❝ He can't fuck you like I can ❞
Jason Todd x vigilante!ftm!reader | porn with plot, minor angst, hints of fluff | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | wc: 3.9K
warnings: most likely inaccurate gun anatomy and care, dysfunctional relationship, dub. consent, gunplay, dacryphilia, possessive fucking, mentions of abandonment issues, slight degradation, creampies, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock. terms like cunt/boycunt, pussy/boypussy, hole, sex are used)
summary: Jason and you had broken up. He didn’t think you meant it. Not until you mention a one-night stand. He’s determined to remind you that no one else could ever have you like that. Listening to ▸Teeth (interlude) by XXXTENTACION / The Worst by Jhené Aiko Patreon | Discord
It’s raining in Gotham City. It’s an unrelenting force, a sheet of water thundering against window panes and cars mercilessly. Yet, the citizens of Gotham City go about their nights as usual. A little rain didn’t scare them. There were more terrifying figures in the dark to fear, but there were others in the dark, too. People who would protect them.
Whether it's Batman or the other vigilantes, despite their personal opinions on your methods, they never complained when you saved them.
The cops, however, had their own thoughts about you. Your methods were much more brutal than they’d like; you were a harder pill to swallow compared to the Bat and his proteges of brightly coloured circus monkeys. Like you gave a shit.
You strained your eyes to listen to the garbled chatter in your ears. Rainy, stormy nights were the perfect setting for criminals to do as they did. Lower visibility, coupled with the muffling the rain provided, gave them more cover. That, and some cops found gravity weighing down on them when it came to patrolling their routes when it rained.
Those lazy bastards.
Still, the police scanner crackled to life. If only you could make out what they were saying, but alas, the rain was being more of a pain in the ass than usual. You let out an annoyed sigh, half-tempted to chuck the in-ear communicator onto the ground and go back to the usual routine of chasing police lights. But before you could make up your mind, your ears picked up on a pair of footsteps that you’d memorised.
Heavy steel-toed combat boots. Light despite it — their owner being a man who’d trained to keep his steps cat-like from years of living in Gotham, then being trained under the Batman, and finally being trained under assassins. The man, the myth, the thorn in your side and pain in your ass;
Jason Todd.
You cursed, rolling your eyes as you face him. He stalks forward. The dingy yellow light of the rooftop you were on barely highlighted the red hues of his helmet. You scoff as he stays silent, still making his way towards you in a casual cadence that annoys you so much that you walk towards the ledge.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he gruffs out. You wished you couldn’t hear him. You wished his voice would be crackling and as indiscernible as the police scanner chatter. “Don’t be such a drama queen, will ya’?”
“Hell do you want, Red?” You spun on your heel, but don’t budge from the edge because if you did, he’d get into his head about how obedient you are or some bullshit like that. It wouldn’t be uncharacteristic of him — the crux of your break-up had been his silent expectations of you in the relationship. Something he didn’t communicate to you, which left him unhappy, and you bitter.
It wasn’t your fault; Jason couldn’t open his mouth to speak about these things. Therefore, it wasn’t your responsibility to cater to his needy insecurities if he never said anything in the first place. That’s what you’d told your civilian friends anyway, and they fully agreed because they were your friends. Even if they were your own echo chamber, you still knew a part of your argument stayed true.
If Jason couldn’t communicate, then why would he be shocked that you’d be clueless about his personal feelings?
“What? I can’t have a chummy talk with you?” he jerks his head at you, his gloved hands crossing his broad chest as you hear him scoff.
Your brow twitches, and you swear you feel a vein pop out on your temple.
“Chummy talk? Now, you can talk to me?”
“Oh fuck, here you fuckin’ go again —”
You raise your hands, shaking your head. Your bangs sway along with you, rivulets of water making their way down your nose and face as you jump down from the ledge and stomp towards your gear.
