Dc Red Hood - Blog Posts

There goes Jaybird

He looks dead, that was my intention yeah

My spine didn't try to leave my body this time, win

my roman empire

The Council of Concerned Cousins.

CoCC, if you will.

FIC: Harry Potter and the Great Custody Battle by dajgen (ao3)

from up-down, left-right: peter - jason, dick - tim, damian - cass

i'm actually obsessed with this fic, and when the author updated with the last chapter, my hand got possessed. so... here i am *confetti*

i personally love the fact that CoCC was the acronym, and the one to lead the discussions was dick. perfection fr.

i, initially, had more of this done, but the file got corrupted for some reason so i had to remake most of it. i'm still working on cass and damian, not to mention cleaning up a bit more and shading. i'll post an update when i do! hope ya enjoyed, be sure to got read the fic (it's really good), and fingers crossed the author updates again soon!

so i made a thing...

jason todd, the red hood: [trauma dumps]

rin okumura, son of satan: ... that's rough, buddy

rin okumura is literally another black haired, blue-eyed orphan with big daddy issues; he and jason would be quick friends. bruce is probably having his batsenses go off like crazy, knowing there's a child who fits his MO to adopt

au where dean winchester and jason todd met in purgatory-

dean, a full-grown man in like his 30s: uh-

smol 15 y/o jason todd in full robin gear who took down two creatures with ease: hi!

-and dean takes it upon himself to help this kid out in there even tho the kid seems to be doing p well by himself

stuff happens (like idk, remember how dean was besties with a vampire there and they got out together or something? yeah, that, but either switch or with jason yk). dean gets out of purgatory but believes jason got stuck there. jason did get out eventually, but yk pits and stuff.

fast forward to maybe like a year later when dean has a case in gotham, and would you believe who he stumbles upon? the red fucking hood, who stops dead in his tracks and just stares at dean. dean stares back. red hood takes off his helmet and dean could recognize the familiar domino clad face, albeit now a bit more older and rough looking from the young brat that fought with him in purgatory.

step, holding jason close: HE WAS THE BEST GUY AROUND

dick: he murdered SEVEN people already!

tim, putting pressure on his stab wound (jason stabbed him) and slurring due to painkillers: WHAT MURDEERR??

An old sketch of Damian Wayne and Jason Todd ofc ofc. Damian has always been one of my favorite dc characters (next to Bart!! ik. drastic difference), but I never draw him (or Bart but I'll fix that dw).

I always like it when these two get along. They are like opposite sides of the same coin to me.

Drawn Nov 5, 2020 (prob the oldest art piece that I'll repost lol).

This was in my queue but I'm posting it early bc why not?

So my Batfamily brain rot is back (not that it ever really left) and I just had a thought like…

If you’re a henchman/criminal in Gotham, seeing your life flash past your eyes is gonna be a somewhat regular occurance but… what if like… the thing that truly made a henchman’s heart fall to his ass was when they hit Robin just a little too hard and this 10 year old kid just starts crying and goes ‘Daaaaaadddd!’

That’s the moment when they truly think they’re going to die because said dad, the kid is calling for is a 6’6 demon from hell who’s all muscle and shadows and vengance and a lot of Gotham still thinks he’s a cryptid

The henchmen all drop their guns and try to calm the kid down but it’s over in 5 seconds flat. Batman breaks several bones before speaking to Robin in the softest voice they’ve ever heard him use and the criminal world, who was already a bit hesitant to fight a kid have even more reason to take it just a little easy on Robin.

And like, I can picture different reactions with every Robin.

Like, for Dick, he’s ten and we all know he was the most violent Robin second only to Damian so maybe when he’s ten or eleven and has calmed down a little, a henchback who still remembers what a little shit he used to be decides to get back at Robin, slips on a pair of brass knuckles and BAM

And then, little Dick just stares for a moment in shock, cheek already starting to bruise, the criminals he’d been fighting all stay still because it was a nasty punch and then…

“Daaaaad!!!” He cries out in a whiny voice that reminds them that Robin really is just a kid and it all clicks into place.

