# ﹙ sweet aang with a mess inside his pants. ﹚ ʚ 𝗌𝗎𝖻!𝖺𝖺𝗇𝗀 ɞ
Nails crawl down your back under the shirt; despite being so immersed in the delight of lust and desire, Aang manages not to do it so hard, but still enough to mark you with soft pink lines. He doesn’t want to hurt you; he really doesn’t, but fuck, it feels too good. You make him feel so loved and desired to the point of not believing that he deserves it.
That he deserves you.
Having you like this, on top between his legs, dominating him in a way that makes him wet his pants like a damn filthy pervert who doesn’t know how to control his hormones every time you touch him, kiss him or just say “I love you” against his skin. You’re so much for him. So kind, so sweet, god, he loves you.
And, above everything, he loves to be yours.
Fingers tangled in your hair while he makes sure to give you enough space between his neck and collarbone, where your skillful lips leave a sloppy reddish trail. He whines in your ear, feeling you play with his tip through the soaked fabric; hips pushing up, desperately trying to rub even more against the palm of your hand as he—gently—pulls the hair already wrapped in his fingers. He’s getting loud, really loud and he knows it by the way his shameful sounds bounce off the walls until they reach his ears. Pitchy, ascending more higher when your hand starts to move faster.
“I thought you were already a big boy who knew how to control himself.” It’s pathetic how much effect that teasing tone in your whisper has on him; tickling in his stomach and twitching in his needy dick that only gets worse when he hears you snort. Oh, you feel it.
“I am, I am,” For his misfortune you return back to the slowness, gently cupping the sticky silhouette in his crotch. “Mmm’sorryy, I’m trying, l’mmph really trying.”
This is the exact moment when you most want to keep his angelic sounds inside your ears.
He breaks into a big, loud gasp when you—abruptly—squeeze the pre-cum out of him. Nails burying strangely pleasant in your skin. Your poor boy is shaking, why are you being so mean to him? He has always been such a good boy to you, right?, this is unfair. He hasn’t even touched you back because he knows he must behave and wait for your permission.
This is getting him desperate, he craves to feel you with no clothes involved.
By now his pretty mouth is drooling, and you can’t help but take the time to run your thumb over the shiny lower lip, memorizing that lustful expression deep in your mind. “I wish you could see this, the strong, powerful Avatar reduced to nothing more than a trembling mess in my bed, what a view, ah?”
There’s not even a little shyness behind the whimper he just grant to you. Keep talking to him like that if you want him to cum in five.
“i can’t, i want—i need,”
“What is it?”
“C-Can you touch me—properly, please, please?”
How can you say no? Like I said, Aang’s been such a good boy for you. Worthy of a prize.
Most importantly, there was no way to regret seeing those puppy eyes get excited when you finally yanked off his pants.
notes; thinking about sub aang makes me crazyyy, i NEED to get that man pregnant or i’ll die, seriously. anyway, i made this short writing to test the waters on how you guys feel about this, please let me see what you think!! also let me know if you want more about this and if with any other character;-)
P.S. send me your good energy so i can finish an Aang fanfic that i’ve been working on since May, damn. i also need to organize my blog properly after disappearing for so long, uuuggghh. SORRY FOR THIS BIG ASS NOTE.
summary: you get jealous over a joke toph makes about katara and aang bringing back the air nation, so he fucks your worries right off your head.
wc: 4.3k
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It was all because of a stupid joke Toph made at dinner; one that everyone took lightly but you.
“So since Aang’s still alive..” she started with a dirty snicker at the man’s absence, quite tipsy, playfully nudging Katara’s side. “That means the Airbenders could be brought back. Think you and him could repopulate the Air nation, Sugar Queen? Have little Airbender babies filling up the temples?”
“What the hell— No!” Katara shoves her off, flustered and embarrassed, groaning in defeat at the others’ laughs.
Zuko offers her a timid smile, his words a little slurred from the drinking. “But it’s true, no? That would be a very heroic act, Katara.”
“Drop it, you guysss..” she sighs, downing one more shot, Toph’s noisy cackling mingling with Sokka’s until they’re interrupted by their synchronized hiccuping, which only causes them to laugh even louder.
Your grip tightens around your glass. You were glad nobody was looking at you; you wouldn’t know how to justify the glare you were throwing their way.
Images of Aang and Katara naked and tangled under the sheets suddenly plagued your mind, and you couldn’t tell if they were the cause of your headache or if that was the work of your sixth drink.
You huff, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the thoughts off. This was ridiculous.
You push yourself up from the floor, and that piques Katara’s attention. She looks up at you, a little worried. “Leaving already? Is everything okay, sweetie?”
A twinge of guilt tugs at your heartstrings at the genuine worry in her voice. You give her a small nod, and your best attempt at a smile, “Just had too much to drink, don’t worry. I’ll go upstairs, to check on Aang.”
“Gooood,” Toph drawls through a fit of giggles, raising her hand to give you a thumbs up while Sokka refills her mug. “Tell him that Katara’s gonna bring back the Air nation while you’re at it. Gonna give him loooots of babies. Pregnant Katara, pregnant with little Airbenders. Buuunch of ‘em.”
Your lips purse tightly, and as much as you wanted to, you refrain from throwing your glass at her face. “.. Alright. Goodbye.”
You walk off, Katara’s exasperated denials and Toph’s increasingly dirty jokes fading into a dull noise as you storm up the stairs.
You don’t even know why this was upsetting you so badly. Sure, you had a little crush on Aang but.. it’s not like he was yours. He probably would never be.
You weren’t even a bender; so why in the world would he ever pick you over Katara?
Everyone in the group pictured them together for good reason; she was the perfect match for him. And you did love them both a lot as your dear friends.. so why were you this worked up?
Tears prick at your eyes when you stand in front of Aang’s door. You quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand, bewildered at the fact that you were actually crying over this.
You sigh. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, this was all the alcohol.
After a few more minutes of mulling over your words and composing yourself, you knock on the door softly. Three knocks.
“Come in!” His voice, breezy like always but a little weighed down by the exhaustion of night work, shoots right through your chest like an arrow. You suck in a sharp breath, then slowly slide the door open.
“Ohh, thank Spirits you’re here.” He practically whines as he tips his head back against his chair, limp as a ragdoll. “Dumb Avatar work won’t end, I swear I thought I was about to die from boredom. You’re my savior.”
You force a small smile and walk over to his desk, setting down your glass with a bit of sake left, that he wastes no time in stealing and chugging down in a second.
He exhales with a wide grin, very pleased, melting back against his chair. “Really, really my savior.”
You stare at him silently. Your gaze lingers on the pretty arch of his eyebrows, the light blush already tinting his cheeks because he had the liquor tolerance of a two year old, the adorable twinkle in those tired, happy doe eyes..
You look further down, noting the squeeze of his too-big back against the borrowed chair, and the way his legs twisted uncomfortably to fit under the somehow small-for-him desk.
Downsides of a bigger build, huh. Your mouth dries up a little.
It physically hurt that you couldn’t have him.
His puzzled, sad frown snaps you out of your haze. “You’re not even listening to me.. am I boring you?”
“Oh, no, no, not at all. I’m sorry.” You wave your hands wildly, embarrassed and grateful that he seemingly didn’t pick up on your inappropriate leering. “I just.. just..”
The more you look into his eyes, the heavier your heart feels.
Your friends’ words keep ringing in the back of your head, the filthy images of him and Katara together in different positions refusing to leave your tipsy mind.
Spirits, you felt like you could cry again. Damn you, inhibition-lowering alcohol. And damn you, Toph.
Once again, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by him. His large hand wraps around yours, his features scrunched in worry at the sight of your teary eyes. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Now was not the time for his stupid nicknames. This was so unfair to your poor heart.
“I am. It’s just.. this dumb thing that happened earlier.” You look down at your hand in his, your eyes welling up much to your embarrassment and dismay.
His fingers gently curl around yours, urging you to look at him. “What dumb thing? Please tell me.”
‘No.’ You wanted to say. ‘It concerns you, so how could I tell you?’ You tell yourself.
Staying silent or lying was the smart idea.
..
Maybe you would’ve been smarter sober.
With the alcohol in your system, and those beautiful eyes boring into yours so intimately in the dark of the night, the moonlight reflecting in his pupils.. you don’t feel the words spill out of your lips until you hear them yourself.
“It’s nothing. Just a joke Toph made,” with each syllable that left your mouth, your brain desperately tried to hit the brakes and shut you up, regret already pooling in your gut as you helplessly watched yourself commit the stupidest mistake of your life. “About.. you and Katara. Talked about you two.. uhm.. repopulating the Air nation, or whatever. Like.. Airbenders aren’t totally extinct since you.. you’re still here. You could, y’know, make more—”
“I-I get the gist,” he interjects, blushing while his grip tightens around your hand. He sighs lowly and shakes the thought off. “Of course it’s Toph. But.. I’m still lost.”
He tilts his head, blinking up at you so sweetly you almost melt. “I think I get the joke. Dirty, sure. But I’m not sure why it’s sad?”
“Sad?” You answer back, just as puzzled. “It’s not sad, though?”
He nods, both of you like lost puppies. “I know. So why is it making you cry?”
Fuck.
Your addled brain racks itself to come up with a reason fast enough, but oh, who were you kidding?
“It’s just..” you look down at the empty glass, wishing it was full so you could down it and hopefully choke on it. “..I don’t know.”
Could you have picked a worse answer? Hard to tell.
A long silence settles between you two, and you can feel his heavy, curious gaze on you without even needing to look at him. You regret doing so, because with the way his eyes suspiciously narrow, his oblivious mind exhausting the possible explanations for your state, you can see him work closer up to the conclusion.
“Welp,” you force an awkward chuckle, patting his hand before sliding yours off his grasp and taking a few steps back, hoping to make it out of here before he figures it out. “I’m sorry to bother you, Aang. It’s nothing really, I think it’s just the drinks getting to me. You know how they always make me soo emotional. Anyway, I just wanted to check up on you, so I’ll get going now.”
You turn around and pick up your pace, but before your fingers find the knob, a gust of wind pushes the door just right out of your reach.
“Wait.” His voice sends a shiver up your spine, cold sweat suddenly rolling off your temples. “Are you..?”
He trails off again, and your limbs grow shakier. This was such a dumb idea, why did you even have to go up to his office? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
You take a deep breath and take one more step to the door, but this time it’s slammed shut with a sharper gust.
“Were you..” You can hear the scraping of his chair as he stands up, your heart sinking down to your ass. “.. Jealous?”
And, unfortunately, there it was.
Even then, knowing Aang, you could’ve still flipped it around. Laughed and played it off. Told him he was wrong. He would’ve believed you.
