you can call me shell ᐢ..ᐢ
she/her ⟆ 24 years old 02' ⟆ pisces baby ⟆ brazillian ⟆ infp
╰┈➤ keep in mind ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
some of my content contains sensitive, sexual, or otherwise inappropriate themes for those under 18, so i kindly ask: minors, please do not interact.
Hey so baby Thomas Grayson is the sweetest baby ever! If that's okay, could I please request something about Dick's reaction to his first milestones like crawling, walking, first word... or maybe tomtom being a mama's boy 🥺 loove a mini dick grayson loving his mama so so much just like his dad does
feel free to ignore it of it does not pleases you lol! have a good day <3
𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⸝⸝⸝ 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your son was always meant to be a mama's boy. dick simply made sure of it.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ this is a sort of continuation of the tiny tyrant of blüdhaven ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ for writing purposes, i named your baby thomas grayson ⬫ english isn't my language ...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 1,4k.
❝ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❞ first of all, i'd like to give credit @/chrisssiren for the dividers. it's so nice to see how much you all loved little tomtom. i have so many scenarios for him living rent-free in my head. i've also been thinking about exploring jason's journey into fatherhood in future stories. anyway, enjoy reading! ꈍ ꈍ ੭っ
𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐘 little person with a personality much bigger than himself. he made it very clear whenever he disliked something, decided exactly what he would and wouldn't do, and treated everyone around him as though they were his own personal servants. but one thing became obvious from his very first months of life: tomtom was, without question, a mama's boy.
his very first intentional smile was meant for you. you were rocking him one quiet afternoon after a peaceful feeding. his tummy was full, he was warm and cozy in your arms, and then those bright blue eyes looked at you with unmistakable purpose. a beautiful, wide, completely toothless smile spread across his face, his smooth little gums greeting you so lovingly that your heart skipped a beat. in that moment, you knew you would love that little boy for the rest of your life.
tomtom had inherited his father's eyes, and just like dick, those eyes were always searching for you. as for his father himself... tomtom merely seemed to tolerate his existence.
one lazy morning, you carried tomtom into your bedroom and laid him down between you and dick. the baby looked around curiously, smiling every time he found your face. you entertained him with silly expressions, soft noises, and little tickles over his round belly. tomtom burst into delighted giggles, tried to grab your hand with his chubby fingers, and kicked his legs excitedly.
but the second dick leaned over his son and tried doing exactly the same thing, tomtom's expression darkened. his thin little eyebrows pulled together, his tiny lips formed the most offended pout imaginable, and both of his hands curled into determined little fists. who does this clown think he is? who let him get this close to us, mommy? the baby seemed to ask with nothing but his eyes as he glanced between you and his father.
at ten months old, tomtom said his first word. he sat in his high chair with a silicone bib around his neck and a spoon clutched tightly in his hand, banging it furiously against the tray while demanding that dick hurry up with lunch.
"easy there, buddy. it's not your last meal. daddy's working on it," dick said, as though his son would understand. instead, he received an enthusiastic, "ah! bah teh!"
once lunch was ready, dick placed the little plate in front of him. tomtom examined every single item with great seriousness. tiny pieces of steamed carrots, shredded grilled chicken, small cubes of pumpkin. a scoop of mashed potatoes so he could experience different textures. finely chopped lettuce and beets.
he stared for a long moment before letting out a tiny huff, almost as if approving his father's work. satisfied, dick gently took the spoon from tomtom's hand and began feeding him small bites.
eating had never been a problem. ever since starting solids, tomtom had happily accepted nearly everything offered to him. he opened his mouth impossibly wide and leaned forward eagerly.
the moment he closed his mouth around the spoon, his chubby little hands wrapped around dick's wrist, refusing to let him pull it back. "you really do love eating, don't you, little man?" dick laughed "did you know you're the most handsome baby in the whole world?" tomtom frowned, immediately letting go of his father's hand.
within minutes there was food on his cheeks, on the tip of his nose, between his fingers, all over his bib, and somehow... even in his hair. eventually, he grew impatient with dick's "slow" feeding and abandoned the spoon altogether, grabbing everything with both hands and enthusiastically stuffing it into his mouth.
you had only gone out for lunch with a friend, you couldn't have been gone for more than two hours. the moment you opened the apartment door and called out in a cheerful voice, "where are my two favorite boys in the whole wide world?" tomtom immediately began bouncing excitedly in his high chair.
his little legs kicked wildly. his clumsy hands clapped together over and over. he twisted his body as much as he could, desperately trying to see you. dick chuckled and reached for the bib. then, all of a sudden "ma... ma... ma..."
dick froze. his eyes went wide as he looked at you. you looked just as stunned. "is... is he trying to talk?" dick whispered in disbelief. you hurried over, dropping your shopping bags onto the living room floor without a second thought.
walking around the high chair, you leaned closer to your son "hi, sweetheart. are you trying to tell mommy something?" your voice was gentle and warm. tomtom's smile somehow grew even bigger.
he stretched both arms toward you, opening and closing his tiny hands while making excited little noises "ma... mama..." it came out quietly, still uncertain, but he kept trying "ma... ma..." then, proudly "mama!"
clear enough for both of you to hear, clear enough for him to know he'd gotten it right. your eyes filled with tears instantly. you didn't care about the food covering him anymore, all you wanted was to pick up your little boy and hold him as tightly as you possibly could.
"that's right, my love," you whispered through happy tears "that's me. i'm your mommy." tomtom immediately snuggled into your arms, wearing that dazzling smile that melted both your heart and dick's.
dick somehow looked even more emotional than you. his own eyes shimmered with tears as he wrapped both arms around you "i can't believe his first word was mommy. it was supposed to be daddy," he complained dramatically, pretending to be deeply offended.
laughing, you took tomtom's tiny hand and covered it with kisses "i carried him for nine months, sweetheart. of course he looked at all my hard work and thought, 'oh my god, my mom is incredible. i have to give her this one.'"
dick let out an exaggerated sigh before laughing softly, his forehead falling against yours. he snuggled even closer, hiding his face in the curve of your neck while absentmindedly stroking tomtom's hair.
dick grayson was, without question, a devoted husband and father. his two greatest treasures in the entire world were safely tucked inside his arms.
even before tomtom had been born, the two of you constantly argued over who would "receive" all the important milestones. the first smile, the first word, the first steps. naturally, you insisted that, as his mother, the obvious choice was you. dick argued just as passionately that, as his father, your son would naturally want to imitate him and make him proud.
they were silly little arguments, mostly excuses to distract you whenever your growing belly made your back ache or your feet swelled after standing for barely five minutes.
what you never knew was that almost every night after patrol, dick quietly slipped into tomtom's bedroom. more often than not, tomtom was awake, quietly staring up at the star-and-bat mobile bruce had given him as a gift.
the room was softly lit by a warm bedside lamp. tomtom spotted his father and immediately broke into a smile. "well, there's my big guy," dick whispered as he walked over to the crib.
he leaned down, tomtom instantly reached both arms up, determined to grab his father's nose. "did you miss daddy, buddy?" dick never picked him up, he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before tomtom drifted back to sleep on his own.
instead, he offered his fingers for tomtom to chew on and play with while the baby happily kicked beneath his blanket. then dick reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. he opened a picture of you.
tomtom immediately became fascinated by the glowing screen. "buddy... this is your mommy." he spoke slowly, carefully exaggerating every syllable "mom-my. can you say it with me? mom-my."
he made sure the baby could clearly watch the movement of his lips "she's the most important woman in the whole world, you know that? we're the two luckiest, and handsomest, guys alive. all because we have her." tomtom continued staring at your picture with complete fascination. "so here's the deal, little man. you're going to learn how to call for her, okay?"
"this..." he pointed gently toward your picture. "...is mommy. mommy. your beautiful mommy." and so, for countless nights over countless months, dick secretly held little lessons with your son, patiently teaching him that the most important person in both of their lives was, without a single doubt… mommy.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞 ⇢ your finals were stressful enough. having jason doing chores shirtless around the apartment certainly wasn't helping.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⇢ suggestive ⬫ fluff ⬫ established relationship ⬫ f!reader ⬫ no physical description is given for the reader ⬫ english isn't my language .... 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⇢ 2k.
