Maybe for requests, Jason x reader with unrequited love. Jason being the one in love and the y/n never truly loving Jason the same way. Maybe an established friends with benefits relationship. Smutty angst ? Xxxxxxxx
SUMMARY: explained by the ask......... might or not might have added some cheating, WHOOPS.
TW: Angst and smut. Some cheating might have been implied. Read until the end! You can decide on which end you want first by commenting!
A/N: Tomorrow (today cuz here it’s 6:17 AM!), I’ll answer another ask I have pendant from some time ago, and I’LL START ON MY FIRST PART TWO, BABIES. I know that Heal, Cool Girl and others have attracted a lot of attention, but I think I’ll start on Heal, cuz I have it all planned. On Cool Girl I was planning on doing some endings: two with Jason (good and bad), two with Dick (good and bad) and one neutral but... Well, angsty. Tell me what you think!
People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup
I just want to be yours — Jason Todd x Reader (x Dick Grayson, implied)
You told yourself this would be the last time. Fucking this up this much shouldn’t be a thing, should not happen this often; people joke around the big mistake that is fucking with an ex, and the worst thing is that you actually joked about those things: as if you could ever do such a thing! How pathetic can someone be, right? The room is dark, and it takes you a bit to actually find your clothes; disorientated as you were when you first opened your eyes, this is a really big step. Your bra is somewhere near the bed, and your underwear between the covers. The rest you can maybe take here and there, as long as you find your pants. Jason won’t mind.
His wounds are slightly fresh, even when you had taken care this time with your nails; seeing how beat he had been, you had tried to take care, not leave more red marks behind this time. Looking back, drunk and high on adrenaline, letting him walk you to your door had not been the best option; but who knew Jason would get into a fight for you on that same night? People think of Jason as someone smaller than Dick, and that may be so in age, but in no means in weight or height. He is the biggest of all of the Wayne adoptees, and maybe the one with the worst self-control too. You used to like that when you were going out, but that was getting old, right? Still, he had taken you out of that bar in his bike and it all had felt so juvenile, like the first time he’d done something similar. He was irresistible when you two met, and it had been lust at first sight - you could swear on that. Now? All that was left were ashes of a very intense but mediocre romance at most in terms of deepness.
Sex was easy, no questions asked; the problem always was when Jason got clingy, a bit antsy and inquisitive. It made you flee. Thus, you get up as quietly as you can, drag your clothes out, take one of his shirts, and escape the house. If he finds you, you think you won’t be able to say “no”.
“I don’t-I don’t know”: You frown, holding your cellphone between your ear and shoulder. It’s getting hot, and you hate that, but your hands are a bit busy. Fuck you hate your job.
“Ugh, I hate it when you call me by my name, Richard.” You emphasize your voice in the last noun, making him chuckle because of your revenge. He hates his name too. “I’m just-look, you don’t want the details. We both wanted it, that’s it.”
“I know, I know! Shut up, I swear to God I planned on having some drinks and going back home. Just that. I actually like talking to him”
There’s a bit of a silence on the line, enough to make you know what he’s going to say. The thing he has been insinuating for the past months, of course.
“You know he hasn’t gone out with anyone, right? He didn’t go to your stupid set-ups with other girls.”
“Yeah, they’ve told me. How is that my fault?”
The tiredness in Dick’s sigh makes you feel guilty, because of course you know whose fault it is. How can he move on if you are constantly moving back in his life like that, being all unfair? And you know, you know, but you love talking to him and sometimes, just sometimes, things go back to how they were before it all got messy.
“I don’t know, just because I don’t.” You answer, exhausted with yourself. It feels like a trap at times talking to him, and you hate that. Jason is not being clingy, but he can’t quite make why you are so opposed to it. And he should.
“It’s just meeting the rest of the family, babe. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“You gave me a fucking drawer, Jason. It is a fucking big of a deal.”
He drops himself into the sofa, sighing, quite exhausted. You are too, lax in the comfortable armchair you’ve made almost yours throughout the time you’ve spent with him.
“Listen, that is because you are here almost everyday, (Y/N). I’m not going to ask you anything.”
That calms you down, somehow, but there’s hurt in his eyes. You can remember it clear as a day; it had been a couple months after you’d meet, started to fuck here and there — and he had given you a fucking drawer in his bedroom. Like you two were something.