But, unable to even look up from the door knob, the dumbest answer rolls out of your heavy tongue, a tipsy lightheadedness washing over you for a second. “.. Yes.”
At this point, you didn’t even care anymore. It couldn’t possibly get any worse than this. Maybe now he could laugh at how weird you were being and send you off, finally putting off the burning flames in your chest.
You wait for the longest time, neither of you moving, and right when you expect him to burst out giggling, a firm command escapes his lips instead. “Turn around.”
You blink, dazed.
You slowly turn around, and your breath hitches at the sight before you. Aang standing with his palms flat against the desk, his chest silently heaving, wisps of steam slipping out of his parted lips, more redness across his cheeks, broad and bulky and scary with his no longer sparkling eyes.
There was only what you could describe as heat in them. Not from anger, no, but something awfully akin to lust that had a foreign heat pooling deep in your lower tummy.
Was the alcohol making you see things? Was this just wishful thinking?
“Come here,” he orders again, but it’s shaky this time. Your feet comply before you can process it, and you feel your guts twisting with dread and hopeful anticipation.
Spirits, did you make him uncomfortable? You’d never seen him like this before.
When you finally stand before him, only the desk separating you, your fingers curl around your skirt in guilt. “Aang, I’m so sorry. You already have enough on your plate, I shouldn’t have said anything— Mmf!!”
You’re cut off with a rough kiss, sudden and heated from the get-go, big hands cupping your cheeks as his lips smush against yours in a sloppy mess. You want to make sense of it, but it’s hard to care when your brain’s this fuzzy and you’re living out one of your nightly fantasies.
Neither of you want to stop, breathlessly lapping at each other’s warm tongues and moaning at the unfamiliar feel, swapping sweet sake-flavored saliva.
He reluctantly breaks it with a wet pop, gazing down at you so desperately it had you squeezing your thighs together.
“Don’t move.” Aang whispers, trailing around the table to stand behind you, the order nailing your feet down to the floor. A soft gasp slips from your kiss-bitten lips when his hands tentatively rest on your hips, his breath hot against your ear as his buff body presses against your back. “Is this what you wanted?”
With his touch slowly travelling down to your thighs, all words die out on the tip of your tongue and you can only nod, swallowing thickly.
“You were jealous.” He states again, his voice low and gravelly, like the fact wasn’t embarrassing enough being said the one time. “You’d rather Toph made that joke about you, correct?”
You would’ve answered that, if something huge didn’t poke you in the ass the next second.
Heavens, what the hell was— Oh.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Aang murmurs into your ear, giving your thighs reassuring rubs as he grows unbearably hard against your backside. “I don’t want to.. repopulate the Air nation with Katara, if that’s any consolation. I don’t.”
The words do soothe you a little, but the dirty images are burnt into the back of your eyelids, looping in your mind like a cruel parade, making you shudder against him. “Thank you. I just.. I keep imagining it, and it kills me. Just imagining you on top of her and fucking her— Ah!”
You squeal, startled, when you’re swiftly spun around with not so breezy hands, facing his towering figure with a lick of your bottom lip.
His hands hook around the hem, sliding his shirt off to reveal his muscular frame in all its glory, your gaze sliding down the arrow tattoos, but you’re not given much time before the same hands slide down to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the desk.
He sweeps off the paperwork, crowded between your legs, and you can’t help but moan at how much your thighs have to spread just to wrap around his waist.
So big. In every sense of the word.
“This— Is this what you imagine?” The question’s breathless, lowering himself to look at you and you throb at the eye contact. So does he, judging from the twitching you feel against your inner thigh.
You let out a quivery sigh, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he leans even closer, his steamy breath mingling with yours. “..Kind of..”
He nods at that, glances around hesitantly, then decides to push you flat down on the desk. It’s firm but not rough, your head landing softly on the hardwood thanks to an air cushion he swirled up. “How about this?”
You’re about to reply with a “maybe” when wild fingers swiftly fumble with his belt, lowering his pants enough for him to spring up— WOAH!
Your face is set ablaze, quickly looking away, eyes blown wide open in a mix of shock, dread, and helpless arousal.
His hands find your hips once more, tugging your skirt up to reveal your plush thighs and a patch of your lacies that has him choking on a gasp.
He grabs your jaw, turning your head back to face him, desire and uncertainty swimming in his pretty brown eyes. “Are you.. sure about this? There’s no going back.”
“Please,” it slips out of you with a needy gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist while your hands roam over his wide shoulders. “Yes.”
With the blood rushing in your ears, you can’t hear his whispered word, but from the way his face scrunches up, you assume it was a curse.
Your skirt is fully ridden up with a gust of wind, one that (unintentionally or not) flicks up against your clothed folds and has you shivering in his grasp.
Thick fingers tug the delicate fabric to the side, and he moans in awe at the sight of your drooling slit, already so ready for him.
“So wet,” he comments as he admires the slick coating your glistening cunt, not ripping his eyes off it like it was a piece of art. The prolonged staring makes you self-conscious and embarrassed, but when your thighs shift just a little bit to hide yourself, firm hands keep them separated and he looks up at you, mildly offended. “No, don’t hide from me. You asked for this.”
“Well, I didn’t think your staring was on the menu,” you sputter out, flushed.
“I’m sorry, she’s just so beautiful.” He sighs softly, and your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he starts tracing your folds. “I can’t believe you’re already this wet. You wanted me this badly?”
His questions are genuine, but they only increase your shame. Aang senses that, and so decides to finally give you a taste of what you want.
“Fuck—!” Your back archs off the desk with a yelp, two of his abnormally big digits prodding at your sopping wet hole. It takes some time, but when they finally slip inside you, your pussy greedily sucks them in, earning a pleased grunt from him. “Good girl. Gripping me so nicely.”
It feels illegal to even hear such words from him outside the fake scenarios you touched yourself to at night. More desperate mewls are coaxed out of you when he starts scissoring you open, the pads of his fingertips pressing skillfully against your spongy spot and curling upwards.
“Need to get you ready for me,” he breathes out, stretching you out with a third finger that has you ferally clawing at his back. “So you can take me.”
Steam is wafting off him as he pounds his fingers in and out of your tight walls, unable to look away from your fluttering cunt. His calloused thumb comes to swipe over your perked up clit, a wail ripping through your throat. The sound has him lifting his eyes to check on you, and the sight of tears filling the rim of your eyes, your lips contorted into a quivering pout, your hair pooling so prettily around your head, sends a hot jolt of arousal down to his cock.
“Spirits, you—you’re so pretty.” He babbles dazedly, dragging another scream out of you with a thrust of his fingers. “Pretty, pretty girl. I need you now.”
With a few more rubs to your puffy clit, he suddenly pulls away, your arms tightening around him with a pitiful cry.
“No no, don’t cry, please.” Aang wipes the tears off your eyes, stealing a warm kiss from your puckered lips. “I’ll take care of you now baby, I promise.”
His entire body burned hot with his firebending, but especially his hands; scalding as they slid up the back of your thighs to push your legs up against your chest in a mating press.
But even his hot touch paled in comparison to the heat between your thighs.
He exhales through his nose, one of his hands ditching you to wrap around his girthy cock, lazily fisting himself as the tip flushed an angrier red, veins forking up the length.
You gasp when he lines himself up, the leaking tip gliding over your slit like he owned it, and your eyes roll back at its pure thickness.
You didn’t even know if you could take him.
He lowers himself over you, his bare chest pressed flush against yours as he litters your neck with warm open-mouthed kisses. “Ready for me?”
He takes your pathetic whimper as a “yes”, swallowing it with his tongue while he slowly pushes in.
His pre-cum mixes with your slick in filthy squelches, and you both moan loudly when he finally pushes through the tight ring of muscle, plunging into your velvety walls.
You’d think it’d be easier with him prepping you with three of his fingers, but the big stretch was still scream-worthy.
“I—I can’t,” he whines against your lips after some minutes pass by, frowning down at you so sweetly. “I really want to be gentle and good to you, b-but it’s so hard. With how you feel around me, I just wanna— wanna— ugh, lose control. You— feel so good..”
His words have your organs collapsing against each other, your cunt fluttering around him with arousal at the thought of rough sex with the sweet, tender Avatar before you.
How could you resist such a nasty demand made with the most adorable look?
“Lose it.” You whisper into his mouth, feeling his entire back tense up under your hands. You pull him in for a brief kiss, “I want you to lose it.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, your eyes widening at the flickering of his tattoos. “D—Don’t say that.”
His slow thrusts grow faster and rougher, each inch splitting you further and completely numbing your tipsy mind, broken moans ripping through your hoarse throat when he bottoms out.
You try to adjust to his size, the lingering pain only increasing your pleasure as he rolls his hips into the flesh of your ass, his grip deadly tight around your folded thighs. “Spirits—”
The desk clatters under you, mewling in tandem while he tries to fight the Avatar state, flashes of blinding white forcing you to shut your eyes but they were just as quickly forced back open at the animal pounding that accompanied them.
Holy mother of God, you could feel him in your womb.
“Is—” He grunts, suddenly ripping your top off with his teeth to bare your chest to his hungry gaze. You’re taken off guard, choking on your startled yelp when he hikes your hips up to deepen his angle and fuck you harder, his eyes drinking in the bounce of your gorgeous tits. “Is this what you imagined?”
You could hardly tell if it was Aang anymore, tears streaming down your face and hiccuping sobs while his wild thrusts bruised your cervix.
You feel him twitch inside you, his pace stuttering for a second, and that’s when you know he’s close.
He leans down to capture one of your peaked nipples between his teeth, nipping and licking at the sensitive bud as he reveled in your whiny cries. His svelte fingers take care of the neglected one, twisting and rolling it while his tongue flicked harshly against your left.
When his lips close on it in a sucking motion, your mind goes blank and your eyes cross, drool leaking out of your mouth when you open it to beg for release.
With your pleading and the way your cunt lovingly squeezes around his throbbing dick, he completely loses it and brutally picks up the pace.
“Gonna.. gonna cum,” he slurs, latching off your chest to gaze down at your wrecked face. “Pump you full of me. That’s what you want, right?”
He takes your loud moan to his words as approval, drunk on your noises as he fucks you with the stamina that could only belong to the Avatar.
“Fuck, need— need to breed you.” He turns into an incoherent mess, each thrust fucking your earlier scenarios right out of your head, Katara’s image gradually being replaced by yours. Your nails draw blood, scratching down his muscular back while he gets off to the thought of knocking you up, his fingers sliding down to rub fast circles on your clit. “My—my sweet girl, gonna give me lots of little Airbenders. You want that, don’t you? Stuffed full of my cum, bearing my children. You’ll make me a daddy.”
If his cock destroying your cervix wasn’t enough to make you cum, his words definitely did it.