❝ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ❞ first of all, i'd like to give credit to the incredibly beautiful jason artwork by @ciricearts and the dividers by @/chrisssiren. i'm so happy because this blog just hit 100 followers, yeee!! the idea for this fic came from the awful grade i got in business math... but at least i managed to recover it in the end. anyway, i hope you enjoy! ꈍ ꈍ ੭っ
𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 the type to sleep much. years spent living on the streets, combined with all his training and his life as a vigilante, had taught his body to snap awake at the slightest sound. even after his longest patrols, his brain stubbornly refused to let its guard down.
but last night's patrol had been different. harder. he'd taken more hits than usual, fallen from a considerable height, and thrown more than a few guys into walls. by the time he'd made it back to your apartment, it was already a little past 3:00a.m. he'd barely managed to peel off his gear before collapsing into bed beside you.
when jason finally woke up, it was already 11:00a.m. he stretched lazily beneath the blankets, hugged the pillow against his chest, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand to make sure he wasn't imagining the time. the ceiling fan spun overhead with a soft, steady hum. the bed was warm, comfortable, and smelled like you. and he trusted you with his whole heart. under those circumstances, sleep came easy.
he reached across the mattress, patting your side of the bed, only to find it empty. the bedroom door was closed, and no sounds drifted in from the rest of the apartment.
sitting up, he rolled his shoulders, wincing as sore muscles protested and a few joints cracked pleasantly. then he lifted an arm, caught a whiff of himself, and grimaced. he'd been so exhausted last night that he hadn't even showered. you deserved better than that, he thought. the bare minimum was being a clean, decent-smelling boyfriend.
jason climbed out of bed, grabbed the towel you'd left out for him, and headed for the bathroom. warm water poured over his aching body, easing the soreness from the previous night's patrol while washing away sweat, grime, and dried blood. once he was done, he pulled on nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants and stepped out with damp hair still dripping onto his shoulders.
the moment he entered the living room, he found you sitting on the floor with your back resting against the couch. an open laptop sat in front of you, a lecture video paused on the screen. around you lay an overwhelming sea of open textbooks, notebooks, highlighters, scattered pens, and one oversized mug of coffee.
jason knew your finals were right around the corner. he also knew how seriously you took your education. it was one of the things he admired most about you.
walking over, he bent down and gently ran a hand through your hair "morning, pretty girl. sleep well?" you closed your eyes for a brief moment, leaning into his touch before immediately returning your attention to the page in front of you.
"morning, baby. i did. what about you?" you asked without looking up from the book. "there's fresh coffee. i bought your favorite jam yesterday, it’s in the cabinet if you want some." a small smile tugged at his lips. he left you to your studying.
in the kitchen, jason poured himself a mug of coffee, tossed a couple slices of bread into the toaster, cracked a few eggs into a frying pan, and helped himself to the jam you'd mentioned. sitting on one of the counter stools, he ate in comfortable silence, stealing occasional glances in your direction with a faint smile.
once he finished, he gathered the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. last night's dinner plates were still stacked there, so he organized everything in what he considered the most efficient way before washing each plate, fork, and glass in an order that probably only made sense to him.
meanwhile, you were losing your mind over one particular subject. it had never been your strongest class, but you were far too stubborn to settle for a mediocre grade. with a heavy sigh, you let the textbook fall into your lap and glanced toward the kitchen, where your boyfriend stood at the sink with his back turned to you. and holy shit. he was gorgeous.
his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. his broad, bare back flexed with every movement, showing off defined muscles marked by both old and fresh scars, along with bruises earned during the previous night's patrol.
your eyes drifted lower. his sweatpants hung low enough to reveal those little dimples above his hips. and jason's ass? absolutely perfect. round, firm. infuriatingly nice. your boyfriend was undeniably stunning.
but you didn't have time to admire him, you had a damn exam to study for. you picked your textbook back up and tried to focus. tried. because every few seconds, your head seemed to turn on its own, your eyes instinctively finding jason all over again.
now he was putting dishes away in the cabinets, completely oblivious to the absolutely starving beast — you, to be specific — watching him from across the room.
you forced yourself to look back at your books. only to lose your place again. and again. you'd forget what you'd just read, lose your train of thought, and have to start the entire page over.
jason still had his own apartment, but the two of you had been together long enough that spending several days at each other's places had become completely normal. you had a section of your closet reserved for his clothes, just like he'd made room for yours at his place.
at this point, it honestly felt like you both had two homes. this was already jason's fifth day staying over. technically, the two of you hadn't spent much time together. he'd been busy with patrols, and you'd been buried under assignments and exam prep. still, for jason, simply crawling into bed beside you at the end of the day was enough to quiet his mind and make him happy.
because of your finals, the apartment had gotten a little messy. you were under so much pressure and juggling so many responsibilities that some chores had inevitably been pushed aside. but jason had been staying there all week too, the mess wasn't yours alone. so he decided to take care of it. that way, you'd have one less thing weighing on your mind.
he started by sweeping the apartment, deliberately avoiding the vacuum cleaner so the noise wouldn't interrupt your studying. afterward, he grabbed the mop and started cleaning the hardwood floors, adding a pleasantly scented cleaner that slowly filled the apartment with a fresh, comforting smell.
from your perspective, it was heaven. jason todd, all 6’0 tall, shirtless, muscles shifting beneath his skin as he quietly went about household chores without complaining once. god, you found competent men so unbelievably sexy.
almost instinctively, you brought the pen you were holding to your mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cap as the textbook lay completely forgotten in your lap.
you looked him over again. this time from the front. your gaze wandered from his broad chest, down over his sculpted abs and the happy trail that, truthfully, made you very happy indeed.
then your eyes dropped a little lower, and you noticed something. jason had apparently pulled on his sweatpants without bothering with underwear. now, as he pushed the mop across the floor, his very well-endowed friend swayed ever so slightly beneath the fabric, leaving very little to the imagination.
a quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped you before both hands flew up to cover your face. seriously… how were you supposed to study when your boyfriend looked that unfairly good?
the worst part? he genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was doing to you. you took a sip of the coffee that had long since gone cold and inhaled deeply. focus. you could not fail this class.
with a little of your self-control restored, you grabbed your notebook and resumed the lecture you'd been watching before jason woke up. maybe listening to the professor while taking notes would be enough to keep your attention where it belonged.
it worked, for a while. right up until jason walked back out carrying an overflowing laundry basket with one hand as if it weighed absolutely nothing. his expression was as calm as ever, and the flex of his arm made every muscle stand out beneath his skin, veins tracing along his forearm.
you followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the laundry room. a long sigh slipped past your lips as you let your head fall back against the couch. why was watching him do laundry so attractive?
a few minutes later, he returned, and you could hear the washing machine starting its cycle somewhere in the background. focus. you tried again. you pulled your notebook closer to your face, hugged your knees to your chest, and turned the lecture volume up, silently hoping your professor's irritating voice would annoy you enough to kill the mood.
the plan fell apart the second jason came back carrying a feather duster. watching him move from shelf to shelf, stretching, crouching, balancing an entire stack of books in one hand before placing every single one back exactly where it belonged… that was enough.
you paused the video. screw it. the study session was already doomed anyway. at that point, getting soaked with a bucket of water hardly mattered when you'd already jumped into the pool.
you stretched your legs out, rested one arm along the couch, and propped your head against your hand. then you simply watched him. completely shamelessly. your imagination filled in the blanks faster than you could stop it.
eventually, jason seemed to notice your stare. he turned around and met your eyes. his gaze flickered briefly toward the abandoned books and notebooks scattered around you before one corner of his mouth curled upward. raising an eyebrow, he smirked "babe... shouldn't you be studying?"
"oh, i absolutely should," you admitted with a shrug. "seriously. i bombed my last exam." a mischievous smile slowly spread across your face as you kept staring at him. "and may i ask why you aren't studying?" jason asked, already sounding suspicious.
"because..." you paused dramatically, running your tongue across your lips. "study is important..." another deliberate pause "but biceps are importanter."
silence. then jason burst out laughing. "you little pervert!" he accused, pointing a finger at you. "were you seriously checking me out?"
