#jason wise

i love how the ashes bail just because they think the guys fighting is dumb as hell

i love how erin flips lewis the bird

i love the immediate cut to raindrops, and then the dark and depressing school hallway. and then the memorial. god this movie does grief so well.

i love that wendy has a little toy sheep in her locker

i love how the candle blows out

i love how kevin calls wendy "wen"

i LOVE LOVE LOVE the convo that wendy and kevin have in the rain!!! it's so fucking good!!! wendy is dealing with her grief and so is kevin but their methods are incompatible. idk it's just raw as fuck. we don't even like each other.... i could go on and on about every single convo they have. and i will.

i love how wendy's hair flips when she walks past kevin

i love how they have to make ian say "how pathetic is it that my last name is the same as my high school" just to make sure the audience knows that bit of lore. dont miss it

i love how wendy looks like a pathetic sopping wet beast in the rain

i love how sweet ashley and ashlyn are. they really are trying to help!!! they know wendy probably doesn't really care about tanning but theyre giving her an opportunity to talk with someone if she needs it

i love how ashlyn puts her book over ashley's head to protect her from the rain when she's writing her number down

i love how kevin just pulls out the big guns and tells her about flight 180. no hesitation

i love the growing look of disdain on wendy's face as kevin tells her about that

i love "fuck you kevin."

i love how the ashes go to the tanning salon so often that they're friends with the guy who works there. he knows them well enough to let them go in alone. crazy

i love that i'm still noticing new things about this movie every time i watch it. this time, i noticed that ashley tends to be the leader, and ashlyn kinda goes along with her. ashley had the idea to invite wendy, and ashlyn seemed a little hesitant at first. and ashley convinced ashlyn to do a longer tanning session. PLUS ashley was the one who brought in her drink to the room. i wonder how much of that characterization was the writing and how much of it was influenced by their actresses, cause i know they became good friends irl and enjoyed these roles

I LOVE THE CONVO THAT WENDY AND JULIE HAVE IN HER ROOM!!! wendy admits that she needs help and she's hurting really bad AND HER SISTER IS THE ONLY ONE SHE TRUSTS TO GO TO FOR HELP.... god. i love their dynamic. i love siblings in horror.

i love that wendy is a fan of the ramones

i love the juxtaposition of wendy looking thru the photos/Realizing and the ashes setting up the tanning beds

i love how in final destination movies theres always a sign on a machine that ways WARNING: DON'T GO ABOVE THIS NUMBER and you know it's gonna go above that number

i love how the ashes scoff at celine dion and britney spears and opt for 70s funk music instead

i love the tanning bed deaths. creative and tense and excruciating. the glass breaking and the eye shields melting....peak

i love the cut to the twin coffins. iconic. also their families knew they were close, so they gave them a joint funeral.... that's really sweet in a grim way

i love ian's speech at the funeral. i know it's the wrong time and the wrong place but he's kinda cooking. and, again, it's sweet in its own, off-putting way. he wasn't friends with the ashes but he's defending them anyway

i love the little exchange that kevin and lewis have. bring me a psp or something...

i LOOOVE the convo wendy and kevin have at jason's grave. not being able to feel his or carrie's presence... wendy saying that the presence is the opposite of how jason made her feel....

i love how wendy then pulls out a glossy photo of 9/11. THIS MOVIE DOES SUCH A FUCKING GOOD JOB OF BALANCING SINCERITY WITH CAMP!!!

i love how kevin immediately believes wendy once she pulls out the grad night pics

i love how kevin takes wendy to get burgers after she collapses from hunger

i love that wendy thinks kevin is cringe for knowing that spongebob lives underwater. i know a lot of people hate that line but i think it's hilarious. it means either wendy is pretentious as hell (funny) or she also knows this factoid but is pretending that she doesnt to seem cool because cartoons are for kids (also funny)

i love there is someone.....walking behind you..... the tension of this drive thru scene is AWESOME. everything is going wrong

i love it when kevin kicks out the windshield. wow so badass. seriously so badass and awesome

i love how frankie's brain giblets get splattered more when the fan spins one more time. adding insult to injury

i love the line "it's not only horrible, but can you feel how vicious it was?" right back to sincerity and realness!!!! this movie is fucking awesome! willful ignorance is surrendering control!!!

