oh it’s a 9/10 for me, i ADORE it!! i think he’s at his best when he’s experimenting and writing about the human condition. i actually love every song, they’re so beautiful and well composed. my only (minuscule) gripe with this album is the fact that it was inspired and supposed to be for community. like, he was feeling community at concerts and clubs…but the ticket prices for KISSCO tour are egregious. so like…alright harry. share the experience babe.
but my first fav song upon first listen was season 2 weightloss. added to my faves now are: taste back, pop, dance no more, ready steady go, are you listening yet, the waiting game, and painting by numbers. so basically they’re all my favorite song…lmao. i also got aperture first listen so i’ll always love her.
forever a harry single lover idc. lights up is also forever my baby.
sorry guys i got sick my last off week, my rotation this week was HELL. like jfc if you knew the amount of people that checked into the EMERGENCY room for flu…bruh. it was bad. over capacity all week. i got called every bad word in the world…but i’m off. i’ll write. but first poppy playtime chapter 5!!!
in which gotham is in the middle of one of the coldest winters in recent years, and your boyfriend has you freezing your ass off in a garage. he warms you back up though, fogging the car windows in the process. MDNI it unnerves me u will be blocked
CW | jason & fem!reader, smut w plot, exhibitionism: car edition, bickering which leads to sex, condom usage (user enviedear promotes safe sex), name calling in good faith, winter (yes that’s a warning), and established relationship, 3.5k words 🎧ྀི
“baby it’s cold.” you whine, for probably the hundredth time. eyes dead set on your boyfriend.
said boyfriend, a red-nosed jason todd, grunts as answer. gloved hands still working a wrench, trying not to strip a bolt on his bike.
you roll your eyes at him—or rather—the entire situation. gotham has been bound by winter. cloaked in freezing temperatures, grey snow, and black ice. it’s absolute hell. frozen hell. and, since you’re blessed with a man who actually enjoys this weather…you’re stuck in an open garage with no heater while he works on his bike.
a bike he can’t even drive for the time being.
you let out a groan, breath turning into fog.
finally, jason peers over at you. his stare could be equated to that of tired acknowledgement, but acknowledgement nonetheless. he drops the wrench down with his other tools, “what?”
your scowl is immediate, “wrong tone, asshole.”
his gaze drops, you can almost see a hint of an eye roll, but he must decide against it. opting instead to change his tone that the saccharine (mildly perturbed) inflection you expect of him, “sorry, sweetheart.” a breath, “what’s wrong?”
“it’s fuckin’ cold!” you whine, yet again. “it’s cold and you have me out here with no heat, no entertainment, and putrid bike oil. can’t we do something else?”
jason has the gall to chuckle. the brat. “babe, i’m almost done. you can endure for fifteen more minutes, can’t you?” his gall expands, face contorting into that boyish expression you usually cave in for.
not this time, “fuck no.” you’re already turning away from him and making your way to his car. absolutely not. you will not sit in the cold for fifteen more minutes while he fucks with his brake pads. you’d rather be lonely in the car.
you can hear somewhat of a clank and shuffle behind you, but you don’t look back. you’re too busy weighing how long it’ll take a stagnant car to heat up. it’s only when you grab for the passenger handle that you realize jason’s followed you to the street.
“babe.” he starts, hand blocking your own from opening the door. “c’mon i’m not being mean. s’just…i never have time to fix that damn bike. i’m not trying to be an ass, i just thought i could knock this out while you kept me company.”
you slap his hand, grabbing the handle and opening the door. “well you are an ass.” and with that, you’re slipping into the passenger side and cranking the ignition. the air is ice…but you’re too stubborn to wait for the damn car to heat up. like hell you’ll willingly stand in that damn garage for a minute more. no, you’ve made your stubborn—and slightly moronic—decision.
from outside the car you can hear jason curse and, petty as you are, you smile.
you take to rubbing your hands together, already plotting how long it’ll take before the heater stops feeling like an arctic blast, when the driver door yanks open and cold air floods in all over again.
“oh my god.” you groan. “are you kidding me?”
jason slides in, bringing with him the smell of winter and motor oil…and that stupid, unfair warmth that seems to cling to him no matter how cold it gets. he slams the door shut and just…sits there for a second, staring forward. jaw tight.
“you are so dramatic.” he huffs finally.
you gape at him, jaw slack, “i am literally freezing.”
“yeah, and the solution was the car? shit will take ages to heat up in idle, sweetheart.” he shoots back, and then glances at you. at the way you’re hunched into yourself, sleeves swallowed over your hands, teeth chattering. something in his expression shifts. irritation softens into something else.
he reaches over without asking and cranks the heat all the way up. the vents cough out a weak, lukewarm blast.
“stupid heat takes forever.” you mutter.
“i know.” his voice is lower now.
the car is quiet except for the engine sputtering and the wind scraping against the windows. your breath still fogs faintly in front of you.
jason keeps looking at you, “…c’mere.”
you blink, lips scowling, “what?”
he arches a brow, “tone.” and then, opens his arms, beckoning you toward him, “you heard me.”
you narrow your eyes, “if this is some half baked trick to get me back into that freezer you call a garage, you can shove it right up your—”
he cuts you off by reaching over and grabbing your wrist, tugging gently but insistently. not toward the door. toward him.
you stumble a little over the center console, landing half in his space, half in your seat. he’s warm. infuriatingly warm.