"this is entirely your fault," you shot back without missing a beat "how am i supposed to focus on studying when there's a ridiculously hot vigilante with a body sculpted by the gods cleaning my apartment shirtless and commando?"
jason blinked. then looked down. only then did he realize exactly how obvious the outline beneath his sweatpants was. he pressed a hand dramatically against his chest, feigning offense "so you're admitting, without a shred of shame, that you've been shamelessly thirsting over my body while i was completely innocent and blissfully unaware?"
your grin only widened. crooking a finger, you beckoned him closer. jason didn't hesitate, he walked over immediately before crouching in front of you, leaning in until your faces were only inches apart. "yes," you confessed softly "i absolutely was. i was staring shamelessly."
"not even a little embarrassed?" he murmured, his smile growing as he leaned even closer. "not even a little." your arms slipped around his neck as you closed the remaining distance, meeting his lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
when you finally pulled away in search of air, you tilted your head slightly "thank you, baby." he looked at you curiously "i've been so overwhelmed thinking about finals that i didn't even realize how cluttered everything had gotten."
jason's expression softened immediately, his thumb brushed gently across your cheek "you don't have to thank me. you're taking care of school. that's your job."
"but you didn't have to do all this, you know." he answered with a quick peck before meeting your eyes again, his voice completely serious "yeah, i did. your job is to take care of school. my job..." his smile turned impossibly gentle. "...is taking care of you."
your chest tightened, a lump formed in your throat. it was such a simple sentence, but it was exactly what you needed. to be taken care of. you pulled him into another kiss before whispering against his lips, "then let's go to the bedroom," a teasing smile tugged at the corners of your mouth "and take care of something else, too. i've been missing a few things."
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ drunk!jason todd x fem!reader, fluff, talks of pregnancies, art by ciricearts
“Sweetheart, we’re gonna have a baby?” he mumbles, lifting your shirt to press messy kisses up your stomach. You’re not sure where he got this idea from. The two of you have never talked about kids, mostly because you’ve been afraid to bring it up.
You learned early on that the future was something you didn’t mention around him. Every time you made an offhand comment about a ring, or how cute babies were, you’d see his shoulders tense, his throat bobbing.
Now, at his words, your heart beats wildly in your chest. “Uh…”
“I hope she has your eyes and your nose and your pretty smile,” he slurs.
“Jay, what are you—”
He cuts you off when his nose brushes your stomach softly. “Our baby,” he adds.
When he looks up at you, his blue eyes are glassy, cheeks dusted in pink.
You can’t bring yourself to shatter the moment. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that.
“That’s…nice, honey,” you hum, fingers threading through his black curls, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.
He sighs like a puppy. “You feel nicer.”
Your lips curve up at that. "Come on, let's get you to bed," you whisper as you try to pull him up.
But the man's too stubborn. He stays rooted and grunts in disapproval.
"Not done talkin' to her," he tells you, arms wrapping around your hips.
“her?” you repeat softly. “How do you know it’s a her?”
"Father's intuition," he says like it should be obvious.
You laugh and he pouts when he feels your shoulders shaking. "You really want a baby?" you ask him.
He tilts his head. And he's never looked so unguarded before.
"Wanna give you everything."
Maybe in the morning you'll find the courage to ask him again. But for now, your expression softens. You don't know what to say, so you kneel with him and throw your arms around his neck. He smells like gunpowder and leather, and this time a tang of alcohol clings to him.
he’s always smelled like home.
"Princess?" he whispers.
"Yeah?
"what're we naming her?"
Instead of replying, you just hug him tighter.
masterlist
have this while i work on better stuff lmao. i’m soooo excited for my knight bruce fic it’s all i’ve been thinking abt
Thinking about maybe Jason Todd with a reader who refuses to get on his motorcycle and then finally relents after months of dating ;-;
𑣲⋆₊˚⊹꒱ 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄
.ᐟ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jason todd x gn!reader.
.ᐟ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞: you were afraid of motorcycles, but jason was determined to show you why he loved them. after months of trying to convince you, you finally gave in and agreed to ride with him.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff・established relationship・no physical description is given for the reader・english is not my language.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,2k.
⟢ ੭ ꒰𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: okay, i think i got a little carried away while writing this because i usually don’t write things that are much longer than 1.5k words. but i really enjoy receiving requests, and this one was special because i’m terrified of motorcycles. i think the only person i’d actually feel comfortable riding with would be jason. ꈍ ꈍ
you had known jason for a while. three years of friendship before finally admitting the feelings you had for each other. and now, with eight months of dating, you could say that you had learned certain things about him.
the first thing was that he was simply impossible to convince to change his mind once he put something inside that stubborn head of his. the second was that he had an incredible habit of hiding his true feelings, always saying he didn’t care about things that clearly mattered to him. and the third was that he definitely did not accept a no very easily.
and it was during one of his negotiations that you found yourselves, probably the third one that month alone. “no!” your voice came out firm, already used to saying that. jason raised an eyebrow and rested his chin more deeply against your stomach.
you were lying on his apartment couch, you underneath him and him on top of you, his head resting on your stomach, his body between your legs that wrapped around him. his calloused hands played with yours, your fingers intertwined.
it was a quiet night, something extremely rare in gotham. a cool breeze came through the window, and even though you were in the top floor of the huge building, you could still hear some of the city’s noise. cars passing by, people returning home, life happening. “you didn’t even think before answering…” his voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt, his green eyes looking at you with an expectation he was clearly trying to hide.
“i thought about it for months, and my answer is still the same: no!” you replied, shaking his hands back and forth. he tilted his head to the side and smiled before bringing one of your hands closer to his mouth “it’s funny that you think i’m going to give up, you know?” he started kissing your hand, moving up to your wrist and giving playful little bites. “jason…” your voice sounded like a warning.
“sweetheart…” he answered in the same tone, adjusting himself and moving higher until your faces were at the same level. you tried to keep a serious expression, but it cracked when he quickly raised and lowered his eyebrows several times. “oh my god, you’re so annoying, dude!” your voice carried no real anger.
“but you love me. actually, i think that’s the thing you love the most about me.” jason smiled and leaned closer, brushing his nose against yours. “yes, i love you. but that doesn’t mean i’m going to get on your motorcycle.” that was the problem.
ever since you started dating, jason had been trying to convince you to ride with him. the problem was that you were terrified of motorcycles. just imagining falling gave you chills, and you knew that statistically speaking, the passenger was usually the one who got hurt the most in accidents.
not that you didn’t trust him, because of course you did. but fear was not always rational, and your mind could only show you the worst possible scenarios. besides, you had seen him ride before, and you knew that adrenaline could practically be jason’s middle name. not to mention gotham traffic was already a nightmare by itself. riding on two wheels, at high speed, right in the middle of that chaos? no. you would pass. “i don’t understand what the problem is,” he said, still staring at you.
“jay, you ride like a missile. you think your motorcycle is a fighter jet and you try to race wally.” he thought of an argument. his mouth opened and closed a few times before he simply shrugged and placed a longer kiss on your lips.
“okay, whatever.” he got up and stretched his arms above his head, extending his body. “i just wanted to share this with you…” he said it before walking away toward the kitchen.
that caught you off guard. it was rare for him to admit things like that, and for a moment you felt guilty. you adjusted yourself and sat up, turning your head to look for him. he acted like nothing was wrong, and someone who didn’t know him would probably say he was fine. calm. relaxed.
but you were different. you knew him for real, behind all the beauty and sarcasm. and you knew he was upset. you just didn’t expect it could upset him that much.
feeling your eyes on him, jason lifted his head and met your gaze. a small smile appeared on his lips, the same loving smile he only gave you. while putting away some dry dishes back into the cabinets, he asked “sweetheart, what do you want for dinner tonight? pizza, burgers, chinese food…?”
you shook your head, pushing those thoughts away, and stood up, walking over to him. you wrapped your arms around him from behind and whispered “whatever you want.” your voice came out muffled against the fabric of his hoodie.
the days passed and jason didn’t bring up the subject again, but those words of his never left your mind. what was so special about riding a motorcycle? you didn’t understand, but it seemed like it was something important to him. and how many times hadn’t he given up certain things just to make you comfortable or make you happy?
maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to put your fear aside and give the experience a chance, even if just the thought of getting on that machine made your stomach twist.
the sound of the coffee machine finishing its process pulled you out of your thoughts. you watched the last drops of the dark liquid fall into your paper cup and then decided to act before you started overthinking all the possibilities.
you stepped away from the machine and sat down on one of the chairs in the break room, placing your cup on the small side table. you took your phone out of your pants pocket and opened jason’s contact, quickly typing.