The fact that you feel so anxious for meeting his family, knowing him a bit more, and having a drawer had not been good signs. Both of you had entered the relationship making very clear it was merely sexual, but now touches were becoming more usual, nuzzles and the occasional naps taken together…
He is falling in love with the little thing she does, like walking around the apartment in her cold bare feet and putting them up Jason’s lap any chance she has, just so that he can “warm them up”. He finds that adorable for some reason, instead of annoying. Or the way her hair looks like that of a superstar when she takes her scrunchie off, occasionally – her hair is amazing, almost as if styled, but its purely natural, unintentional. He is falling in love too with the way his hand perfectly fits her waist when he hoists her back to him, grabs her by the naked lateral area showing skin before sleeping, calming him up immediately. He loves how she just seems to roam around comfortable around him, enough to laugh out loud like that, be in silence, or fuck him all sweaty and without a care in the world. He loves it when she starts things, making him feel so wanted, so loved.
Jason has never felt wanted. Not much anyways. Dad fled and mom OD’d; Bruce Wayne (not Dad) had his touches, yes, but how could he win against golden boy, always perfect, always first in everything? Not to say the years he was dead, where he did nothing to avenge him, just mourn. He kind of just knew that things would have been different if it had been Dick, if it had been Tim – and Jason hated himself for thinking like that, but he couldn’t help it. People didn’t stick around him too long before leaving, and usually in bad terms. They left him behind, but then you came along, always soft, sweet, sarcastic – but never cruel. You fought to reach him, talk him out of certain bad thoughts, ruts where he didn’t feel like waking up and even confessing dark and unspoken secrets.
No one but the social services knew how you had been abandoned in a bus stop by your mom when you were three years old. How long you’ve stayed there, hoping no one would grab you, take you, kidnap you or worse things – you had cried but you had stay in your position, hoping she would come back and just make it all a bad joke. You never understood or fully assimilated the problem, thus becoming the broken shell you are with twenty-two years old, a victim of the broken foster care system – just what Jason would have become had Bruce Wayne not appeared. Not everyone has an angel watching their back.
You had expressed your tremendous trust issues, your desire to flee from happy things, good people: they made you feel broken, unwanted, less of a person, and worst of all small. You hated being small, being walked upon – there were people who when threatened, they made themselves smaller, bowed down their head in submission. But not you. Fear made you stronger, you knew how to take every blow and give it back with if not as much force, even more. Relationships made you feel caged, clingy, and Jason knew that when he had asked you stay the first night, uncomfortable as you had been the first minutes before falling sleep, maybe because you had stressed yourself enough or because you were truly tired and he had noticed.
He noticed the smaller things. Jason wanted to know that her small things were big and loud as shouts for him. He noticed, he knew.
“I see you, (Y/N) (L/N).” He tells you one night, cuddled up against him, laughter dying in your throat from the self-deprecating joke. You can’t even remember what it was about, but his eyes, his gorgeous eyes had made you feel bashful, almost timid.
And that scared you to death. You know what he means, what he sees – you, in your rawest form, your most humane and vulnerable sides. And he stays anyways.
“Well how could you not with your stupid frog-like eyes, dumbass?”. You retort before laughing, pushing him from your body almost too scared.
You have to fight, or otherwise you’ll lose. You knew that back then and you know that now. Falling in love with Jason is almost too easy, giving up into his eyes and his big cuddly arms, the loving monster that he is – and you mean that in a good way, always in a good way. You knew of his vulnerabilities as much as he knew about yours, and you had something deep, tainted by moments that made your stomach flutter, your cheeks blush at times.
There’s only one remedy against that.
Jason pushes you against your wall, making you gasp and the pictures behind you flutter, scaring you for a second – but then you forget, his incredible mouth on your neck making things, sucking skin, so deliciously that your thigs trap him deeper. His arms, holding you up by your ass against the wall, squeeze the flesh even with clothes between you. He groans, his bulge pressing against your hot core, mewls coming out of your mouth. It’s so easy to start, why hadn’t you done this before?
Oh, right, because sex fucks things up like love. It’s the second most dangerous thing after opening your heart to someone, and you know that this is it. He will take you, and after that, he will be done with you, like the rest of men in your life. You grab him harshly, taking him back from hair so that he can look at you, with your very serious and commanding eyes:
He takes you there, almost pushing you into it as he descends. You take off your blouse, bra – and like a dog, by instinct, he attacks your chest, hardened nipples to play with as you moan, trousers becoming more and more uncomfortable.
