⭑𓂃 18+ | jason todd who’s your horny roommate.
jason todd crashes on the same cheap queen bed as you every night in this tiny off-campus apartment you share because rent is insane and he doesn’t make enough money to afford it on his own.
white streak messy from sleep, scars catching the faint streetlights through the blinds, built like someone who died and decided the afterlife owed him muscle.
he wakes up hard as fuck around 3 a.m., the kind of throbbing ache that patrol adrenaline and shitty wet dreams of fucking your roommate leave behind, and instead of getting up he just shoves his hand down his boxers right there—next to you.
the slow, rhythmic shift of the mattress is what pulls you out of sleep first. then the low, restrained breath, that gravel-rough exhale he tries to bite back. you blink awake, turning your head on the pillow, and there he is—sheets kicked low around his hips, big hand moving under the fabric of his shorts, stroking himself with lazy, practiced strokes like he’s trying not to wake you. but he kinda already did.
you raise an eyebrow in the dark, voice still thick with sleep. “jason. are you fucking serious? in our bed?”
he doesn’t stop. just turns his head, green eyes half-lidded, a smirk tugging at his scarred lip. “what, princess? it’s my bed too. not my fault I’ve got biological needs.”
you snort, shifting onto your side to face him better, the heat already pooling low in your stomach because fuck, he’s hot like this—rumpled, so fucking shameless, muscles flexing and hips twitching with every stroke. “bold of you to jerk off two inches from me and think i wouldn’t notice. what, the red hood can’t handle a little morning wood without waking the whole apartment?”
“midnight wood,” he corrects, voice dropping lower, rougher, as his hand keeps working. they never stopped once—not for a second. “and you’re the one staring, sweetheart. if it’s bothering you so much, you could always look away. or… not.”
the invitation hangs there. you bite your lip, feeling yourself soak up just watching the way his abs tense, the way his thumb swipes over the head on an upstroke. he’s not hiding it anymore, shoving the sheets down further so you can see everything—thick, flushed, his fist moving with that same precise control he uses for everything else. that horny bastard was trying to pull you down with him and fuck… it’s working.
“maybe i don’t want to look away,” you mutter, daring him right back. “maybe watching you lose it over your own hand is doing something for me.”
jason’s chuckle is dark and breathy. he slows his strokes, eyes dragging over you in the dim light. “yeah? then maybe you wanna help. or at least let me see a little more of you. fair’s fair, right?”
your heart kicks hard. he’s stupidly attractive and you’re stupidly horny now, the air between you heavy. “fine. but no touching. you look all you want, but hands stay on your side. you don’t get to put a single finger on me. got it?”
cruel woman. he groans like the rule physically hurts, but his smirk deepens, green eyes flashing with challenge. “got it, princess. no touching. your rules. now show me. pretty please.”
you push the covers back, tugging your tank top up and shorts down, baring yourself completely in the faint light. his gaze locks on you immediately, hungry and focused, but he keeps his free hand fisted tight in the sheets beside him, respecting the boundary even as his other hand speeds up on his cock. you settle back, legs parting slowly, and slide your own fingers down between your thighs, gliding through the slick heat, circling your clit with a soft sigh that makes his breath hitch. shit if he was hard before he’s throbbing now.
“fuck,” he breathes, eyes devouring every movement without reaching. “look at you. so fucking pretty playing with that wet pussy right next to me. keep going, sweetheart. let me watch.”
you do, moving your panties to the side and slipping a finger inside yourself while your thumb works tight circles on your clit, hips rolling into your own touch. the room fills with the shared sounds of your depravity—your soft whimpers, the slick rhythm of your fingers, his low curses and the steady stroke of his fist on his now wet cock. sue him, he’s fucking leaking. he stays strictly on his side at first, muscles tense with restraint, eyes never leaving your body as you spread your legs wider for him, giving a better view.
but jason’s never been great at following rules, especially not when something he wants is right there. his free hand twitches, then slowly drifts across the invisible line you drew, reaching toward your chest like he can’t help himself, calloused fingers aiming straight for one of your tits.
you smack his hand away playfully, a sharp little tap against his knuckles. “ah ah. no touching, todd. you agreed.”
he pulls back with a wrecked laugh, shaking out his hand like it stings, but his eyes are darker now, pupils blown. “c’mon, princess, just one. they’re right there looking so fucking perfect. you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“blame you? i can and i will,” you shoot back, smirking even as you keep playing with yourself, two fingers now pumping steadily while you pinch your own nipple with the other hand, putting on a little show just to torture him more. “hands on your cock only. or stop altogether if you can’t behave.”
“cruel,” he rasps, but he obeys, gripping himself tighter and stroking faster, abs flexing hard with the effort of holding back. “god, the way you’re touching yourself… killing me here. faster for me, yeah? wanna see those fingers buried deep while you moan my name.”
you give him what he wants—because fuck it, you’re no better—rubbing harder under his stare, the tension building fast from the intensity of his eyes on you, the way he’s pumping himself in perfect sync, muttering filthy praise in that sleepy voice. “that’s it. so good, sweetheart. look at how wet you are for this. fuck, i could watch you all night.”
the playful denial only ramps everything up. he tries once more, hand inching over again when your eyes flutter shut for a second, fingertips brushing the side of your breast before you smack him away harder this time, laughing breathlessly. “down, boy. rule stands.”
“worth a shot,” he groans, voice strained, fist clenched around his cock now—chasing his orgasm. no more reaching. just raw heat and heavy breathing between you, the mattress dipping with both your movements.
it hits you first—pleasure crashing sharp and sudden, your thighs trembling as you gasp through it, fingers buried deep while he watches every second. jason wastes no time and follows right after, spilling hot over his own fist with a wrecked groan of your name, chest heaving like he just came back from patrol. but really he just had one of the best fucking orgasms of his life.
after, he grabs an old t-shirt he’s definitely gonna throw out later from the floor, cleaning himself up first, then offering it to you so you can wipe down without him crossing the invisible line. you both flop back onto the pillows, breathing hard, the apartment quiet again.
post-nut clarity never hit this hard.
“this never happened,” he says after a beat, voice husky but firm, already pulling the sheets back up like it’s just another night.
“never happened,” you agree, even though your body is still buzzing and you both know the lie is paper-thin.
but for now, that’s the deal. even though you both are thinking about how this definitely happened and—no doubt—will be happening again.
© nagumolvr , you do not have permission to translate, steal, repost, or feed my work to ai.
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