you: okay, you win!
you: i’m in.
babe: great!
babe: i love winning.
babe: but what exactly did i win??
you: tomorrow i’ll ride the motorcycle with you.
you: but if you speed, i swear i’m slashing your tires when we get back.
babe: …
babe: i’ll pick you up at 4:30 pm, pretty angel.
babe: i have a meeting with b in the morning.
babe: you won’t regret it.
babe: promise.
you smiled like an idiot at your phone screen before putting it back in your pocket, grabbing your coffee cup, and taking a sip. it was just a ride, you told yourself. and of course you trusted jason with your life. you knew he would never do anything that could hurt you. it was just the irrational fear screaming inside your head that this was a terrible idea.
the rest of the day went by peacefully. you continued working and occasionally exchanged messages with jason. when you arrived at your apartment, you immediately took a shower and heated up a ready-made meal in the microwave.
jason had already warned you that he would be going on patrol that night, which meant that besides not seeing each other, he would probably have some bruises when you met the next day.
the morning came faster than you expected. it was saturday, and as always, gotham was gray. the sky was covered with clouds and pollution, and traffic was heavy even on weekends.
you spent most of the morning lying in bed, scrolling through your timeline and laughing at stupid videos. your friend had invited you to have lunch together, and when the agreed time arrived, you were already standing in line to try the new restaurant that had just opened in that neighborhood — a neighborhood far from yours, by the way. but your friend was so excited that you couldn’t say no.
you had lunch, did some unnecessary and useless shopping, and you were already home by 2:00 pm. you got ready carefully, choosing a heavy leather jacket and thick pants, obviously imagining a horrible scenario where the two of you fell off the motorcycle and those clothes would at least protect you from scraping yourself all over the asphalt.
fifteen minutes before the agreed time, jason was already at the entrance of your building. through the living room window, you could see him leaning against the motorcycle, waiting until the right time to text you.
you took a few deep breaths, thinking about anxiety exercises you had researched before. when you reached the ground floor and stepped outside the entrance, jason’s eyes immediately found yours, and he opened a surprisingly wide smile.
his beautiful eyes carried a different kind of brightness, an excitement you had only seen a few times during the time you had known each other. he met you halfway before you could even reach the motorcycle. your hands were sweaty, your breathing clearly rehearsed.
jason knew you well and immediately held your face with both hands, looking firmly into your eyes “you have no idea how much this means to me,” he paused, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb “i promise i’m going to keep you safe. you don’t have to be afraid.”
you let out an awkward laugh and placed your hands against his broad chest “i know that. it’s just… fear isn’t a little switch we can just turn on and off, right?” he moved closer, placing a slow and long kiss on your lips. when you looked at each other again, he was more serious, but with the same affection he always carried. “i know that, sweetheart. if you don’t want to, we won’t go. it’s okay. you know you never have to be afraid of telling me no.”
you nodded and smiled, leaning against him “i know. i want to. let’s go!” you said it and took a step toward the motorcycle. he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and the two of you walked back to it together.
the first thing you noticed were the two helmets resting on the seat. his was black, and there was a new one in a dark red color. “this one is yours,” he handed the helmet to you “and i did some research. i don’t know, i figured maybe you’d want to use this, so you don’t mess up your hair.”
he said it before taking a satin bonnet out of his jacket pocket. the laugh that escaped your lips was completely genuine before you reached out to take it. “you thought of everything, didn’t you?” he simply shrugged and took the helmet from your hands, letting you put the bonnet on and fix your hair.
when you finished, he insisted on putting the helmet on you himself, adjusting the strap underneath, securing it firmly, and checking that everything was right. then, he put on his own helmet and got on the motorcycle. “do you know how to get on?” he asked.
you shook your head no. jason smiled before explaining “put your foot on that support there, then throw one leg over the seat, adjust yourself, and place your feet right there.” he pointed with his head, and you followed his instructions, struggling a little because of the size of the motorcycle. “now, keep your body steady. keep your back straight. hold my waist, love. really tight. you can squeeze me as much as you want.”
he didn’t even need to say that, you were already wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him with all your strength, your body trembling slightly. “now, close your legs more. lock your thighs… that’s it. you’re doing great.”
before turning on the motorcycle, he warned you. even so, you held onto him tighter when the engine roared to life. then, when he started moving, your body wasn’t as straight and steady as he had asked you to keep it, and you fell backward and then forward again, making your helmet hit his. even with the sound of the engine and the helmets muffling everything, you could hear his laughter “it’s okay, love. it happens, it’s normal!”
jason started riding very slowly. actually, really slowly. so slowly that an elderly woman driving a jeep passed you when she overtook him. your body was still shaking. you held onto jason like a baby koala holding onto its mother, your helmet pressed firmly against his back and your eyes squeezed shut.
when he asked if you were okay, you shouted that you were. little by little, jason increased the speed, but still kept it at something that felt acceptable for you. when you stopped at a traffic light, he tapped your hands twice and you opened your eyes. “you know, if you keep your eyes closed, you’re going to miss the best part of the ride.” he spoke loudly enough for you to hear over the noise of the city “trust me, pretty angel.”
you nodded and squeezed him a little tighter. when he started moving again, you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. your hands were still sweaty and the fear was still there, but slowly, you began paying attention to the beauty of the city that you could never notice from a car or even walking.
from time to time, you noticed jason slightly turning his head, trying to check if you were okay. to reassure him, you gave him a thumbs-up against his chest.
jason gradually increased his speed, nothing that was actually frightening. you still felt that nervous flutter in your stomach, but now it was starting to feel different. the city’s sky, which had been so cloudy that morning, was beginning to take on the orange colors of sunset.
jason drove through prettier streets, where you could see people walking, couples holding hands, children playing with their pets, and street artists showing their talents. the bright signs from stores and restaurants began lighting up, making everything feel even more special and beautiful.
at some point, a sudden courage took over you, and you decided to lift the visor of your helmet. immediately, your face was greeted by the cold city air. you closed your eyes for a brief moment, just feeling it, and held jason tighter in your arms.
eventually, jason left the busier part of the city, and you ended up somewhere more isolated. he rode up a small hill and then stopped, parking the motorcycle in the middle of the grass.
jason got off first, then took your hand and helped you get down. he removed his own helmet, then reached for the buckle of yours and took it off as well “so… what do you think?” you brought a hand to your head and removed the satin bonnet, slightly crumpling it before putting it in the pocket of your jacket.
a small smile appeared on your lips, and you looked at him from the corner of your eye. with your hands still in your pockets, you stepped closer and looked into his eyes “well, mr. todd… i hate admitting this, buuut…”
“buuut…?” he wrapped one arm around your waist and pulled you closer “what? i was right this whole time and you owe me an apology for doubting me when i said it would be amazing?” you laughed and slapped his arm, moving closer and wrapping your arms around his neck “wow, you’re so full of yourself. full of yourself and annoying on top of that.”
“i’ll accept an apology. ‘oh jason, you were right all along and you’re such a wonderful, handsome, intelligent boyfriend. i was so stupid for not listening to you before—’” he made a terrible imitation of your voice, and to shut him up, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.
the kiss between you was slow and warm. jason’s tongue explored your mouth calmly, full of desire. kissing him always felt like the first time, the same butterflies in your stomach, the same fire growing inside your chest.
when you pulled away, he still searched for your lips before resting his forehead against yours “so… am i forgiven?” he simply nodded, biting his lip to hold back a smile. one of his large hands moved up and down your back while the other rested carefully on your waist.
he turned slightly to look at the city and pointed in that direction with his head “take a look.” when you turned around, your breath stopped for a second. it was simply beautiful. the sun had almost completely set, and now gotham was glowing with lights.
it was sad to admit, but you had never thought that city could be beautiful in any way. but looking at it from there, it seemed incredible. “sometimes, if you look from the right place… even this nightmare of a city can look like a dream.” jason said, resting his head against yours.
you stayed like that for a while, hugging each other from the side while watching gotham shining in the distance. distractedly, jason took one of your hands and intertwined your fingers, bringing your joined hands to his lips and placing soft kisses on them.
