#theres no crowbar emoji okay shut up

[mostly-imagines]

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more passion.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

[strangepoppy]

First of all, that threat at the end 😶‍🌫

Secondly, I surely hope there is a scenario where she gets her payback 🤭😉

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more passion.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧

[strangepoppy]

My emotional states through this whole story 😆

Sweetheart

jason todd x afab!reader

aka you catch an attitude with jason

warnings: smut, soft!dom jason, fingering & oral (fem receiving), edging, begging, mild restraint

18+, interacting minors will be blocked

It all happened when he was in a good mood. And it’s probably best that it did.

You haven’t really been this irritable with Jason before, so neither of you were really expecting the ensuing events. Him, the former portions, and you the ladder.

He didn’t say anything about it when you first came home, moping and grumpy, he’d only greeted you with a kiss like he always does and hugged you tight.

Early on in the evening, you’d grumble about the workload of chores you still have to deal with tonight. Again, he made no comment. Instead, he decided to split the work with you, standing shoulder to shoulder as you wash the dishes and he dries.

You hold a plate up in the air, frustrated when it’s not immediately taken from your hand. You glance over to where Jason is still drying the last bowl you handed him, despite it being—mostly—done. 

“Jason, come on,” you complain, not thrilled with the leisurely pace he’s landed on.

He stops his drying movements, looking at you sideways.

“Sweetheart…try that again?”

His tone is enough to set you back, resetting your attitude. You don’t say anything more, moving along with your movements silently. He accepts the silence for what it is—yielding—and continues drying the dishes alongside you.

It only takes another twenty minutes for another slip up.

He’d sat down on the couch expecting you to curl up against him, like you always do, but this mood of yours wouldn’t even allow for an assumption as safe as that.

“Seriously?” you grumbled at him, unimpressed with the lack of space. It was quiet, but you know he’d heard you. 

“What was that?” 

His tone is a little sterner than it was before, but it’s just as daring of you to answer.

This time, you give him one.

“Can you just fucking move please?”

The look he gives you honestly confuses you at first. There’s the expected rise of the eyebrows, but a small smile plays at his lips too. It’s disbelieving and daring at the same time. 

“Really? You sure about that one, sweetheart?”

Your chin lowers out of habit upon hearing his tone, but you say nothing. 

He tilts his head, smirk growing. “Okay.”

You don’t immediately clock the comment for the promise that it is—in fact, you don’t realize until much later that this was the moment you should’ve known.

Later that night, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, silently watching you move throughout the room, huffing. You’re looking for something that he’s not even sure you brought home, tearing through the apartment with little patience.

He tilts his head, eyes sympathetic.

“Baby.” 

He coaxes you with that soft, low voice he uses when he’s trying to coerce you. “Come ‘ere.”

You pause your search, shoulders sagging. 

You oblige his request, very much in need of his touch after the day you’ve had. 

You straddle his lap, letting him hold you steady by your waist. You initiate a passionate kiss, hands circling the nape of his neck. He breathes you in deeply, rubbing slow circles against your hips. You start to grind your hips down over him, the resulting friction from where his jeans meets the thin fabric of your shorts being addictive.

He traces a light touch along your waist, kissing you with an unequal intensity.

You pick up your pace, grinding with more intent. You moan into his mouth and he kisses you with more intensity.

Just before you’re able to come, he suddenly flips you around so that your back is to his chest. The repositioning momentarily upsets you due to your lost orgasm but the words die off quickly as he begins rubbing at your clit. He kisses your neck as he rubs lucid circles at just the right pace.

His thumb takes over the work as he inserts two fingers in you, pumping slowly. You relax your body against his chest, craning your head to the side so you can kiss his neck. You can feel him hum under your lips, circling your clit faster. 

You’re starting to squirm on his lap as your high approaches, lips parting in desperation. You can just see the horizon of bliss when his ministrations stop suddenly. 

You glance down between your legs, brow furrowed, before looking back up at him.