Even Bruce wasn’t expecting that, Dick has just started calling him dad and he still isn’t used to being called that so to hear his kid calling for him in the moment where he is startled and hurt and a little scared… the henchmen don’t even have time to react and they wake up in the hospital with concussions and maybe a few broken bones.

It doesn’t take Dick long to calm down, it was mostly that the hit from a random henchmen really startled him and got him right in the cheekbone. But Bruce still finishes patrol early and Dick still hides under Bruce’s cape all the way to the Batmobile.

Then comes Jason and Jason was such a sweet kid, I headcannon he was the one that called Bruce dad the most often while being Robin. So one night during patrol maybe he finds himself fighting Penguin or Two-Face and it’s been a long night and he has an exam the following day and Bruce is fighting another villain at the other side of the warehouse

The point is, the henchmen and Two-Face start landing hits on eleven year old Jason in his gut and at some point he loses sight of Batman fighting on the other side of the room. Jason gets scared because he’s never really fought without Batman and while he knows that Bruce is still in the warehouse, he can’t see him and the handle of a gun hits the back of his ankle and he falls and he sees Two-Face or Penguin or one of the henchmen getting ready to grab the front of his uniform and beat him up and…

“Daaaaddd!”

The criminals freeze for a moment. They’ve heard the stories of what happened the last time a Robin called scared for dad.

They’re fucked.

They all drop their guns and try to get Jason to calm down, but he’s crying just a little bit and calls again, his voice breaking and despite having been at the other side of the warehouse just a second ago, Bruce somehow drops from the ceiling and it’s over before the criminals can keep pleading with Robin to calm down.

Jason tries to apologize for ‘acting like a baby’ but Bruce is having none of it and carries him back to the Batmobile and Jason is happy to just hide his face in Bruce’s cape because he knows his dad will always be there to save him.

Then comes Tim.

And Tim gets found out while doing reconnisance and somehow he finds himself face to face with Bane who manages to wrench away his bo staff and Tim is just eleven and he is scared because Bane doesn’t look like he’s going to hold back

All Tim knows is that the crack he hears must surely be his ribs either cracking or breaking and he can’t breath and he can only muster enough air for a single word… and he calls for his dad through tears and fear

And at this point… at this point Batman has already lost a Robin, Tim may not be his legally but he is his son just as much as Jason was

Bane spends a month in the ICU

Tim is embarrased that he reacted like that. He thinks it makes him less of a Robin to called scared for Batman… for dad.

So Bruce tells him of the other two times it happened. It’s one of the first times he’s spoken about Jason to Tim so bluntly.

Then comes Stephanie.

Stephanie never calls Bruce dad when she’s Robin. She’s not his daughter and he’s not her dad. They’re not sure what exactly they are to one another.

As far as Bruce knows, Stephanie’s version of Robin never called out to him when she was scared.

What he doesn’t know is that it did happen. Just once

It was the last time she was Robin. When Black Mask had her and she thought she was going to die

At some point while bleeding and feeling nauseous and so scared she could barely hear anything that wasn’t her own heart beating wildly against her chest… she called for dad. Not for Arthur Brown, but for Bruce

Black Mask laughed at her

Stephanie never tells Bruce

And finally… Damian

Now, we know Damian would probably never be startled enough to call for Bruce out of instinct, so I can see 2 scenarios in which this could happen.

First, he sees another kid do it. He sees a kid close to his own age laughing and playing, then tripping and staying quiet for a split second before crying out for mom and dad and he just… assumes that’s something kids do when scared and hurt and startled and does it mostly in an attempt to be a little more ‘normal’

Or, my favorite scenario… he hears of the other times it has happened. He overhears maybe Dick remind Jason of what Bruce did when Jason called out to dad as Robin. Tim maybe jokes that a Robin calling for dad is still the villains’ greatest fear

So Damian stores that knowledge away as a battle strategy just in case he ever needs it… and maybe a small part of him wants to put it to the test, to see if his father would protect him as brutally as he’s protected the Robins before him