i love when they're looking thru the pictures and they land on carrie's and kevin gets this sad, wistful look on his face. he really did love her. he was gonna ask her to marry him!! and wendy knows she was gonna break up with him!!! AAUUUUGH

i love the line "i guess that kinda thing is gonna happen to us the rest of our lives"

i love the sheepish look kevin gets when frankie's death picture shows up. yeah you should be ashamed (i do not blame kevin for that character moment because this movie is from 2006 and hes a Dumb Jock. i blame the writers. kevin is my angel. but this moment is good.)

i love kevin immediately freaking out once he realizes that he and wendy both have pictures. it's so real. i would also do that

i love "unless we have to" "you mean UNTIL we have to."

i love kevin asking if there's anything up his ass in his picture. camp and sincerity

i love what lewis says at the gym tbh. he's kind of not wrong. obviously we as viewers know that Death The Spirit is real, but in real life, i think it'd be pretty realistic to react the way lewis does. it's not how i would react personally but i can see where he's coming from. lewis is underrated man. he doesn't blame wendy and kevin because he knows they were close to jason and carrie, but he just wants to move on with his life

i love "WHAT THE FUCK IS A BRUIN ANYWAY"

i love that this team got a taxidermy(?) bear just to put a bruins jersey on and be mean to

i love "death is a fucking denver fan"

i love the buildup to lewis's death.....it's perfectly done

i love that wendy and kevin are wearing sultans clothes after leaving the scene because their other clothes got lewis all over them

i love the convo wendy and kevin have at the car here. wendy blaming herself... her just wanting it to stop... kevin wishing he could say something to make it all better, but not being able to.... him saying he can't do anything, and then her saying "can you drive?" because he CAN do that. IT'S SO GOOD

i love that the setting of the next scene is a hardware store. there are SO MANY THINGS THAT COULD GO WRONG IN A HARDWARE STORE.

i love that ian and erin call each other zip and pip

i love that ian kind of seems a little freaked out after he kills one of the pigeons

i love ian messing with the lights

i love erin's magnet she uses to pick up the nails. idk i just think it's neat.

i love the massive chain of events. its so complicated and for what

i love that the goths work at a hardware store. #breakthemold

i love erin's death. simple but effectively unsettling

i love how ian's smug fuckhead facade is broken by watching erin die. everyone in this movie is dealing with death in their own unique ways and i really like watching how it affects their actions

i love how they edited the actress's eye onto the nail gun death dummy so it looks more realistic

i love wendy wanting to stick together after leaving the police station. theyre trauma bondedddd

I LOVE "i'll just be freaking out every second hoping you're okay" "why? i mean, we don't even like each other." I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP GODDDDDDDD

i love wendy's purple hoodie

i love the reveal that julie is on death's list. the unrealistically high def shot of the bracelet........

i love that kevin is the one that realizes it's time to look at their own pictures. his development is soooo good

i love how he goes "like a firework went off in my face?" and then it shows all the tricentennial stuff. which is another PERFECT setting for final destination BTW. fireworks and horses and bbq and cannons and blacksmiths and swords and muskets. lots of potential there. i love it

i love that there's just a random black wolf on the road while ian is tailing wendy's car. omen of death....

i love "fuck you ben franklin"

i love how the fireworks in the sky are a backdrop for all the chaos. makes for really good cinematic shots

i love that the horse is used as kind of a red herring. in this franchise, death canonically doesn't use animals, only inanimate objects, but it makes for a really intense chase scene. so it's cool that they got to incorporate an animal without compromising how death works

i love when julie flips kevin off and it all starts coming together

I LOVE THAT KEVIN TAKES A SWORD AND SAVES JULIE WITH IT. this movie fucking rules.

i love how the tension is diverted with perry's death. i wish we got to know her character more

i love that wendy realizes who's next and whispers "kevin." and starts SPRINTING

i love how unhinged ian acts once he shows up here. reasonable crashout. and his whole hero & villain exchange with wendy is great

I LOOOOVE the shot of wendy holding kevin up with the fireworks behind them. she's covered in blood and his face is burned and they look like theyre on the verge of collapsing. one of my fav shots of all time.