“jason.” you start.
“you’re cold.” he says simply, like that absolves everything.
his hands slide to your waist, steadying you. big, gloved, solid. the heat difference is brutal. your body reacts before your pride does, leaning in without permission. fingers escaping your sleeves to nestle by his throat, warm from his hoodie.
you’re close enough now to see the little red tint on his nose, the way his lashes are still damp from the cold. close enough to feel his breath hit your cheek.
“whatever. just until the heat kicks on.” you say, weakly.
“mhm, till then.” he says, equally unconvincing.
his hands don’t move away, and yours don’t either.
the air is still blowing uselessly. the windows are still fogging up.
jason’s thumb shifts against your side. slow. deliberate.
you look at his mouth. he notices.
“…you still mad at me?” he asks.
“very.” you reply, eyes narrowing.
he pulls his best feigned sorrowful expression, “wanna take it out on me?”
you should say no.
you don’t. of course you don’t.
you lean in just enough that your noses almost brush.
“you’re gonna regret asking me that.” you tell him.
his smile is crooked, “yeah,” he hums quietly. “probably.”
and then he tilts his head, slightly and slowly, like he’s giving you every chance in the world to stop him. you don’t.
instead you lean down, wrapping your fingers in his hoodie and pulling him close. when his lips find yours, it almost feels like you’ve won a prize. he’s warm, he’s putty in your hands, and he’s entirely yours.
you try to stay at least slightly annoyed while you kiss your idiotic boyfriend. brain reminding you that he kept you in a cold garage for over an hour. that he pulled the, fifteen more minutes, bullshit. that he’s…shifting his hips up to meet your own in this cramped car.
despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan. and of course he hears it, it echoes right through him. your sound seems to be enough for him to break one hand free and fumble for the recline trigger of his seat. lips leaving yours to kiss down your jaw and neck. before you know it, you’re laid out on him and sighing into every peck.
damn him.
he’s terrible, really. eyes a mess of want and unscrupulous arrogance as he pulls away just to use his teeth to tear off his gloves. using his free hands to unzip your overcoat and fumble under your two top layers. happy to rest his hands at the underwire of your bra.
you’re better at hiding your deep-seated need to get him undressed, merely staring at his exposed v-line from his raised up layers. by the time your eyes find his again, he’s barely taking a breath before crashing his lips back onto yours.
the car is cramped, even with the seat laid back, so your hips keep moving together. at least, you’re blaming the cramped car. jason’s probably blaming human nature.
“you warm yet? or are you still going to complain if i take your coat off?” he says it like it’s a joke. a dirty joke.
you shove at his chest, “fuck you. what kind of foreplay is nearly giving your girlfriend hypothermia?” you let your hands slip under his half ridden-up layers, “you freak.”
he has the audacity to laugh, low in his chest. “you’re the one climbing me like a tree and grinding into me. i’d hardly say i’m the freak here.”
“i was kidnapped onto this lap, todd.” then you tilt your head, playing fake sweet, “after you realized you were freezing your girlfriend for a motorcycle. like a loser.”
his jaw sets, “careful. i started playing nice. don’t ruin it.”
you huff, pulling your now unzipped coat off. still, you’re in far too many layers…but jason’s in more. you smirk to yourself as you grab the bottom of his hoodie, “play nice and take this off for me, hm?”
he rolls his eyes but still, you’re obliged. the hoodie comes off clean, fussing up his hair with it. you watch it join the pile of your coat in the backseat.
“happy?” he asks, fingers now returning under your shirts to rest at your bra. “i did what you asked. the first time.” his voice has a sardonic bite to it.
you shrug, “your obedience is proven to be faulty. if you remember, keeping me in a freezing garage five blocks from our apartment.” you smile, “but keep taking off layers and you may find yourself a forgiving lady.”
“you really know how to make a man feel like a worthless whore.” his eyes crinkle at the edges, fighting a smile.
you lean down instead of replying. your mouth peppering kisses at his jaw while your hands go to your back, undoing your bra in a minimally suave fashion. you hear him groan, and he’s grabbing at the straps to pull it off of you before you even have to ask.
left only in your sweatpants and your top layers, you let him feel your tits underneath your thermals. he rolls into you harder now, obviously annoyed by both of your bottom layers.
his hands are still on your breasts when he pulls away, gently sucking in the now hot air, “backseat?”
you sigh, nodding your head to the windows, “we’re in the middle of the street.”
“yeah?”
you look at him incredulously, “yeah, and someone could see us.”
“baby. sweetheart…i tinted these windows myself. besides…” he stops, lets his knuckles brush against the glass, “completely fogged.” then he clicks the car’s lock, “and locked. perfectly safe.”
“you say that until some asshole comes over here to see why the car is rocking.”
he grunts, “if some fuckin’ pervert tries to disrupt what i’m about to do in this car, i’ll handle it. and you. preferably you first.”