Your orgasm crashes over you, your toes curling in the air, gushing all over him with a broken cry and so does he, the feel of your walls clamping down on him so tightly tipping him over the edge as hot ropes of thick cum paint your insides white.
It’s so warm — and so much — you almost cum again from the sheer sensation.
“Gonna get you pregnant,” he breathlessly pants, angling your hips up for none of his cum to slip out of you. Your pussy spasms around him, thoroughly milking him dry and you don’t know if it’s just the tipsiness, but you could swear you felt all his warm seed seep through your cervix and fill up your womb.
You’re both drenched in sweat, fighting for air. He gives you a few more thrusts for good measure, draining himself out entirely, eliciting an overstimulated mewl from you, before reluctantly pulling out of what he would later consider his home.
Dazed, he watches your swollen folds clench around nothing, and when he sees some of his cum dribble out of them, he tuts and fingers it back inside you. He does this for the next minutes, making sure you’ve taken all of him, appreciating your needy squirms and whimpers each time.
When he’s satisfied with himself, he exhales deeply, all his earlier savageness gone for an affectionate look in his eyes as he gazes down at you. He gives you a fond smile, pressing his large palm flat against where your womb is. “You’ll grow me some Airbenders in here, won’t you? Birth me back my nation?”
Too fucked out to answer, you nod weakly, limp in his grasp. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, slow and warm and wet. “I can’t wait. In some months, everyone will know what happened here. They’ll know who you belong to, who you craved tonight. You’ll be all big and swollen with my babies.”
The thought has you furiously blushing, your arms wrapping tighter around his shoulders. “W-Well.. it’s still too early to know if I’ll be preg—”
“Oh you will be.” He answers with a cheeky grin, patting your belly again. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
You blink at him, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips too. “But that’s not how it works. There’s no guarantee that I’m pregnant, even if you know what you’re doing.”
At that, he groans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck while his heavy body rests over yours. “But I’m the Avatar. My stuff’s gotta be special. I’m sure it worked, you’re definitely knocked up.”
You return his tired hug, letting out a soft exasperated sigh. “.. Sure, Aang.”
Meanwhile, everyone downstairs remained blissfully ignorant of what the hell happened a floor above them, all busy with their drinks and tipsy banter.
All, except for a very drunk earthbender that heard everything through the walls. Who was thankfully way too drunk to properly tell the others, only shouting garbled congratulations to the ceiling that nobody bothered to understand. “Niiiice. Good going, Twinkle toes. You lucky dog.”
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masterlist
* i’d be popping out babies left and right with this yummy bald man.. if you see any mistakes leave me alone i hate proofreading.
synopsis: you fucked up and got hurt on a mission trying to save jason, but he was too busy fuming that it went wrong to notice how you were bleeding out.
a/n: this is my first jason fic :p
walking back to the batcave felt like utter agony.
the sides of your ribs pulsating and the gash under the bottom right rib was burning. but you almost forgot about it with how loud jason was screaming at you.
almost.
jason tosses his mask onto the couch unceremoniously and continues his rant that had been going on for half an hour now, “do you have any fucking idea how royally you just fucked up?!”
now that you were in the batcave, you just felt tired. exhausted and in need of sleep. maybe, even a trip to bruce’s liquor stash.
you blink at him, shifting closer toward the couch, itching to sit down, “i know i fucked up-” but he’s not having it.
jason’s voice gets even louder, stampeding over yours, “you know?! well then why the hell did you do it?!”
“i-i don’t know i just did it okay,” you huff, voice trembling slightly.
trying to stifle any sound that you were in pain from rising. you knew damn well why you let it happen and let those loser goons spot you.
you and jason were out on patrol and happened to stumble upon the group of goons running the cocaine batman had been looking for months for. you had them cornered until they had the shot of jason from the building directly behind him and they threatened to take the shot if you didn’t let them take the drugs.
it’s not like you’d let those fuckers have the drugs and resell them throughout gotham. no. but you weren’t gonna let them shoot jason either and that’s what got you hurt. after he shifted from behind jason to grab the duffle bags of cocaine being exchanged, you lunged back towards him, slicing through the bag. and in anger, he sliced through you. that was enough for the rest of them to chase after you while you shouted for jason to, “fucking run todd!”
he hasn’t shut up about it since then.
his jaw clenches as he steps closer to where you hovered over the couch armrest, “you lead those assholes right to us, i need to know why,”
you slip onto the couch, keeping a firm hand to the stab wound, “i didn’t mean for them to follow us, they just did!”
“for a smart girl, jesus, you do some idiotic things sometimes!” he moves even closer, towering over you now. you nod as you sink into the couch.
at this point you were hardly listening, just trying to keep yourself upright and awake. you were a little surprised to how he didn’t notice you holding your side, but maybe it was your black and red suit masking the blood seeping through it or maybe jason was just to mad to care. either way way, you keep nodding at him, trying to get rid of him so you could lay down.
he furrows his brows, “what the fuck are you nodding at me for?” to which you didn’t have an answer.
he shifts closer, “you’re really gonna mess up patrol, nearly have us killed, and then lay on the couch? like you did nothing?”
biting back a seething wince, you retort, “what do you want me to say jason… i know i messed up, i’m sorry, can we move on?” leaning your head back on the couch, letting it rest on the edge of the headrest. you let out a soft groan from the stretch but he doesn’t notice, still too angry to realize.
you knew you were being stubborn by not telling him, but jason was being a complete ass too. you also knew him well enough that he would be even more pissed at you for not telling him what happened in the first place.
it was like a cycle at this point, and you’d recognized how he could filter through them and ultimately end on self depreciation. first he’d get mad, then he’d get sad, finally he’d reach his crescendo of brooding that made you question if you should make him finally see a therapist. of course he wouldn’t let you though, he was convinced reading something on psychology would probably be better. because, he was just as stubborn as you after all.
and honestly, at this point, you were damn exhausted and wanted him to shut up so you could lay down.
but alas, he’s standing over you now, finger in your face.
“why the hell did you do it then hmm? you led those dickheads right to us! they fucked with my damn bike!” he pouts slightly.
you can’t help but huff out a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek when it rumbles your stomach, “you care more for the bike then? don’t worry toddy, i’ll get you a new one.” your head lolling back again.
“just give me a minute would you? you can use mine for now.” you vaguely gesture to the key in your pocket but are too lazy to pull it out.
thinking you were just being cheeky, he moves closer, grabbing your chin. his grip was not hard. it was just enough to make you face him.
“ah ow, fuck jason!” you exclaim, pushing at his grip but it tightens.
he brings his face close to yours, “the next time you pull that shit on patrol, it will be your last,” his eyes briefly flicker to your lips, where you were biting hard enough to draw blood.
your hand slips from your wound before pressing back in and hissing at him, just enough for it to be mistaken for just a sneer at his attitude.
the hot headed idiot still doesn’t notice.
“you’re not even sorry are you? we blew the operation and you’re still,” he eyes you shamelessly and scoffs, “smug as ever.”
you pull your chin from his grip. his hand lingers there, following your movement and gently grazing your face. his thumb swiping away the drop of blood you’d drawn from biting your lip too hard. as if taking in your appearance for the first time, his eyes flicker to your lips again.
“why’re you…” he trails off looking you up and down, “are you okay?” his demeanour completely shifting.
his eyes shift up to yours and he looks at you with less anger.
was it concern?
“what happened?” he deadpans.
“nothing,” you shift uncomfortably, not used to the proximity with him.
his hand near your face stays in the air, hovering. he narrows his eyes and stares for a moment. then, suddenly he’s sitting next to you and touching up and down your arms trying to feel for something wrong with you. you don’t answer him, he sighs.
“why won’t you ever just give me a straight answer?”
“oh god, please just spare me the fake caring act alright? i’m here because i want the black mask gone as much as bruce does,” you say with a bitter tone.
you and jason had never really gotten along. he was always reserved and didn’t have patience, rushing into things without thinking them through first. jason would head into a gunfight with nothing but his fists just to feel something.
but so would you. and maybe that’s why he scared you so much.
he reminded you of yourself.
he scoffs at you, anger seething from his tone, “what makes you think i don’t care huh?”
you blink at him, knitting your brows together. fingers still pressing into the wound that’s sending white hot flashes up your body, “i know you don’t care let alone like me todd, so just save that shit for someone who’d believe you.”
he shifts roughly on the couch, causing it to dip slightly and you groan softly as it makes you move too.
he notices this time.
“you’re hurt,” he states rather than asks you.
you do your best to glare at him, “i’m fine,” he immediately interrupts, “like hell you are.”
“don’t change the subject jason.”
“me? you’re the one trying to confuse me!” he throws his hands up exasperated, “look okay, i do care. more than you know.”
“you sure have a funny way of showing it,” you mutter and he brings his ear closer to your lips.
“what was that? you’re mumbling sweetheart, say it with your chest,” he’s practically pressing his ear to your face.
you knew what he was trying to do, cause it’s what he always does to get you to stop ignoring him. he’s trying to annoy you. trying to get a reaction out of you.
typical of someone with brothers.
you shove him away from you with your gloved hand, weaker than usual so it hardly moves him.
“i said you treat me like shit. so excuse me for thinking you don’t care about me,” you say staring right at him, faces far enough to see every feature but close enough to feel his breath against your cheek.
“and you’re a cunt,” you say finally, just wanting to get that bit out.
he barks out a laugh and rests his hand on your thigh. the action sending shivers down your spine. almost distracting you from the pain.
almost.
until jason moves abruptly again.
his hand wraps around your shoulders as he pulls you into a side hug, the movement pulling on the muscles and the skin of your wound. it felt like a dagger was being dragged down your ribs and salt was poured directly inside. a metallic taste floods your mouth immediately. but you show no indication of your suffering. not yet.
“things like this aren’t easy for me okay,” he admits and you freeze.
was jason talking about his feelings?
“g—go on,” you prompt him, not feeling confident enough to speak right now and also wanting him to open up to you more.
he sighs, “i care… okay? i care a lot more than i’d like to admit.”
you keep staring at him, partially because you’re worried if you say something, you might make him stop. also because you didn’t know if it would come out as a pained groan.
he takes your silence as an invitation to keep speaking because jason doesn’t like awkward air hanging between them. he lets go of you and runs his hand through his hair.
“i didn’t mean to get mad at you, you just—you just frustrate me okay!”
you nod again as if you were understanding and he continues.
“you question me and push my buttons, and try to take shots for me like i’m not a grown man who’s literally come back from the dead!” he says his voice growing a little louder, “and today you did it again! you blew our cover and you don’t even have the decency to tell me why, so i’m forced to assume you’re just fucking with me again.” his voice softens at the end.
