I just cannot get over the thought of Jason Todd cooing while you take his massive cock, talking you through the pain of stretching you out on it the first time, and giggling at each other from euphoria because of just how much love there is between you two AHHHH 😭
this ask is so good I had to let it marinate in my mind…anon take these flowers I beg 💐
18+ minors dni
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
“jay…” you say apprehensively, trailing off as you bite your lip. your eyes are fixed on jason todd’s huge body hovering above you, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. you look down anxiously at his hard cock resting right below your bellybutton and smearing your skin with precum, and instantly avert your gaze. fuck, that’s big.
“I don’t—um…I don’t think it’s…” you trail off, your cheeks burning. despite your nerves, you feel your arousal drooling out of you. he smiles and shakes his head lightly, reaching down to run his fingers over your entrance.
“don’t worry ‘bout that,” he coos, collecting your wetness on his fingertips as you shudder. “look at me, ma.” you tear yourself away from the sight of his length, meeting his stare. “that’s right. just keep lookin’ at me. you’re gonna be fine.”
his hand comes down to pump his cock, spreading your slick onto his shaft as he aligns himself between your legs. after a pause, he sinks the tip in, and you suck in a sharp breath at the stinging in your walls as he penetrates you. he pauses halfway to allow you to adjust to his girth, his brows furrowing at your tightness. shit, you feel good around him. you let out a whine at the unfamiliar feeling of his size, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“fuck…you’re doin’ good, ma,” he says, the muscles between his shoulder blades tensing. “c’mon, princess, just relax for me. worst part’s almost over, hmm? just a little more.” his words are strained with need; he’s holding himself back from fucking you like he wants to, the way a pretty cunt like yours deserves to be used. soon, he tells himself. soon.
“ready?” he asks, his green eyes searching yours. you nod anxiously, and he bottoms out inside you with a groan. you gasp at the flash of pain as he stretches you, right as jason’s hand comes up to caress your cheek. he looks down at your expression, with your eyes screwed shut and your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and lets out a soft laugh. god, you’re pretty.
“hey, eyes on me, ma,” he rasps gently. you pry your eyelids open to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you. “that’s right, baby. fuck—doin’ so good.” he rocks his hips gently, and you let out a quiet moan despite the ache. “so fuckin’ good for me.” he thrusts again, a little deeper this time, and you notice the stinging is starting to subside, pleasure gradually taking its place. you moan again, louder this time.
“startin’ to feel it, huh, baby?” he murmurs, his eyes glancing down at your stretched pussy taking him in. heat pools in your chest as you hum in agreement, a sheepish giggle escaping you when jason’s eyes lock back onto yours. he chuckles in return, before planting a longing kiss on your lips as his hips continue to rock slowly.
you whine into him, wrapping your legs around his waist to signal that you’re ready for more; he smiles against your lips as his arm snakes around your back, locking your body against his. oh, you poor thing. you have no idea what you’re in for.
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Jason's coming home isn't a smooth affair. It's surreal and destructive and pulsing grief. He doesn't know how to tell Bruce there's no one alive he loves more. Because he does love him. He wouldn't be so dissapointed in him if he didn't.
his love has TEETH now, and Jason is too young and full of sadness to tame them. So he has to show It, in other ways.
Sometimes, it means staring down a brickhouse kryptonian, nervously toying with his fingers over the breakfast table, and pulling out his most vile threats.
Otherwise, it's allowing Bruce's hand to run through Jason's curls, touch cold like a father, with all the love Jason doesn't know. It's accepting book recommendations and silent lunches and resting his head on Bruce's lap.
"Would you do it again?"
"Do what?"
"Raise me. If you had a choice, would you choose me all over again?"
"Yes," Bruce responds after a pause, resolve like molten steel, " There's no me without you. If I could live a thousand lives, I'd choose you in every single one."
And Jason's heart bleeds quietly. He doesn't have to say he'd choose bruce, too. Because he already did.
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in your hands | jason todd
Summary: Jason thinks he's too big to be loved. You show him that that's impossible.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader
Word count: 1.1k
Warnings/tags: bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.
A/N: as always, if you like this fic, tell me through comments and reblogs :)
the divider
Tonight, Jason comes home far away.
You clock it as soon as he walks in. He’s moving on autopilot: boots by the door, helmet on the shelf, gear in the closet. He washes his hands, hangs up his jacket, and then he stands at the doorway. And waits.
You’re never quite sure what he’s waiting for. But you know that he’ll stay stuck in his head if you don’t step in.