“you say that like gcpd doesn’t roam these streets too.”
he throws his head back, “gcpd owes me so many favors i think they’d block the fuckin’ street if i asked.”
you roll your eyes, “you’re going to have a solution for everything aren’t you?”
the way he looks up at you should be illegal, “i’m literally minutes away from getting you naked and putting my dick inside of you…yes, baby. a man will find solutions.”
you let out a scoff, shaking your head as your fingers slide back under his shirt, nails dragging lightly across his skin just to make him shiver, “you’re disgusting.”
“and you’re stalling.” jason smirks, “thought you were cold, baby. lemme warm you up.”
he doesn’t wait for your answer. just lets his hands slide beneath both of your tops to inch them up, and up—until they’re bunched under your arms and he can finally mouth at your tits. no bra, just the warmth of his tongue.
the way you arch into him would be embarrassing if you also didn’t feel how hard he was beneath you. he’s kissing at your breasts like it’s getting him off, leaving you to curl your fingers into his curls as retribution.
“ah, fuck, jason..” you draw out his name without meaning to, eyes screwing shut the longer he licks at you.
his reply is muffled at first, but he pulls away just enough to be understood, “mhm…look at you, real fuckin’ sweet now.”
he goes back to kissing at your chest, only this time he slips one hand toward your sweatpants waistband. and he tugs until they’re just low enough for him to slip his fingers beneath the front, cupping you through your panties. you whimper at the contact, biting hard at your bottom lip.
“and wet too?” he chuckles, “that cold garage really riled you up, huh?”
“i hate you,” you pant, rocking your hips down into his palm. “hate your stupid bike. hate this dumb car. hate your smug face.”
he laughs, full and low and dark, “hate me all you want, baby,” he says as he slips two fingers under your panties and slides them through the slick you’ve made, “still fuckin’ wet for me.”
your head drops to his shoulder, forehead pressed into the thick muscle of his neck as he starts to tease your clit in tight circles. you groan his name, body starting to tremble.
his other hand grips your hip, pulling you in tighter against him and his hand. you can feel how hard he is through his sweats, thick and straining, the pressure of him grinding against your thigh with every shift of your weight. he’s relentless with his fingers, working you open, dipping just barely inside you before retreating, teasing over and over until you’re slicking his hand and twitching in his lap.
“jason.” you whisper, needy and completely ignorant to your previous annoyance, “jesus christ…please.”
“what is it you want?” he asks, voice honey, lips brushing your temple, “tell me.”
you squeeze your eyes shut, and mimic his earlier request, “backseat?”
jason exhales, sharp and low. you’re still selfishly grinding into his hand and trembling through the teasing. but then his fingers slow, and then stop altogether.
“fuckin’ finally,” he mutters, biting at your jaw like punctuation to his curse. “i’ve been trying to get you back there since you started whining.”
you scramble off his lap with little to no grace, half in the center console, halfway in the backseat. you watch as he scrambles to open and exit the driver’s side, muffling a giggle when he nearly busts his ass on a patch of ice. your laughter dies the second he opens that back door though, his face full of absolute want. he’s almost wolfish, fully yours. and he’s quick to duck into the backseat, pulling you with him.
you land on your back against the cold leather, though only cold for a second, because then he’s over you. he’s kissing you like it’s punishment. for him and you. hot and messy and full of tongue. his hands are all over, dragging your top layers fully off, and pulling your sweatpants and panties down. both items, thrown haphazardly somewhere in the car. you kick your socked feet at him and he laughs, low and wild.
jason pushes his sweats just low enough and your eyes drop to his cock, already hard, flushed, and leaking. your mouth curls.
“condom?” you ask, breathing hard already.
he groans like you’ve stabbed him back to reality, “fuckin’…hold on. glovebox.” he mutters, leaning forward and fumbling until he finds one—snatching it without moving fully off you. then, your near neanderthal of a boyfriend rips the wrapper with his teeth. rolls it on with one hand while the other spreads your thighs open again.
you’d call him a demon if you didn’t know him better.
still…you watch all of it, too turned on to hide it. he notices, he always does.
“see something you like?”
you smirk, “not much to look at.”
his eyes narrow, “you’re gonna eat those words.”
he lines up, rubs the thick head through your folds, teasing you with it until you can’t help but press against him. you whimper, hips rolling to chase his.
“jason, don’t be a prude.” you joke, mostly impatient and growing colder the longer his body strays from you.
“teasing isn’t prudish.” he groans, shifting the head of his cock right at your entrance. sinking in as much as he can in one swift motion. not rough exactly, but firm. intentional. like he wants you to feel every inch as he deals it out. “if anything it’s romantic. let me be romantic, you brat.”
you arch up, hands scrambling for something to hold—his back, his hair, anything. your mouth falls open and you bite at his shoulders to keep from crying out at the sudden fullness. even in bliss, you refuse to cave in the most. no, that’s a task for jason and jason alone.
“fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours, his hips twitching as he bottoms out, “you feel—”
“if you say good, i’ll kill you.” your voice trembles as you wrap your legs around his waist, dragging him in deeper. “t’so lame. find better words.”
he laughs again, breath fogging the tiny space between you. “jesus, you’re mean when you’re cold.”