“jason, i swear, i only blew it cause i knew it was gonna end badly alright,” you say and sit up straighter, the feeling of sharp pain being pushed up your side and down your spine, you settled back down, “you have to believe me.” you say through partially gritted teeth.
he looks at you like he’s pleading with you now, “i’m trying to, but you’re still lying to me. i know it.” his irises blown wide, “it’s not easy for me… to trust i mean.”
your gaze softens at the sight of him.
his vulnerability was rare.
“okay, f—fine,” you say forcing yourself to sit completely upright with the support of your free hand, the one clutched to your wound on the opposite side to him, “they were gonna kill you. alright?”
he laughs humourlessly, “kill me? yeah, i’m sure, they could try though. i’d like to see it,” you roll your eyes at his confident demeanour.
“no asshole, they had a gun. on you. you just didn’t see it cause you were too busy watching me,” you finally admit, letting the reality sink in for him.
he thinks on it, you swear you can see the gears turning in his head.
“that’s why you ran at me? why there was powder on your knuckles?” he says softly.
when you nod, his eyes soften, “you didn’t want them to have the drugs either so you cut through their coke supply didn’t you?” you nod again.
he runs a hand through his hair, the white streak bouncing back forward onto his forehead.
“i guess you want me to thank you now huh? for saving me?” he says reluctantly. he was used to people doing things only as favours for him. always wanting something in return.
he was used to being used. his interactions before you were mostly transactional.
you shake your head, “no, i just want you to understand. i’m sorry i blew our cover but i’m not sorry for how i did it.”
he blinks at you and then purses his lips. letting the truth sink in and tangle with his reality.
you saved him.
you care too.
he smiles to himself then to back up at you, taking your hand in his. slowly, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing the soft plump skin of his lips to the gloved leather of your hand.
“thank you, princess.”
the action makes your breath hitch, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. his irises blown out in adoration.
you push that feeling down and ignore the blood rushing to your core.
you abruptly stand and clear your throat, “you’re uh, you’re welcome. i’m gonna go change.” and you leave him there as quickly as you could.
your body protesting as you stride hard away, ignoring the burning in your stomach and the feeling of jason’s lips having touched your skin.
jason stays there, watching you walk toward the bathroom, dumbfounded. you’re already down the hall and closing the door when he quietly murmurs.
“and i’m sorry.”
the cut wasn’t too deep and the bleeding had stopped. at least.
you’re sitting on the floor of the bathroom, your black suit already pushed down to your hips as you bite off a piece of thread.
you’d been struggling to thread the needle for almost 20 minutes now, groaning quietly to yourself when it would miss again. your fingers were trembling at this point and stained as your gloves laid on the tiled floor.
with shakily hands, you finally give up on threading it and opt for stapled stitches.
whatever right? same shit?
you pull out bruce’s first aid kit from the cabinet and rummage through it. you know he has it, you’ve seen alfred use it on him before. but even bruce winced when alfred stapled his wounds shut and you knew that if he was wincing, you might as well be screaming.
your fingers dance over the plastic holding the metal stapler. you unwrap it. blooding covering everything you touch, but you weren’t worried about that now, you can clean it up after.
you pick up the leathered glove and stuff it in your mouth, biting down to muffle your sounds.
hands still trembling, you slowly pull the skin taut and groan into the glove. you press the metal to the skin and close your eyes, knowing it’s probably not a good idea to close them now but you know it’s about to hurt. then take a deep breath, clicking the staple down quickly. sharp steering pain shoots up your body, lingering through your fingers.
you did not know what you were doing at all.
you can’t help the yelp you make as the first staple closes down and the glove slips from your teeth. the whimpers that leave your throat were quiet. soft and barely audible.
but jason still heard them.
jason is on the couch, staring at his red mask he’d thrown there earlier.
he was beating himself up for being mean to you when you’d been trying to help him. he was also trying (and failing) to not think about how you’d basically just shut him down.
he bites the inside of his cheek.
a sound in the bathroom distracts him from his thoughts. he turns his head immediately when he hears a whimper.
soft and muffled, but he hears it.
he’s on his feet, stealthily moving towards the door. he knocks when he hears another muffled sound.
he calls out your name, “you okay?”
you call back from behind the door, “f—fine,” your voice shaky enough for red flags to raise in his mind. he presses a hand to the door. thoughts racing. he asks the first question on his mind.
“you on your period?” he scratches his head with his other hand.
you snicker despite the pain, “no…”
“taking a shit?”
you laugh again. this time ending it with a wince.
he furrows his brows, knowing you’re hiding something, “fuck it, i’m coming in regardless.”
you panic, the room was not nearly clean enough for him to come in without suspecting a thing.
you yell out before he can twist the knob, “no—yes, i am. i’m on my period and i—i’m taking a dump jason, stay out there—”
but it’s no use.
you forgot to lock the door and he pushed it open.
his eyes land on you and they immediately drop to the sight on your torso. his mouth gaping at you as you sit on ground, a bloodied metal stapler in your hands. fingerprints of blood across the white tiles and staining your hands.
it looked like a fucking crime scene.
“jesus, why didn’t you say something?” he kneels next to you, taking the stapler from your shaky hands. he’s being extra gentle. careful not to move you.
“i didn’t wanna worry you,” you breathe out, brows knitting together at his genuine concern. your hand rests on your leg now that he took the stapler.
“and this? why are you using this? i could’ve stitched you up properly,” he shakes his head head, stammering, “fuck, did this happen because of me?”
when you don’t answer he sucks in a breath, already knowing the answer and shifts closer to you. he gently touches the skin around the wound and winces as if it hurt him too.
you huff out a weak laugh, “sorry, i’m making a lot of mistakes today.”
he shakes his head and shifts even closer to you, “shut up.” his hands move, one under your knees and one to your back, lifting you off the ground. keeping you close to his chest, he stands.
he walks out of the bathroom door and further down the hall, reaching his bedroom. he gently places you on his bed. a fuzzy grey blanket greets your aching skin as you settle on something soft rather than the hard cold floor. he’s careful not to agitate your wound.
“don’t move,” he warns before giving you one last look, disappearing in his closet. you weren’t about to protest. you drop your head back on his pillow, breathing in the scent of him lingering from the comforter. the faint scent of him lingers in the room and greets your nostrils, you can’t help but revel in it.
he returns a moment later with supplies in his hands, his suit pushed down to his hips. a black compression shirt peeking out.
“i’m gonna stitch this up properly alright?” you nod and he starts working.
leaning over you and moving with practiced precision, he stitches you up like he knew exactly what to do. he takes the single staple you had put in out with a tool you didn’t quite understand. telling you to squeeze his hand when it hurts too much but he takes your hand without you having to. he had been taking care of his own wounds for years, so he really did know what he was doing. and he was much gentler than you were being to yourself earlier.
he looks up to make sure he wasn’t hurting you every few seconds. eyes threatening to water at the sight of you getting hurt, for him. he works quickly stitching you up, trying not to prolong it for you. he knew you’d been in pain and covering it up for him and you knew how in his head he could get.
gently removing the dried blood around the wound, he pulls out a piece of gauze and a bandage, carefully wrapping the wound.
“there. all done.” his hand lingers on your hip a moment too long before straightening himself upward.
he moves to get off the bed.
“wait, jay,” the nickname makes him freeze and turns toward you, “i’m sorry.”
he seats himself back down fully, still on the edge of the bed, “what do you have to apologize for? i was a dick to you and here you were, taking a knife to the rib for me.” his words laced with malice toward himself.
you huff, “i did that, not you. you didn’t know,” he says nothing so you continue, “and i meant for earlier, when you were being vulnerable with me.”
he gulps at your words.
“pfft, its fine. don’t worry,” he starts, trying to downplay it but you’re not having it.
“no, dammit, it’s not fine. you were being honest and i was just avoiding it,” you admit, stepping out of the your avoidant tendencies you both had.
he raises a brow, “and what were you avoiding exactly?”
“that i care too jay. maybe a little too much.”
he stares at you for a moment, contemplating. then his hand moves to take yours, squeezing gently when he laces his fingers with it.
“what’s wrong with caring about eachother?”
you blink at him sitting up against the headboard right now. both your hands still clutched together, “i dunno, i guess i just thought you hated me before.”
he shakes his head, shifting himself closer to you, knees brushing against yours, “i could never hate you princess.”
“you don’t hate me?”
he shakes his head in response.
“i thought—i thought you didn’t like me or maybe cassandra had a problem with me since we always have missions—” he cuts you off.
“what does cassandra have to do with any of this?” he says coldly.
“aren’t you guys like… a thing?” you genuinely ask. you’d been suspecting them together for months, and they definitely seemed comfortable.
his response is immediate, “fuck no. what? what would give you that impression… i don’t like her at all.” exaggerating with his faked scoffs.
“well don’t go belittling her now… i just thought you were together.” you sigh, feeling embarrassed for suspecting them together.
he presses his lips together before giving you a stern look staring like he was reading your mind. he knew you too well, maybe better than you knew yourself.
he shifts one of your legs to the side, maneuvering you gently by your knee, before settling himself between them. you gasp softly but don’t stop him. his hands shift from yours to your hips, making mindless circles as his eyes bore into yours.
you could see them softening at the sight of you.
you could feel his demeanour shifting at your proximity.
“it’s always been you.” his irises blown out just like before when he was watching you.
“m-me?” stammering your words and he confirms it with a nod, trailing his hands up to your waist.
holding you there.
“yeah, you. it’s always been you,” a soft kiss to your cheek sends a shiver down your spine.
then works his way down.
his lips trail down your jaw then to your neck, pulling out a soft moan.
“jason,” the heat pooling between the two of you. he smiles against your neck and you can visualize his expression without even seeing his face.
“tell me you don’t want me. tell me to stop. i’ll stop right now.”
then he looks back up at you and you bite you lip. jason looked so beautiful, his skin flushed slightly, voice dripping with desire. he smiled at you and you felt your heart skip a beat.
it was rare.
and god it was a beautiful sight.
“i want you,” the breathless words come out effortlessly, even though he’d barely touched you.
like a moth to a flame, he wastes no time crashing his lips into yours. he breathes you in deeply and moans into your mouth. rough calloused hands work gently as they trail up to hold your head in place. the gasp that escapes you is utilized as an invitation to put his tongue inside, slipping against yours as his fingers lace through your hair and tug to open you up more. he’s slowly getting more aggressive with his kisses, like a man starved. you could feel him shaking with the anticipation, or maybe it was him holding back. you couldn’t tell and you didn’t care right now. the only thing on your mind was him.
he lays you back down on the mattress and you drag him down with you by the neckline of his shirt. he stays between your legs, careful not to put his weight on you, momentarily parting from you but you pull him back down harder, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. like a promise.
he groans so beautifully.
finally, he pulls back. heavy panting and lips swollen.
