"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3
Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader
Words - 900ish
Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing
Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3
**
He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.
Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.
He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.
“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”
“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”
“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.
“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”
It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.
You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.
It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.
You needed him and he knew it.
You need him now and he knows it.
There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.
Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.
“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”
He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.
Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.
Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.
“Say it.” Jason demands.
Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.
“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”
“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”
Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.
“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.
“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”
“Uh–plea–please.”
“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”
okay so headcanon that the scarred part of bucky’s left arm is still extremely sensitive to the touch and that he rarely ever let you touch his left shoulder at all in the beginning of your relationship; he would pull away and visibly wince whenever your fingertips would graze the pink, raised flesh— not because it hurts, but because it’s just so extremely sensitive (he partly blames his super senses for that) and it brings back memories he would rather forget once and for all, but you gradually initiate touch there (with his consent) to teach him to not pull away from you out of shame/fear, and he ends up finding deep, genuine comfort in the feeling of your fingers tracing the scars there, he actually enjoys it, craves it even, which brings me to phase two of this headcanon: grabbing bucky by the shoulders while he rails you into the mattress has a way of ensuring that not only you’ll get fucked even harder, but bucky will become louder as soon as your fingers wrap around his scarred shoulder. his thrusts actually lose their pace if he feels your nails grazing the skin there, and the first time it ever happened he actually came with a surprised shout of your name, ocean blue eyes rolling back into his head and hands flexing hard against the supple skin of your hips (enough to leave bruises, which horrified him… until you admitted that you love wearing the evidence of his desire for you, that made his brain short circuit for a full day and sam was really confused as to why his best friend was this fucking dazed during their daily coffee grab). just. bucky allowing himself to feel something other than shame and disgust for his arm, all thanks to your touch <3
best friend!reader giving jason back his teddy bear because it doesn’t smell like him anymore? i think he would bust a huge heart nut
"What," Jason huffed, looking at the battered Teddy bear in your hands, the one you're holding out to him, "He finally irritated you enough?"
"No," you murmur, looking away, proffering Scruffy a little more insistently.
"Y/N I already told you," he said, taking him, "I really don't mind if you keep-"
"He doesn't smell like you anymore," you blurt out, immediately feeling like you want to fall through the floor.
All Jason can do for a moment is blink at you, his face turning red. "I uh- why does that matter?"
"Your cologne is nice," you murmur, not really sure what else to say. I hate sleeping alone or I love you don't seem to fit. Jason doesn't really seem all that interested in you- not that way. Even if you share custody of his childhood teddy bear. And even if you don't want to think about how that would change if he ever started seeing someone.
Jason nodded slowly and tucked Scruffy carefully into his bag, his pulse pounding in his ears. And he felt a little thrill. Scruffy always smelled like you when he got him back- or stole him off your bed. And sleeping with his face buried in the matted fur was the only time he didn't have nightmares. "I'll bring him back in a couple days," he said.
"No strippers?"
"Of course not," Jason snorted, "He's not old enough."