“no, i’m mean when i’m ignored.” you snap, nails digging into his back as he starts to move. “which—oh my god—you just did. mere minutes ago…for a fucking bike.”
jason grins against your cheek, sharp and no doubt showing each and every one of his thirty-twos, before he drags his hips back and slams into you again. harder this time. enough to jolt the entire car and knock your thoughts sideways.
“maybe i should ignore you more often,” he mutters. “you’re pretty slutty when you’re mad.”
you don’t dignify that with a response. mostly because your voice catches when he rolls his hips again, deeper this time, steadier. he finds a rhythm, some mix between grinding and rolling. in the best way possible…it’s so much worse than quick ins and outs. it’s too close, too thick, too good. his cock drags along every nerve, your chest arching up into his, legs hooked tight around him like you’re trying to trap him inside you.
you drag your nails down his spine, lips brushing his ear, “if anything, you should be sorry for it.”
“i’ll make it up to you,” he hums, rocking into you faster, making the car damn near shudder with his ministrations. “just keep letting me fuck you like this.”
your breath stutters out. one of your hands fists in his hair, the other pressed flat against the window, palm sweating the glass worse than the heat ever could.
jason lowers his mouth to your neck, tongue hot where your skin’s gone clammy from sweat. and he bites—not too hard—but enough that you cry out and clamp around him, thighs squeezing his sides like a vice.
“hell, baby.” his voice is rough and wrecked, hips stuttering, pace starting to falter. “you’re gonna make me cum.”
“don’t.” your hand fists in his hair tighter, dragging his face back up to yours, “not yet.”
his laugh is a strangled thing, but he obeys. he slows down, hips going back to grinding instead of fucking. deep, dirty, maddening strokes that make your whole body burn up.
you hate him. god, you hate him for how good he is at this—at you. how he listens even when he doesn’t want to. how he makes you forget every reason you were pissed in the first place.
you start to clench around him. that beginning to the end he makes you all too familiar with. your body gets all tight, your pulse rhythmic, your moans involuntary. and as much as you know you’re nearing the edge, so does jason.
“c’mon, baby.” he murmurs, thumbing at your jaw to make you look at him. “let go for me. you want to, i know you do. you’re so, fuck, so warm. you feel so good. just ride it out for me.”
you don’t want to. you want to make him suffer for a little longer. but you’re weak to him. and you stupidly, always have been.
you shatter under him. your legs half locking and shaking, back arching, and face twisting into something wrecked and grateful. he groans through it, watching you with an almost disbelieving expression before his mouth finds yours as you burn through your orgasm. he’s kissing you through every wave. it’s messy and wrecked. barely a kiss, more of a necessity.
and then he’s fucking into you with abandon, chasing his own high now, teeth gritted, muscles tense, cock twitching deep inside you as he spills into the condom with a weak grunt and far too many expletives. the whole car shakes from it—windows fogged even more—air thick with sweat and sex.
you lie there a second, with his heavy body over yours. you can feel his heartbeat pounding into your ribs. your legs are still wrapped around him. neither of you moves.
and then you sigh, “you’re still not off the hook.”
jason half-grins against your collarbone, “didn’t think i was. but you’re not cold anymore, are you?”
you slap the back of his head, “next time you wanna freeze me to death for company, bring a goddamn heater.”
he hums, already pressing soft kisses to your chest, “or i could just fuck you warm. worked in our favor this time.”
you groan, head hitting the seat cushion.
this man. this fucking man.
yours, and annoying about it.
WRITER’S NOTE
big shoutout to the anon that send this ask, bc my love—you inspired this. i saw that bottom idea and my mind went into autopilot. i didn’t have sentient fingers when i typed this. pure lust on the brain. was it supposed to be a blurb? yes. is it a blurb? no. again…no sentience when i typed this. what jason todd will do to a woman.
song linked to the headphone emoji at the top is best enjoyed when it has exactly 1:34 minutes left bc guitar riffs are horny and this is a horny piece of work. and if you enjoyed this horny piece of work…you better comment and reblog or comment AND reblog. i will also accept your first born. you’ve met user enviedear at a very rumplestiltskin time in her life.
crashed out today bc my nails came out like shit and i still tipped for them…they’re see through. whatever. paid $1,300 for tuition. whatever. not like that’s a full check and then some. i work for 7 days straight starting tmr from 3am to 1:30…for 7 full days. i am at this thing called my wits end.
i really want my nails done before i work for a week straight starting tmr…but i am so scared of getting out of my COUNTRY ASS, GRAVEL ASS, COMPLETELY ICE…driveway.