So some random night during patrol, he’s up against several henchmen, a few of them grab him from behind, trying to hold him down. Damian is fighting against them when one of them swings a cylinder of metal that Damian thinks might’ve been meant for the plumbing and…

The henchman breaks Damian’s nose, there’s blood dripping down his chin and staining his uniform

Now… it is most certainly not the first time he’s broken something, he’s more than used to the pain, in fact, he barely feels it. However, it gives him a chance to put his little theory to the test

And so Damian allows himself to sound like the ten year old that he is and in a whiny, teary voice, goes… “Babaaaaa!” (Bonus points if it’s the first or second time he’s called Bruce baba instead of father)

What Damian didn’t take into account though, is that Batman and Robin aren’t the only ones on patrol that night. They made a big bust. The biggest part of the operation was over but they were still fighting a few stragglers. The whole fucking family is here.

And they all hear his cry.

Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen a fight end so quickly. The henchmen only have a split-second of surprise before vanishing, being tackled or shot or having knives buried on their shoulders by his siblings.

The one that actually broke Damian’s nose is being beaten up by Nightwing, Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen Grayson so angry.

A shadow kneels in front of him, father. Baba. He’s checking Damian and Todd is right at his side, both speaking in hushed tones, checking his injuries and wiping the tears that usually came with a broken nose.

And now… Damian is used to his father and Grayson treating him like a child, trying to be as soft as they can with him. Even Cain does it to some extent.

But… having Drake wrap an arm around him, calling him baby when knocking out one of the criminals that had hurt him ‘that’s my fucking baby brother!’ and continue to hold him later into the night on the couch, having Brown willingly give up all the snacks she keeps in her utility belt and promise to take him to Batburger the following day for milkshakes because he was ‘a champ’. And Thomas wraps his favorite blanket around Damian while they’re fixing him up.

Todd decides to stay the night at the manor. Which he never does. They all decide to spend the night at the manor when Damian still sniffles on the Batmobile and they have breakfast all of them together. Which Damian isn’t sure has ever happened before and Cain gets Alfred to make pancakes with chocolate chips instead of blueberries.

They call him baby in hushed whispers but for once, it doesn’t bother him even though it really should

But most of all, Bruce refuses to let him go for a good five minutes after he first cries for him. Smoothing down his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay and just being soft in a way Damian has never seen before.

He sleeps between his Baba and Grayson and he knows that Todd and Drake and Cain check in on them at least twice in the night for some reason.

And he realizes it’s… it’s nice. Maybe this really could be an effective battle strategy to be employed again someday.

jason: i think we should get a divorce

steph: what are you doing?

jason: just practicing

steph: why are you already planning your hypothetical divorce?

jason: i don't know. i'm getting old, i think i'm having a mid-life crisis

steph: you don't even have a girlfriend

jason: hypothetically divorce me

steph: okay, then i'm hypothetically taking half your assets

jason: well, you didn't sign the hypothetical prenup

jason, to duke: it's called a prenup, right?

duke: yeah, it's a prenup, and you DID hypothetically sign one

steph: who the fuck is this guy?

duke: i'm his hypothetical lawyer in this divorce case

steph: well, then, i'm taking the hypothetical kids

steph, to tim: right? we can get those, right?

tim: yes, we can definitely get the hypothetical kids, don't worry about it

jason: who the fuck is this hypothetical fucking idiot? a hella fucking nerd idiot

tim: wow, that is a lot of hypothetical insults. i need to keep these on for continuity because i look like the other lawyer

steph: this is MY hypothetical lawyer, and we have been hypothetically sleeping with each other

jason: how could you hypothetically do this to me?!

steph: because you hypothetically are an alcoholic!

Juni Ba Jason Todd. Jason Todd, please give me one chance. I'll hand you everything and anything you want 🙏

I know people tend to give short-haired Jason Todd designs some grief, but I think the look is growing on me. I like to think that this Jason is a little bit of a zombie- he's a little paler than before, his injuries scar easier than they heal (no matter how small), and he still has his pre-death injuries. He's unrecognisable otherwise. The pit tried. It brought back his mind and that's good enough 💔

The angst potential though?