“fuck baby,” his pink lips stayed parted as he took sharp gulps of air. you’d made him breathless.
you stare back up at him. with his cheeks slightly reddened and his lips swollen from kissing you too hard. you can’t help but bite your lip. he groans again at the sight.
“don’t do that,” he almost whines, “not when i can’t really have you right now.”
“who says you can’t have me?” you retort, your hand moving up to the nape of his head, holding him there.
he hisses at the feeling, “me, i do. i’m not risking hurting you.”
this time you groan and let go of his hair, “i’m a grown woman jason, i will be fine. i’m telling you that i want you.”
he stares down at you, his hair draping over his forehead as he leans over you, “i’m not fucking you like this. not until you’re healed.”
you’re about to protest again when he shifts down to the balls of his feet, hands grazing over your thighs.
“but i never said i couldn’t make you feel good.”
you feel heat rise to your cheeks as he pulls his black shirt off and reveals his toned abs. mouth watering at the sight.
you have seen him shirtless before, but not like this.
your eyes follow the faint lines of his autopsy scars.
you snap back to what he’s about to do when he hooks his fingers into the fabric of your suit. he tugs the fabric at your hips and starts dragging it down.
“jason, you really don’t have to,” you start, watching him pull the suit completely off your legs and tossing it to the floor. it falls on top of his black shirt.
“i want to.”
he immediately presses kisses to the inside of your knee, “i’ve wanted to for a long, long time.” his lips dragging up your inner thighs.
you let out a soft whimper when he reaches a sensitive spot. he purposefully sucks the skin there, leaving a love bite. you arch off the bed and his hands drag up your body, gripping at your hips to keep you from moving too far.
“you’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, moving his lips to your bare stomach, “so gorgeous.” he licks down to the trim of your panties.
his fingers hook themselves with your panties and pull them down slowly. he sucks in air with every new inch of you he can see. his tongue darts out and wets his lips. once he finally pulls them off, he tucks them in his back pocket.
“fuck, you’re hot,” he says staring down at you laid out for him.
you giggle and his eyes flicker back up to yours, coming up to kiss you again. more passion and desire evident in his kisses now, before he moves to settle back down on his knees for you.
he pushes your legs apart again, ghosting his breath over your core. his stomach nearly flat on the bed while he’s looking up through his lashes, “you can still tell me to stop okay? at any point.”
you run a hand down your stomach and up through his hair, he leans into it, “jason, i’m not running away.”
you make sure he’s looking at you when you speak, “i want you.”
eyes full of desire and heat. he gives you a grin and kisses the skin on your lower stomach.
“good,” and he licks a stripe up your core and you jolt up.
“f—fuck,” you gasp out as he continues, groaning into you. he licks up again, eyes never shifting from yours.
he wants to drink in every reaction, every gasp, every moan.
he doesn’t wanna miss any of it.
“you taste so fucking good,” he moans into you as you arch your back again, gripping his hair tighter. he’s groaning into you and lapping at you with a purpose, like this was more for him than for you.
“t—this isn’t fair,” you whine.
he chuckles, the sound rumbling and vibrating through your core.
“what’s not fair?” he stops moving his mouth on you and suddenly bites your inner thigh. you gasp again, “hmm? tell me? cause i can tell you what’s not fair.”
he dives back in, eating you out like he’s starved.
writhing beneath him, one of his palms flat on your stomach to keep you from running away.
he speaks between licks, grinning up at you like this was his new favourite task, “you shouldn’t be taking hits for me, that’s what’s not fair.” his hands cup your ass and pull you in closer to him like he couldn’t possibly get enough, “you’ve been holding this out from me, and that’s really not fair.”
moaning out, both of your hands now reach down for his hair. begging at this point, “jay, oh god, please.”
he hums appreciatively into you as you whimper at how the vibrations feel against you.
“yeah?” he parts again for a moment. “please what, princess?” you look down to see the devilish grin on his face, his chin glistening with the essence of you. he looked so good you could’ve came right there.
oh my god, he’s gonna be the death of me.
“please don’t stop,” you breathe out staring down at him through glossy eyes. he already had you where he wanted you.
“you don’t have to worry about that, pretty girl. i’m not going to stop,” he turns his head and places gentle kisses to your palm that juxtapose to when he leans back in, sucking at that bundle of nerves that make you cry out.
he softly takes it between his teeth, still staring up at you with his pretty eyes. he tugs and watches you squirm, sucking it in again and groaning, knowing its effect on you.
letting go with a little pop, he shifts back down to where you wanted him the most. a breathy moan escapes you again, panting out soft calls of his name as he works you. his palms rub at your backside as he works his muscle into you.
then without warning, he slips a finger in and your head drops back into the mattress, unable to watch him anymore. he’s like a man on a mission, trying to get you there like he would die if he couldn’t. one of his hands snake between you and he runs circles around your clit. the reaction is immediate, you grip his hair so tight, you thought you might rip his hair out. but you didn’t care and neither did he. he moans into you, rutting himself into the mattress. another finger slips in effortlessly and you moan obscenely.
the pressure was building fast. he was lapping at you as if it was the only meal on earth and he had been starving. his eyes remains on yours as his thumb rubbed faster.
and faster.
“come on, give it to me,” he pants into you, not stopping his ministrations.
he kept grinding into the mattress as he worked you harder, chasing his own high. but you were already there, tears forming and your body convulsing. pushing his head further down on you as he worked you through the high.
he was relentless, not stopping until you finally came just like he wanted. he moans against you again and his hips falter, stopping their movements.
his mouth didn’t stop though, kittening licking at you until you were practically crying at the stimulation and pushing his head away. finally he pulls from you, with a few wet kisses up to your lower stomach before he looks back up to you.
you waste no time pulling him up into a kiss, not caring for the taste of you on his lips. the kiss was slower, like he was trying to memorize the feeling of you.
when you parted, you finally took in how flushed he was, how worked up you made him.
you reach down for him and his hand stops you immediately.
“no, tonight was about you,” he says still breathless, a satisfied smile lingering on his handsome face.
“but what about you?” you protest, trying to reach again but he doesn’t let you.
his fingers lace with yours again.
“oh trust me, i’m okay,” he gestures sheepishly to the wet stain on his crotch. your eyes widen in realization.
he got off on getting you off.
you smile so wide, it might look like it hurts. then you pull him back down into a sweet kiss. he returns it, deepening the kiss impossibly before you pull back to speak.
Actually quite obsessed with the idea of Jason getting dosed with sex pollen but he has so much going on and represses anything to do with desire or arousal on the daily that he doesn't think anything's wrong.
It happens on patrol and he's hard all the way back to his apartment but whatever, that happens sometimes. If he ignores it, it'll go away. Alright, so his erection doesn't flag when he goes to bed and it's there when he wakes up, but so what? He probably had a dream about you (to his utter shame—he shouldn't think of you that way). Jason jacks off in the shower to take the edge off and shoves his cock into a protective cup so he can work. Easy maintenance. His skin is feverish but Gotham waits for no one, so Jason drinks some DayQuil and gets a move on.
And yeah, it's really annoying and sorta painful to immediately harden and to stay hard throughout the day but whatever!!! Jason never seems to catch a break!!! He has to pause in the middle of the day because he's leaking so much pre-cum and he doesn't want to make a visible mess. So Jason hangs out braced against the tile in a bathroom stall with his pants down, hand on his cock while it gushes, relentless. He feels like a fucking creep but this stuff happens. Just part of being a guy in his twenties, amiright? Yeah, okay, but he really has a lot of work to do, so...
It seems to calm down enough for Jason to get back to work for the day. He tucks himself back in. He's not soft and he hasn't been soft since yesterday afternoon, but it's fine. This is not the first time he's been inappropriately hard. A month ago, he met you for lunch, and at the end, you kissed Jason's cheek and gave him the sweetest grin. He doesn't know why his body reacted the way that it did. Jason cussed at his dick the whole way home, grateful that you missed his unfortunate response.
If he ignores it, it'll go away. That's how Jason usually deals with desire. He gets it. He's young, has excellent blood circulation, and his body is relatively new. A particularly crunchy fall leaf could get him hard. It's just that everything about him is big and warm and demands attention when it gets like this, but Jason is superb at compartmentalizing. Not to worry! He has plans to see you tonight. Hopefully it'll go away by then.
Oh, but it doesn't. At all. And Jason will absolutely not risk poking into your back by accident. He's not a fucking perv, thanks. His body is just going through some kind of second puberty or something. Whatever. Jason calls you and tells you with great remorse that he has to cancel. He says he's sick. You're disappointed but understanding, sweetly telling him you hope he feels better. He really wanted to see you, but oh well. If Jason doesn't see you face-to-face, he can always check up on you through your building's security cameras.
Jason gets home and it's not long before there's a knock. It's you! Shit. You've brought soup, because you're so fucking lovely. Jason will answer the door but you can't stay, nope, not when he's like this. He opens the door and you frown immediately. You exclaim how sick he looks, how sweat has gathered around his neck. Poor thing, you say, like Jason is deserving of such concern. You reach one hand to feel his forehead, and Jason's so excited about you touching him, he forgets himself.
And uh, yeah. Jason cums. It's not a loud, obnoxious thing but he feels it and it's a lot. He nearly keels over, mouth open in relief and agitation. A tiny groan escapes him. His fever seems to triple. You tilt your head, saying his name questioningly. Jason feels unbelievably unfocused and hot. All he can think about is you touching him. Which, y'know, fair. Jason thinks about you a lot. But this is probably not normal. Probably.
He wracks his brain for answers and oh. Hm. Maybe that weird plant that spit pollen at him last night wasn't harmless.
WARNINGS: sexual themes , mostly kissing (classic) , shy!michael , inexperienced michael <3 , also fluff?
[1979]
“are you sure she’s okay with it?” you watch the back of michael’s sweater as he clicks his key in the door lock and slips it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“yeah,” michael smiles, dripping with his charm and youth as he slides against the open door and you move inside. “why not?”
you shrug, blushing back at him. what’s the saying? presumption killed the cat?
“she told me i could stay whenever i needed a place in new york; she’s back in encino.”
the apartment door shuts and locks behind you, all light from the hallway quickly eclipsing. the transition was stark. you gaze around at the darkened corners, the angles from tables, shelves, the frames of photos on the wall, a balcony with a view of skyline.
“you can—uh—make yourself comfortable,” michael says timidly, unlacing and toeing out of his shoes.
quietly you find the expanse of the plush couch with ease and sit, sinking into its cushions like a child too small for her winter coat. mike shuffles in the hall, opening doors and twisting knobs as if he’s never quite finding what he was looking for. when his shadow emerges in the living room again, he’s got a vinyl sleeve in his hands.
“it’s nice to have a big sister like that,” you say to the darkness, your smile honey-sweet. “you must be awfully close.”