“You want to have talks? Like, therapy sessions, yeah? That’s what you want?” His jabbering causes irritation to spread through you. The feeling of rain making your hair wet, and the annoying noise in your ear of garbled speeches, is already fraying your senses as is. Jason’s obtuseness wasn’t helping lift your mood in the slightest. You hoped the criminals tonight would put up a good fight, because you desperately needed something to punch.
“We’re vigilantes. We’re not a normal couple,” Jason said. His helmet was warping his voice slightly.
“We’re not a couple, Red,” you remind him. He tilts his head, laughing.
“Something funny?” You ask in a flat tone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your annoyance.
“What? You being serious?”
“Fuck’s sake, Jason. I haven’t been to your place in weeks, haven’t even returned your calls, much less your messages. Are you that dense?”
“Over a dumb argument?”
“An argument you started!” You yelled, not being able to stop yourself, as you laughed in disbelief. The dark clouds above you rumbled, and the rain lightened up slightly. But Gotham’s weather was as finicky as Jason’s mood at times, so you didn’t find it at all reassuring.
“You were the one who started talking about how I’m not good enough for you! That I shouldn’t be doing missions because clearly,” you stressed the last word with as much disdain as you could. “I’m too stupid to know how criminal enterprises work, despite my extensive multi-year career.”
“Okay, I know I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said.”
“Most of the things, Jason.”
You can’t see it, but you know he’s rolling his eyes, and the thought of that pisses you off enough to turn your back to him.
“Can you stop walking away? I was just worried about you, alright! I could’ve worded it better, I digress. I was just angry because you were being reckless.”
“You gave me a test, a mission, like I’m your sidekick instead of your boyfriend. Do you know how humiliating it is? Then! You graded me and gave me constructive criticism!”
Jason didn’t understand why you found that so offensive. That’s how he’d been trained all his life, and it made him stronger. His reflexes, his quickhandedness in combat, and his quick wits had been earned through grit and tests. He didn’t think you’d be so reckless, and in the heat of the moment, his words came out much harsher than he had intended.
“I’m a grown-ass man, Jason. I don’t need to be tested by my boyfriend of all people!”
“Oh, so we’re boyfriends again?” Jason follows you as you leap to a different rooftop. If Gotham citizens could hear you both now, they’d be sitting on their fire escapes with a popcorn bucket in hand.
“No!” You yell, just as thunder rumbles again and the rain pours down harder.
“Move on already, Jason! God knows I have!”
His head snaps upwards as he watches your figure shrink the further away you stomp, but then he doubles his speed and grasps at your shoulder. You nearly spin from the force of his grip, but you remain steady on your feet as you level your glare at him.
“Fuck does that mean? You seeing someone?” You hate that your cock twitches at the rough tone he takes. But you push through that mindless lust, shoving him back as you continue your journey to get away from him.
“I fucked someone! Best night of my fucking life!”
Jason stood there, stunned. The rain continued to pour, and the sight of your leaping figure got smaller and smaller as the minutes ticked by. Jason felt like the earth beneath him had opened up and swallowed him in those minutes. His heart started to pick up its speed again, and he tugged his helmet off when he felt the air beginning to get thinner and thinner. He hated this. This all-consumming feeling of dread swallowed him whole and turned his limbs as heavy as lead.
Why did you have this much power over him? No, why had he given you this much power?
He thought he’d learned his lesson a lifetime ago. But here he was again, left in the dark and cold as his mind raced with a million possibilities. He loves you, did you not see that? Were you too angry to see it, or had you truly just given up on him? You promised him once upon a time that you would never do that.
But Bruce had made the same promise before, then broke it and replaced him. Jason’s head pulsed, and he grit his teeth as he tried to ground himself back to earth. That stupid fucking therapy method again, something about focusing his senses, or was it meditation, fuck! He couldn’t think.
Were you leaving him?
Did you hate him?
Were you wishing you’d never even met him?