Red Hood takes off the helmet in his big dramatic reveal, and Batman, who was expecting to see Jason Todd (albeit an older version he imagined up in his mind), doesn't recognise his face at all. Bruce, for a moment, is shocked that he might have gotten it all wrong. That the Red Hood isn't Jason Todd. (Nevermind the conflicting swirl of emotions that arise from that!)

When Bruce really looks, he finally sees it in the scars. There's newer ones, of course, but they're overlaid atop old, recognisable scars. Scars that Bruce once thought was etched into the back of his lids because at that time, he swore he had stared at the pictures in Jason's autopsy report for longer than he ever had Jason in his life (if only to torture himself over his self-perceived failures)

And realises, oh God, that is Jason.

also, the all caste blades' original marking covered the autopsy scar i wanted on Jason 💔 so even though the original design is so sick, I drew it on his arms instead. It's a bit scuffed and unfinalised 😭 Wack ramblings in all my posts I'm sorry

Memories of the night

Jason Todd × reader

Warning: +18, Mention of sex

Summary: You remembering last night

Masterlist

You were lying on Jason's bed, in Jason's apartment and in Jason's city.

He was next to you, reading Jane Austen.

For the 10th time this year, probably.

He was focused. And it felt good when he did that, and how he did.

You lick your lips, thinking about last night, how he sucked you off and then fucked you until your legs went weak.

Damn hot nerd who fucks well.

Putting your cell phone and thoughts aside, you stand up and take the books from his hand. Making Jason raise his eyebrow in question.

Putting the book on the table next to you and crossing your leg so that it was on top of Jason's muscular thighs.

He smiles, when he realizes your intentions and licks his lips, looking at your mouth, putting his hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck, grabbing your hair. You put your hands on his shoulders.

- You know... I was remembering some things. - you say, sliding on his lap, making you feel his hard cock.

Jason sighs, closes his eyes a little and lets out a 'hmmm'.

- What things? Maybe you could jog my memory.

- I certainly can. - You say and kiss his mouth.

Jason runs his hand down your back, squeezing it there so that you are closer to him. With his other hand, he pulls your hair while kissing you.

Bathtub

Jason Todd × reader

Warning: +18

Summary: You've been in the bathtub for too long and Jason comes to get you.

Masterlist

- Are you never going to get out of this bathtub?

- It's warm. - You say to Jason from where you are.

He smiles and starts to take off your shirt, showing that piece of skin that left you mesmerized.

You sigh.

He gets into the bathtub after finishing taking off all your clothes, causing water to spill thanks to his enormous size.

Jason had a hungry look in his eyes, as if he was ready to attack his prey.

In this case, you.

You let out a sigh thanks to him.

Jason kneels in the bathtub where you were sitting, leaning his chest against yours

And making you sigh with desire.

He was so close, his face was a small distance from yours.

It's tempting to kiss those kissable lips of his.

He murmurs a "hmmm" before leaning your mouth against his and kissing you.

You move your hand to his neck, and he moves his hand to your thigh, squeezing it there and making you gasp.

- Jason. - you moan into the kiss when he touches the tip of his cock to your entrance.

He lets out a hiss at the feeling of pleasure, stops kissing you and looks into your eyes with rapid breathing, then goes down and kisses your neck right on your sweet spot.

You roll your eyes, moaning his name.

Jason stops abruptly when he can't continue in the small space of the bathtub.

- Hold my neck and grab your legs around me. - He ordered and you obey without even asking.

Jason picks you up and stands up with you in his arms, as if you weighed nothing.

- Let's go to bed.

You laugh, at what awaits you.

Injustice in the Justice System: The Ethical Plight of Arkham Asylum

It is a common saying within Gotham City that you can set your watch off of Arkham Asylum’s regular breakouts.

Founded by Dr. Amadeus Arkham well over a century ago, this government-funded penitentiary has morphed from a well-meaning mental hospital to quite literally a house of horrors. Sanctioned as an asylum for the criminally insane in 19XX, Arkham Asylum has been affected by corruption and fraud every year since its founding - a reality only exacerbated by the breakout rates that have spiked by almost 46% annually since the Joker’s posting as a publicly known terrorist.

