#softdom!jason

'Hey princess," Jason hummed, holding his arms out. Happy to let you snuggle into his arms.

"I missed you," you murmur, kissing him softly.

"I missed you too," he sighed, basking in the feeling of your contentment. You were happy he was home. You were happy to be kissing him. And above all, you were safe.

Lips kept colliding with his. Soft and insistent. He was all too happy to oblige you. If you wanted kisses he was going to make sure that you got them.

He stroked your back, sliding his hands down to rub your hips. Happy to let you take the reins and take over. You knew what he liked and you knew what he needed. If you were taking care of him, he was willing to let you.

You pulled his shirt off over his head and pouted at him, "It was in my way."

the best part of going to bed is making up scenarios to fall asleep to. Jason would make a very good weighted blanket. i'd like 10 please.

**

He looks at you like he can see straight through you.

The words you want to say won't come out, they splinter and shatter inside your mouth, vowels and constantans twisting over your tongue and leaving it tied up, useless.

Just like you.

"No." Jason says as soon as the thought passes through your head. "Sweetheart, no." He repeats, and you wonder for the smallest second, if he can read your mind. "Come here."

His hands grab the backs of your thighs and he picks you up, guides your thighs around his thick waist. Your head tucks itself into the warm crook of his neck and you sigh, almost as if someone has just removed a weight from your exhausted shoulders.

He feels like relief.

He feels safe.

Jason's gait is smooth when he walks through your apartment to the bedroom, you hardly feel like you're moving at all and there's a flicker of amusement at the knowledge that someone so big, can move so softly, so smoothly.

You press a soft kiss behind his ear and Jason grips you tighter, hums quietly in the back of his throat.

"You okay, baby?" He asks.

"Tired." You answer, and close your eyes. "Sad."

Sitting you on the edge of the bad, Jason drops to his knees and starts untying your shoes. His actions are tender, selfless. He rests your foot on his thigh, takes them off and places them next to the bed.

"My poor girl." He murmurs, reaching up to cup your cheek and thumb away the leak of tears from your eyes. "Let me take care of you, yeah? Let me love on you until you feel better. Y'don't have to be sad on your own, sweetheart. I'll be right here no matter what."

love your work! thank youu <3

"No thank you- I'm here with-"

"Come one baby," he said smiling, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if-"

Behind you, thankfully, you can feel Jason. Back from talking to the waiter you'd come to talk to for a case. "You ready to go, Princess?"

"Jason!" You push the other guy away from you, wrapping your arms around yourself and stumbling back, "I didn't- I-"

"I know," he said, steadying you on your feet and letting you tuck yourself against his side. "You're alright?"

"Fine," you murmur, "just-" embarrassed, flustered, annoyed- the club was too loud and too busy for you to sort it out properly.

Jason kissed the top of our head and let you go gently, stepping up to his 'competition' with a smile that had made criminals visibly shiver. "Touch my girl again and I'll cut off your hand, understand?"

"Listen I just thought-"

"It's not an essay question."

"Yeah," he said, face burning, "I- yeah."

"What's the matter, Princess?" Jason teased, pinning your wrists above your head and letting you wriggle and squirm under him.

Flexing his thighs and biceps just slightly. Letting you feel how futile it was to struggle.

"I could make you afraid of me," you pout.

"You could," he acknowledged, not missing the way you made sure that your squirming left you grinding on him. "But if you make me afraid of you I could keep going."

You didn't feel afraid. Or uncomfortable. You felt a lot of things. And they washed over him making him feel too hot and overstimulated. "Jaybird," you whine. "It's no fun when you always win."

"I win even when you win," he chuckled, bending down to kiss your nose. "You're either under me or on top of me. Either way I end up balls deep in your pretty little cunt."

"I'm not naked," you point out.

"Never stopped me before," he purred, basking in the feel of you. You'd quit struggling and apparently, you decided to just go with it. Not wanting to be an active participant in your own seduction anymore. Content to be a pillow princess and make him do the work.

You were holding yourself in control so tight you looked like a guitar string ready to snap. In his mind's eye, he could see the muscle and tendon straining.

He wasn't sure if you were going to run or be sick. And he hated how scared you were. How tightly you were holding yourself in control. Holding back.