He doesn’t look perturbed in the least, just as easy-going as ever.

He glances at you, tilting his head. 

“Haven’t been very sweet for me today, have you?”

You frown and turn yourself around on his lap again, sitting over his thigh. You press your hands to his still clothed chest, eyes imploring. You start to move your hips over his but he forces you still like it’s nothing.

Despite your active protesting, he lays an unhurried, sweet kiss to your mouth, breaking away slowly. 

“Good girls get to come,” he whispers against your lips.

You lightly thud your forehead against his, “I’ll be good.”

He hums, pursing his lips. “Not tonight.”

You’re fully whining now, “Jay…”

He nods faux-sympathetically, “I’m sorry, baby.”

You try to grind your hips against his thigh but he does little in the way of letting you move. His grip remains firm on your waist as he watches you struggle. 

He tilts his head, “You want me to rub your clit some more? I will. But I’m gonna stop.” 

The promise rings a scorching heat in your ears but the opportunity can’t be passed up. You know you’re stupid for thinking you can manage to come anyways, but you’re getting desperate.

You nod against him, and he makes a cooing “mhm,” before obliging.

He reaches down again, rubbing languid circles, not fast enough for you to even think about an orgasm.

“Please,” you beg quietly into the crook of his neck.

You feel him nod before picking up his pace. “Okay, baby.” 

You’re too worked up to notice the lilt in his words, how they’re a little more ‘careful what you wish for’ than you would’ve liked. You catch up soon, though.

He starts up again, nuzzling his face against your neck as he works your body, hitting that exact right speed. You moan out, head falling back. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against the column of your throat, cheeks warm. This time you get so close that you think he’s going to let you come.

You hit his chest harder than you should when he stops again. 

He doesn’t seem to care though, moving his hand away without an ounce of remorse.

“Jay—” you groan, forehead thumping against his shoulder.

He’s shaking his head before you can finish your complaint, “Nuh uh, baby. You’re not coming tonight.”

He kisses your cheek, nudging you back so he can see you.

“You’re supposed to take care of me,” you pout. “You said that.”

He hums, brushing your hair back. “I do take care of you. I am. Just not how you want me to, right?”

You borderline glare at him, not at all thrilled that this is the game he’s choosing to play after today. He doesn’t care in the slightest, not really, in spite of how sweet his actions read.

At this point you’re more frustrated and overwhelmed than you’ve been in a while, and you don’t even realize it as tears start to slip out.

Unfortunately for you, even that does little to sway his mercy. His indulgence only comes through with the way he kisses your tears away from your cheeks. His touch remains gentle with you, too gentle, and it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

His hands slip under your shirt to hold you in place, undeterred by your squirming. He pecks a series of kisses all across your face, ignoring your whining.

You push his hands off of you with a huff, pulling yourself off of his lap and onto the couch cushions. You start to frantically rub at your clit yourself, subconsciously knowing that you only have a moment to get away with this. Your success lasts half of that though, before Jason scoops up both of your hands and pins them to your chest, holding you still.

He huffs out a laugh, “No, baby.” 

His tone is almost mockingly sympathetic.

“Jason—!”

He leans over you, basically making out with your neck languidly. The intense affection directed towards the wrong place is maddening and it has you squeezing your eyes shut.

Several more rounds of this go on before you give up, collapsing onto his chest. His hands still keep your wrists pinned against him as you fall asleep, light kisses being pressed to your hairline.

You can’t be completely sure, but you think you dream of a scenario or two where he actually lets you come. Ha. 

When you wake up you’re in your bed, sheets pulled up over you. The sky is glowing an orange-pink hue and the city is still mostly quiet.

As you push yourself to sit up, you notice the bedroom door is open and the sound of sizzling can be heard from the kitchen.

You creep out from under the covers, tip-toeing through the living room. You can be certain he knows you’re there by now but he makes no acknowledgement of your sneaking.

As you approach, he lets you duck under his arms, resituating them around you so you’re comfortable. He kisses the top of your head, not looking away from his work on the skillet.