Anybody who lives in Gotham has been affected by the persistent breakouts plaguing the asylum. It’s been the Riddler’s bombings of the subway system. It was the threat of Gotham’s water supply being polluted by Joker toxin (only narrowly avoided by vigilante Batman’s interceptions). It was literally any Halloween these past few years. Take your pick.

Arkham Asylum is wholly an ethical nightmare. Its moral values and code of conduct have completely warped since its founding, and a lack of accountability has transformed it into an unethical hovel for anybody incarcerated there. Corruption runs rampant in the system. Any bribe of any size can be weaponised, and prisoners can do anything within and including escaping.

The poor legislation and the lack of accountability likens Arkham to the El Salvador gang jails. Both of them have death rates in the hundreds, and both do not receive programs preparing inmates for reinsertion into society. The two of them have inmates who are rarely - if ever - allowed outside.

These so called ‘reformatory’ institutions are unethical, unlivable hovels for anybody incarcerated. The abusive living situations make it a wonder any of Arkham’s convicts ever even consider choosing to stay within the prison walls.

Speaking of Arkham being an unliveable hovel - asylums throughout America have progressively gone out of style within the last forty years. However, Gotham is a city that leans more towards traditionalism - a view paired with and reflected throughout the city’s beautiful architecture and the scarcity of new bills, legislations and laws that are passed as a result of the city stagnating and being unwilling to create change.

This languishing, this lack of desire for movement and progress, is part of the systematic problems that threaten to topple Arkham. It is part of why it is inhumane.

Asylums have been going out of style for a reason - both sides of the system suffer. There is a relatively low rate of recovery from patients in asylums who are mentally unwell - even lower in Gotham City. Caregivers are pessimistic about their future outlooks because of the low success rates, feeding back into the cycle with no positive yield. This vicious pattern makes it nigh-impossible for anyone within the system to get any sort of fulfilment from it.

Although Arkham is officially a psychiatric ward, it houses patients who are arguably sane and yet are sentenced to life with the mentally unwell. Take Adam Bomb for example (article linked). Convicted of terrorism after trying to blow up the city, Bomb worked with criminally insane terrorist Firefly and thus was convicted of insanity beside him despite all claims that he was not mentally unstable.

It could be argued that these inhabitants aren’t perfectly sane, but an overwhelming amount of evidence from court records show otherwise. XX% of convicts in Arkham were allegedly intended to go to Blackgate Penitentiary, but couldn’t as a result of the overcrowding in the system. This whopping XX% percent of inmates, forced to live in padded cells and treated as less than human because of an insanity that they don’t have, live in an oppressive scheme which in turn makes it more difficult for actually unwell prisoners to receive the help they require. Furthermore, inmates who are criminally insane likewise suffer - the heightened risk of assault, dangerous gangs, and trauma in result of the organised crime fester a wholly unhealthy environment for the patients in the system who are meant to be there.

This misconduct is really highlighted in 20XX’s horrifically dubbed “Haunted House” breakout, where seven inmates (both sane and insane) attempted an escape. One of their psychiatric patients (a Ms. A. Smith) was killed in the panic after experiencing a psychotic break and subsequently attacking one of her fellow escapees after watching one of the sane male inmates assault a staff member.

The tragic events that transpired in the “Haunted House” jailbreak underline the desperation of reform required within our justice system. It is crucial that we address these issues within and around Arkham, as its current state has crossed lines and boundaries that even the worst cities throughout the globe have not passed.

Now, after considering these insurmountable problems, you may be wondering.

How is Arkham Asylum still standing?

Surely, some uncorrupted Gotham official is good, right? They would have seen the corruption, the abuse, the inhumane condition. Surely, somebody would have pushed for a change.

Well - you aren’t wrong. Arkham has been the focus of almost 15% of bills petitioned within Gotham City for eight years.

But there are good reasons why it is still functioning. Why nine out of ten of these petitions are rejected, despite the obvious poison to our society that it provides.