“riding is freedom for me.” his voice was quieter now. “i’ve been riding since i was young. it wasn’t exactly legal, but who cared? i wore tiny green shorts and fought alongside a man dressed as a bat. riding underage was the least of my problems.”
he paused before continuing. “she’s one of the few things that belongs only to me, you know?” he looked at the motorcycle “with her, i’m free. i don’t have to perform anything. i just get on and ride wherever the wind wants to take me.” he looked back at you and kissed your fingers while saying it “here, i’m just jason. nobody else gets on her. having you with me means letting you have access to a very special and essential part of me.”
your eyes became slightly teary at his words, and your free hand moved to his cheek, gently caressing the skin where his beard was starting to grow and feel rough. “thank you, jay. truly. for sharing this with me.” you pulled him into a quick kiss. jason smiled and quickly recovered his usual posture.
“i looked into this place. i came here before and thought you’d like it.” he said it as if it was nothing special, but you laughed and pulled him into a full hug. “oh my god, jason. you’re a romantic, you know that?”
he immediately hugged you back and buried his face in the curve of your neck before saying “i’m not.”
“of course you are. you just admitted you researched a beautiful place in gotham to bring me.” you pulled away slightly and took your phone out of your pocket “let’s take a picture, love.”
jason agreed, and the two of you positioned yourselves. one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he rested his head against yours, smiling softly. you opened a wide smile and squeezed his cheek with your free hand. then, you took the picture. jason probably would never admit it, but that photo would become his lock screen for the next few months.
here are some lace dividers that i found cute and decided to color. the HEX codes for each color used are available. you don't need to reblog to use them, but a like would be greatly appreciated ᵔᴗᵔ ଓ
Jason Todd would absolutely pay for your nails. Not just because he liked the way they looked—though god, he did—but because it was his money, his treat, and if anyone so much as suggested you shouldn’t, he’d laugh in their face before flipping them off. He’d let you drag to the salon, slouching in the chair beside you like a bored prince, scrolling through his phone with one boot propped on his knee. But then he’d glance up, catch the way the light hit the fresh gloss on your nails, and suddenly he’s leaning in, voice low. “That one. The dark red. Like blood.” And when you raised an eyebrow, he’d smirk, all teeth. “What? It’s hot.”
He liked your hands on him. Everywhere. The way your fingers curled around his cock, nails biting just enough to make him hiss; the way they tangled in his hair when he was between your thighs, his name a prayer on your lips; the way they scraped down his back when he was inside you, leaving half-moon imprints he’d trace later in the mirror with a grin.
His favorite, though, was the way they scraped. Not hard—just enough. The light drag of your nails over his scalp when you were half-asleep, your fingers splayed in his hair like you were anchoring him to the earth. He’d go boneless under your touch, all that restless energy finally still, his breath warm against your collarbone. You could feel the moment he gave in, the way his muscles loosened, the way his weight settled over you like a second skin.
That’s how you found yourselves now: him sprawled across you on the couch, one of your hands fisted in his hair, the other slipped under his shirt, tracing the ridges of his spine. He was limp, completely out of it, his face buried in your neck like he was trying to breathe you in. You, meanwhile, were rambling, because of course you were.
"And get this," you muttered, your voice muffled against his hair, "when they’re playing against each other years later, Patrick does the serve Art does. And Art immediately knows. Like, his whole face just—" You pulled your hand from his hair to mime an explosion. "—because he recognizes it."
Jason made a sleepy, incoherent noise. "How?"
You rolled your eyes so hard it should’ve been audible. "I told you this. You weren’t listening."
"Was listening," he mumbled, but his voice was thick, his words slurring together. "Just… don’t get tennis."
"It’s not about tennis," you scoffed, giving his hair a sharp tug. He hissed, but didn’t move—just pressed closer, like he was daring you to do it again. "It’s about the subtext. The way they’re all lying to themselves. Art thinks he’s finally won Tashi over, Patrick thinks he’s over Art, Tashi’s just… there, smirking like she’s already won everything in life when really all she ever wanted was to play. But that was taken from her. Because of the injury. "
Jason went quiet for a long moment. You could feel the gears turning in his head, slow and reluctant, like a rusted engine. Then, with a sigh that ruffled your hair: "Sounds like a bunch of people making bad decisions over a game they take too seriously."
You laughed, because of course that’s what he’d take from it. "It’s about love and competition and—"
"Scratch." His voice was suddenly sharp, his head lifting just enough that his breath ghosted over your pulse point. His fingers found your wrist, guiding your nails back into his hair, pressing down. "You’re not scratching hard enough."
And just like that, the conversation was over. Because Jason Todd had the attention span of a goldfish and the focus of a predator, and right now, all he wanted was the sting of your nails.
"Jason, I was talking. "
"Mhm." His teeth grazed your throat. "Talk, then."
You huffed, but your fingers curled tighter in his hair anyway.
.ᐟ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: richard "dick" grayson x f!reader + your son.
.ᐟ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞: dick grayson has faced supervillains, aliens, and identity crises. but nothing could have prepared him for becoming thomas grayson's father.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff・established relationship・no physical description is given for the reader・for writing purposes, i named your baby thomas grayson・english is not my language.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,8k.
dick grayson had always been someone who knew how to adapt and handle whatever life threw at him. he was an acrobat, after all he knew how to walk a tightrope. he had been the first robin, the leader of the titans, and had even worn the mantle of batman for a time. but nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared him for thomas grayson, your son.
sitting at the kitchen table with an extra-strong mug of coffee, dick watched him carefully. tomtom — as everyone affectionately called him — was now nine months old. he had dick's blue eyes, but his nose and little mouth were entirely yours. he was a chubby baby, with delicious rolls on his arms and legs, little feet that looked like dinner rolls, and a pair of round cheeks that were impossible to resist squishing.
tomtom sat on his play mat wearing nothing but a green onesie and a diaper, his messy hair proof that he'd had a wonderful night's sleep. he was playing with shape blocks, visibly frustrated that the triangle wouldn't fit into the circle.
at some point, he stopped playing and looked at his father, his tiny brows furrowing as he brought one of the blocks to his mouth. dick recognized that expression immediately "are you staring at me, prince?" tomtom's frown deepened. he smacked the block against the floor and let out a loud, indignant "bah!"
"oh, don't you 'bah' me, young man." dick smiled at him. tomtom did not smile back. instead, he returned to his toys with a quiet little, "eh tah pah."
life with your son was a battlefield. tomtom had a lot of personality, and dick had learned to pick his battles. bath time, for example, always started peacefully. you carried him toward the bathroom while singing some silly song about getting clean and smelling nice. tomtom loved it. he slapped his little hands against the water, splashing you, played with his rubber duck, and delivered lengthy speeches made entirely of "ah gah bah teh" that sounded incredibly important.
the trouble came afterward. dick would carry him back to the nursery wrapped in a frog-hooded towel. tomtom tolerated everything until dick finished drying him off and laid him on the changing table. then the tiny menace transformed into an escaping octopus "easy there, champ. it's just your diaper. we'll be done in a second."
tomtom immediately began grunting and protesting. his chubby legs kicked wildly through the air while dick kept his hands around him, knowing his son could already roll over.
dick grayson, who had fought countless villains throughout gotham, felt genuinely challenged by a nine-month-old baby. he moved quickly, treating the diaper like a military operation, trying to secure it while holding down his son's flailing legs.
but tomtom was faster. a warm stream suddenly hit dick square in the chest, soaking his shirt. there was a long moment of silence. then "you just peed on me, young man?"
tomtom stared back serenely. his chin was lifted proudly, and he sucked on his thumb as if absolutely nothing unusual had happened. dick sighed heavily, looking from the wet stain on his shirt to his son. "i fight crime at night, but during the day i lose to a toothless baby."
you appeared in the doorway, struggling not to laugh "well, he does have excellent aim." dick narrowed his eyes at you and finished fastening the diaper. once tomtom was dressed and smelling wonderfully baby-like again, dick scooped him up and handed him to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "i'm going to shower and wash this shirt since mr. pee-pants here apparently decided it was the perfect target."
one ordinary afternoon, dick decided to do some minor maintenance on his gear while tomtom played nearby. nothing major, just checking a few settings. his son seemed completely occupied with a little picture book he'd received as a gift. dick underestimated him.
it took only a minute of distraction for tomtom to grab one of nightwing's escrima sticks with both chubby hands and shove one end straight into his mouth. his eyes sparkled as though he'd discovered the greatest treasure in the world. "no, no, no..." dick immediately snatched it away.
