Jason Todd x afab!reader.
a/n; i've been really into jason ever since i left and i think i need to write for him before my mind EXPLODES! lmk if you want more i need to get back to writing. . .
warnings; smut smut smutty smut ! yearners are earners friends.. semipublic! sex, afab no pronouns, desperate quicky, a sprinkle of angst and arguing !!
Jason had never been one to meet your expectations. But that was only the beginning now. When he'd come back, you felt yourself loosen, your heart began beating once more, yet his remained stilled.
Sometimes you wondered if it'd ever began beating again, or had he simply took a breath?
You would never ask. You knew better. Talking about Jason's death was plausibly the worst thing you could do in his presence, not because of his anger, but rather the twitch in his jaw that proved he must've felt something. Somewhere.
Looking at pictures felt like he was still gone, far from you and what you had once had. When you were teenagers you'd found each other in a desperate messy kind of way, the way kids do when they have nothing but a feeling. A feeling you would hold onto for the rest of your life.
He had once been your everything, the world revolving around him as if orbiting was all you'd had ever done. It had come naturally, and back then, he would've done anything for you.
But he came back in pieces, fragile, untouchable pieces. Too far to reach for, too close to forget, not that you ever truly could forget Jason Todd.
Nowadays galas like this were the bane of your existence, a party you attended merely so Bruce knew you appreciated his invitation. You had never fit in, clothes too old to fit in, yet not old enough to be fashionable. You didn't dry clean, or ride in limos, or drink fancy wines. You just got real good at pretending.
Every now and again your eyes would flicker to Jason across the room, he'd always looked good in a suit, not that you'd admit it to him. Not with his current avoidance. The first time you'd shrugged it off, but three galas down and suddenly you'd realized he was trying to get away from you.
Letting out a breath, your eyes flicker back to the floor. A beautiful dining hall never felt more like a prison than it did now, god you needed a breath. When didn't you?
You took that as a notice to leave, slipping your wine onto a passing counter before slipping out onto the roof-top. It seemed to be the only spot where he wasn't near, wasn't spying from afar, wasn't avoiding.
Pressing further to the balcony edge, you sighed, elbows resting on the cold concrete as you tried to compose whatever pieces of yourself were left, whatever thoughts your mind could control.
Only to hear the door swing open, whipping around to find Jason, he looked angry. Then confused, then conflicted. Possibly regretful. Not because you were what upset him, but rather that he'd showed you he was upset, intentionally or not.
"M'sorry, roof's yours," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours desperately, though they seemed to have some sort of magnetization towards you. He was halfway back through the door before you stopped him.
You hadn't realized you'd straightened up until you'd spoken up, mentally cursing yourself for bothering. "Stay. It's big enough for both of us to mope." That was a risky choice, given his temperament, but you took a step to the side, leaving more distance between the two of you, eyes going back to the cityscape below.
He didn't speak. Not for a long time. Not even when he let the door shut, not when he took the space beside you, not when his eyes flickered to you. He could read you like a book, he always could.
Finally he cleared his throat, begrudgingly opening his mouth. "Y'alright?" he asks smoothly, trying to play the part of not caring, pretending seeing you as upset as him didn't hurt. Worse, knowing your mood had to do with him.
You wouldn't let him win. He didn't get to ignore you and come back to open arms, full truths. You never knew when he'd flip, and if he did, you couldn't handle having not held your ground. He had come back and abandoned you without a word. That couldn't go away with a simply question.
He hesitated, stiffening beside you. You both sat in silence for a long time, as if he didn't have a true answer, yet couldn't bring himself to lie to you. He wasn't any good at it, and the guilt would eat at him for days. A lingering parasite within him. Sometimes he viewed his love for you the same way.
When he didn't speak, it was your turn to play your cards, lay them all out for him, to reject or accept. You couldn't keep dancing around him in hopes he'd get over himself.
"You're avoiding me," you observe aloud, eyes flickering back to him for a moment, as if willing him to look at you. When he doesn't, you continue. "That's not fair. And you won't tell me why. You owe me that much, Jason."
He huffs, running a hand through his hair. "It's not that simple." He states, as if hoping you'd let it go, but you both knew you couldn't. You shouldn't have to, either.
"No, it is. You're avoiding me, and I don't know what I did."
"It's not something you did.."
"Then why do I have to be the one to fix it?"
You could feel the anger rising like bile beneath your tongue, your voice reaching a pitch reserved for his ignorance, eyes narrowing in a way they never had at him. Not before now.
"I never said you had to fix it," He tuts, eyes narrowing in return, like a rabid dog, when intimidated he attacked. He had always been like that. Something the slums had promised him as a kid, he was always the same little boy beneath it all. Scared and angry.
You blink at that, was he serious? You even hesitated at his words, he hadn't, but he sure had implied it. "So what? You sit on it until I'm gone? Until we're miserable? Jason, that's absurd!"
"I'm not sitting on shit; I never wanted to be fixed!" He hissed your name like a curse on his tongue, because right now it was. To face something he long buried, was to face you, and facing you felt like a curse as much as it was a blessing.
Your eyes narrowed further, stepping forward, if he wanted to be angry, so would you. "Maybe that's why you're so intolerable all of the sudden! You always walk away! You never think about what'll happen when people reach their limits!"
"I can't sit around waiting forever, Jason. I lost five years of my life when I lost you.. you come back all kinds of screwed up and *mean*! I mean *really* fucking mean, Jason. If you were just upset.. just, hurt, I mean.. fuck, I wanted to hurt with you! To help you!"
"But you took all your anger, all your destruction, and you balled it up and tossed it at me! So yeah, I'm fucking mad at you! You're just.." It was over as soon as it started, the anger wilting into regretful guilt.