I'm the anon that shared those silly ideas! I'm so glad you liked them omg!! You even chose the smutty idea!
thank you thank thank you thank you!
may I be 🧤?
ofc ofc!!! 🧤nonnie, welcome to the enviedear brigade!
thank you so much for so many excellent ideas! you really inspired a fic i am so proud of. for the past few months i’ve been so insecure abt my writing, but this last fic made me feel truly proud!! so THANK YOU!!!
in which gotham is in the middle of one of the coldest winters in recent years, and your boyfriend has you freezing your ass off in a garage. he warms you back up though, fogging the car windows in the process. MDNI it unnerves me u will be blocked
CW | jason & fem!reader, smut w plot, exhibitionism: car edition, bickering which leads to sex, condom usage (user enviedear promotes safe sex), name calling in good faith, winter (yes that’s a warning), and established relationship, 3.5k words 🎧ྀི
“baby it’s cold.” you whine, for probably the hundredth time. eyes dead set on your boyfriend.
said boyfriend, a red-nosed jason todd, grunts as answer. gloved hands still working a wrench, trying not to strip a bolt on his bike.
you roll your eyes at him—or rather—the entire situation. gotham has been bound by winter. cloaked in freezing temperatures, grey snow, and black ice. it’s absolute hell. frozen hell. and, since you’re blessed with a man who actually enjoys this weather…you’re stuck in an open garage with no heater while he works on his bike.
a bike he can’t even drive for the time being.
you let out a groan, breath turning into fog.
finally, jason peers over at you. his stare could be equated to that of tired acknowledgement, but acknowledgement nonetheless. he drops the wrench down with his other tools, “what?”
your scowl is immediate, “wrong tone, asshole.”
his gaze drops, you can almost see a hint of an eye roll, but he must decide against it. opting instead to change his tone that the saccharine (mildly perturbed) inflection you expect of him, “sorry, sweetheart.” a breath, “what’s wrong?”
“it’s fuckin’ cold!” you whine, yet again. “it’s cold and you have me out here with no heat, no entertainment, and putrid bike oil. can’t we do something else?”
jason has the gall to chuckle. the brat. “babe, i’m almost done. you can endure for fifteen more minutes, can’t you?” his gall expands, face contorting into that boyish expression you usually cave in for.
not this time, “fuck no.” you’re already turning away from him and making your way to his car. absolutely not. you will not sit in the cold for fifteen more minutes while he fucks with his brake pads. you’d rather be lonely in the car.
you can hear somewhat of a clank and shuffle behind you, but you don’t look back. you’re too busy weighing how long it’ll take a stagnant car to heat up. it’s only when you grab for the passenger handle that you realize jason’s followed you to the street.
“babe.” he starts, hand blocking your own from opening the door. “c’mon i’m not being mean. s’just…i never have time to fix that damn bike. i’m not trying to be an ass, i just thought i could knock this out while you kept me company.”
you slap his hand, grabbing the handle and opening the door. “well you are an ass.” and with that, you’re slipping into the passenger side and cranking the ignition. the air is ice…but you’re too stubborn to wait for the damn car to heat up. like hell you’ll willingly stand in that damn garage for a minute more. no, you’ve made your stubborn—and slightly moronic—decision.
from outside the car you can hear jason curse and, petty as you are, you smile.
you take to rubbing your hands together, already plotting how long it’ll take before the heater stops feeling like an arctic blast, when the driver door yanks open and cold air floods in all over again.
“oh my god.” you groan. “are you kidding me?”
jason slides in, bringing with him the smell of winter and motor oil…and that stupid, unfair warmth that seems to cling to him no matter how cold it gets. he slams the door shut and just…sits there for a second, staring forward. jaw tight.
“you are so dramatic.” he huffs finally.
you gape at him, jaw slack, “i am literally freezing.”
“yeah, and the solution was the car? shit will take ages to heat up in idle, sweetheart.” he shoots back, and then glances at you. at the way you’re hunched into yourself, sleeves swallowed over your hands, teeth chattering. something in his expression shifts. irritation softens into something else.
he reaches over without asking and cranks the heat all the way up. the vents cough out a weak, lukewarm blast.
“stupid heat takes forever.” you mutter.
“i know.” his voice is lower now.
the car is quiet except for the engine sputtering and the wind scraping against the windows. your breath still fogs faintly in front of you.
jason keeps looking at you, “…c’mere.”
you blink, lips scowling, “what?”
he arches a brow, “tone.” and then, opens his arms, beckoning you toward him, “you heard me.”
you narrow your eyes, “if this is some half baked trick to get me back into that freezer you call a garage, you can shove it right up your—”
he cuts you off by reaching over and grabbing your wrist, tugging gently but insistently. not toward the door. toward him.
you stumble a little over the center console, landing half in his space, half in your seat. he’s warm. infuriatingly warm.
“jason.” you start.
“you’re cold.” he says simply, like that absolves everything.
his hands slide to your waist, steadying you. big, gloved, solid. the heat difference is brutal. your body reacts before your pride does, leaning in without permission. fingers escaping your sleeves to nestle by his throat, warm from his hoodie.
you’re close enough now to see the little red tint on his nose, the way his lashes are still damp from the cold. close enough to feel his breath hit your cheek.
“whatever. just until the heat kicks on.” you say, weakly.
“mhm, till then.” he says, equally unconvincing.
his hands don’t move away, and yours don’t either.
the air is still blowing uselessly. the windows are still fogging up.
jason’s thumb shifts against your side. slow. deliberate.
you look at his mouth. he notices.
“…you still mad at me?” he asks.
“very.” you reply, eyes narrowing.
he pulls his best feigned sorrowful expression, “wanna take it out on me?”
you should say no.
you don’t. of course you don’t.
you lean in just enough that your noses almost brush.