tomtom froze. his little hands remained suspended exactly where they had been. slowly, his face changed. his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes widened, his lips pushed out into a dramatic pout "ah tah teh," he said indignantly.
the sound started soft but gradually grew louder, until suddenly "AH BAH TAH PAH GAH!" his tiny body stiffened with outrage. his little hands smacked against the padded floor while his legs kicked furiously. it was a complete scolding. a full lecture delivered in the language of babies, dick could only imagine what it meant.
holding the escrima stick, he stared in stunned silence. he'd been yelled at by plenty of people before, never had he felt so thoroughly reprimanded as he did now by an angry nine-month-old. "sorry?" he offered weakly. then he tried distraction. a giraffe teether, a toy guitar, several other toys. tomtom threw every single one onto the floor.
but none of that compared to the wooden spoon incident.
it was a peaceful evening. the breeze drifting through the apartment windows in blüdhaven felt pleasant. both of you had the night off. an upbeat song played loudly through the apartment while you danced around the kitchen with tomtom in your arms.
the baby laughed and squealed happily as dick prepared dinner. at one point, you stopped beside him, showing tomtom what his father was cooking while taking a sip of your soda.
tomtom reached toward dick. dick pretended to nibble on his chubby little hand, the resulting baby laughter was immediate and explosive. then tomtom spotted it. the wooden spoon resting on the counter.
he reached for it, opening and closing his fingers. "you want the spoon, sweetheart?" you said. "ah!" he replied excitedly and you handed it to him. tomtom examined it carefully before flashing a toothless grin.
he waved it over his head, pressed the end against your cheek, and happily chewed on the handle. for several glorious minutes, there was peace. then dick needed the spoon.
he approached with a relaxed smile, foolishly believing he could simply take it back. "come on, sweetheart. time to give daddy his spoon back." he reached for the handle.
tomtom immediately pulled it closer and frowned, releasing a warning sound. dick tried again. this time, a battle cry erupted from the baby's tiny mouth. in one swift, determined motion… the wooden spoon swung through the air in a perfect arc and landed squarely against dick's forehead.
thunk.
silence.
only the music continued playing in the background. you turned around with tomtom still in your arms, covering your mouth to keep from laughing. dick stood frozen. his forehead throbbed faintly as he stared at the two of you.
tomtom clutched the spoon like a royal scepter. an offended king who had personally delivered justice. his brows were furrowed, his little chest rose and fell with quick breaths. "he..." dick said weakly "he hit me. with a spoon."
you finally managed to compose yourself. adopting your best serious expression, you gently removed the spoon from tomtom's hand and placed it back on the counter "thomas grayson, we do not hit daddy. that hurts." you tried your best to sound stern in a way the baby might understand.
dick looked at his son. the chubby cheeks, the downcast eyes. he took a deep breath and fought back a laugh. he knew that if he laughed, he'd only encourage the behavior.
after a few moments, he held out his arms and took tomtom from you. dick kissed his little belly and blew raspberries against it. "you've got quite the temper, don't you, son? i think you got that from your dad."
perhaps bedtime was the worst battlefield of all. tomtom fought sleep as though it were his archenemy. his eyes would turn red, his eyelids grew heavy, but he refused to surrender.
he cried, kicked, delivered angry speeches to the ceiling with tiny fists clenched tight. yet dick continued rocking him gently, humming songs he remembered his mother singing to him. memories so old they sometimes felt like dreams.
when sleep finally won, tomtom melted against his father's chest. his little body relaxed, his breathing steadied, his face softened, and he became the most peaceful thing in the world.
those were the moments dick loved most. because it still amazed him. he and the love of his life had created this perfect little boy. tomtom was the result of your love, the perfect combination of both of you.
whenever dick looked at him, he could see pieces of each of you reflected back. and he loved that. loved knowing that a piece of your love existed in the world, growing healthy, happy, and cherished.
dick carried him to the crib and carefully laid him down on the soft mattress, tucking a warm blanket around him. tomtom sucked peacefully on his pacifier. it was hard to believe that only minutes earlier he'd been waging war against sleep itself.
dick lingered beside the crib for several minutes, watching over him. occasionally, he brushed a fingertip across one of those round cheeks.
dick grayson was many things. an acrobat, a hero, a leader, a symbol of hope for a chaotic city. he had learned how to fall and get back up, how to fight, how to trust others. but none of it compared to being a father.
now he finally understood bruce in a way he never had before. he understood the fear. and he understood the love. he understood that being a father wasn't about perfection, it was about showing up. every single night.
when dick returned to your bedroom, you were already in bed waiting for him. he climbed in beside you and immediately pulled you close. your head settled against his strong chest while his fingers gently stroked your hair.
"did he fall asleep?" you asked softly. dick answered with a quiet hum. you lifted your head to look at him, his blue eyes were wet. "sweetheart... are you crying?" you cupped his cheek gently.
dick hadn't even realized it. "it's just..." his voice caught "he's so small. and i... i love him so much. so much. i can't even explain it. it's the kind of love that fills my entire heart. and i'm so scared of getting it wrong, darling..."
you smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "dick, you're not going to get it wrong. you're the best father he could ever have, and we both love you." dick wasn't sure he was the best father in the world. but every time he looked at thomas grayson, he became absolutely certain of one thing: he would spend the rest of his life trying to be. every time tomtom cried because the world was unfair and sleep was a tyrant, dick would be there. he would always be there.
bf!jason todd who spends his free nights sat in your shared bed, with pride and prejudice in hand, blue-light glasses perched on his nose, and—most importantly—you sat in his lap. he loves to read his novels with his pretty lady curled against him.
bf!jason todd who climbs in through the window after patrol and immediately seeks you out, sprawling out atop of you. he doesn't even bother taking his suit off—he just whines softly, reaches for your hand, and shoves it into his hair.
bf!jason todd whose favorite position is either mating press or doggy. on one hand, he loves to have your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounds into you, looking into your pretty eyes, seeing drool spill from your mouth. on the other hand, he also loves to see the deep, pretty arch of your back as your face is smushed into the mattress—loves to see the jiggle of your ass as his hips slap against yours.
bf!jason todd who always twirls your hair around his finger while you rant to him. his eyes never leave yours, attention never drifts away from the words pouring from your pretty mouth.
bf!jason todd who def whimpers and cries when he cums, especially if its inside of you. his broken past makes intimacy a sacred thing to him; he feels so incredibly safe and loved when you're making love that he can't help but whine as he releases.
bf!jason todd who practically eats your face when you make out. his head is tilted at such a deep angle so he can reach the deepest depths of your mouth. his long tongue? down your throat. his lips slide lewdly against yours, and he lets out the softest little grunts and groans. his hand grips your throat firmly—not so hard that you can't breathe, but enough to remind you that he's there, in the flesh. his other hand rests on your ass. he's a very messy kisser too—lots of spit, everywhere.
bf!jason todd who calls you all kinds of sweet little names. darling, babygirl, baby, love, sweet girl, mama, ma, lovie, you name it. how can he not come up with the most loving titles for his favorite girl?
bf!jason todd who can never keep his hands off you. he's always feeling you up, groping you everywhere. just woke up? he's engulfing you in a cuddle, hands sliding down your back and squeezing your ass. showering? his slick, soapy hands can't help but paw at your tits as you face away from him, rinsing your hair.
bf!jason todd who can be such a cuddly dog when he's at home with you. big body being spooned by you as you guys watch TV, head in your lap when you're reading, chest pressed to yours as he nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder, eager to hear you lull him to sleep with sweet nothings in his ear.
bf!jason todd who's 8 inches long and thick with a little bit of left curve.