“Take it off, take it all off, Jay.” You beg, this time, helping him in the process before he starts taking clothes off your body, worshipping almost. That’s dangerous.
You thought Jason would be a selfish lover – he seemed like the type, himself coming first before the rest (no pun intended), but to your great surprise you get to cum two times before he finally lets himself in, with your very tired but pleasured permission. You are in love with his body, you can say that much, as his cock and his dominating presence is all you can see, your legs opened for him, about to enter your dripping entrance-
“Jay!”. You moan, nails going for his arms, the closest thing to you at the moment. He fucks you without abandon, mere lust and want behind, no love to be seen on a couch-fuck that will never be spoken of again.
You get on top of him and ride him, as he meets your thrusts halfway there. He gives and gives and gives, thinking he will get something in exchange, maybe you will say something stupid like the stupid things he wants to say as he gets to see your pleasured expression, blissed out face and moaning and whimpers – but there’s no “I love you’s”, no “I want to be more”, no “I kind of haven’t been thinking of you as just a friend for the last past months”. He has been often thinking about it these last weeks, but there isn’t that kind of realization as he finishes you.
But if that’s what you want for now, he will respect it. He will if it means holding you close to his body in your most vulnerable time, after coming down from an orgasm and grabbing her neck as she calms down. Jason takes her to bed after cleaning them up, and slowly, almost groggily, falls asleep, protecting her from the rest of the world. He just wishes he could have kept that night longer, eternal. Nothing is the same after that.
The first times after that are incredible sex-wise, but there’s no communication. There’s moans, dirty talking and kinky conversations that they hadn’t touch on before, but nothing deep, most definitely not loving. But slowly, they make their way into something else, in the precious pillow talk that becomes his favorite moment after making her cum again and again.
“No, no, that’s the thing! Everyone loves Picasso, but not a lot of people know what a misogynistic ass he was! There are far better alternatives than him, way too underrated and unknown from the same movement! And that goes for the little racist bitch that’s Lovecraft! He has his freaking cult and he was the worst person to exist on-“
She rambles, rants on about writers, painters, artists which she loves and hates, things she seems to want to share with him. He loves that, her passion, how intelligent she is, and how he looks at her, expectantly before he shares his own, which most often than not is with hers. She likes that. Sometimes they don’t coincide, but that’s okay too because she gets even more fired up, and they end up kissing, just to “make-up” even when there’s nothing to make up for. But he likes that, he adores it. He just wonders how long that precious period will last before problems arise, and he’s right in doing so. Jason is prepared at least.
“But why? It’s just-we’ve been through so much together, Jay! I’ve told you everything, and I thought you had done the same, how can you not then? Trust me with that?”
“That” happens to be his vigilante life, one he plans on keeping form her as long as they live. He’s seen people die, get attacked, be kidnapped – he won’t forgive himself if someone is to take you, especially with the Joker back in Gotham once more. To Jason, the more he loved and opened to you, the more you became a target, a weakness: his weakness. It was the eternal superhero’s dilemma, wasn’t it?
“No, fuck you! You knew how big my trust issues were, you knew how long it took me to open up! And then you just can’t take that big step for me? Are you serious, Todd? I really don’t know where we are headed, it’s just a mystery at this point! Sometimes you-you do that where you stare at me with-with love! And then there’s this comfortable silence, the kisses in-between! I’m not comfortable with the idea of taking things to the next step, but if it’s with you, I can make do! But not if we are going to be like this, if you are going to be this way”. Your finger accuses him, almost making a hole in his chest. It hurts, because more than anything she’s disappointed. Dealing with anger was easy – take the blow, the insults, let them steam off, and then hug. Nothing more. But with disappointment, he never knows what quite to do. And she’s a bit like that as well. “I need space. Don’t wait on for me.”
***
You still fuck for the months to come, but there are few kisses in between, just on the stupid days you let yourself be swept on by his charm, his hands that undo you more times that you can remember. It’s easy to concede a bit, be sweet for a time before retreating, hiding yourself – nothing has been the same since the fight, and Jason is desperately trying to gain the closeness he’s lost in the months that this has been going on.