“you’re gonna regret asking me that.” you tell him.
his smile is crooked, “yeah,” he hums quietly. “probably.”
and then he tilts his head, slightly and slowly, like he’s giving you every chance in the world to stop him. you don’t.
instead you lean down, wrapping your fingers in his hoodie and pulling him close. when his lips find yours, it almost feels like you’ve won a prize. he’s warm, he’s putty in your hands, and he’s entirely yours.
you try to stay at least slightly annoyed while you kiss your idiotic boyfriend. brain reminding you that he kept you in a cold garage for over an hour. that he pulled the, fifteen more minutes, bullshit. that he’s…shifting his hips up to meet your own in this cramped car.
despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan. and of course he hears it, it echoes right through him. your sound seems to be enough for him to break one hand free and fumble for the recline trigger of his seat. lips leaving yours to kiss down your jaw and neck. before you know it, you’re laid out on him and sighing into every peck.
damn him.
he’s terrible, really. eyes a mess of want and unscrupulous arrogance as he pulls away just to use his teeth to tear off his gloves. using his free hands to unzip your overcoat and fumble under your two top layers. happy to rest his hands at the underwire of your bra.
you’re better at hiding your deep-seated need to get him undressed, merely staring at his exposed v-line from his raised up layers. by the time your eyes find his again, he’s barely taking a breath before crashing his lips back onto yours.
the car is cramped, even with the seat laid back, so your hips keep moving together. at least, you’re blaming the cramped car. jason’s probably blaming human nature.
“you warm yet? or are you still going to complain if i take your coat off?” he says it like it’s a joke. a dirty joke.
you shove at his chest, “fuck you. what kind of foreplay is nearly giving your girlfriend hypothermia?” you let your hands slip under his half ridden-up layers, “you freak.”
he has the audacity to laugh, low in his chest. “you’re the one climbing me like a tree and grinding into me. i’d hardly say i’m the freak here.”
“i was kidnapped onto this lap, todd.” then you tilt your head, playing fake sweet, “after you realized you were freezing your girlfriend for a motorcycle. like a loser.”
his jaw sets, “careful. i started playing nice. don’t ruin it.”
you huff, pulling your now unzipped coat off. still, you’re in far too many layers…but jason’s in more. you smirk to yourself as you grab the bottom of his hoodie, “play nice and take this off for me, hm?”
he rolls his eyes but still, you’re obliged. the hoodie comes off clean, fussing up his hair with it. you watch it join the pile of your coat in the backseat.
“happy?” he asks, fingers now returning under your shirts to rest at your bra. “i did what you asked. the first time.” his voice has a sardonic bite to it.
you shrug, “your obedience is proven to be faulty. if you remember, keeping me in a freezing garage five blocks from our apartment.” you smile, “but keep taking off layers and you may find yourself a forgiving lady.”
“you really know how to make a man feel like a worthless whore.” his eyes crinkle at the edges, fighting a smile.
you lean down instead of replying. your mouth peppering kisses at his jaw while your hands go to your back, undoing your bra in a minimally suave fashion. you hear him groan, and he’s grabbing at the straps to pull it off of you before you even have to ask.
left only in your sweatpants and your top layers, you let him feel your tits underneath your thermals. he rolls into you harder now, obviously annoyed by both of your bottom layers.
his hands are still on your breasts when he pulls away, gently sucking in the now hot air, “backseat?”
you sigh, nodding your head to the windows, “we’re in the middle of the street.”
“yeah?”
you look at him incredulously, “yeah, and someone could see us.”
“baby. sweetheart…i tinted these windows myself. besides…” he stops, lets his knuckles brush against the glass, “completely fogged.” then he clicks the car’s lock, “and locked. perfectly safe.”
“you say that until some asshole comes over here to see why the car is rocking.”
he grunts, “if some fuckin’ pervert tries to disrupt what i’m about to do in this car, i’ll handle it. and you. preferably you first.”
“you say that like gcpd doesn’t roam these streets too.”
he throws his head back, “gcpd owes me so many favors i think they’d block the fuckin’ street if i asked.”
you roll your eyes, “you’re going to have a solution for everything aren’t you?”
the way he looks up at you should be illegal, “i’m literally minutes away from getting you naked and putting my dick inside of you…yes, baby. a man will find solutions.”
you let out a scoff, shaking your head as your fingers slide back under his shirt, nails dragging lightly across his skin just to make him shiver, “you’re disgusting.”
“and you’re stalling.” jason smirks, “thought you were cold, baby. lemme warm you up.”
he doesn’t wait for your answer. just lets his hands slide beneath both of your tops to inch them up, and up—until they’re bunched under your arms and he can finally mouth at your tits. no bra, just the warmth of his tongue.
the way you arch into him would be embarrassing if you also didn’t feel how hard he was beneath you. he’s kissing at your breasts like it’s getting him off, leaving you to curl your fingers into his curls as retribution.