It’s nearly morning when you stumble home. Knuckles satisfyingly bruised and back aching; you craved a warm shower, then your comfortable bed to end this shitty night.
Your plans would need to be put on pause when you entered your home and immediately picked up on his presence. You hung your head, tiredly swinging your legs over your window ledge and placing your elbows on your knees as you frustratingly ran your fingers through your hair. The puddle of water dripping onto the floor from your drenched frame was the least of your concerns as you glared at Jason from between your fingers.
He was leaning against your kitchen counter, his hood still on his face as he held his gun in his hands. He had disassembled it, and pieces of it lay on your counter, twinkling at you as though greeting you.
“Get out of my house, psycho.”
Jason’s cheek twitches, but he continues to wipe his gun down, pretending he hadn’t heard you at all.
“You remember how much you slobbered on my Glock?”
You freeze as you register what he’d just so casually asked you. So he takes this chance to continue.
“Because I do. You were begging for me to shove it in your mouth, sucking it like it was my dick.” He places his rag — it was yours, he’d gone and used your shit because he knew you used the same supplies as him, because he was a good boyfriend, and he made sure you used the best of the best like he did — down on your counter, then he fixes the barrel and recoil spring back. When he lines up the slide and racks his gun, the loud click that it makes sends shivers down your spine.
“I fucked you so hard that night, you walked funny. You said that was the best night of your life.”
“Jason.”
“Stoker’s a funny family name,” Jason tips his head down, and your fingers curl into fists as you both glare at the other. “No relation to the author, though, shame. Would’ve been cooler if he was.”
“You found out who I fucked?”
“Wasn’t hard. I know which bar you like to go to, asked around. Told Debby we were going through a rough patch, she said she didn’t like Arthur that much anyway. Fucker doesn’t subscribe to the idea of tipping apparently.”
You cautiously approach him, uncaring of the water you drag in as the ambience of the still-harsh rain muffles the silence between you. Jason keeps you in his sights. He knows you’re gearing to lunge at him, not because he’s a threat. No, Jason wasn’t a scumbag who’d hurt his boyfriend. He wasn’t that kind of piece of shit — he’d much rather die than become one.
You just want to intimidate him. Chase him out of your home. Out of your life.
Jason rolls his shoulder and lazily inspects his now-clean gun. Aiming it at your wooden floors. As you draw closer, your eyes take in the organised mess he’d set up. Then, the bloody rag.
“You pistol-whipped him?” Jason turns his head to look at you.
“You’d rather I shoot him?”
You hate how heated he got you. How easily he stokes anger and lust inside of you, how much your heart squeezes when you see those sea-green eyes stare into you. They’re always desperate, not vulnerable, but desperate. Like he wanted you to see him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to show it. So you made it a point to unravel parts of him — made sure he knew you’d always be someone that stayed, someone that wouldn’t leave him because he was broken.
But fuck, he made you so pissed sometimes.
“Take off your helmet, Jason.”
He perks up at the tone you take. Not snarky, not clipped. There was an air of resignation in there, but your frown remained on your face, so he remained cautious. He places his helmet on the counter, and you take Jason Todd in.
There he was. His inky black hair stuck to his forehead, streaks of white accompanying it. He had strong brow bones, shadows often enveloping his eyes, if it weren’t for how bright they were. Then, his tall nose bridge that’d been reset so many times, you were surprised it still stayed as pretty as it was. His m-shaped cupid's bow, the scar that ran down his lip and the scar on his cheek; a gnarly J carved so deep it never went away.
He couldn’t meet your eyes. So you call out for him again.
There’s that desperation.
“He was a pussy,” he said flatly. “Why in the fuck would you sleep with him?”
You pull off your domino mask, rubbing at the makeup around your eyes. It smudged messily, sticking to your gloved hands, but you couldn’t give a damn. You were exhausted, and Jason’s whining wasn’t helping. Even if he pulled at your heartstrings, your body was far too tired.
“Jason,” you sigh out.