You rest your cheek on his chest, murmuring, “Jay…”

“Yeah, pretty?”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know, baby.” 

He sets the spatula down, using his now free hand to nudge your chin up to look at him. “You gonna be my good girl?”

You nod submissively, hoping to God that he believes you this time. 

“Yeah?”

You nod harder, and he returns the gesture, mulling it over. 

He wordlessly nudges you backwards to sit at the kitchen table. You watch dumbly as he turns back to the counter, scooping the entire contents of the pan out onto a plate. 

He faces you again, plopping the plate of eggs down in front of you.

“Eat.”

You frown at him, fully ready to start pouting when he cuts you off.

“You haven’t eaten in like twelve hours. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

You don’t want to talk, but you slump your shoulders and take a bite.

He moves to stand behind you, pleased, resting his chin atop your head. 

He caresses your waist as you eat, torturously gentle and kind. 

After a few minutes of silently eating and enduring, you tilt your chin to look up at him, frowning.

“You’re being mean.”

He raises his brows down at you, “I’m the one being mean now?”

You break eye contact, dropping your focus back to the plate of half finished food. 

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumble.

He brushes your hair back from your neck gently, “Yeah, you did.”

He says nothing more so you continue stuffing food into your mouth as quickly as you can without attracting suspicion.

When you’ve scraped the plate clean and can be sure he has nothing left to ask of you, you get up and set the plate in the sink.

You look up at him expectantly, still frowning.

“Jay?”

He looks almost bored as he contemplates, taking in your expression. 

He concedes after a few moments gesturing you towards him. 

“Yeah, come here.”

You’re too fast to have even tried to play it cool, but neither of you would’ve believed it anyways.  

He drops a hand down to the edge of your shorts, about to slip beneath the fabric. You stop his hand before it can go any further, imploring. 

“I want to come.”

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah? I want my good girl back.”

You nod in yield, happy to give him whatever he wants at this point.

He removes his hand, and lifts you up by your thighs, bringing you up to his height momentarily. He sets you down on the table, laying you back.

“Jason, please—” you beg, trembling for what’s to come.

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek, “Yeah, I’ll make you come, baby. ‘Course I will.”

He pushes you to lay back, pulling your shirt up to your collarbone, and pressing sweet kisses to your chest.

He kneads your left breast in his large palm, kissing your right with a feverish amount of attention.

He switches after a moment, giving some love to the other side of your chest before beginning to work his way down.

He lays kisses down your sternum, leading to your navel. His affection is just as tender as it had been last night and you’re not sure whether to trust it.

You’re not given much time to mull it over before he’s pulling your shorts and underwear down in one go, letting them drop onto the tiles.

He leaves open mouthed kisses on your pussy, sucking gently on your clit periodically.

He wraps one hand around your thigh, keeping your legs open. His other hand rests atop your stomach, mostly idle except for the occasional reassuring brush of his thumb.

His eyelashes flutter as he eats you out, and you only realize now why he hadn’t last night. He’s not much for denying you when he gets you like this—he likes it too much to stop. Especially when you’re begging him so pretty.

You’re not quite sure when he’s taking the time to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care right now.

Even if you weren’t still so on edge after last night, he’s really good at using his mouth. He works you up quickly, bringing you close after only a couple minutes.

When he can tell you’re there, he nods encouragingly, rubbing your clit with his thumb for the brief moment he breaks away. “Come on sweetheart. You can come.”

Warmth floods your body upon hearing the words, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to you.

You call out a noise that’s half a moan, half a whine. You shake under him, legs stiffening as he continues to work you through the orgasm. 

He kisses your clit once more, humming.

“Oh, there she is. There’s my sweet girl.”

He moves back up your body, pulling you to sit up slowly. He holds you up by your lower back whispering soft praises. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

You sigh silently, catching your breath.

🔧 every time you don’t reblog a fic jason gets hit in the head with a crowbar 🔧