Where there would be a whirl of emotions, an undercurrent of what you were feeling that would permeate the air. There was nothing.

The walls had gone up and you were hiding away.

"Y/N," Jason said softly, kneeling in front of your chair, "can you look at me?"

"No."

"Why not, princess?" he asked, stroking his hands down your forearms gently. Rubbing his thumbs down the insides of your wrists. Comforted when you don't pull away.

"You're mad at me."

Jason blinked for a second, remembering it was a two-way street. You felt what he felt. And without context, or knowing him better, feelings like anger felt the same. You felt the intensity of the anger in the pit of his stomach- and it drowned out everything else. "I'm not mad at you," he said keeping his voice gentle. "I'm mad about what was done to you. I'm mad that you're hurt. I'm mad at myself for making you afraid. I'm not mad at you."

You make a soft noise Jason doesn't know the meaning of and Jason softened, stroking the thumbs down the inside of your wrists before ending his head to kiss your palms, "Okay Princess?"

"Jay bird-"

"Hey, Princess," Jason rumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist. Happy to be home. Letting your love and concern wash over him. Bending down to let you take his helmet off.

Patrols, where kids had been hurt, were hard. And right now, your lips feathering kisses over his nose and cheeks- your love and concern swirling around him- it helped.

He stood still, letting you strip him out of his armor. Breathing in the smell of you. The smell of home. "You take such good care of me, Princess," he murmured.

"I love you," you tell him, by way of explanation.

And he smiled a little. He could feel it. The pleasant warmth that spread through his belly and chest. "I know you do, Princess," he murmured, sinking into the sofa where you'd steered him. Stroking your hair as you helped him out of his boots.

"Do you want a shower? Are you hungry?" you ask, rocking back on your heels as you set his boots aside.

"Hey, Princess?"

"Yes?"

"Where do you want the creepy bridge painting?" Jason asked, flipping through the stack of pictures that were leaning against the wall.

"Office," you answer, tossing another towel from a box of dishes into the hamper.

Jason nodded to himself and looked up, watching you for a moment, smiling tenderly. You look sweet. Focused. And the apartment fairly sparkles with the contentment you feel. It makes him feel like there's a cat, warm and sleepy purring on his chest.

And he did that.

Well- kinda, anyway, he amended. You found the apartment. You spent weeks finding all the dishes and stuff. Sending him pictures of towels you liked and crap he didn't care about except for the fact that it was important to you.

He didn't care if the sheets were gun metal grey or if they were pink with unicorns, as long as he slept next to you. He didn't care if the dishes were modern or paper plates as long as he got to eat with you. All he wanted was his Princess to feel safe and happy in her little kingdom.

So having you here, singing to yourself and building your nest as happily as any little bird... It felt good. Really good. And he couldn't wait until bedtime when he got to tuck you in and help you break in the new mattress.

Jason pulled his shirt off with a wince, frowning down at the scars that crisscrossed his chest and abdomen. His arms. His neck. And he hated it.

He knew you didn't mind them, but sometimes, he felt more like Frankenstein's monster than a proper man.

And it wasn't until warm soft arms wrap around his midsection and pull him away from the mirror, "No," you tell him.

"No what, Princess?" he rumbled, letting you push him onto the bed, smiling softly when you look down at him, hip and head cocked, arms folded.

"Be nice."

"Princess-"

But he doesn't have time to finish that sentence. Lips crash into his and the comfortable weight of you pins him to the bed, wrapping his hands around the wrought iron headboard before you sit back up, looking down at him appraisingly.

"I know twitter says Dick is the pretty one and they're kinda right," you hum, trailing your fingers over a jagged scar on his belly. "But you're beautiful-"

"Princess," he rumbled, feeling his face heating, "You don't have to do-"

"I do though," you hum, leaning down and mouthing soft kisses against another scar on his sternum. "You're handsome. You should know."

Jason started to reach for you and smirked when your hand shot out to smack his, "No touching," you scold.

"Yes, your highness," he said contritely. He wasn't sure what you were going to do, but the kisses and soft touches felt good. Sweet. And he was content to let this happen. Basking in the feeling of you flooding him with all the endorphin-inducing things you wanted him to feel. The love. The admiration. The lust. Leaving no room for anything else he'd felt before.