“You think he could’ve fucked you like I could?” He waved his unloaded gun around, a loose grin on his handsome face as he turned his body to face you. Still leaned against your counter, still entirely too casual.
“You think anyone could satisfy your fucked up fantasies like I could?”
You rub at the back of your neck, giving him a half-hearted glare as you remember what he was referencing. He’d been cleaning his gun, and you watched on lazily. It was the way he did it so efficiently. His pretty hands are taking it apart, then wiping it clean. The way he cleaned the barrel, thrusting the brush in then out once. Then again, unsatisfied with the cleanliness.
You’d been horny. Blurting out how it looked so sensual — he apparently cleaned your gun sexily. He thought you were joking, but you continued. Saying the gun was almost like a cock.
You ended up kneeling between his legs that night, his gun in your mouth and his fingers in your hair as you teased him.
He was right. Not everyone would be cool with even the idea of bringing a gun into the bedroom. Certainly not Arthur Stoker. You doubted even the other vigilantes you knew would be open to it — they’d call you insane, or kinky if they were being nice, but they’d most definitely judge you.
Jason approaches you, and you tip your head to look at him. He places the barrel under your jaw, dragging it down to your chin, then tapping it there.
“It’s clean,” he mutters dryly. You fight the urge to scoff.
You were so tired. But a good fucking never hurt. Or even if it did, it’d be a good kind of hurt.
Jason sucked in a breath when you pressed your kiss to it. Your smudged makeup and painted lashes made your eyes seem brighter than it was, even under your shitty kitchen lights.
You slip your tongue to the sides, tracing the slide and groaning softly when you open your mouth and let him admire the sight of his gun on your tongue. Jason grabs the back of your head and smashes your lips together. You react like a live wire, wrapping your arms around him, and he wastes no time in carrying you to your bedroom.
Jason is impatient. You don’t blame him. You’re sure he intends to erase any traces of Arthur from you — he grips you like that’s the case. His eyes were heavy, possessiveness rolling off of him in waves.
He looked so handsome.
You couldn’t help but kiss him again, and again. He grunted, bringing you on top of him and resting you on his lap as you grinded on him. He reeked of the rain, smog, and gunpowder. But underneath that, there’s his signature cologne. Bergamot and rich vanilla, burning so deliciously together. Then, as you ran your lips down his neck, you grinned at the scent of the body wash you’d gotten him.
If your clothes didn’t have Kevlar woven through their threads, you were sure Jason would’ve ripped them to shreds. Still, the speed at which he gets you naked could have been record-breaking. You reach for his belt, but he pins you down to the bed instead.
He presses the gun to your cunt and feels a giddy laugh escaping him when your pupils blow out.
“You’re a piece of work, baby.”
You shudder as he rubs it against your dick. The smoothness of it causes a small moan to escape you, and he grunts. “You’re getting your cunt juices all over it. You’re fucking filthy, you know that?”
“You love it though, right?” You stretch your arms above your head, and your back thanks you for it. Then you slowly melt against your bedding, looking up at him with nothing but complete trust in your eyes.
“You love me, right?”
Jason’s expression softens. He nods, helping you as he moves his weapon in tandem with the lazy rolls of your hips.
“Yeah,” he admits raspily. “Yeah, I love you.”
You reach for his face, palm covering that scar, and he leans down to kiss you.
Jason presses the barrel to your cunt, and you widen your legs. He watches your face as he pushes it in, his thumb over the pulse on your neck, so he can feel how you react. You face him, smudging your pillows with your dark makeup, and whisper his name. The more he pushes, the faster your pulse gets.
When it’s inside of you, you’re panting. If you were in pain, you didn’t show it.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispers to you. Sweeping your hair back and kissing your lips chastely.
“Taking it in so good. Such a good slut for me. You’re never gonna leave me, right?” You flutter your eyes open, nodding as you trail your hand over the curve of his ear.
“Say it.”
“Jason — ah!”