i love it when ian gets cleaved in half by the cherry picker and he flips wendy off as he dies

i love wendy's purple coat on the train

i love all the weird ads on the subway

i love how creepy the guy playing guitar looks

i love wendy's two random college friends

i love the cute little rat. i wish it didn't die

i love it when wendy says "i think i had a sense that you were coming now..." and then they go thru a tunnel. AAUUUGH

i love it when julie says "unless something happens to me, and THEN kevin, you've got nothing to worry about" and then they notice kevin is on the same train. BROOOO I WOULD BE THROWING UP.

i love how wendy and julie grab each other's hands when the train derails. I LOVE SIBLINGS IN MEDIA!!!!

i love that wendy gets a 2nd death premonition cause shes the most specialist girl in the whole wide world

i love the way wendy screams KEVIN!!!

i love the ragdoll that flops out of the train once it stops

i love how grim the shot is with all the bodies after the crash. it gives you such a crushing sense of defeat. good fucking cinema.

I FUCKING LOVE THE SHOT WHERE THE TRAIN IS COMING TOWARDS WENDY AND SHE'S BLINDED BY THE HEADLIGHTS AND SHE LETS OUT ONE OF THE BEST SCREAMS IN ANY HORROR MOVIE EVER

i love that, by the time the 2nd premonition is over, it's too late. they couldn't stop it even if they tried. death just hates wendy christensen specifically and wants to put her in the torment nexus one last time before it kills her

i love the panic in kevin's voice as he realizes that wendy had another vision without her even telling him that she did

i love the flashing blue lights on wendy's face right before the movie cuts to black

i love that the credits song is Love Train. final destination has never been and will never be subtle, and i really admire that about it.

The air crackles with light and movement, cotton candy haze drifting through neon, carousel music mixing with screams from the drop tower in the distance. It's late enough that the sky’s dipped into deep velvet, but the carnival’s still wide awake with lights flashing, games barking, crowds shifting.

You’ve been walking the fairgrounds with Jason for a while now, his hand’s locked in yours. He’s wearing that sleeveless red tee that clings just right, showing off the cut of his arms, that lean build that’s always coiled like he’s ready to fight or fuck. Low-slung jeans, a Varsity jacket, worn Vans, and that smug, sideways smirk that always curls deeper when he sees you looking.

You’ve caught him clenching his jaw three times already though. Once when a guy stared too long while you waited in line for funnel cake. Once when your top rode up on the swings. And now it’s just buzzing under his skin.

“You want a corndog or something, babe?” he asks, tone easy on the surface, but there’s tension beneath it.

You glance up, smiling like you don’t feel the static radiating off him. “Nope. Just thirsty.”

His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing with amusement. “For a drink, or for attention?”

You shrug. Don’t answer.

He huffs out a laugh but it’s tight, his thumb stroking once over your hand before dropping it.

You reach the ring toss stand, and Jason’s already sizing it up with a cynical eye. The kind of setup only idiots fall for. He mutters something under his breath about it being rigged, but before you can respond, the guy behind the counter catches your eye.

Backwards cap. White tee. Cocky little grin.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, handing you three rings without a glance at Jason. “First round's on me.”

You feel Jason still beside you. You part your lips just slightly, let that flirtatious smile ghost the corners of your mouth. Not quite committing. But not walking away either.

You take the rings slow. Deliberate. Bend a little too far forward, feel your ass brush against Jason's thigh, let the guy at the booth drink it all in.

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes as you glance up. “Hope I get lucky.”

Jason doesn't speak. His silence is loud. His arm is still, but not relaxed. That muscle in his jaw ticks, and you know you just lit a match. You toss your last ring, making sure it misses, and the carnie leans in, smirking.

“Almost, sweetheart. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Jason moves immediately almost, hand at your waist. Fingers gripping tight, yanking you back so your body collides with his chest. He’s hard, tense, breathing through his nose like he’s deciding whether to slam your back against the booth or just drag you away and handle it elsewhere.

“She’s already got someone who shows her plenty,” he says. You can feel how pissed he is in the press of his hand, in the heat rolling off him.

The guy behind the counter blinks. “Dude—”

Jason doesn’t even look at him. His gaze is locked on yours. “She’s taken. Back off.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. His mouth is suddenly right next to your ear, his voice nothing more than a sharp whisper. “You think that was cute?” he mutters, tone low as he drags you away from the booth. His hand stays on your waist.

