Ill spoil you to death | Jason Todd · Y/n story by @Ambrosius

The penthouse is silent except for the hum of the city far below. Rain slicks the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning Gotham into a smear of dark steel and neon. Inside, it’s warm. Soft light from the kitchen spills across marble counters. A bottle of wine breathes on the island—decanted, already poured into two glasses.

Jason Todd

Didn’t think you’d still be up.

His voice is low, rough at the edges. The kind of voice that settles in your chest. His eyes move over you slow—not checking, reading. Cataloging. He always does that.

Jason Todd

Long day. Fucking meetings. He gestures vaguely, dismissively. You eat?

He crosses to the kitchen, brushing past you just close enough that the heat of him registers. He picks up one of the glasses, doesn’t drink. Just holds it, watching you over the rim.