Arkham Asylum was made by a key founder of some of Gotham’s most foundational rules and regulations, Stuart Gordon. Nevada and Maine are the only other states to decriminalise sex work - but Gotham City, too, has special permissions under the state of New Jersey to abolish the law as a result of his work. Furthermore, Gordon pushed for Gotham to be one of the first cities (although highly debated and largely criticised at the time) to allow equal purchase and selling of property by minority groups within Gotham. Gordon’s lasting contributions to New Jersey’s sociopolitical landscape are likely partially why Arkham‘s presence continues to endure despite its increasingly intrusive existence in our modern society.

Arkham Asylum stands as a symbol of justice. Despite the rampant violence and a severe lack of accountability within its system, it is the most famous (and infamous) jail this side of America. When you look any closer at the system, its flaws and corruption reveal themselves to you in a disturbingly clear fashion. Yet when we think of the law, when we consider the justice system, Arkham is always the first to mind, given its wide discussion by people around the globe.

Arkham Asylum was a lot of money. A lot of money. For the first fifteen years of its construction, Gotham government’s annual transparency records reveal Arkham Asylum taking almost 40% of the budget allocated to police and law enforcement in its construction time. This rampant fund theft and poor budget of the government, exacerbated by the relative spike in crime rate during the years of its building, proves just how long they intend Arkham to stand. Why would the government put so much money into something that they didn’t intend to run in the long term?

These factors have made our authorities comfortable. Unaccountable. Stagnant. The level of ease that Gotham’s government holds about jailbreaks trickles down to regular citizens. They face no consequences from us as a result of our being excessively comfortable with the crime they permit.

If nothing is to change, we have a clear view on the future based on the long history we have with Arkham in the past. Gotham City’s complacency allows corruption to fester, and it leaves us citizens complicit in the tragedy of crime and disaster.

It is not too late to change course.

If we don’t stop this fraudulence now, it will be too late to change course.

The first step to change within others - our society - is change within ourselves and our standards. We must remind ourselves that this crime is not normal. Remind ourselves that we should not be comfortable. The disasters, the rampant crime and the rotating door of terrorists coming and going from Arkham is not something to be nonchalant about. We have to teach our children that the standards that Gotham’s bureaucracy sets for us isn’t acceptable, and that they should not be growing up with fear in their hearts and emergency exits in their minds.

Furthermore, it is imperative that we insist on more from our higher-ups. Allowing them to continue shrugging their shoulders and telling us that the establishment cannot be changed is only going to worsen the state of our city and justice system to the point of no return. We need to pressure new laws from them, so we can uproot the corruption that they have allowed to fester in our city for decades. We must demand new regimens for jails in order for us to be able to transfer inmates out of overstuffed systems and give resources to those who need it most.

Most importantly, we have to demand better, moral legislation. Regulations that seperate the harmless from the terrorists, and incite prisoners to remain in a prison that will not be cruel to them at every waking moment.

One voice can only do so much.

Many voices, speaking as a part of an undivided unit desiring wholly for change - that will get the government’s attention. That will make them feel the same discomfort we have been experiencing our whole lives. That will lead them to forging new change within this stagnant society, one which will better both the lives of AA’’s inhabitants and those of Gotham City.

Sign this petition, and stand with me. Stand with all of us who are appealing for a difference within a society. Help us create change that will last for generations.

-Jeffrey Anderson

hopelessly obsessed with movie-nerd Jason and has-seen-one-movie-once Tim just hanging out.

tim breaks into jasons appartment through the window every week, they make dinner together then eat on the couch while watching a film (they both do a bit of a commentary and jason has fun facts)

i get bruce is emotionly unavailable as fuck but if he can do a big personality shift into Brucie, why cant he love his kids that way? sure, Bruce struggles to show his affection and Batman is a brick wall, but Brucie? Let Brucie be how he shows love when his other mindsets cant. Let Brucie be known for kissing Dick's cheek at parties before he walks off, for calling Tim 'sweetheart', for always having an arm around Cass or Babs, for always having a hand on Steph or Duke or Damian's shoulder. When he later cannot use Brucie to initiate affection with Jason, he tries his best to make the step as Bruce.

