personal dumpster

Silly comic below

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of size/body image, jason being insecure… and also sexy. also this is unedited as per usual. other than that, nothing!

a/n; im gonna bite his bicep like that’s all i have to say. enjoy <3

JASON TODD is huge.

the man is over 6 feet of pure muscle so it doesn’t matter how tall you are, he’s bigger than you and he’s very aware of it.

when he’s red hood, being so large is a tactical advantage. he feels strong and in charge and practically unbeatable.

when he’s jason, he feels uncomfortable and noticeable and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. he doesn’t stop working out, because not only does he need something physical to relieve his stress, but he also can’t afford not being jacked as fuck. how the hell else is he supposed to be as scary as he is as red hood.

instead, he overcompensates by wearing darker colours, slightly oversized hoodies, not always standing up at his full height. it doesn’t do that much, the sheer size of him is a little hard to fully hide, but it makes him feel a little better.

when you come into the picture, things slowly start to change.

every time he hugs you, it’s instantly a mood booster for you because of how safe it feels with his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world for a few minutes. the way you sigh and melt into the hug has him smiling, a little shyly, as he holds you closer.

whenever you need him to get you something off a high shelf, he happily obliges and loves feeling useful. more than that, he loves how you always thank him by gently running a hand down his chest. “what would i do without you?” you say, sincerely, because you know he needs to hear it sometimes. and when you drop a kiss to his forearm as he sets the object down, he’s suddenly glad that he’s taller than you and he starts standing a little straighter.

the first time you hold up his hand against yours to compare sizes, you find yourself grinning at the difference. jason finds himself thinking about how small your hand is instead of how large his own is. and when you interlock your fingers with his, that’s all he’s focusing on.

sometimes, when your eyes are locked on your phone as you’re walking the busy streets of gotham and letting jason guide you around with your hand in his, he’s having to grab your waist to stop you bumping into someone or something. “careful,” he mutters, but his mind has gone blank and all he’s thinking about is his large hands around your waist and his pulse is racing. he feels like a creep until you turn around to give him a sheepish smile and thank him, placing your hands on his to keep them around your waist. he doesn’t miss the way you’re glancing down and biting your lip.

with jason around, you never have to do any heavy lifting, but of course you’re going to try sometimes. when you buy a cute new coffee table and it arrives when he’s out on patrol, you physically can’t wait to open and buid it. that bit is easy enough, but you find yourself cursing when you realise you stupidly built it on the other side of the room. “uhm, what do you think you’re doing?” jason asks, leaning in the doorway, red hood helmet in between his arm. you’re breathing heavily, arms pinned awkwardly at your sides as you were trying a new approach of throwing your body weight against the table to shift it. you slump, looking up at him with a pout.

“it’s heavier than i thought,” you admit. jason crosses the living room in two giant strides.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says, lifting the entire thing with both hands on either side and effortlessly placing it in front of the couch. he looks at you for approval in case you want it elsewhere and finds that you’re staring at him, slack jawed. he frowns, crossing his arms over, vigilante suit still on. “what…?”

“that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say, shamelessly. he grins, shaking his head at the way you’re completely serious, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “no, seriously, you need to run before i pounce on you.”

his favourite thing is your habit of falling asleep on him when you’re watching tv and he often needs to pick you up to take you to bed. sometimes, you start to stir, halfway to the bedroom and you sleepily blink up at him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “you’re so strong,” you mumble against his shoulder, your voice soft with drowsiness. jason’s heart clenches.

jason starts standing at his full height just so he can see you craning your neck to look at him, giving him the excuse to lift you up onto the counter which often results in you wrapping your legs around his waist and engaging a make out session.

he starts to wear t-shirts instead of large hoodies when he goes to the gym, just so he can hear you wolf whistle as he walks to the door, running over to kiss him goodbye and giving his biceps a squeeze.

day by day, jason finds himself more comfortable with just being him. and he’s even happier than he gets to be himself with you.

they’re drawn to the bite marks you’ve left.

pink crescents formed from a row of tiny half-moons scattered on his shoulder, biceps, below his collarbone, ghosts of your teeth. he touches one absentmindedly, thumb tracing over the tender mark.

you bite him a lot.

at first, he thought it was a joke. some weird, affection-adjacent habit you’d eventually drop. but you never did. if anything, it got worse—little warning nips when he teases you. slow, lingering ones when you’re curled up next to him, pressing your mouth to his skin, sucking just to see how dark you can make it.

he should probably tell you to quit it.

but he never does.

he likes them, he realises.

Jason Todd is so whipped that he's willing to cave to your silly little advances. Cuddles? With that fluffy Hello Kitty blanket that stretches far and wide on that king mattress of yours? Fuck yes. Buying those overpriced Japanese strawberries? Why not. Buying the whole shelf full of Sanrio plushies? Bitch, take his money. Matching bracelets, matching shirts, matching pajamas? Take it. Take it all. That trend where you wrap pink ribbons around his muscles? Why the fucking fuck not?

That's your boyfriend. Your weak, doting, vigilante boyfriend.

He's also doting in bed—getting you off like he'll die if he can't make you squirt on that chiseled face of his. Holding you down until you just want to crawl away from the overwhelming pleasure. He's doting in a way that has him helping you hoist yourself up on his third fucking leg just to let you slam yourself down until you've thoroughly fucked the remaining intelligence out of that cute brain of yours. Doting in a way where he lets you pull his hair when you just can't take it anymore after cumming for the nth time, or when you bite him wherever.

You ogle Jason as he stands up from bed. He's butt naked in the room, covered in smudged lipstick from you being insatiable the night before. He has a couple raised scratches down his back too, along with various hickeys to match your own. Your practically purr seeing the marks you've left on him.

"Turn around." You demand softly.

"Why?"

You're too busy staring at Jason's ass to give him a timely response. You only answer when he turns his head to stare at you.

"I like to watch it hang."

You also like the way Jason's whole body goes red. The way he flushes from his toes to the tips of his ears. The scene makes you bite your lip, another humming purr easing from your chest.

"You're such a fucking freak." He scoffs.

"No doubt about that." You shrug the blankets off your shoulders teasingly. "The question is if you're gonna match it."

Very pointedly, Jason turns around. The word turn could honestly be too light of a description the way he practically whips his body towards the wall.

"I'm putting pants on."

"Noooo! Jason!!" You whine. "I'm sorry!!"

"Too late."

"Uuuuhhgggg you're so mean to me."

I need him so bad. (with a tone that says I'm ovulating)

if anyone asked, that’s what he’d say. flat. absolute.

because he doesn’t.

doesn’t matter that he lets you get away with things that would have anyone else eating pavement. doesn’t matter that when you touch or poke or kiss or bite him, he does nothing to stop you—and when you do stop, there’s something almost like… disappointment.

he most definitely doesn’t go out of his way for you, either. doesn’t swing by that café you like just to bring you your favourite beverage. sure as hell doesn’t automatically search for your face when he enters a room full of people…

no. jason todd does not have a soft spot for you.