ℛ

the ache in his cock burns hotter the longer he tries to ignore it. staring up at the blank ceiling does nothing to distract him from the borderlining pain in his boxers. he lets his head fall sideways limply as he stares at your sleeping form next to him. you’re laying on your side and your his shirt has risen up, exposing your plump ass filling out your lacy panties.

groaning quietly, he presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes as if that could relieve anything. he brings his other hand down to his cock, gently squeezing himself through the thin cloth. his eyes unconsciously drift back to your ass and he bites on his knuckles to keep himself quiet.

the squeezes aren't getting him anywhere, and he realizes that quickly. it simply isn’t enough. his hand never compared to your warm cunt.

now, he's left with two options. jerk off quickly and put himself back to sleep or roll over, slip himself inside your gummy walls, and have the best remedy for his throbbing cock. the decision is easy.

damian scoots himself next to you, his bare chest pressing up against your clothed back. lips dip down to your exposed neck and lock themselves in place to leave butterfly kisses all over. the tip of his tongue runs down slowly on the side of your neck.

he blows air through his lips on the wet path he left behind, watching each goosebump rise one by one. your hips move back slightly, pressing right up against his hard dick. damian’s eyes roll back in his skull as he groans and buries his head back in your neck. strong hands grip your hips to keep them steady as he lets his own roll into the fat of your ass.

“damian?”

you turn over to lay on your back. your tired eyes meet his lust blown ones. your voice is barely over a tired whisper when you ask him what he’s doing.

damian presses his hand next to your head and slots one of his thighs between yours. he shifts it upwards and flexes the muscle against your hot cunt.

“payback, maybe…” his teeth flash, sharp canines flashing in the dim outside light.

a sheepish smile curves on your mouth. lazy arms come up to wrap around his neck and pull him down. he makes sure he’s the first to lock your lips together. he alternates between playing with your top and bottom lip, desperate for as much contact as possible.

your efforts to kiss him back are weak compared to him, who’s been awake much longer than you, but you try nonetheless. keeping up with the swirls of his tongue and the bites of his teeth. your mouth gets frozen in a gasp when you feel his hands creep down your stomach.

his palm heads south in a downwards motion and you pull yourself away from his lips to watch it disappear behind the cloth of your panties. your eyes squeeze shut when he makes contact with your clit. he rubs tiny circles, all of them sending shockwaves up your spine, before he dips his finger lower.

pressing two fingers into your entrance, he keeps the ball of his hand pressed to your clit, keeping a constant pressure to the nerve bundle. moans barely escaping through gasps pass your lips when he curls his fingers and pushes them upwards.

“oh my god,” you mewl, watching the way his hand flexes behind your underwear.

damian leaves open kisses along the length of your throat. he keeps his ear right under your mouth, making sure all your sounds infiltrate his brain. they go straight to his cock, making the throbbing unbearable as he grinds against your thigh.

all you can think about is the feeling of his warm fingers working their way in and out of you. one hand shoots down to grip his moving wrist and the other goes back to grab into the pillow behind you. his fingers move faster, move harder, to get you to a release. your head tilts back in a silent scream as your cunt pulsates around his fingers. that familiar warm static feeling runs through your veins, making your brain go mush and your toes go numb. you meekly try to paw his hand away that keeps on moving inside you.

“dami, please,” you plead, eyes starting to bubble with tears.

all he does is push his lips to your to cease your whining. “on your side.”

he keeps your lips connected as he gently maneuvers your body to rest on its side again. he feels your hand reach to run over the back of his hair. only then does he retract his hand from your hot south, to pin your hand onto the bed in front of you.

“no touching,” he grunts through his kisses. you whine a little, arching your ass back into his cock.

he tsks, letting go of your hand, leaving a bruising grip on your hip. “you started this, remember?”

“you weren’t this mean the last time,” you pout, still trying to grind your ass on him.

“‘cause that was for you. to relieve you,” he tells you. “this is my turn. i’ll have you how i want you, and you’ll take it all.”

he pops his cock free from his boxers and pushes your panties to the side. his cock slides between your folds, catching every so often on the bump of your clit.

damian leans down predatorially to the side of your face. “you gonna take it?”

he watches you nod your head vigorously, biting your lip to suppress any whines.

“you know i don’t like that,” he sternly reminds you, and you release your lip from its hold of your teeth.

his cock pushes in to the brim and he lets out a hiss of relief. hand gripping your hip while the other rests on the pillow above your head. he begins rocking his hips back and forth into your warm pussy.

your walls squeeze him tight and his mouth is permanently left open at the feeling. he’s silent with his pleasure, but he can’t hide the faces he makes. brows scrunch together in ecstasy when he feels you throbbing against him. lips curled in an “o” shape as he watches himself disappear in and out of you repeatedly.

your moans add onto his pleasure, being able to push him over the edge if he wasn’t careful. you let out whine after whine when he abuses that spot deep within you, hands clutching onto the bedding beside your head.

he groans and flips you over onto your stomach, placing his knees on either side of your thighs. gripping your hips tightly, he presses them deep into the mattress, and starts hardening his thrust. your toes curl and feet kick at the bed beneath you as your moans are caught by the pillow.