.ᐟ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞: after watching a firefighter explain how to carry an unconscious person out of a burning building, you decide there's only one thing left to do.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff・established relationship・no physical description is given for the reader, except for the mention of hair・english is not my language.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,8k.
the bedside lamp cast a warm golden glow across part of bruce's face, the only source of light in the ocean of shadows and dark wood that filled the vintage bedroom. heavy curtains covered the windows, but the steady drumming of rain against the glass could still be heard, rhythmic and almost hypnotic.
he lay on his side, his large frame sinking into cotton sheets that smelled faintly of expensive soap. dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxers, bruce held you against him possessively.
it wasn't often that he got a day off. in fact, it was rare. it had probably been five days since the two of you had last seen each other. but you understood. his public life as a billionaire and his nightly life fighting crime consumed most of his time, and bruce always tried to make it up to you whenever he could.
bruce's lips brushed against the exposed skin of your neck, leaving a trail of slow, wet kisses all the way to your jaw. his strong hands wandered across your back, fingertips tracing invisible patterns over the silk of your pajamas. your legs were tangled together beneath the blankets, your foot gently brushing against his. when your lips finally met, bruce let out a quiet sigh. god, he had missed this.
one of his hands slid up to your face, then down your neck before settling at the nape of it. his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you even closer as his tongue explored your mouth leisurely. bruce found it fascinating how perfectly the two of you fit together. as though you had been carved from the same piece of stone.
the intimate moment came to an end when you pulled back slightly in search of air. you left a trail of tiny kisses across bruce's face. "honey, i saw something really cool today..." you began, while bruce chased your lips in an attempt to kiss you again. "really? tell me about it. i'm all ears."
even as he said it, he began kissing your neck again, sucking lightly at a few spots while one of his large hands slipped beneath your pajama, resting against the warm skin of your hip. you laughed and placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back enough that he had to look you in the eyes.
"no, seriously, babe! i thought it was really interesting. i want to try it with you." bruce finally stopped and settled back into the sheets. one hand remained on you, lazily stroking your thigh. the corner of his mouth lifted in a subtle smile. his tired blue eyes were filled with affection. "and what exactly is this incredibly fascinating thing you saw?" he asked. "it must be important if you want to try it in the middle of the night."
"it is important. extremely important!" you threw back the blankets and climbed out of bed, then you held out a hand toward him "you need to get up too. come on." bruce dragged both hands down his face and released a resigned sigh before taking your hand and allowing you to pull him out of bed.
he stopped directly in front of you. only a few inches away. a crooked smile tugged at his lips as he looked down at you, amused. "it was a video of a firefighter explaining how to carry an unconscious person out of a burning building. according to him, anyone could do it with this technique, and i got curious whether i'd actually be able to save you if i ever had to."
several seconds passed before a sound suspiciously close to laughter escaped bruce. "first of all, sweetheart, why were you watching videos about fire rescues?" he asked, cupping your cheek with one hand.
"honestly? my algorithm shows me a little bit of everything." you waved the concern away "but that's not the point. the point is that i want to try it with you. right now." you walked to the center of the room and stopped on the rug that covered the wooden floor, beckoning him over with a wave.
"alright," bruce said, following you. "but why exactly do you need to test this right now?" he stopped in front of you once more, waiting. "because i need to know if i'm capable of saving my boyfriend. what if batman passes out during a fire someday? maybe a beam falls on his head. everything's covered in flames and smoke, and i'm the only person around." you pointed dramatically toward the rug. "i have to save you."
bruce stared at you for several seconds before tilting his head, one eyebrow arching "you do realize i have safety protocols for virtually every conceivable scenario, right? emergency evacuation plans with ridiculous levels of detail, not to mention several ways to contact one of my sons or someone from the league if something happens to me—"
"shhh..." you interrupted him by placing a finger against his lips. "no protocols, sweetheart. this is just you and me," you took a step back. "we're alone. nightwing is on vacation. superman is in space. you and i are staying in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."
your voice grew increasingly dramatic "and then, suddenly, a fire breaks out. you pass out." you pointed firmly at the rug "now lie down on the floor and go completely limp. like you're unconscious. knocked out. practically dead."
bruce simply shook his head and sighed before complying. he lowered himself onto the rug with a grace that seemed impossible for a man his size. the things he did for you.
he closed his eyes and allowed every muscle in his body to relax. his limbs spread out loosely, heavy and unresponsive. he looked like a fallen giant. you circled around him, studying him for a moment before lowering yourself to the floor beside him.
"okay, first the legs..." your voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur as your left leg slipped between bruce's while your right hooked around the outside. it quickly became an awkward tangle of limbs, a human pretzel. "now the arm..." you grabbed bruce's right arm and pulled it toward yourself, nestling it against your chest. "and finally, the roll..." you took a deep breath.
the firefighter's instructions were still crystal clear in your mind: use your body weight and your legs as leverage. simple. at least, it had looked simple. with a determined movement, you tried to roll onto your stomach, dragging bruce's massive body onto your back. the friction of the rug scraped your elbow, sending a sting through your arm, and the moment you completed the turn, the air exploded from your lungs in a violent oof.
for a second, you saw stars. it felt like someone had dropped a marble statue directly onto your spine. still, you'd managed the first part. you were face-down, and bruce was technically on your back. the weight was crushing. your breathing immediately fell out of rhythm, your heart hammered from the effort.
"you doing okay down there?" bruce's voice came out muffled by the fabric of your pajamas, though you could still hear the amusement hidden underneath.
"quiet..." you wheezed "don't talk..." you turned your head to the side, cheek squished against the rug. "you're unconscious. remember?" now came the hard part. you planted your palms firmly against the floor, positioning your arms as though you were about to do a push-up.
your core. your back. your glutes. every fiber of your being braced itself. you were going to do it. you were going to get onto all fours and lift him. the firefighter had made it look so easy. then you pushed. your arms straightened a few inches. an immediate, violent tremor shot through your triceps, raced into your elbows, and exploded through your wrists.
bruce felt impossibly heavy. like he weighed a thousand pounds. you ground your teeth together as a feral grunt escaped your throat. then you tried again. this time forcing the effort through your knees and hips, determined to rise no matter what.
"rrrrrrrr—AAAAAAAAAH!!" the cry of effort and frustration burst out of you, muffled by the rug. you managed to lift yourself slightly higher than before. maybe a few more inches. your arms shook like twigs caught in a hurricane. bruce could feel every tremor, every muscle fiber protesting the impossible task. his initial amusement slowly gave way to quiet admiration. your determination was genuinely impressive.
you tried again. and again. and several more times after that. until your arms finally gave out like broken hinges. when you collapsed back onto the rug, bruce came down with you, forcing the last bit of air from your lungs. you ended up completely flattened beneath him, arms and legs spread wide like a starfish. motionless.
"i give up." your voice was muffled beneath his weight. "it's not happening,” you let out a dramatic sigh "we'd both die. me crushed to death, and you burning on top of me." a pause "what a wonderful way to go."
your words lingered in the air for only a moment before you felt a wet kiss land on your cheek. in one smooth movement, graceful as a cat despite his size, bruce rolled off of you. he settled onto his back and immediately pulled you on top of him. your legs came to rest on either side of his torso while your hands instinctively sought balance against his sculpted abdomen.
bruce smiled softly. one hand rose to your face, gently tilting your chin upward so you'd look at him. "you weren't entirely wrong." his voice was warm. gentle "you just got your center of gravity wrong. you needed to use different parts of your body instead of relying so much on your arms."
his thumb brushed across your lips "sometimes it's more about technique than strength." he paused for a moment before continuing "and don't be so hard on yourself. you tried." his eyes softened, the smile on his face deepened. "you tried really hard, more times than i expected you to." his thumb stroked your cheek. "in a real life-or-death situation, that refusal to give up would make all the difference." his voice dropped lower. "and you didn't give up on me."
the words wrapped around your heart like a blanket. bruce pulled you down against him until your face disappeared into the curve of his neck. then his arms wrapped tightly around you, the embrace was both a safe harbor and an impenetrable fortress.
one of his calloused hands moved up into your hair, gently stroking it as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "now..." his voice rumbled against your temple "i think we can go back to what we were doing." another kiss. "i'm starting to miss warming up that bed."
you laughed and lightly pinched his arm. outside, the rain had begun to ease. the bedside lamp still filled the room with its warm golden glow, and in the middle of that impossibly quiet mansion, bruce felt lighter than he had in days. because at that moment, he was holding his entire world in his arms.
.ᐟ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐞: where jason todd tries to break up with you, but things don't go the way he expected.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff and comfort・jason being jason・no physical description is given for the reader・english is not my language.
.ᐟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,6k.
it was already past 10:00p.m. when jason left his apartment, hands trembling despite his determination to do what needed to be done. as he rode his motorcycle through gotham's streets, the cold night air pressed against his face through the helmet visor while he rehearsed his speech one last time, repeating the same painful words over and over.
it's for your own good. you deserve more. you deserve better. someone who's there for you in the middle of the night, not someone who shows up covered in blood and trauma.
that was it. he had finally worked up the courage to break up with you. not because he didn't love you, quite the opposite. he loved you too much. the thought of keeping you from having a better future was unbearable. what could he possibly offer you? a little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a labrador certainly wasn't in the cards. jason wasn't much of a social media guy, but every now and then he'd scroll through something or other, and the idea of setting you free had taken root when he'd stumbled across a post that read: "don't let your boyfriend stop you from meeting the love of your life." and maybe that was it. maybe he was the obstacle in your path. maybe he was the thing keeping you from happiness.
when he arrived at your building, jason parked his bike in the usual spot, kicked down the stand, and shut off the engine. he removed his helmet but remained seated for several minutes, holding it in his lap as he took deep breaths and tried to swallow his feelings. eventually, he forced himself toward the entrance. the doorman, a thin, exhausted-looking older man, greeted him with a tired smile and opened the door. he already knew jason.
jason took the stairs two at a time. his fingers drummed restlessly against the helmet, betraying just how anxious he really was, despite the hard mask his face maintained. when he reached your floor, he walked to your apartment and knocked three times in a familiar rhythm. he could've used the code, he had the password. but somehow that didn't feel appropriate anymore.
two minutes later, he heard the soft click of the lock, the door opened. the first thing that hit him was your smile. that smile he loved so much, the one that could light up the night, like a lighthouse in the middle of an endless ocean, and he was a lost sailor finally finding his way home.
"hey, babe," you said warmly, stepping aside so he could come in. "you didn't tell me you were coming. not that i'm complaining, i love your surprise visits." jason stepped into the small apartment and stopped in the middle of the living room, unable to turn around and meet your eyes.
you walked over and gently took the helmet from his hands, setting it on the coffee table. when you moved closer and lifted your hands toward his face, jason carefully wrapped his fingers around your wrists and finally looked at you "we need to talk."
your smile faded immediately, replaced by worried understanding. you knew that tone. you knew that shadow in his eyes. that pain he always tried to hide. it was the same look he wore every time before disappearing for days. in that moment, jason's broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the entire world.
gently, he released your wrists and stepped back twice, wanting to create physical distance between you, a reflection of the distance he was about to force between your hearts. "what happened, jay?" you asked softly, your brows knitting together.
jason met your gaze and delivered his speech. "i'm not the right guy for you, and i don't think i ever will be. i'm broken, and you deserve someone whole. someone who brings you flowers. someone who has dinner with you every night. someone with a normal job and a normal life." he paused, resting his hands on his hips before continuing, sounding more resolute "i don't know... you should be with an accountant or a real estate agent. someone stable. healthy. not me. not someone who spends his nights patrolling filthy rooftops, shows up at your door covered in injuries, and wakes you up in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare."
as he spoke, his hands moved wildly. his voice rose, cracked, failed him more than once "what do i have to offer you? nothing. you deserve the chance to build a good future. maybe even get out of this damn city. move somewhere like central city or metropolis. people say it's nice there. you could get married, live near a park, see some actual greenery, get a dog or whatever pet you want."
he sighed heavily and covered his face with both hands "so that's it. it's what's best for both of us." jason lowered his hands and looked at you. his expression was cold, but deep in his eyes, you could see the pain "it's over. we're done."
jason took a breath and waited. waited for your reaction. maybe denial, maybe tears, maybe a fight. he was ready for any of it. if you hated him and wanted to take it out on him, he'd stay. if you cried, he'd hold you one last time before leaving and call one of your friends to keep you company. anything. anything that would prove he was a poison that needed to be removed from your system.
instead, you simply looked at him for a long moment. studying those green eyes that hid so much from the world. then your lips curved into a small smile. not a happy one, a knowing one. a smile full of unwavering understanding. "no, you're not."
your voice was gentle. absolute, leaving no room for argument. jason blinked several times before finally saying, "...did you hear a word i just said?"
"yes, jason peter todd, i heard every single word of your little martyr act. your self-pity monologue," the faint smile remained on your face. "and i reject all of it." he stood there, stunned and confused, while you walked toward the bathroom. from where he stood, he could see your reflection in the mirror as you opened the first-aid kit and pulled out a blister pack of aspirin. after popping one free, you headed to the kitchen and filled a glass with cold water before returning.
"babe..." he said quietly, genuine concern creeping into his voice. "do you understand what's happening? i'm breaking up with you." he repeated it more firmly this time, frustration evident in his tone. you smiled again, that same smile that always made his day better.
taking his left hand, you placed the pill in his palm and closed his fingers around it. with your other hand, you gave him the glass of water. then your warm hands moved to his face, gently cupping his cheeks.
your touch was comfort amid chaos, the anchor that kept him from drowning in his own confusion "and i'm telling you that you're not breaking up with me." your words came down like a decree "you're going to take that aspirin, you're going to lie down in my bed, and you're going to sleep. tomorrow is another day."
you gave his left cheek two playful little pats before pulling his head down enough to press a gentle kiss against his forehead, a kiss that silently said you're mine, and i'm not letting go. then you turned around and headed for the bathroom as though nothing extraordinary had just happened.
jason remained standing in the middle of the living room. alone. completely bewildered. he could hear the faucet running, hear you brushing your teeth. the aspirin stuck to his sweaty palm while the glass remained in his other hand.
confusion and defeat swirled inside his chest. but beneath it all, the relief was overwhelming. you hadn't let him go. you'd seen through every layer he'd wrapped around himself to hide from the world. and you'd reached in and found the little boy who only wanted to be loved.
like a good soldier, jason dropped the pill into his mouth and drank every last drop of water. afterwards, he rinsed the glass and put it away. then he slowly made his way toward your bedroom, passing the bathroom door, now closed. once inside, he kicked off his heavy boots, shrugged out of his jacket, and peeled off his pants until he was left wearing only his black t-shirt and red boxers.
your bed was already prepared for sleep, a mountain of blankets and soft pillows waiting for him. he climbed into his usual side and burrowed beneath the covers, spending a while staring up at the ceiling. when you finally came back, still wearing the same worn-out pajamas you always wore, you smiled at the sight of him lying there like a well-behaved boy.
without a word, you turned off the lights and slipped into bed beside him. the mattress dipped beneath your weight. jason turned onto his side until the two of you were facing one another.
even in the darkness, you could see how tired he looked. your hand rose to stroke the spot behind his ear. instinctively, he leaned into your touch. then he took hold of your wrist and pressed several soft kisses against your skin "i love you, you know that?" his voice sounded calm, resigned.
you smiled "of course i know. i love you too." the two of you moved closer until your noses brushed together in a gentle kiss. jason nestled himself against you, sliding lower until he could rest his head on your chest, his strong arms wrapped around your waist. he sighed contentedly as he listened to the steady beat of your heart "thank you for not giving up on me."
if you've made it this far, it means you're interested in sending a request, and that makes me incredibly happy! ꈍ ꈍ
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.𖥔˚ most of the content on my blog is safe, but i also write NSFW content. whenever i do, i place a large warning before the story begins. because of that, i kindly ask minors not to interact with those posts.
.𖥔˚ related to the previous topic, i will only accept requests for 18+ content from blogs that are clearly identified and have the user's age stated in their bio or pinned post.
.𖥔˚ before every single post, i include a list of warnings and information about what the story contains. please read them carefully so you don't end up surprised by something halfway through.
.𖥔˚ most of my stories are "x reader", and i do not use "y/n" or "name." i also write stories featuring OCs, but those are clearly separated and properly labeled. you won't start reading something expecting an "x reader" story only to discover later that it isn't.
.𖥔˚ i may write dark content from time to time, but there are certain topics i will never write about, such as r@pe scenes or explicit domestic violence. i don't see any need to portray those events in graphic detail to show that they happened. these things will also never occur between the main couples in my stories.
˚୨୧⋆｡ SOME THINGS I DO NOT WRITE: ˚୨୧⋆｡
.𖥔˚ sexual content involving underage characters.
.𖥔˚ age play and similar fetishes.
.𖥔˚ non-con (r@pe).
.𖥔˚ male pregnancy (mpreg).
.𖥔˚ bestiality.
.𖥔˚ fetishes involving urine, vomit, etc.
.𖥔˚ gore
If you're ever unsure whether I'd write about a certain topic, feel free to send me a message! I'll be happy to answer your questions. ᵔᴗᵔ ❀