A guilt for not protecting him, a feeling that you hadn't done enough, a feeling that you'd said too much, given him too-little time. But the thoughts leave as soon as they'd appeared.
To your surprise, Jasons hands found the framing of your face, cracked lips finding yours with a desperation you'd never truly expected to return. It was gentle, but restless, a sign of the nights shared lying awake and praying the moon was sharing your whispered pleas.
Your hands found his wrists, melting into him immediately, god had you missed this. How you'd missed *him*. The feeling of him close, his cool skin against your warmth, your scent mixing with his cologne, you mixing into him. A need to be one.
His lips pulled reluctantly from your own, forehead resting against yours as he took a moment to recollect himself, breath shaky in a way it only got around you.
"I missed you," you say before he can regret his move, before he can believe you'd push him away, before he could find a way to make this bad. His eyes met yours, just barely, and he was pulling you back in.
Every touch was a planned apology, his way of expressing every moment he'd lasted without you, a way of explaining himself without being able to form the proper words.
Your hands tangled in his hair, his own sliding down to find your waist, calloused hands slipping beneath the hem of your top. You carefully pulled from his lips. "Here? What if someone sees?" You ask wearily.
"I'll be quick." He promised, lips unable to leave you skin for even a moment, latching onto any exposed skin above your collar. "I need you now.. please."
You let out a breath, something about his tone, his rough need, was enough to convince you. Your hands found the fly on his slacks, fingers prying at the buttons with a newfound urgency.
His hands quickly followed yours, lips latching back to yours as he helps you undo the top button. As you both fumbled to free him from his suddenly tight pants, his free hand tucked itself beneath your shirt, reaching for one of your breasts, squeezing as you let out a whine against his lips.
His calloused hands were cold, lingering along the forming peak beneath your shirt, smirking with the knowledge only he got to see this side of you. Always him.
As soon as you managed to slip his hardened cock through his zipper it was over for him, lips falling from yours with a groan at the light touch you'd initiated. He'd always been sensitive, but months without you had him wondering if he'd ever make it up to you.
You smiled at the noise, fingers wrapping around him as the pad of your thumb slides over his tip, spreading the leaking precum down his shaft. You weren't teasing, a gentleness to each touch, admiring in some ways.
His head found your shoulder as your fingers slid up and down his length, breath hitching every time your fingers made their way over the sensitive skin. His fingers moved to fiddle with your clothes, finding his way to your underwear.
The second he had them insight, he had pushed them to the side, both of you too needy to bother with properly undressing as he pushed you against the balcony wall.
You follow his lead, lips meeting his once more, as if air only reached your lungs when he kissed you, when he touched you. As if you needed him to live. And in a way you felt you did.
His fingers found your clit in an instance, fingers rolling tight circles as he intentionally spread your arousal to your entrance. He didn't have time to prep you, but he knew you could take him. You always did, always could. Your body never truly forgot him. Never.
You arch against him as his hand settled on the small of your back, slotting himself against you as he guided himself towards your slit with shaking hands. "Y'can take it," he confirmed between heavy breaths and sloppy kisses.
You nodded, worried your words would fail you when he was above you like this, his eyes glossed with a look of lust you'd yearned for everyday since he'd come back.
Taking it as permission, he pushed himself forward, slipping several inches into you with a guttural groan. You back arched, eyes glossing over as he stretched you out. How you'd missed that stretch. The way your walls fluttered around him, desperate to feel every ridge, familiarize yourself with every inch.
He hesitated, head dipping to your shoulder as he pressed open mouthed kisses to any and all skin he could reach, a reassurance as much as a way to silence himself.
Your lips parted, a whimper slipping from them as he finally buried himself inside you, stilling as you got readjusted to his size. He'd never been small, that was for sure.
"Fuck, Jay.." You murmur, head falling back against the chair as his hips slowly swayed, rocking against yours as he set a slow pace. His free hand slid to your ribcage, traveling over every inch of your body, memorizing every bit.
He dragged himself from your pussy, his cock gliding in a painfully slow path out, before his hips snapped forward, his lips parting with a groan as you arched your back.
A series of curses left your lips as your hands found his shoulders, digging into the fabric of his suit as he set a quicker pace, sloppy and quick, as if he simply couldn't get enough of you.
You felt that heat swell in the pit of your belly, your eyes watering as his tip grazed your cervix with each harsh movement, his lips sucking at marks he'd already left in the haze.
His breathing grew heavy, his hips rolling in sloppier intervals as he focused on the feeling of you wrapped around him, your nails digging into his back through his clothes, your legs wrapped around his torso. "Fuck..y'feel so good," Your name spilled from his lips, a curse once more, but now for much different reasons.
"M'so close, you make me feel s'good.. shit.." He babbled as he fucked into you harsher, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation, your building climax tumbling at the roll of his hips.
Several moans left your lips in desperation as the muscles in your legs spasmed against his waist, orgasm crashing over you in uncontrollable waves, his hand reaching between you, thumb sliding over your clit as he encouraged you.
"Good, so good.. cum, cum f'me.." He sang praise as he sped up. With a final thrust, his hips stilled against yours, spilling himself inside you with a string of breathy moans, filling you up. His forehead fell to your shoulder.
You both sat like that for a moment, only shifting when Jason let his softening cock fall from between your legs, his eyes flickering open. "I'm sorry." he murmured, his fingers slipping himself back into his trousers, making no attempt to part from you.
"I gathered.." You murmur, still catching your breath as he let your underwear fall back over your now messy lips. "That was one hell o'an apology, Todd.."
He smiled at that, the only real one you'd seen since he came back. "I thought you'd accept it." He taunted, leaning down to steal another kiss as he helped fix your clothes.