“yeah… i suppose so,” he replies with a breathy laugh, somehow fastening the record on its turntable on the other end of the room.
it crackles quietly, the sound revs, and he meanders toward you, arching around the coffee table in front of him on his twiggy legs. the record spins, but the song is one you can’t quite pinpoint. it’s something low, sultry. if there were words you couldn’t quite catch them.
“michael…” you wander. his name leaving you like a question. “won’t you turn the lights on?”
as he sits beside you, your legs brush each other, but neither of you mind. you’d wanted to be this close the whole evening.
“i like it better this way…” he murmurs, leaning forward and brushing your shoulder with his. the anticipation built in you at every turn that evening. the butterflies chased each other round and around like a record until they were dizzy with longing. you drag your foot against the back of your calf to quell the pot of yearning sizzling inside you. “when you’re in the dark you don’t really have to worry about anything—you…sort of…give way to feeling.”
your words barely pass your lips, they're so quiet, inching toward him. “what kind of feeling?”
he touches his fingers to his lips, thinking for a moment.
“…passion.”
for the first time you’d noticed how warm the apartment was. your sweater surely didn’t help. or maybe it was michael. being so close. you let out a flustered chuckle, full of the pent up want you’d been hoping to release, pulling your hair back at the same moment the couch dipped and his lips kiss your cheek.
“you sure she won’t mind?” you whisper to him as your noses bump gently together, leaning into the new feeling of him so near to you like an intoxicating promise. “i just don’t want to get you into trouble, that’s all…”
his upper lip glides over yours. so smooth. your eyes flutter closed like you’d been possessed, widening your mouth and sealing your lips together hungrily. no trouble, he seemed to say without needing to say anything at all.
he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, sliding his mouth against yours with a savory hum. you feel for his hand with yours, touching the tips of his dangling fingers. the first song warbles to a quiet end and your kisses, softly lapping in your ears, multiply eagerly.
coming up for air, you lean your head against his arm, a finger tangling in the fabric on the hem of his sweater. he doesn’t say anything, but you lean in again anyway, painting the corner of his mouth with a kiss, trailing over, passing his jaw and cheek until your kiss finds his ear. tongue swirling around the rim, dipping softly into its ridges, the feeling ticklish and blissfully wet. he bars his teeth behind his full lips and hisses in a breath. in one ear, the record whirls a rhapsody through his body, into his chest, penetrating his veins. in the other, your tongue slithers, your lips softly pop. without thinking, he quivers and moans.
eyes blink open as you pull away and his arm drops from your shoulders, cool air rushing to his skin. his lips part in awe and you wish you could see his face, watch his eyes. he was near shaking. almost bled out with desire.
“can i try?” he asks softly, the lilt that lived in his throat plumbing low.
“yes,” you plead, slipping your hands in his lap.
his face nudges into your cheek at first, traveling blindly toward the side of your head. to his relief, you giggle and he keeps going. he fastens his mouth to your ear, kissing around the skin, touching you with his tongue and sucking against the edge. like with everything, he’s masterful without needing to try.
“michael…you feel so good, baby,” you moan, breathless, and he keeps kissing you, addictedly. his eyes closed, he drinks your sounds, the both of you exhilarated. he keeps you still, cradling the back of your head in his hand, your mouth soft, chest heaving.
overcome with lust, you take his hand and lick his fingers into your mouth. his thighs purse together, a faint yet growing twitch thumping in his jeans. his lips press into your cheek, his fingers moving along your tongue, sucked by your perfect lips, and he moans again, a broken and twitching sound that causes your eyes to roll backward. not a moment later your spit drags along your own chin as he grabs your face and kisses you hard, his tongue flicking a new stripe in your mouth. the two of you gasp rabidly into each other, your hands swimming on every curve. you grope his hip, wanting whatever you could reach, and he freezes, mid-moan, against your open mouth. michael’s lips arch, his breath squeezing out of him as his whole body shivers like he’d just caught a chill.
his head drops away from you, cupping himself between the legs.
at the loss of contact, you try to pierce through the dark to see him, though you couldn’t.
michael’s voice breaks. “‘m sorry…i…”
“are you alright?” you pry, gently. your hand hovers over the space you assume he’s taking up, unsure if somehow you hurt him.
“yes,” he answers quickly, huffing. “i just…um…”
“what?”
he doesn’t answer, but the quickness of his breath settles in your ears behind the music on the record. your eyes widen.
“oh.”
“i’m sorry,” he whispers.
you rush to coo at him, your hands finding his shoulders, hunched and sad. “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, michael. really.”
“i’ve never really done anything like that before…” he confesses quietly after a moment.
you smirk, resting your head on top of your arm. “well, you could’ve fooled me.”
the record stops, the needle grinds back to the edge.
“i’m gonna go to the bathroom…” he says after a deep breath.
you let him up as he presses his palms to his knees and stands.
with your hands in your lap, you rub the back of your calf again, licking over your lips. “when you come back, maybe we can…try again?”
his gaze falls to the floor, his sheepish smile glowing in his words. “yeah. sure.”
Steve Harrington fucked you so hard that the bed broke.
x fem!reader, SMUT! mdni
quick blurb, because he literally cannot leave my mind
english is not my first language, be nice to me please ;p
dividers by angeliicide
You knew that Steve wanted to fuck you since the day he met you. He wasn't exactly subtle about it, pants getting tighter every time you wore a riskier outfit, eyes not leaving your body for even a second while imagining all the positions he could put you in.
But you didn't expect his eagerness would end up in your bed getting broken, snapping under the weight of him pushing into you.
It started slow, intimate, fingers intertwined beside your head. It was divine, with him praising you, worshiping your body with his mouth, his whole being like life depended on it.
Steve was taking care of you like no one ever did before, making you arch into him, boobs squeezing into his chest as you moaned nonsense, too drunk on him and his cock to even care.
Steve loved it–and that made him lose it.
His strokes became harder, deeper, reaching new places and making you speechless with all the pleasure he was giving you. Your body moved with him, eyes rolling back at the perfect friction.
"Jesus, baby, you're so good. So good to me." he panted, breath ragged as he plunged into you.
With his name on your tongue, you came hard, shivers running down your spine in the most delicious way. You squeezed around him, prolonging that feeling as much as possible, and when he felt it, he went dumb.
Steve was fucking into you like he never wanted to stop, cock twitching as his own release approached.
So just as he started to whine above you, a loud crack echoed through the room. Warm liquid spilled into you, and your bodies slumped on the mattress slightly when the wooden boards split under it.
"Did you just..." you muttered in disbelief, but smiled widely after processing the situation.
Steve Harrington fucked you so hard that the bed broke.
"I'm sorry." a quiet laugh escaped him, little embarrassed but still clearly proud of himself for what he did. "I promise I'll get it fixed, or buy you a new one if that's what you want."
You beamed at him, arms wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer to your face. His cheeks were still red, hair tousled, messy from all the times your fingers ran through them. So handsome.
"Now we can't fuck on my bed again." you teased, looking up at him innocently.
But he just smirked and leaned to whisper against your ear, lips softly touching the skin there.
"It's fine." his hand came up to graze your hardening nipple, the intimacy of his actions making you wet again. "I'll just bend you over the desk. See how long it takes to break that."
→﹐ 🪞 ﹒ ( 𝓼ynopsis ) ﹒ what’s worse than going to nationals with your ex boyfriend? crashing in the middle of the canadian wilderness with said ex boyfriend. ⤵︎
especially because, for →﹐ ﹙ some reason ﹚you can’t stop the extreme nausea you feel anytime you walk too long under the earth’s scorching sun.
── ꒰𐔌 𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings 𐦯 implied pregnant fem!r p in v →﹐ ﹙ unprotected sex ﹚jealous reader ✹ mentions of domestic abuse ⪩ coach martinez is a dick in this household ⪨ talks of feeling nauseous ⠾ make up sex ◞ sort of ꒰ 1.8k ꒱
The sun burned hot in the blue summer sky while you made your usual trek through the wilderness in search of sustenance. You usually stayed behind with Akilah and Lottie to search for berries and other plant life while the two designated hunters did the dirtier work. But, Natalie got some kind of stomach bug— probably due to the raw food you all had been consuming for weeks so, you’re currently stuck in the woods with only the crushing of your All Stars against the dry leaves to keep you company. Well, that and your insufferable ex-boyfriend.
A couple of weeks ago the prospect of going to nationals with your ex had seemed like something pulled out of one of your worst nightmares. The sitting plan, the awkward stares, the fact that his dad and kid brother would also be there. It all seemed like too much for you to handle— considering how hard the separation had hit you two. Of course, even that doesn’t compare with the feeling of falling off the sky. You remember the screams, the turbulence, the blood stained seats. You also remember reaching for him, like second nature, you two had been sitting close to one another— Coincidence? Fate?— you also remember him wrapping his arms around you.
But it gets worse, his dad had died. He was a dick, you knew that much. Considering how Javi would flinch each time his dad raised his voice. Or how Travis would show up to your house and curl up in your arms with various little purple-ish bruises littering his tan shoulders. Coach Martinez was a dick but he was still his dad. And that ought to hurt.
The walk through the forest proves to be a demanding one. You don’t know if it's the heat, your lack of stamina or if somehow you caught the same stomach bug Natalie did. But you feel nauseous, tired and like you’re about to collapse at any second. Worse, you feel a pair of dark brown eyes following your every move, concern etched on them. And it’s starting to piss you off.
“Can you stop?” You complain, exasperated by the unwanted attention, especially when you’re trying your damned hardest not to retch.
Travis’s eyebrows furrow. “I didn’t do anything.” He says, in that shy, slow, deliberate tone of his that makes you either want to punch him or wrap him in your arms and never let go.
“I can feel your eyes on me.” You say, going for a less bitchy approach.
Travis lets out a slow chuckle, the kind that is performative rather than truly amused. “Woah, can’t even look at you now.”
You roll your eyes so far back you worry for a second they’ll get stuck in that position. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“What’s got you so pissed anyway? I’m not the one who shuffled the cards, I'm not the one who picked for you to come with me!”
Now he’s just down right pissing you off. ‘I’m not the one who picked for you to come with me’ who did he want here then? Natalie? But you let go of that line of thinking rather quickly. Not because you’ve suddenly grown less jealous or bitter but because he didn’t need to know that. “Now you’re just being a dick.” Is what you settle for.
“You started it…” He responds, his voice low, not quite a whisper but he clearly was talking more to himself than to you. You wonder if there’s some kind of innuendo in that sentence as well. Travis was always the passive-aggressive type. The kind of guy who’d string half a sentence together and expect you to know what’s wrong.
But you didn’t have the time nor the patience for his games anymore, especially because each step you took seemed to be more painful than the last. You were also growing increasingly conscious of how your arms sat by your side. You crossed them above your chest and uncrossed them a moment later, growing increasingly frustrated with the heat, yourself and maybe Travis. That coupled with the growing nausea you felt was definitely not a combination that would lead to the success of the rest of this afternoon.