“I thought it was fun,” you whisper back, breathless; half teasing, half daring. Jason’s grip on your wrist is tight, not painful, but definitely not gentle either. He’s pissed.

“You think that was funny?” he huffs, dragging you through the carnival crowds like he’s trying not to full-on throw you over his shoulder “Seriously?”

You stumble a little on the uneven pavement as he weaves you through the maze of food stalls, game booths, and wandering kids with balloons. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t look back.

“Jason, chill—”

“Don’t tell me to chill,” he snaps, not yelling.. and definitely not quiet. “You let that loser flirt with you right in front of me. Right in front of me, babe.”

And then, he sees it. That old haunted funhouse. It’s roped off, dark, half-abandoned. One flickering light over the entrance and a crooked wooden sign that says CLOSED FOR REPAIRS in faded red paint.

Perfect.

Jason shoves the caution tape aside like it’s not even there and pulls you through the side entrance, his hand locked around yours now instead of your wrist.

The door slams behind you with a hollow thud, and instantly it’s like stepping into another world—dim, warm, thick with the smell of dust, plastic, and whatever old fog machines leave behind. The walls are lined with cracked mirrors and dusty mannequins dressed in torn-up costumes. Red lights flash slowly overhead, like a heartbeat.

Jason turns to you, chest rising hard, eyes wild with frustration and something much deeper.

“I told you not to pull shit like that,” he says, voice lower now but still heated. “You know how I get.”

Before you can respond, he grabs you again. Backs you up into one of those warped funhouse mirrors. It’s cold against your back, your reflection broken up and twisted around you. Everywhere you look, you see his hands on you. Your mouth parted. His body flushed against yours.

His hands shoot up and pin your wrists above your head. His chest hits yours a little too hard, like he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be right there, right on you.

“You like being looked at?” he says, breath warm, face close. “You want people staring at you? Watching you throw your ass around in front of some random dude like you forgot who you belong to?”

You smirk, just a little, because yes, you did it to get under his skin and it worked. His eyes drop to your mouth, and for a second, he just stands there. Then his grip tightens just a little and his voice drops again.

“You’re seriously gonna make me lose my shit in a funhouse.”

Your lips part like you’re about to say something snarky, another little tease, maybe one more push but Jason doesn’t give you the chance.

His mouth crashes into yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and frustration and heat. He bites down on your lower lip and pulls back just an inch, lips still brushing yours, eyes narrowed like he doesn’t know whether to kiss you again or throw you on the floor and fuck you.

“Well,” he pants, smirking but there’s nothing playful in it now. “Too bad. ‘Cause tonight? You’re mine.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you deeper into the funhouse, his fingers laced tight in yours like you might try and bolt. You stumble after him down a narrow hallway lined with cracked mirrors and old Halloween decorations, one of those spinning vortex tunnels tilting around you as you pass through it, the whole place groaning like it might fall apart any second.

Eventually, you reach an old back room behind a sagging curtain. There’s busted animatronics slumped in the corners, old fog machines, forgotten clown masks tossed in a bin.

But what really gets his attention? The couch.

“Sit,” he says and before you can sass him, he’s already pushing you down onto it, his body following yours like he can’t stay away from you anymore.

He crawls over you with that same look in his eyes you saw earlier at the ring toss booth. He’s already tugging at your top with one hand, just enough to expose the edge of your bra, just enough to make your chest rise up into him. Your breath stutters. Your thighs shift. And he sees it all.

“No distractions,” he says, voice low but breathless. “No more games. Just me. Just this.”

The couch creaks underneath you. Something hums behind the mirrors, old machinery or maybe the leftover life of this haunted place. But none of it matters. Because the only thing you can hear right now is Jason’s ragged breath... and your name on his lips.

“I’m not lettin’ you walk outta here,” he says, mouth right at your ear, hips already settling between your thighs, “until I fuck the idea of any other guy outta that pretty little head.”

He grins, flushed and out of breath, thumb sliding just beneath your bra. “Hope you’re comfortable, baby,” he whispers, voice teasing now. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You barely settle on the couch before Jason’s all over you. His hands are everywhere, one grabbing your face, fingers spread across your cheek and jaw while his mouth slams down on yours. It’s teeth and tongue and heat like the previous one, his lips moving against yours like he’s punishing you for making him feel this way.