(despite this, all his children know that when they receive affection from Brucie, it is also from Bruce. it looks like a performance but at the end of the day these are two parts of the same man and Brucie is just as real, just as much their father, as Bruce is)

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more intensity.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

“It’s currently—” Jason leans back on the counter’s edge to glance at the clock, “—five in the morning.”

“We talked all night?”

The refrigerator’s light glows in the kitchen, casting its hue on you and Jason. You stay seated stubbornly on the counter. The cool surface biting into the bare skin of your thighs.

“I’m freezing.” You groan.

Jason coos. He moves to stand between your legs. Your head instinctively falls to his shoulders.

“Poor baby.” You can imagine the smug grin on his face. “Weren't you the one who decided not to sleep tonight–”

“But–”

“–to eat, what is this again?” He picks up the Ice-cream carton placed next to you.

“Ice-cream. I was craving something sweet.”

“No wonder you're freezing. Plus, we need to address your sweet tooth.” He laughs.

“I have a weakness for sweet things.” You place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Jason snorts. The corners of his lips curled.

You snatch the carton from his hands. Grabbing the spoon you take another bite. You can feel your mouth freeze as the cold spreads in your mouth.

“Oh no, poor baby–”

“Shut up, Jay.”

“Want me to warm you up?”

You give him a faux glare.

“How do you stay warm, anyway? You hog all the blankets, maybe that's why.”

He gasps. “No, I do not.”

“Take responsibility, Jason Todd. Warm my hands for me.” You reach out your hands in front him, fingers wiggling. The smile on your face reaches your eyes.

With a tender grip, he wraps your hands in his, the warmth of his palms spreading slowly into your cold fingers.

“I spoil you too much.”

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

He smiled, a pearl-iridescent grin that lures you in. “You always order me about.”

“Kiss me.”

“Now you want a kiss? Are you sure?” The corners of his smile curled, turning into a teasing smirk. “Because once I do, I might not be able—”

Your hands grasped the fabric of his collar and yanked him down.

His lips danced around yours. The taste of him seeped into you akin to honeyed nectar. His hands encircled your waist. Calloused hands fleetingly ghosted over your skin.

“I love kissing you.” You murmured.

“Spoiled.”

“Shut up. You love me.”

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

A SIGHT SO SWEET

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ gn!reader ;

SYNOPSIS: jason can't seem to get enough of you – his watchful eye never once leaves you ;

REQUEST: “ hello! i went to a party today and i kept thinking about jason. well, i think he'd be the kind of partner who'd watch you from afar to make sure you're okay, he'd definitely have access to your location 24 hours for his own peace of mind. i went to a party today and i wondered what it would be like for him to watch me while he's on patrol to make sure i'm ok, he'd want to know when you're leaving your house, when you've arrived the place you're going to and when you're leaving as well. especially given the fact that i've been drinking i think... anyway, could you write something based on that? xx 💋 ”

WARNINGS: nothing to worry about in this fic. it can get a bit suggestive at the end ;

WORD COUNT: 1.0k ;

NOTES: i enjoyed writing this fic so much! i'm not sure what sparked it, but the process was so fluid and enjoyable. thank you for this request <3 it was a joy to write. it is honestly such a marvel to try and understand jason's character with every piece of work i write. i started around june-july and now i feel confident to call myself a writer and i have all of you to thank <3 ;

── .✦ NAVIGATION ; MASTERLIST & AO3 ౨ৎ

“I'M TOUGH.” you remark as Jason’s rough fingertips dance over your knuckles ever so delicately.

He regards you as if he'd break you if he grabbed on too hard. His soft touches light a candle in your heart. Your skin feels hot as his touch grazes over it.

He nods, “I know you are.” His voice is laced with the all too familiar worry you've grown to hear from him.

You wish you could take all of it away and protect him. Unfortunately, you can't do that. You settle with trying to carry the burden together and prove to him he doesn't have to face any of this alone.

“C’mon Jay—” you pout, his eyes dart between your charming eyes and lips - dewy from the cherry lipstick you wear.