“right there, dami.”

damian smirks, coming down to place his hand on the headboard. “you like that?”

you puff out a small ‘mhm’ into your pillow as your eyes roll back into your head. your fingers claw at the sheets and try to pull your body away from the overwhelming pleasure, but it only causes him to tighten his grip on your hips to pull you back down.

he grips a handful of hair from the back of your head to tilt your face upwards. crashing his lips onto yours as his thrusts grow sloppier.

“you want me to come inside?” he asks into your mouth. he already knows the answer.

“uh-huh.”

he grows more frantic as his orgasm appears on the horizon, thrust increasing their speed. he pulls away to look into your eyes. “want me to fill your pussy? make it mine?”

“yes, yes,” you slur as you stare back into his eyes. “it’s yours. make it yours, damian.”

he cups the front of his throat with his fist as releases his load into your awaiting cunt. he grunts into your mouth and you can feel it vibrate down your throat. your body gets pushed further into the mattress when he sets his full body weight on your back.

he lets out a couple more lazy thrusts into your puffy cunt, all while you whimper as you claw at his wrist beside your head.

damian doesn't know why he agreed to meet with jon. more specifically, jon and his girlfriend. the older boy (who used to be younger, damian’s still salty about that) has been pestering him for weeks now, talking about how great his new girlfriend is, who he had met at school. long weeks of damian giving curt ‘uh-huhs’ and ‘hms’ in response to jon ramblings, and weeks of jon just not getting the hint that he simply didn’t care.

he didn’t care what her name was. he didn’t care that her hair fell perfectly across her face that one day. and he certainly didn’t care that her lips were ‘as soft as marshmallows’ as jon once said. gross.

but damian is his friend and friends are supposed to care. so he sucked it up like the big thirteen year old boy he is and promised his friend he’d indulge in one lunch date with him and his girlfriend.

and now he sits outside the diner on a city bike he rented after taking the train to metropolis, lazily swinging his phone in one hand while not so patiently waiting for the kryptonian and his arm candy.

they’re late, which is somewhat typical for jon, but damian hopes the girlfriend doesn’t have the same tardiness. they’ll just reproduce and make little unpunctual babies, further polluting the earth with brainless idiots who don’t have any care for other peoples time.

images of this mystery girl, who has entranced his best friend, conjure in his mind. damian uses every little description he’s received from jon to piece together this so-called ‘total babe’. he realizes that jon’s details aren’t exactly helpful. there’s only so much damian can picture with descriptions like angel face and nice buns.

if there was one thing he hated most about his best friend growing up, it would be the fact that he’s turned into a horny teenager. the amount of times he had to listen to the kryptonian talk about this girl like she’s aphrodite reincarnate was disgusting.

damian can’t fight the grimace that pulls on his lips when the memories resurface in his brain. he jams his fists into his jacket pockets and lets out a huff of air whilst looking around the area for any sign of the love birds.

out in the far distance, he spots the tall boy, who’s a head taller than most of the crowd, making his way over. there’s no one beside him, the space around him vacant, and damian prays to whoever’s out there that he decided to cancel lunch. or better yet, broke up with the broad.

the idiotic smile on jon’s face lets damian know that neither of those wishes came true. he hates to admit that he’s noticed that jon’s been cheery, even more cheery than usual if that’s possible, ever since the girlfriend showed up. he rambles less about the villains he fights, voice all jumbled up in frustration. Instead, choosing to talk about the dates he takes her on in great detail. she makes him happy, and it makes damian sick. love makes damian sick. so unnecessary and so feeble and so not worth his time.

he fights an eye roll as jon approaches closer. there’s a high probability that this dumb lunch date is still on and that she’ll still show up.

“sup, man,” jon exclaims once he reaches an appropriate distance. his hand reaches out to dap damian’s, and damian pretends as if that’s not the most awkward way of greeting. much too american for his tastes. “(y/n)’s running a bit late. she should be here any second.”

damn it all. mentally, damian crumbles to his knees, head caught between his hands, as he yells out curses to the wind. on the outside, he keeps his composure. looking cool is his specialty (as acclaimed by only himself).

“i was assuming you two would show up together. isn’t that what,” he nearly vomits in his mouth, “couples do?”

he internally high-fives himself at the sound of the faux collected and natural tone he managed despite mentally feeling like he’s burning in hell. what an awful way to spend his saturday. dragged out of his den to mingle with in-love morons. at least he gets a free lunch out of it.

jon puffs out a laugh, and it makes damian feel smaller, further reminding him that he’s no longer then more experienced one of the two.