His body is hot and heavy and solid on top of you, pressing you into the ruined cushions like he’s trying to fuse your skin with his. Every movement is tense, urgent like he doesn’t know whether to kiss you or scold you or just fuck it all out of his system.

You rake your nails down his back and he groans, hips jerking into yours on reflex, grinding down with enough force to make the breath leave your lungs in a sharp gasp.

“God, fuck,” he mutters against your mouth, voice ragged. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

He drags his mouth down your neck, biting hard. Not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to make you gasp, your back arching up into him. His lips find that soft spot just above your collarbone and suck, tongue hot and sloppy and possessive, until he pulls back and sees the angry red mark bloom on your skin.

“You loved it,” he pants, his voice rough and way too close to a whine. “You liked him looking at you like you’re some fuckin’ prize.”

His mouth crashes back onto yours with a groan, his tongue forcing its way in. It’s messy. He’s panting into your mouth, breathing like he just ran sprints, like he’s sick with how badly he wants you.

His free hand slides down to your waist, tugging your hips up again to grind against him, his cock hard and thick in his jeans, pressing right into where you need him most.

“You are a prize,” he growls into your mouth, “but you’re mine. You get that? Mine, babe. I don’t give a shit who else tries. I’ll win every fuckin’ time.”

His grip tightens on your waist and he thrusts against you again, just enough to make you squirm. You feel it building already, the way his body’s so much on top of yours, the way his mouth won’t stop, his fingers bruising into your hip.

Your head tilts back as he kisses you harder, deeper, hands gripping your thigh, dragging it over his hip so he can slot himself tighter between your legs. The couch groans beneath you, old springs creaking as he shifts his weight, grinding down with ruthless precision.

His teeth sink into your collarbone and you whimper, hips lifting into him like your body’s already begging.

“You wanted a reaction?” he pants, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown. “You got one.”

Jason’s fingers fumble at the hem of your shirt, and there’s not a second of hesitation. He just grabs and yanks. The fabric bunches up under your arms, stretched and twisted, half-off your shoulders and exposing the top of your bra. He doesn’t fix it. Doesn’t even give you a second to adjust.

Your mouth parts like you might protest, tease him, say something bratty but all that comes out is a moan when his hand covers your breast and squeezes. Just a full, possessive grab that makes your body jolt under him.

“Yeah?” he growls, eyes locked on yours. His voice is rough and breathless, chest rising hard against you. “You like showing off like that? Walking around with your tits bouncing under that little top, like you forgot who fucking owns ‘em?”

His fingers dig into the soft flesh, making you gasp. Before you can answer, his hand slaps your chest just enough to leave a flash of pain that has you gasping and arching into him. Then he’s grabbing again, rougher this time, dragging your bra down so it’s twisted under your chest. Your breasts spill out, flushed and sensitive, nipples hard in the cold air and Jason doesn’t wait.

His mouth is on you in the next breath. Hot lips crashing down over your nipple, tongue flicking hard, fast, wet then he bites. Not deep, but enough to make your back arch and your nails scratch down his arms. You feel him groan against your chest, like the sound got ripped from his lungs just by tasting you.

“Fucking mine,” he mutters against your skin, not even pulling away to say it. His teeth drag across your breast, and then he sucks hard, lips sealing around that bruised, bitten flesh. He moans into it and you can already feel the heat between your legs pulse.

Sucking hard, dragging his tongue around your nipple, then biting again. He pulls back for a second to look at the mark blooming across your skin, deep red, maybe purple.

His mouth finds the other breast, this time starting rougher with no buildup, no warning. Just a sharp, open-mouthed bite that makes you cry out, and his hands pin your wrists back against the couch cushions before you can even think about touching him.

“You’re not moving ‘til I’m done,” he grits out, lips dragging across your chest. “You wanted attention so bad? Good.”

He switches to your other breast again, gripping it with his full palm like he’s trying to leave fingerprints. He leans in and sucks hard, messy and wet, his mouth pulling at you with that desperate noise like he doesn’t care how obscene it sounds.

Your back arches, body hypersensitive, nerves raw under the drag of his tongue. He pulls off with a loud pop, breath panting against your skin, and just stares.