“Hey, baby,” you say, cupping his cheeks. “Hey. You wanna eat or clean up first?”
The change is instant. As soon as you touch him, Jason is there. You’ve never mentioned it to him. It frightens you too much to explore, knowing that you’re his tether. You don’t want to think about what that means, having the power to anchor a man who used to be dead.
He looks at you, meets your gaze head-on.
“Did I disappear?” he whispers.
“Little bit. It’s okay.”
You keep stroking his cheeks, avoiding his shaving cuts and the freshly split lip. There’s a bruise around his eye and on his temple.
“Wanna wash up,” he finally says, but his hands cling to your waist.
You pet the back of his neck. “Want me to go with you?”
“Please?” He glances at the kitchen. “But if you’re in the middle ‘f something, then—”
“No, Jay. C’mon.”
You take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom. Jason undresses while you draw a bath. Soon the bathroom starts to fog up with steam. You pour in some Epsom salts for his muscle aches—you know he should soak more than he does.
You turn off the faucet. Jason is in his boxers, staring at himself in the mirror. He picks at his autopsy scar, presses the puckered white flesh until it turns red.
“Jay,” you say gently. “C’mere, honey.”
His hands drop to his sides. Jason goes to the bath, pulls off his underwear, and sinks into the water. It’s a generously-sized tub. Jason had gotten his old tub replaced for a larger one after you’d mentioned that you liked baths. Soon enough, you’d introduced him to the wonders of hot baths for his sore muscles.
Even with its size, Jason still has to bend his knees slightly to fit. He pushes himself up easily. A little water sloshes over and dampens the edge of your shirt. Jason curses.
“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head.
“It’s okay, honey. You want me to come in?”
He nods. You pull off your shirt, then your pants and underwear. Jason folds in on himself to make room, but you stop him.
“I’ll just sit between your legs, Jay. No problem.”
You step into the bath. Jason holds your wrist so you can sit down without slipping. He stares at his hand on your arm after you’ve sat.
You reach over for a washcloth and pour a lightly-scented soap. You lather it up first, then rub it over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Jason is perfectly still.
“Can you lean over, baby? So I can get your back.”
Jason obediently leans over. You smile at him as he holds himself up with his core. You know Jason’s not just strong, that he’s agile too. He’s very good at wielding his body.
You wash his back. This close, you can see the contours of his muscles, how broad he is.
When you’re done, you wring the soap out of the cloth and cup water in your palms to rinse the suds off of his skin. You catch his gaze in the mirror across the tub. Jason turns his head.
“God, look at me. How are you not afraid every time I come stompin’ around?”
You stop pouring water and rest your hands on Jason’s biceps. “What do you mean?”
He scoffs. “I’m like a huge, fuckin’... monster. Too big, too loud. I’m—” He swallows, bows his head. “How can you look at me?”
“Jay, honey. You’re not a monster.”
“Bruce thinks so,” he whispers, and straightens. “He can barely look at me. Every time he does, ‘s like he doesn’t even recognize me.”
His hand quietly swishes through the water to claw at his autopsy scar.
“This is all I am. Just violence. ‘M too big for anything else.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and pull his head into your chest. Jason hugs you back. His shoulders begin to shake.
“You’re more than your body,” you say. “You’re more than what the Pit made you. What you were.”
He shakes and cries into your neck. “I was small. People loved me when I was small.”
You pick up his head. Jason’s eyes are thick with tears. You lean in and kiss his Cupid’s bow.
“I love you.” You brush away his tears with your lips. “I love you so much, Jay. That’ll never change.”
“Too big for it,” he rasps.
You shake your head. “No, Jaybird. You’re never too big to be loved.”
“I’m s-scary.”
You kiss his temple, rub between his shoulder blades. Jason clings tighter.
“You don’t scare me. You never have.”
He pulls you closer, so you’re chest-to-chest. You straddle his stomach with your legs and hug Jason as tightly as you can.
“I was good when I was small,” he says. “I don’t–I don’t know how to be good anymore. I wanna be good, I do. I don’t want Bruce to think I’m bad. I’m still good.”
You take a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh, Jay. Baby. You are good. You came back to make a change. You’ve always been good. You’ve got a good heart. Nothing’s going to change that. Bruce is stubborn and stuck in his head. But you’ll always be his son. And you’ll always have people who love you.”
“What if I’m not worth it?” he whispers. “What if I’m too lost?”