Everything within you starts to protest a little louder and your vision starts to blur at the sides. That’s when you stop and hold onto one of the oak trees near you for balance. Trying to catch your breath. You let Travis continue ahead, hoping he won’t turn around with those little sad, puppy eyes of his full of concern and something akin to regret. But, of course you weren’t that lucky. Because Travis noticed the absence of your footsteps behind him almost immediately. His relaxed pace breaking into a run as he appeared by your side mere moments later.
He tilted his head, eyes locking in on your face. Worry etched across his features. “You alright?” He asked, tentatively, softly, like he was poking some kind of wild bear.
“Fine.”
He scoffs. “Doesn’t look fine to me.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes again. But, in doing so, you give way for some kind of unwanted vulnerability to take place in the stead of the usual brashness you often displayed around Travis.
Vulnerability was a dangerous thing, because it invited familiarity and trust. Things, you definitely shouldn’t be feeling around your ex. But he was here. All concern and puppy eyes and you felt so scared and alone.
So, you leaned forward and kissed him. Kissed him like he was the last man on earth. Like the ground beneath you both was about to swallow you whole.
His lips moved over yours with practiced ease, like he’d done this a million times. And he had. But, something makes him pull away. “Wait…” He starts, his eyes flicking over your figure with a hint of cautiousness.
“What?” You breathe out, panting slightly and struggling to get your heart rate under control.
“We… shouldn’t be doing this. Goes against the whole ex’s thing. Don’t you think?”
Now, you have to roll your eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Hey— I’m just saying.” He counters, lifting his arms up in mock surrender.
“Why? You’d rather Nat was the one kissing you instead?” You ask, all consuming jealousy pooling in your gut. You almost forgot how fucking nauseous you were.
Travis stares at you for one long second, the silence stretching between you both. Before he bursts out laughing. “I knew it, I knew you were jealous I saw how you looked at her.” He claimed, clearly proud of himself. And now you were sick again.
“Laugh it up.” You say, before stepping away from the tree and walking in the opposite direction.
But Travis catches up to you. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry— I’m sorry.” He laughs. “I’m serious now, promise.”
“Your promises don’t mean much.” You bite back, voice laced with venom.
“Now you’re back to being ridiculous.”
You were going to punch him in his stupid, perfect, beautiful face. But he beat you to it. Not with a punch but with a kiss. The long kind of kiss, full of longing and something else simmering beneath the surface. It was the something else that you feared the most.
You moan softly against his mouth, allowing his lips to consume you whole. His hands find your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin beneath the thin material of your T-shirt before your back is pressed against rough tree bark and his hips are rolling into yours in long, practiced strokes.
You break the kiss in favour of catching your breath, a string of incoherent sounds escaping your lips as you delighted in his proximity and the soothing grind of his hips against yours. Travis whimpered in your ear, his face pressed against the crook of your neck. All bark no bite, like always.
But you missed this, missed him, missed being close to him and curling up beside him at night, missed his lame magic tricks and how he felt inside you.
“Trav—” You breath out, reaching for his belt while he kept rolling his hips against your clothed center.
“I don’t have any—” He starts, you knew perfectly well what he was alluding to, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you were feeling this needy for him anyway.
“It’s fine.”
Travis stops his movements against you, his eyes meeting yours again. His hands cover yours while he undoes his belt. His trousers pooling over his ankles while he helps you undo your own belt.
His skin is hot against your cool one. And goosebumps make their way onto your skin, with each brush of his fingers against your belly.
You both get rid of your respective underwear until you’re both bare from the waist down. You feel the same kind of childish rush you felt when the two of you did it for the first time in your room almost a year ago.
You feel Travis’s dick poking the inside of your thigh and you let him hold you up by the waist until his length is inside you and the tree bark is scratching your back.
Travis moves inside you in long, practice strokes, his length stretching your walls in the most delicious way. You close your eyes and tilt your head back. Letting the fullness you feel consume you, consume your every thought until all that’s left is a pleasurable tickling sensation deep inside your brain.
Travis pants as he moves deeper inside you, his dick hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You pant above him, gripping his shoulders and scratching at the tender skin near his neck, leaving thin red lines and crescent moon marks atop the tan skin.
The bark of the tree digs painfully into your back as Travis buries his face into your chest, his movements growing stronger and less coordinated as he keeps thrusting in and out of your hole.
You rest your head atop his, your right hand finding your clit and rolling it in tight circles bringing you closer to orgasm. Travis is panting, no words leave his mouth anymore only heavy sighs and loud grunts.
He spills inside you as your orgasm washes over you. All consuming and raw. His hips keep thrusting in and out of your hole as his head remains resting atop your chest.
He pulls out once you’ve both grown too sensitive. And his arms started cramping from holding you up for so long.
You knew you should probably be worried about him spilling inside you. You also knew he should’ve said something about that by now. Unless he’d come to the same conclusion you have.
That the nausea you’d been feeling was more than the ordinary stomach bug.
travis' nose bumping into ur clit as he sloppily tries to give head ohh ur a genius
no because like… it came to me in a dream
first time he did it, he didn’t mean to do it, it just kinda… happened. but this was also the stage of him having no clue what he was doing - aka, pre first time for him, post-first kiss (for like.. months), and he did let you give him a handjob once. but that was only because he was really embarrassed about being hard and just wanted it to go away.
anyways, back to munch travis. the first time he tried going down on you, he didn’t know what the fuck to do so he just kinda laid there waiting for you to tell him what to do. unfortunately for him, he was also in the mindset of not thinking he could do much of anything, plus his embarrassment of dirty talking with a girl.
but, about the third or fourth time he had sort of gotten the hang of how to do it to your liking. he had tried using his fingers once, but it just felt like he was too crowded and pulled his hand away - plus, he didn’t know how to finger worth shit anyways.
so, back to it. he had been wanting to figure out what he could do to actually make you cum from this without having to pull back to use his fingers. because honestly, he had grown to like eating you out, despite his face immediately turning red whenever he started.
he had one of his arms over your hips, keeping you mostly down against his mattress as his other hand played with the frayed edges of your bra to try and not focus too hard and embarrass himself by fumbling. both of your legs were over his shoulders - something, surprisingly, he had done himself just so he could get as close as he physically could to you.
it’s like he was literally trying to hide his face in your pussy every time he did this. which, obviously you weren’t complaining.
his mouth was embarrassingly messy, both with your slick and his spit, but he quite literally did not care. he’d keep going until his sheets were ruined if he could, honestly. he’d close his eyes for the most part, focusing more on the feeling and taste of you to keep from blowing his own load.
no, he’d do that when you were closer, this was about you.
with a sigh, his arm anchors down on you, his hand pawing at your hip and the other grabbing at your breast over your bra as he shoves his face closer into your pussy - which, that’s when it happens.
at first, he didn’t realize it, but when he felt you getting wetter (he still didn’t know if that extra slick was you or his spit, but it seemed like you) he paused for a second, but it really didn’t deter him so he just doubled what he was doing. licking at your slit then pushing his tongue just barely inside of you before dragging it out and over you again, tilting his head up just slightly.
it happened again, and this time you grabbed at his hair with a louder moan than before.
that caused his eyes to blink open, furrowing his eyebrows as his focus trained on your face. “what’s that for?” he asked, his voice muffled by your cunt - which, causes you to tug his hair again. so, he quickly added “sorry” with another sloppy kiss to you.
“keep doing that” you breathe out, picking your head up a little to get a better look at him. at the confusion obnoxiously evident on his face - it’s like he had no clue how good at this he was - you sighed with a shake of your head “the… the nose thing, just keep doing it.”
he didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but the only thing he remembered doing was moving his head. so, he tried it again, and he got the same result.
it took about a minute or so to realize what he was doing. it wasn’t his fault though, he was new to this and honestly, he had forgotten all about your clit. it wasn’t like he tried to or anything, he just… blanked on it - though, you always seemed to guide him there without a word, so that’s probably why.
it also got you to cum embarrassingly fast because the stimulation of the tip of his nose on your clit, plus the messily enthusiastic way he was eating you out with his face just buried in your cunt, it was hard as fuck not to cum easy.
and when travis got over his embarrassment from the talk you two had after, he just started doing it every time when he wanted you to cum. since, sometimes he just goes down on you just to do it because he likes how you taste.
Synopsis (2.7K words): After the sudden realization that you’re about to graduate college without ever kissing someone, your bsf!Tsuki offers his help.
Tags: MDNI, timeskip, bsf!tsuki, tsukishima x reader, first kiss, French kissing, dry humping, groping over clothes.
You’re an hour into the movie you decided on watching tonight with your best friend Tsukishima Kei. Right about now it’s at the part where the romantic tension has reached its boiling point and the couple on screen is about to suck face.
Something tugs in your chest. The way the couple is holding one another. Their desperate expressions. The way their lips touch. You realize you’ve never had that.
You’ve never been kissed.
“You good?” Tsuki asks, grabbing the remote to turn the volume down slightly. He’s always been able to pick up on your mood shifts easily, sometimes even before you do. It’s one of the things that makes him such a great best friend.
“Yeah it’s nothing, just…you’ve kissed a girl before…right?” He seems to stiffen slightly before clearing his throat.
“Well, yeah? I mean I’ve had girlfriends.”
“Oh, right.” You know this. You’ve met every girlfriend Tsuki has ever had, but now that you think about it, you never considered he was kissing them. Obviously it makes sense that he would, but it’s just...Tsuki is so…touch averse? You can’t recall a single time you’d seen him hug or even hold hands with someone. Not to mention, his relationships never lasted more than a few months. Each time one would end, you’d ask Tsuki about it and he’d just shrug saying something along the lines of,
‘She was too clingy’, or ‘Not for me’, or ‘It wasn’t serious’.
So really how much kissing has he done? …More than you apparently.
“What about you? Have you ever kissed anyone?” You shift in your spot on the couch. It’s not that no one was ever interested in you. You had been asked out several times throughout college. But you were just always so swamped with classes, and work, and hobbies, and your frequent hangouts with Tsuki, that dating was never on your radar. But now with graduation only a few weeks away, you couldn’t help but feel like you missed out on a pivotal college experience.
“No.” Tsuki pauses the movie, adjusts his glasses, and turns to face you. Eyebrows scrunched together.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean…no! I’ve never kissed anyone.”
“What about that guy from your chemistry class Freshman year? I thought you guys went out together.”
“We went bowling. And he was really handsy so I never saw him again. Definitely never kissed him.” There’s a brief stint of silence.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with not having your first kiss yet. So don’t feel bad.”