“Goddamn,” he pants, dragging a slow stripe of his tongue up your chest, hot and slow. “You really thought you could flirt like that and not get fucked up for it?”

His hand hits your tit again, sharper this time. It bounces hard from the impact, and he is still grinding his thigh between your legs.

“Keep playing, baby,” he growls, grabbing both your breasts now, squeezing them together. “Go ahead. See what happens.” He leans in again, mouth against your ear, voice dark and breathless. “You’ll be walking outta here with bruises only I get to see.”

You can barely breathe. Your legs are trembling now, wrapped around his thigh, grinding without thinking because fuck, he feels good. The heat, the pressure, the way every move he makes lights you up from the inside out.

His mouth is everywhere. Your chest, your collarbones, the soft underside of your tits. He kisses hard and fast, then bites just to watch you squirm, groaning into your skin when your hips twitch against his leg.

He pulls back just long enough to look down at you; hair messy, lips red and shiny, his breath ragged. “Not done yet,” he says, almost to himself, before he starts tugging at the button of your shorts.

Jason’s fingers fumble at the button of your shorts, breath puffing hot against your chest. He’s not smooth with it. You squirm under him, hips lifting just enough to help, but he grabs you by the waistband and tugs hard.

The button pops. The zipper drags open with a hiss. He peels your shorts down your thighs, not bothering to be careful, dragging the denim past your knees, then all the way off and tossing them somewhere behind him like.

“Look at you,” he mutters, running one hand up the inside of your thigh while the other palms your ass. “All worked up from a few slaps and some attention, huh? That’s all it takes, babygirl?”

He grips your panties next, fingertips hooking into the sides, thumbs pressing into your hip bones and just stares for a second. At the wet patch between your legs. At the way your thighs twitch. At how ruined you already look.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back for a second like he needs to breathe through it. “You’re soaked.” Then he rips them down in one smooth motion. He drags the damp cotton down your legs and off your ankles, eyes locked on your pussy the entire time.

“God, you’re so hot like this,” he pants, voice barely holding it together. “Flushed. Desperate. Fuckin’ dripping.”

He drops to his knees between your legs, hands spreading your thighs so wide it makes the couch creak, and his thumbs drag up the inside of them.

Your thighs are trembling, muscles clenching around nothing as Jason settles between them, his hands keeping you spread wide. His eyes are locked on your cunt, swollen and slick and pulsing from everything he’s done and everything he hasn’t.

He’s been teasing you for what feels like hours, fingers ghosting over your skin, tongue dragging slow and mean along the inside of your thigh, but never where you need him.

You buck your hips, chasing any kind of friction.

He just smirks. “You really thought I’d let you cum easy?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and sharp with that cocky, jock-boy edge that makes your stomach flip. “After that little show you put on out there?”

He leans in low, lips barely grazing your inner thigh, and his fingers slide up to the heat between your legs. Just knuckles. Enough to make you jolt.

“C’mon, babe,” he taunts, fingers trailing lazily through the wetness between your folds. “Bet he would’ve begged to eat this pretty pussy the second you bent over for him.”

You whimper, hips twitching. Jason huffs a laugh. He spits. It lands right on your clit, sticky and shining in the dark.

“Oops.”

His fingers immediately slide through the mess, swirling it in tight circles over your swollen bundle of nerves. Just one flick. One sweet, devastating flick that makes you arch off the couch with a gasp.

And then he pulls away. You cry out, wrecked and helpless, thighs still shaking as your orgasm slips just out of reach. Again.

Jason leans back on his heels, sucking the wet off his fingers like it’s nothing, grinning at the way your body trembles.

“Nah,” he says, voice low, cocky, breathless. “Not yet.”

He leans in again, tongue licking one long stripe between your folds, wet and hot and when he wraps his lips around your clit, you nearly lose it. Your fingers tangle in his hair, hips rocking up into his face but then—

He stops. Again.

You let out a strangled whine.

“Mm-mm,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s savoring you. “You flirted, remember? You made me jealous. So now I get to decide when that pretty little pussy gets to cum.”

He slaps your inner thigh, not too hard but hard enough to jolt you. “Lie still.”