There’s movie marathons, still you come to his apartment and he comes to yours late in the night – but whenever he comes from a vigilante mission, she kinda somehow knows because of the hours and thus, Jason always finds her asleep, giving him her back before getting into bed. He kisses her nape, the naked skin between neck and shoulder, and presses his head into her back as if saying “sorry”. It never works, because you never turn around, as wake as you are. It won’t make the cut, because he’s still not talking.
But then the unimaginable happens.
Jason discovers that (Y/N) and fucking Dick Grayson are keeping in contact.
Things spiral down from that point on.
You fall slowly in love with Dick. He has a girlfriend and insinuates so in one of your hangouts (they are no longer meetings, just friends chilling), but you couldn’t care less. Dick has something that Jason hasn’t quite show you: honesty, undoubted charm, and easy-going attitude. Nothing is intense, you never go home angry or disappointed, upset that he doesn’t trust you. Richard Grayson seems to, to your own surprise, hold you in great admiration. In between some things because you are Jason’s girlfriend – and the rest because of your personality, the charm he says you have.
“It’s like I never fully get to know you. Some days you say this, and then you say that – it’s fascinating.” You take it as a compliment, chuckling with slightly pink cheeks as you look at his eyes, dilated and flirty.
“Well, that keeps things interesting, doesn’t it? You’ll never get tired of me.”
Sometimes he gets nervous; others he fully blushes and other he flirts back; you are sure of that. And the comfort of his arms around you when you say goodbye is something you aren’t sure you can ignore for much longer. The meetings started as informative reports, if you are to define it in some way; the relationship with the Wayne’s was not at his best, but still Dick wanted to keep in contact, see how Jason was doing, seeing as he had no apparent job. Things started politely enough, brief talks before parting ways, until you started giving in more of your relationship problems (or whatever the hell Jason and you had, seeing as you are not officially going out) and Dick slowly started to voice things out.
And it all seems to go good enough so that Jason starts to get worried. Then he plainly follows you, stalks you, one of your days – he observes you eating out with someone else, which makes his instincts calm, but the moment they step out into the cold and the guy helps her with her coat, he can catch the profile of his face. And he launches himself before he can think about it through, going for his face and making his head bounce almost back from the window.
You shout his name and grab a hold of his arm as you take him back, try to take him apart from Dick Grayson, whose stomach he’s currently going for. No one else seems to want to step in, thus making your job more difficult. But you’ve seen it before, and he won’t stop – he doesn’t know how to stop when this kind of things happens, something gets triggered inside his head. He’s told you so many times that you can actually remember, and you can fully understand the feeling – he’s lost control. But still you grab his arm, try to push his chest back and make him look at you. When you make contact two times in a row, he stops, letting himself be slightly pushed back, stopped.
People are staring, and Dick is on the floor coughing; Jason’s knuckles are red and slightly bruised, and Grayson’s shirt is dark and dirty because of his boots. He hates that, losing control, you know – you grab him by the jaw before telling him sweet nothings, making him relax almost in your touch. He’s explosive, dangerous like that but you still stay. That amazes him.
He takes you desperately, like fucking his way into your body until you can’t remember anything anymore, you will get tired of him – when will it be, when will it be? He wishes he could stop thinking that as he makes his way inside your body, desperately bruises your lips with love, as if making you understand: I love you, he too timidly mouthes into her as her eyes close, on the ceiling out of pleasure. It’s a slow rut, but deep and pleasurable – you cum once and then he finishes off on your stomach, kisses in between, (Y/N) whispering sweet confirmations, phrases of pure love and desire:
“You can let go, you can cum. Cum on me, get me dirty too, baby. You are fine, you are safe, I need you. I need you, just you. Okay? Okay, Jay, baby. Just go, let go.”
He does. He kisses you. You kiss back, and soon after, turn to sleep.
Slowly, you are slipping away.
The inevitable happens: sex stops, and you stop talking. Sometimes you don’t ever get to see each other. What’s the point? You cut things off, and Jason just accepts. How had it been that easy? You cannot fully understand, but it’s something you definitively appreciate. Were you in the wrong perhaps? As Dick opens his mouth, apparently to greet you, you realize. It’s clear to you as the day:
“I have to tell you something.”
dededos
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