Cherries, an angel's kiss in spring.

“—It’s just a simple bar, a small get-together with some of my UNI friends. Nothing bad will happen,” you put the emphasis on the last bit of your words as an effort to soothe Jason's fears and reassure him, “I can take care of myself.”

“You have,” he says, “you still do and will do so, I’ve just joined in too. I want to take care of you too.”

His words strike a chord inside your heart, the saccharine taste of them fills every corner of your body. Those endearing eyes he sneaks glances at you, not aware that you notice them and do the same, break into the surface of your skin and steal your breath away.

He has a way of consuming every bit and part of you. That never fails to mesmerize you.

“We take care of eachother.” You reply as your lips graze over his scarred knuckles. “I don't want you to worry so much, baby.”

He sighs as he leans into your touch. “I know, I just—” he stammers, the words getting stuck on his tongue.

“It's normal to worry, but you can’t let it consume you.” You bring your hands to cradle his face. Jason doesn't shy away from the touch and sinks into your embrace – the sight makes your heart ache in the best way.

You grab onto his hand and place it on the inside of your wrist, letting him feel your pulse.

You give him a cheeky grin as you whisper, “feel that?”

He chuckles quietly, “Mhm, yes.”

“As long as you see, hear and feel me – I will never leave.”

*****

In Jason's mind there is not a single person in this world who compares to you. No one is as dreamlike and otherworldly like you. Especially now, as he watches you sway and move in the kaleidoscopic hues of the bar. The prismatic lights kiss your delicate and inviting skin.

Oh, how he wishes to do the same.

Jason wonders if you know that he’s keeping an eye on you right now, if you can feel his watchful gaze on your form. Do his glances light a fire in your heart just as yours does in his?

He should be patrolling right now, making sure everything is okay. But he find his eyes following your every step as you glide through the dance floor.

He knew when you left the shared apartment that belongs to the two of you – 6:31 pm, knew when you arrived at the bar – 7:05 pm, knew when you finally met up with your friends – 7:18 pm.

Jason engraves every detail in his mind, because he has to. He's making sure that you're okay, that you're safe.

He catches a glimpse of you drinking some vibrant drink. You scrunch your nose at the taste of it and the sight sends butterflies in his stomach.

You laugh at something your friend says. The infectious and melodic sound of it reaches Jason. He can’t help the moonstruck grin that spreads on his face.

Jason's thrown for a loop when he spots your gaze pin him in place. Your eyes fixate on him as if you're entranced, as if he's the only one in the room.

He feels his heartbeat speed up.

Without tearing your gaze off of him you mumble something to your friends, something that he can only guess was a short goodbye. The surprised looks on your friends faces quickly disappear from his mind as you stride to him with confident, but light steps.

“Come to take me home?” You question with a curious voice with a taste of something he can't yet place.

He sheepishly runs his hand down his neck. “What gave it away?”

“Well.” You click your tongue. A smirk dances on your lips. “You've been pretty attentive all night long, watching my every move. I hope the show was up to your standards.”

“Show–?” He chokes on his words. You tease.

You laugh. The sound is akin to honeyed nectar on his tongue.

Jason tries to collect his thoughts. “I still haven't had my fill and I don't plan on leaving you unsatisfied either.”

“Really? I wonder who's the greedy one in this relationship.” You hum playfully.

“Dance with me,” he suggests unexpectedly.

Your eyes dart across his face, taking in his nervous demeanor. “You don't dance.”

“For you I will.”

*****

He spares a single glance at the time. 10:46pm. Time for you to head back to the apartment.

He counts himself a lucky man as the one who takes you home, as the one who waits for you outside the bar, as the one your wobbly steps guide you towards, as the one you wrap your arms around while he caresses your face and tells you to let me help you with the helmet, honey.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. The skin is velvety to the touch.

Jason's eyes don't leave your own dazed and enchanted eyes. To him you are a vision so captivating, so sickeningly sweet, all he wants is to get a taste of you.

He is taking you home, isn't he? He is truly a lucky man.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.