“Then I’ll go out and find you. And we’ll come home together,” you say. “You’ll always find your way back home.”
He smells like soap and Epsom salts. You kiss his autopsy scar. Jason shakes more.
“Let me wash your hair, baby,” you say.
He nods, tears on his lashes. You wet his hair and pour shampoo. You rest your lips on his cheek as you lather the shampoo, detangling tiny knots with your fingers. Jason bends at the waist so you can rinse off the soap with the faucet.
You tap his hip and Jason sits up. He slips his arms around you again and tucks his chin into your neck.
“Don’t let go,” he says, suddenly desperate. “Don’t–don’t let me go.”
“I won’t, Jay. I’m right here.”
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Clark: Bruce, can I ask for a reaaally tiny favor?
Bruce: What is it, Clark?
Clark: How do you feel about a new addition to the Cave? You know, since it’s mostly just you and Alfred. Alfred wouldn't mind some extra company, would he?
Bruce: Alfred enjoys his peace and quiet. Now spit it out.
Clark: Okay, okay! I found a little bat earlier today. He seemed injured and his wing was probably clipped by a car. I patched him up at home, but he needs a safe place to recover. You have plenty of... uh... "bat-friendly" facilities in the Cave, right?
Bruce: My facilities are for surveillance and crimefighting, not wildlife rehabilitation.
Clark: Come on, Bruce! Look at this little guy! [shows him a picture of a fluffy bat with a bandaged wing on top of a Batman pillow]
Bruce: ...It is rather small.
Clark: See? You won’t even notice him! He'd be right at home with the other bats. They can be bat buddies!
Bruce: My "bat buddies" are not pets, Clark. They are wild animals that I try to maintain a respectful distance from.
Clark: Pleaaase? Think about how scared this bat will be out there all alone! He’s just a baby, Bruce! And an orphan.
Bruce: ...
Clark: ...So?
Bruce: ...Fine. But if this bat crashes into my monitors, you're taking full responsibility.
Clark: Yes! Thanks, Bruce! You won't regret this. BB is a very well-behaved bat, you’ll love him. He’d make a great bat spy one day!
Bruce: A Superbat. Cute.
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18+ minors dni
★・・・★・・・★・・・★
most of the time, jason todd likes to fuck you in positions where you have to take him at his pace. usually, it means trapping you under his huge frame, using his strength and size to keep you where he wants you. sometimes, he’ll have you face-down, ass-up, so he can watch the way his cock stretches you when he splits you in half. he uses his hands to keep your hips in place, so your whining and squirming doesn’t interrupt his view of your dripping cunt gripping him like a vice.
other times, he likes to pin you down on your back with your legs pressed against you, so he can alternate between staring at your pretty pussy and your pretty face. god, your face. his guilty pleasure is seeing how your eyes screw shut when he bottoms out inside you. “look at me, ma,” he commands, turning your head towards him by your jaw. when you finally muster up the strength to meet his stare, he likes to press a chaste kiss against your lips with a cocky grin—a small reward for the way you’re taking his merciless pounding.
but despite jason’s affinity for roughness, his favourite moments are those that unfold somewhere between midnight and sunrise, when you’re wrapped in his arms in nothing but his shirt. your leg is draped over his side as he rocks into you gently, and the room is silent except for your breathy moans and his soft grunts. you’re held against him in a warm embrace as he mumbles something about how much he loves you, his exhaustion muffling his words. you can’t help the sleepy smile that overtakes you at his tenderness, knowing you’re the only one he reserves it for.
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I really wanna see a thing where the reclusive prince of Gotham has to fend for himself while the Wayne's elusive butler recovers in the hospital. Bruce who phones Alfred like,
"Should I peel the eggshell before or after I boil the water?"
"Bloody hell,--"
" Alfred, how much is a tablespoon? What do I get? Where do I buy that? I need PRECISE measurements. "
"You're handling salt and pepper, not Chernobyl radioactives."
"I might be."
Alfred's not bothered, -- this is the same walk as always, just a few more bruises, burns, and a leg cast.
But can you imagine his surprise when Bruce, piano smooth voice a little worried, whispering, " Alfred? How do you make animal shaped pancakes?"
"Master Bruce, how utterly unbecoming. A bloke your age shouldn't be eating pancakes...Unless he plans to share?"
"They're not for me. They're for Jay."
Alfred hears the lough shatter of what's sure to be his favorite porcelain dove, a tiny, babyish giggle, and Bruce sighing in bemusement.
His heart monitor goes up.
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