And then his fingers are inside you—two of them, fucking up into you at a brutal pace that makes your eyes roll back. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, pressure just enough to make your whole body tighten and just when you’re right at the edge, legs shaking, moaning his name—

He pulls out again.

“No—Jason—fuck—!”

“Uh uh,” he pants, leaning over you, mouth brushing your ear as his soaked fingers grab your throat. “You don’t get to cum until I say so. You don’t get anything until you learn to behave.”

He starts again, faster this time. Harder. Fingers curling right where you need them, his thumb grinding into your clit, lips kissing and biting your neck like he owns you and when you scream his name again, body clenching so close to the edge—

He stops. You sob.

“Please—”

Jason smiles, cock hard in his jeans, sweat dripping from his hair as he looks down at you.

“Not good enough,” he hums. “Beg like you mean it. Or I’ll keep doing this until the damn sun comes up.”

“Please—Jason,” you sob, voice cracked from moaning too hard, too long. “I-I need it—I need you, I can’t—please, baby, I’ll be good, I swear—just fuck me, please—”

That’s all he needed.

“Finally.” He grabs your hips, flipping you up higher on the couch with rough hands, your back hitting the armrest, legs thrown open.

His belt clinks, zipper dragged down with vicious speed. You feel him. Heavy against your dripping entrance. He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t warn you. He lines himself up and slams in, the stretch brutal, perfect, making your body jolt so hard you knock your head back against the couch.

“Fuck—Jason—!”

He groans deep in his chest, like it physically hurts to be inside you, he’s so pissed, so turned on, his fingers bruising your hips as he sets a punishing rhythm.

“You don’t get to flirt. You don’t get to fucking beg for it after acting like a little slut unless I say so,” he growls, snapping his hips into you with every filthy word. “This pussy’s mine. Got it?”

You’re crying now, half from overstimulation, half from how goddamn good it feels. His cock hits deep, relentless, dragging over that spot that makes your whole body lock up. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other grabbing your throat; not choking, just holding.

His eyes never leave your face. “Say it.”

“M-mine—yours—it’s yours,” you sob, body trembling violently under him.

“Damn right it is.” He fucks you harder, all frustration and jealousy and weeks of pent-up need slamming into your core with every savage thrust. Your thighs are soaked. The couch is creaking. His sweat drips onto your skin and you don’t even care that your clothes are in shreds on the floor.

You feel yourself building again, right to the edge and you can’t even say a word. You just sob his name, legs tightening around his waist.

Jason feels it.

“Cum for me,” he orders through clenched teeth. Your whole body shakes, back arching, breath gone, nerves on fire. He lets out a strangled moan and follows, his hips stuttering, cock pulsing deep inside you as he buries himself to the hilt.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Only your breathless, wrecked body shaking under him. Only his weight holding you down, cock still twitching inside you.

Then he leans down, breath hot on your lips.

“Bet you won’t try that shit again after this.” he whispers, smirking now.

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You both come stumbling out of the haunted funhouse like nothing happened but it’s so obvious something did.

Your hair’s a mess. Your shirt’s pulled down but not quite right. Your shorts are twisted at the waist, Jason’s jacket draped over your shoulders. And he’s got that grin on his face.

That smug, post-fuck, victory lap grin.

He slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight into his side as you head back toward the noise and lights of the carnival. You can barely walk straight and he’s clearly loving it. Every time you stumble, he tugs you closer, laughing under his breath.

And then of course you see him.

That guy from earlier. The one at the ring toss.

He’s leaning against the booth now, still handing out cheap stuffed animals, but his eyes lift when you pass,

Jason sees him too. And oh, he doesn’t let it slide. He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and laced with mock sympathy.

“Aw, look at that,” he whispers. “Your little fanboy’s still here.”

You elbow him weakly, but he laughs, loud and cocky.

“What? You wanna go back and thank him? Maybe bend over the booth again so he gets a better look this time?” he teases, bumping your hip with his. “Might as well. Not like he’s ever gonna see what I just saw.”

You glare up at him, flustered, cheeks burning.

Jason just grins wider, boyish and smug and way too pleased with himself.

“Nah,” he adds, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re walking funny enough. He’ll get the message.”

Then he smacks your ass, quick and playful, right there in public, and keeps walking like he didn’t just say the dirtiest shit in the middle of a family carnival.