“ah, fuck, jason..” you draw out his name without meaning to, eyes screwing shut the longer he licks at you.
his reply is muffled at first, but he pulls away just enough to be understood, “mhm…look at you, real fuckin’ sweet now.”
he goes back to kissing at your chest, only this time he slips one hand toward your sweatpants waistband. and he tugs until they’re just low enough for him to slip his fingers beneath the front, cupping you through your panties. you whimper at the contact, biting hard at your bottom lip.
“and wet too?” he chuckles, “that cold garage really riled you up, huh?”
“i hate you,” you pant, rocking your hips down into his palm. “hate your stupid bike. hate this dumb car. hate your smug face.”
he laughs, full and low and dark, “hate me all you want, baby,” he says as he slips two fingers under your panties and slides them through the slick you’ve made, “still fuckin’ wet for me.”
your head drops to his shoulder, forehead pressed into the thick muscle of his neck as he starts to tease your clit in tight circles. you groan his name, body starting to tremble.
his other hand grips your hip, pulling you in tighter against him and his hand. you can feel how hard he is through his sweats, thick and straining, the pressure of him grinding against your thigh with every shift of your weight. he’s relentless with his fingers, working you open, dipping just barely inside you before retreating, teasing over and over until you’re slicking his hand and twitching in his lap.
“jason.” you whisper, needy and completely ignorant to your previous annoyance, “jesus christ…please.”
“what is it you want?” he asks, voice honey, lips brushing your temple, “tell me.”
you squeeze your eyes shut, and mimic his earlier request, “backseat?”
jason exhales, sharp and low. you’re still selfishly grinding into his hand and trembling through the teasing. but then his fingers slow, and then stop altogether.
“fuckin’ finally,” he mutters, biting at your jaw like punctuation to his curse. “i’ve been trying to get you back there since you started whining.”
you scramble off his lap with little to no grace, half in the center console, halfway in the backseat. you watch as he scrambles to open and exit the driver’s side, muffling a giggle when he nearly busts his ass on a patch of ice. your laughter dies the second he opens that back door though, his face full of absolute want. he’s almost wolfish, fully yours. and he’s quick to duck into the backseat, pulling you with him.
you land on your back against the cold leather, though only cold for a second, because then he’s over you. he’s kissing you like it’s punishment. for him and you. hot and messy and full of tongue. his hands are all over, dragging your top layers fully off, and pulling your sweatpants and panties down. both items, thrown haphazardly somewhere in the car. you kick your socked feet at him and he laughs, low and wild.
jason pushes his sweats just low enough and your eyes drop to his cock, already hard, flushed, and leaking. your mouth curls.
“condom?” you ask, breathing hard already.
he groans like you’ve stabbed him back to reality, “fuckin’…hold on. glovebox.” he mutters, leaning forward and fumbling until he finds one—snatching it without moving fully off you. then, your near neanderthal of a boyfriend rips the wrapper with his teeth. rolls it on with one hand while the other spreads your thighs open again.
you’d call him a demon if you didn’t know him better.
still…you watch all of it, too turned on to hide it. he notices, he always does.
“see something you like?”
you smirk, “not much to look at.”
his eyes narrow, “you’re gonna eat those words.”
he lines up, rubs the thick head through your folds, teasing you with it until you can’t help but press against him. you whimper, hips rolling to chase his.
“jason, don’t be a prude.” you joke, mostly impatient and growing colder the longer his body strays from you.
“teasing isn’t prudish.” he groans, shifting the head of his cock right at your entrance. sinking in as much as he can in one swift motion. not rough exactly, but firm. intentional. like he wants you to feel every inch as he deals it out. “if anything it’s romantic. let me be romantic, you brat.”
you arch up, hands scrambling for something to hold—his back, his hair, anything. your mouth falls open and you bite at his shoulders to keep from crying out at the sudden fullness. even in bliss, you refuse to cave in the most. no, that’s a task for jason and jason alone.
“fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours, his hips twitching as he bottoms out, “you feel—”
“if you say good, i’ll kill you.” your voice trembles as you wrap your legs around his waist, dragging him in deeper. “t’so lame. find better words.”
he laughs again, breath fogging the tiny space between you. “jesus, you’re mean when you’re cold.”
“no, i’m mean when i’m ignored.” you snap, nails digging into his back as he starts to move. “which—oh my god—you just did. mere minutes ago…for a fucking bike.”
jason grins against your cheek, sharp and no doubt showing each and every one of his thirty-twos, before he drags his hips back and slams into you again. harder this time. enough to jolt the entire car and knock your thoughts sideways.
“maybe i should ignore you more often,” he mutters. “you’re pretty slutty when you’re mad.”
you don’t dignify that with a response. mostly because your voice catches when he rolls his hips again, deeper this time, steadier. he finds a rhythm, some mix between grinding and rolling. in the best way possible…it’s so much worse than quick ins and outs. it’s too close, too thick, too good. his cock drags along every nerve, your chest arching up into his, legs hooked tight around him like you’re trying to trap him inside you.
you drag your nails down his spine, lips brushing his ear, “if anything, you should be sorry for it.”
