrunched, cold sweat, thin pressed lips. dick snatches up the shirt, seeing the wound bleed through the bandage.
"bruce." dick shakes him awake. "bruce, wake up you're bleeding!"
he scrambles away to reach for the first aid kit by the bedside as the man stirs awake again.
"why the heck did you not tell me you got stabbed?!" dick yells, looking at the popped self-stitched wound freed from the band-aid.
"i had it handled already."
dick said nothing else, nerves steeling into a calm as he fixes the wound again just like he was trained. bruce wasn't wrong. it was dick fault for being careless.
when he was done, he set the kit aside, making his way out the bedroom, but bruce caught his hand.
"stay, robin. it's.." not your fault "cold."
he slept, back pressed against bruce, facing the freezing wall.
(faintly, he feels a familiar weight embrace him in his dreams.)
