#ily bae

he knows it’s wrong—disgusting—but jason todd can’t help himself as he stands in your pretty room, braced against your dresser with a pair of your panties wrapped around his hard cock, smearing his precum over the soft fabric as he jerks himself off. he ruts against his hand roughly, wishing it was you he was fucking instead.

it started accidentally; one of your lacy panties ended up in his pile of clothes when he unloaded the drier, and before he could think to return them, he’d already cum in them twice. he’s devolved since then—fuckin’ perv—and resorted to stealing them from your laundry basket when you step out for the day. this is a new low, even for him, but he just can’t stop.

he muffles a moan as the head of his cock grazes your gusset, thinking about how your bare cunt would’ve been nestled against the cotton, closer than he’s ever been to you. ‘cause of shit like this, you fuckin’ asshole. he pushes aside the thought, wondering instead what you look like, taste like, when your legs are spread and you’re leaking with arousal.

his lidded eyes take in the sight of your panties—lavender lace with a tiny bow on the front—tangled around his length, and he imagines you bent over as he peels them off of you. “fuck,” he hisses, the mental picture of your slick clinging to the fabric proving too much for him. so pathetic, he scolds himself, gettin’ off to some fuckin’ underwear.

he wonders if you’ve ever touched yourself in these, if you’ve ever soaked through them while grinding on some frat douche at those parties you love going to. his precum seeps into your panties as he jerks himself off, imagining how he’d pull them up by the bow, just enough to wedge the delicate material between your pussy lips so he could tease your clit and get you all sticky. he wouldn’t even take them off to eat you out; he’d just pull them to the side, letting them get progressively more soiled the more desperate you get. and, fuck, these walls are thin—he knows how whiny you can be.

he’s about to cum into the lacy material—so, so sick—when he hears your laugh in the hallway outside, followed by the front door unlatching. jason freezes, his eyes wide; stumbling, he pulls his boxers and sweats back over his aching erection, and stuffs your panties into his pocket as he hurries out of your room. he barely makes it back to his bed when he hears the front door shut, your soft footsteps echoing as you walk into the apartment. he hurriedly drops his open macbook onto his lap, wincing at the impact on his barely-concealed cock.

“I’ll probably go out later,” he hears you say as you approach his door, your phone propped up between your ear and your shoulder. “I need to buy some stuff at victoria’s secret.” you smile and wave at him as you pass, and he gives you an awkward nod, before watching you disappear into your bedroom. jason doesn’t dare to even breathe, listening intently. his hand reaches back into his pocket tentatively, fingers grasping the soft lace, and he feels his dick twitch in his sweatpants.

“it’s so weird,” you continue into the phone, your voice growing muffled as you close your door behind you. “I need to buy new underwear. mine keeps, like, disappearing.”

a/n: ANOTHA ONE from my gatekept asks. short n sweet but when it’s right, it’s right.

jaynal anon you will forever be in my heart. like a soldier I fell in love with who died on the beaches of normandy before we could wed so I was forced to marry the local banker who was nice enough, but never passionate, so I kept your photo in a locket forevermore. spectacular work as always.

I think I love you.

I realize I didn't put his other hand anywhere.... just don't look at it, the pixelated one is better