“i’ll make it up to you,” he hums, rocking into you faster, making the car damn near shudder with his ministrations. “just keep letting me fuck you like this.”
your breath stutters out. one of your hands fists in his hair, the other pressed flat against the window, palm sweating the glass worse than the heat ever could.
jason lowers his mouth to your neck, tongue hot where your skin’s gone clammy from sweat. and he bites—not too hard—but enough that you cry out and clamp around him, thighs squeezing his sides like a vice.
“hell, baby.” his voice is rough and wrecked, hips stuttering, pace starting to falter. “you’re gonna make me cum.”
“don’t.” your hand fists in his hair tighter, dragging his face back up to yours, “not yet.”
his laugh is a strangled thing, but he obeys. he slows down, hips going back to grinding instead of fucking. deep, dirty, maddening strokes that make your whole body burn up.
you hate him. god, you hate him for how good he is at this—at you. how he listens even when he doesn’t want to. how he makes you forget every reason you were pissed in the first place.
you start to clench around him. that beginning to the end he makes you all too familiar with. your body gets all tight, your pulse rhythmic, your moans involuntary. and as much as you know you’re nearing the edge, so does jason.
“c’mon, baby.” he murmurs, thumbing at your jaw to make you look at him. “let go for me. you want to, i know you do. you’re so, fuck, so warm. you feel so good. just ride it out for me.”
you don’t want to. you want to make him suffer for a little longer. but you’re weak to him. and you stupidly, always have been.
you shatter under him. your legs half locking and shaking, back arching, and face twisting into something wrecked and grateful. he groans through it, watching you with an almost disbelieving expression before his mouth finds yours as you burn through your orgasm. he’s kissing you through every wave. it’s messy and wrecked. barely a kiss, more of a necessity.
and then he’s fucking into you with abandon, chasing his own high now, teeth gritted, muscles tense, cock twitching deep inside you as he spills into the condom with a weak grunt and far too many expletives. the whole car shakes from it—windows fogged even more—air thick with sweat and sex.
you lie there a second, with his heavy body over yours. you can feel his heartbeat pounding into your ribs. your legs are still wrapped around him. neither of you moves.
and then you sigh, “you’re still not off the hook.”
jason half-grins against your collarbone, “didn’t think i was. but you’re not cold anymore, are you?”
you slap the back of his head, “next time you wanna freeze me to death for company, bring a goddamn heater.”
he hums, already pressing soft kisses to your chest, “or i could just fuck you warm. worked in our favor this time.”
you groan, head hitting the seat cushion.
this man. this fucking man.
yours, and annoying about it.
WRITER’S NOTE
big shoutout to the anon that send this ask, bc my love—you inspired this. i saw that bottom idea and my mind went into autopilot. i didn’t have sentient fingers when i typed this. pure lust on the brain. was it supposed to be a blurb? yes. is it a blurb? no. again…no sentience when i typed this. what jason todd will do to a woman.
song linked to the headphone emoji at the top is best enjoyed when it has exactly 1:34 minutes left bc guitar riffs are horny and this is a horny piece of work. and if you enjoyed this horny piece of work…you better comment and reblog or comment AND reblog. i will also accept your first born. you’ve met user enviedear at a very rumplestiltskin time in her life.
taking a break from writing winter w jason blurb to complain…BECAUSE!!! my damn university is being so unhelpful. my laptop is getting repaired rn and won’t be done until the 30th (which, i work that day so i have to have my bf pick it up yay) and i can’t log in to my student portal to email my profs or pay my tuition. and they changed my password and it still doesn’t work. i’m going to have a mental breakdown. this is my last semester. i just want to pass. also i don’t want to go back to work for a full week. it’s still icy out and i doubt it’ll be sunshine and rainbows by thursday. whatever. i may call out the 30th and just go w my bf to get the laptop and speedrun emailing, explaining, and doing assignments.
okay i know i just sent in an ask, but i peeped ur jason masterlist and oh my god…i really hope u don’t mind if i spam ur inbox just a tad ໒꒰ྀི ٥↼_↼ ꒱ྀི১
no i never mind !!
actually PLEASE spam with reblogs and comments and likes it’s like life blood, it feeds me hehe
hii!! i’m not used to the cold at all and am currently stuck inside >.< i wanted to make some chocolate chip cookies as a nice warm treat, but i have no chocolate chips ໒꒰՞╥˕╥՞꒱ა what do u think jason and reader would do if they got stuck inside because of the harsh weather?
hehe you poor thing, i hope for warmth soon !! i just generally hate the cold so i get ya :)
also chocolate chip-less cookies are really good ngl
tbh i think (my version) of reader is the kind of person who hunkers down during the storm. gets groceries before it gets too bad, buys candles, non-electric heater in case of an outage…just the person who’s willing to stay in the entire time.
meanwhile jason…he wants to go out. gotham never sleeps, not even for a snow storm. like idc if the weatherman says to stay indoors…he’s getting stuff for dinner in the middle of a blizzard. he has absolutely no fucks to give. probably owns one of those heated jackets bc he’s insane like that.
so together…reader is the one making the house all cozy and nice. checking the news. being very careful, practical, and responsible. jason’s the one braving the storm for extra batteries, food, and blankets. also alcohol. all in all, he’s fine to stay in for his love, but he’s also harebrained and definitely going out.