“I don’t feel bad, I just feel…left out?” You start to play with a loose string on the couch. Tsuki plays with his fingers.
“Do you want me to go find someone to kiss you?” He asks innocently. You scoff at the thought of Tsuki going up to some random guy and saying something like, ‘Hi, wanna be my best friend’s first kiss’. You know it wouldn’t actually be like that, but it would certainly feel that embarrassing. You want someone familiar. Someone you already have a connection with. But graduation is so close. There’s no time to find someone like that in time.
“No. I’d rather it be with someone I know.”
“What about me?”
Your heads snaps up. What did he just say?
“It was just an idea—“ A brilliant idea.
“Yes.”
And that’s how you ended up inches away from your longtime best friend, Tsukishima Kei.
—
You both turn to face each other. His hand reaches out, pushing one strand of hair behind your ear.
“Never let anyone kiss you without asking first.”
“Tsuki, you don’t have to teach me about consent—“
“Just promise me.”
You click your tongue, rolling your eyes, “Fine.”
“Ok.” He adjusts his body, one leg hanging off the couch, the other folded in. You scoot closer, both knees tucked underneath you. You think this is the closest you’d ever been, proximity-wise to Tsuki. You’re so close, you can smell his body wash. It’s nice. “Can I kiss you?” You can’t help but notice how your heart jumps just a little. Tsuki can be intimidating. He’s so tall and always has that ‘don’t talk to me’ look on his face. Not to mention his default sarcastic tone that runs off even the bravest of people. So now—hearing his voice so soft—asking if he can kiss you. It’s really sweet.
“Yes, please.” One slender hand gently holds your cheek, guiding you forward.
Kissing is warmer than you thought. Softer.
“Relax.” He whispers and you realize you had been puckering. Taking a breath, you lean back in, lips limp and asking to be shaped.
“That’s better.” He mutters.
You let yourself get used to the feeling. To the taste. Tsuki tastes of black coffee—like a shot of deep, rich espresso. It’s comforting and so classic. Tsuki is an inveterate coffee drinker, so the fact that he tastes like it makes sense and also makes you giggle.
“Something funny?” He asks, lightly nipping at your bottom lip as he does. You like the sting of his teeth grazing you and so you decide to try it on him. Just a quick peck of your canine. “Ohhh, someone’s a quick learner.” He smiles and starts to kiss you deeper. You let him lead. Long, slow, rhythmic collisions. Every so often he pulls back, dragging your lower lip with him, just to come back and kiss you fully. You start to understand the dynamics and tilt your head just barely—enough so that he can get a better angle. His fingers hold your face close to keep from drifting. You realize your own hands sit idle in your lap. They want to move too.
You go for his arms first. Just placing your hands gently atop his forearms and then sliding up to the thick of his biceps where you squeeze. You knew Tsuki worked out. He actually just signed to start with the Sendai Frogs after graduation. So you knew he had muscle. But you never felt the results of all his time in the gym.
You felt it now. You felt it even more as he flexed for you.
Your breathing stutters, “Show off.” You mumble against his mouth.
“You seemed curious.” He kisses into you deeply again, one hand leaving your hip to knot itself into your hair. The pace slows, you're starting to feel like something is missing. He seems to pick up on your worry.
“Try using your tongue.” He directs, parting his lips slightly to allow you entrance.
Your first attempt is clumsy. Your tongue fumbles around, bumping into his teeth and gums.
“You’re supposed to kiss with it, not lick me.” He mumbles against your mouth. Defeated you pull back, a string of spit still connecting the two of you.
“I’m so bad at this.” You whine, hands covering your eyes. He pulls them away, forcing you to look at him.
“You just need practice. And maybe a better angle.” Leaning back into the couch, he sets both feet on the floor. You sit perplexed for a moment, thinking he’s done until he pats his lap, nodding at you to hop on.
“Are you sure?” You ask, already starting to climb over him.
“Can’t let my best friend graduate without knowing how to French kiss properly.”
You straddle him, hips firmly planted against his torso. You’ve never sat on a guy in this way. You’ve never sat on anyone, period. It feels intimate and close. Like something you should be doing with a boyfriend, not your best friend. But the only person you want to be doing it with right now, is your best friend.
You don’t know if you want to think about what that means.
“Comfortable?” He questions, his grip settling on your hips. His hands are so long that the fingertips rest right on the upper curve of your ass. You wonder if you were to shift just right, if his hands would possibly…slip. On accident, of course.
“Yeah, you?” You drag your fingers through his hair once and then perch them on his shoulders.
“I’m not complaining.” He smirks up at you. “Ok, so the best way to French kiss is to go in as you normally would, then once you’ve set a good rhythm, slowly open your mouth up, and lightly find their tongue with your tongue. I’ll show you and then you can try.” Your heart races with excitement. Kissing is nice on it's own, but kissing with Tsuki is electric.
Just as explained, he kisses you like before, lips blending together in perfect synch, and just as you feel yourself fully melt into it, his lips part. You part yours too right as you his tongue runs over the inner edge of your bottom lip. He’s smooth—slow, but not glacial. You feel when his tongue finds yours and then the way he nudges it playfully before pushing in and taking you with him. He uses his jaw to brush over you, lifting your tongue up and osculating you as if you were a scoop of ice cream. You feel how he slides back, his tongue leaving, mouth slowly closing, and finishing the kiss with a wet brush of his lips against yours.
He pulls back, opening his eyes, “Do you understand?” You nod your head, mouth agape. You finally understand why all those weird couples like to chew on each other’s faces in public. When it feels that good? You wouldn’t care who saw either.
“I liked that.” You whisper, eyes dazed, pupils blown wide. Tsuki chuckles quietly. He looks proud of himself. Normally you’d check his ego, but he is doing you such a big favor so you decide to let it slide.
“Now I want you to try doing it.”
You lean back in, doing it the same way he did until your tongues meet. You decide you want more than what he showed you. You want something with passion. So right as you relax your jaw into his, you start to apply more pressure. Your hands move from his shoulders to his cheeks, holding the two of you together. Your lips part wider. You let your tongue flick over his, caressing and mapping him out. The taste of coffee starts to become addictive on your taste buds and you deepen the kiss greedily. He’s taken aback at first, but quickly adjusts, his own tongue pushing back until you’re wrestling. Saliva pools on the corners of your mouth. Wet kissing sounds fill the air of your living room.
Your skin feels hot. Your head feels dizzy. A new and unfamiliar feeling blooms between your thighs. A feeling that your instinct tells you will be satisfied if you just grind down. So you do.
“Oh—Tsuki.” You can feel him beneath his sweats. Hard, hot. Pressing up against you in a way that feels so right. You grind down again, his hips meeting you halfway.
“Shit.” He exhales, both hands back on your hips, holding you down.
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out you’ve never held or even seen a dick in person before. Usually kissing would precede something like that and given that this is your first time kissing someone, it’s obvious you’re inexperienced. But you make several observations anyways.
He’s big. And long.
The bulge itself is enough to stimulate you despite the several layers of clothing separating you two.
You want to know more. You want to know what it feels like. Is it smooth or rough? Veined or not? Curved or straight? Does the color of his tip match the soft pink of his lips? What does it taste like?
Your fingers absentmindedly reach for his waistband. You start to reach into his boxers.
He grabs your wrist before you can.
“Tsuki?”
“Not tonight.” His breaths are heavy. It’s obvious he’s holding himself back, “I want you to get comfortable with kissing first.”
“Sorry, I should’ve asked—"
“I said ‘not tonight’. I didn’t say no.” He removes his glasses before flipping you onto your back. You part your legs and he takes his position between them. You two are a hurricane of lips, tongue, and teeth. He starts to bite your lips harder, making you whimper. You match the rolls of your hips with the rolls of your tongue and savor each groan he lets slip. “Relax your bottom lip for me—thaaaat’s it.”
He continues to coach you until you don’t need it anymore. Until you move expertly without direction.
He pulls away for a moment, just enough to catch his breath. But you’re impatient. You latch yourself onto his neck, making out and sucking on the musculature.
“Is this right?” You ask, licking a stripe across his collarbone.
“Hhah—yes that’s right.” You must hit a sensitive spot because he shudders, hips folding inward and grating harshly up against you. “Fuck.” He drops his head, “Can I touch you?”
“Yes. Please.”
His hands move over your chest. He grabs at your breasts, squeezing and massaging. Thumbs drag over your clothed nipples, stiffening them to hard peaks. You can’t help but arch your back into his touch. You want more. More pressure. More skin. But he contains you. Only letting you experience one first at a time.
But as much as he’s trying to hold back, you just feel so good.
His grinding becomes faster, more rabid. You forget to keep kissing him and release a long and borderline embarrassing moan from the pressure. Tsuki pants against your ear.
“I need to stop.” He breathes. You whine, arching into him and then plopping back onto the couch. He eyes you down. “Are you close?”
You nod. That tight coil in your abdomen ready to burst.
“Shit. Ok, come here.” Instead of meeting you with his hips, he slots his thigh between your legs. “Ride it.” You’ve never followed directions quicker. He kisses you deeply, tongue swirling over yours as you chase the high against his leg. The seasoned muscles flexing and hitting you right where you’re most sensitive. Heat spreads up your spine and down your limbs. You’re right there—
“Tsuki!” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into you. He holds you firmly as your body shakes, as you unravel beneath him. Your breaths slow as you come down and finally you dare a glance at your best friend. His eyes meet yours, wide.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” He gasps. You look between your bodies, where a small wet spot sits right in the middle of his pants.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
You let him get up and watch as he all but jogs to the bathroom. You bite your lip to keep from laughing. You don’t want to embarrass him and if anything you feel a little proud making your best friend cum without touching him. Pretty good for a first kiss. Anyways, you basically just fucked yourself on his leg, so it’s not like you have much room for gloating.
When he returns he’s wearing one of the fresh set of sweatpants you keep in your closet for him. He drops himself back onto the couch, much closer than he usually does— thigh touching yours and one arm draped over the back of the couch where you sit. He sets his glasses back on.
“So…what did you think?” You realize how cute he is when he’s nervous. You don’t see this side of him very often.
“I think that was the best first kiss I could’ve asked for. I’m um…glad it was with you.” He smiles wryly, scratching the back of his neck.
“Me too.”
You both sit for a moment with that. With the fact that you’re glad to have kissed one another. Then you ask if he wants to finish the movie.
Right as he goes to press play he pauses, looking over at you. You’re playing with your hair, one of your classic nervous tells.
“What’s wrong now?” You feel warm from how easily he reads you.
“Tsuki…when I tried to…touch you—you said it wasn’t a no?”
“I did.”
“What did you mean by that?” He pauses for a moment, considering his words.
“I meant that if you don’t want to graduate a virgin, maybe I can give you another lesson this weekend?” You both smile at each other.
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