He’s halfway there, and you’re clenching down on it. His lips purse as you struggle to answer.
“Say it,” he says with a sharper tone. His finger dips to the trigger, and you shiver as you hear him applying more pressure. Although you knew his gun was unloaded, the fact that he was so desperate to hear you say you needed him, he put his hands on the trigger made your heart race.
“Please.”
“I’m never going to leave you, Jason,” you assure him in a steady tone. You gulp down a moan, stroking over his cheek as you smile at him.
“No one else loves me like you do, Jay.”
Jason kisses you again, this time slower, with more heat. When he cries, you try your best not to get wetter, but it's hard when he starts thrusting his gun in and out of you. You mewl, voice pitched as he begins to get rougher. His arms flexed, the veins on the back of his hands and up his arms getting pronounced as he fucks you through your first orgasm.
“Say it again, baby. Say you need me.”
Jason’s tears were welling in his eyes, and when he blinked, they finally slipped down his chiselled face. You moan out his name sweetly, watching how shimmery his seagreen eyes got the more emotional he was.
“Jay — Jason, baby.”
He makes a noise, soft and inquiring. You kiss his tears, savouring it on your tongue as you squeeze his biceps.
“Please, fuck me already.”
Jason pulls his gun out, and you shudder at the gape it leaves. He places your thighs over his hips, and you’re barely given a moment to think when he presses his head into you. Your back arches off the bed, a silent scream escaping you as he relentlessly presses on. Impatient, possessive, emotional. You smile dopily as you bite down on your stained pillows.
“Fuck, your boycunt feels so good, baby.”
You groan in agreement, Jason’s jaw goes loose as he slips his eyes shut. He squeezes at your hips, his grip bruising as he tries to get you to take him to his hilt. But he’s so thick, and you’re so tight. You whimper out that there’s lube, so he stretches over you to grab it because he doesn’t want to slip out.
Jason gives a generous pour, messily swiping his hands up and down your cunt. Giving your twitching dick a rub that makes you squirm.
He slides back, leaving only his tip inside of you, then pours more. It helps you immensely. You hear him toss the bottle of lube next to his gun. You chew your bottom lip in anticipation.
Jason’s first thrusts are slow, but deep. Grinding into you, rubbing at your swollen cock as he watches your face. He’s gentlemanly like that. Making sure you feel pleasure first, obsessed with the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him.
Then, once he feels you tighten up and he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm, he stops. You whine and whimper, but he simply shushes you.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise, I promise.”
He snaps his hips into you. The sound of skin smacking skin echoes through your apartment. You gasp, digging your nails into his back as he folds you in half. He uses gravity to fuck into you, moaning into your ear as he braces one hand on your headboard. The springs in your mattress squeak in alarm, and you’re sure your neighbours were going to fucking despise you with how hard your bed was thudding against the wall.
Your moans weren’t helping either.
But fuck your neighbours. If they were getting fucked this good, they’d be loud too. Jason sobs suddenly, and you press wet kisses to his cheek, shushing him when he goes back to that slow grind.
He always gets overwhelmed when it feels good. Something he’d tried desperately to fix until he met you. You reassured him with your fucked out voice that he was good, that you felt good too. He clung to your words like they were gospel.
“Are you close?” he asks you, his voice raspy.
“Yeah, but…but I wanna cum with you. Please.”
Jason actually blushes. He wipes away a few stray tears, then focuses on that pace that made you dig your nails into him. You yelp, mouth hanging open as he continues his relentless thrusts. He can feel you clench down, so he reaches to jerk you off.
Your thighs tremble, ankles locking behind him, and his eyes flutter closed as he feels you milk his cock desperately. His hips stutter, his groans turning harsh as he gives a few sloppy thrusts until he finally cums inside of you. You shudder at the feeling of him filling you up, legs falling onto the bed as you try to catch your breath.
Shit.
You were never going to be able to break up with Jason Todd, huh?