“nah, chicks need their time to get ready,” he explains as if damian knows nothing about women or ‘chicks’. which he doesn’t, but he also doesn’t need jon rubbing it in.

he nods along anyway as if he gets it and shifts around on the seat of his bike. his plans to make a retort are smothered by the sound of a frillish voice making its way over.

“Jonny!”

and the sound already grates damian’s ear drums. turning his head around to the direction of the noise, he finds the culprit making swaggering her way over. skipping, nonetheless. her low heeled boots make unbearable clicks! on the concrete sidewalk beneath her. her hair blows frantically in the wind, strands swinging around her hair, which will no doubt create knots.

she overall looks ridiculous, with her fur trimmed grey coat. it’s august, for god's sake.

to jon, she probably does look like that ‘angel goddess’ he talks too highly about. he probably doesn’t hear the loud annoying stomps of her boots as she picks up her pace, ears too muffled by the noise of love.

just for politeness, damian reluctantly outstretches his hand in the gesture of a handshake. what he didn’t expect was to be nearly knocked over by an unseemly large purse, multiple clipped accessories scratching at his arm. his face drops, utter shock adorning his features, as she shoves past him to wrap her bangled arms around Jonathan’s neck. she squeals a pitchy ‘hi, baby!’ before linking her lips with jon’s.

damian’s hand starts turning cold from just how long he’s left frozen in his place. what the hell just happened? he looks around him crazed, eyes darting side to side, up and up, because there was absolutely no way that just happened. just what kind of girls was jonathan into?

the sound of lips smacking is louder than any impetuous plan of attack conjuring in his brain to eliminate this girl. hands start groping and damian decides that he’s had enough of this borderline porno screening in front of him.

“unbelievable,” he mutters, and shakes his head back and forth.

using his fingers, he begins abusing the bell on his bike. the sound is almost as obnoxious as the sound of her shoes. it’s loud and rings like metal crinkling together forcefully. he doesn’t stop until they pull apart and have the audacity to look at him like he’s the inappropriate one.

and even after, he keeps going, just to be petty. his finger begins to cramp as he deadpans in their faces, the sound slowly diminishing when damian finishes having his fun.

(y/n) turns her head, looking dazed before her eyes land on damian. she has to look down slightly due to him still sitting on the bike, but he thinks that if he were to stand, she’d be around his height in heels.

“can we help you?” she asks, plucking and pushing stray hairs out of her face. if looks could kill, he’d be shot dead on this broken concrete.

jon snaps out of whatever shared daze they’ve been caught up in and clears his throat, turning slightly to his girlfriend.

“oh, right,” he jolts slightly, like he just remembered what he was here for. what a fool. “(y/n) this is damian.”

a look of realization snaps across her face, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as she looks between the two boys.

“ooh, you’re damian?” she lets out a laugh, one that’s more classified as a giggle, and damian wishes he could shrink his hand, reach into his ear, and rip out his ear drums. “i thought you were a cheapy holding out your hand for money.”

damian narrows his eyes and scrunches up his face. he can’t help the aggravated tone that leaves his lips. “a what?”

“okay!” jon claps his hands together before resting them on (y/n)’s shoulders. “let’s head inside, people.”

damian’s fingers pick at the fries on his plate. he’s slouched himself low into the booth, back now resting low on the seat. he can’t make himself look up at the scene in front of him, two people with their arms tangled while feeding each other little bits of food from their plates. every time his eyes avert upward, he has to fight back the urge to chuck a fry at their faces.

don’t even get him started on (y/n) and how she’s barely spoken or even looked at him since all three of them sat down. the sole reason damian came out today was to shut up jon’s bitching and meet his girlfriend. get to know her in the way that the boyfriend’s best friend should. make polite conversation and maybe even share some things in common.

instead, he’s left with a sour taste in his mouth that tells him she’s going to be a problem. for him and for jon, he wasn’t sure yet.

she starts absentmindedly pawing her hand around the table in search of something, all while keeping her eyes locked on jon, cartoonish smiles painted on each of their faces. in search of whatever, she misses her own plate completely, stealing a fry right off damian's plate, centimeters away from his hand.

damian reels his hand back at lightning speed before she accidentally touches him. face pulling into yet another grimace at the complete lack of awareness she keeps executing. and unable to move, he has to sit and watch her bite into his fry from his plate that he ordered.

“i needa use the bathroom,” jon tells the table. (y/n) shimmies out of the booth to let jon out, and plopping back down once he leaves.

damian half thinks of reaching out and tugging jon back down into the booth, just so that he doesn’t have to be alone with his snobby girlfriend, but he's already gone too far from the table. when he finally looks up, expecting to engage in at least a small exchange of words, she’s already pulled out a tiny mirror, moving it all around to different parts of her face. she wipes a bit of smudge lipstick from the side of her mouth.

“ugh! stupid,” she complains, and damian can already tell she does that a lot. “the box said it’s supposed to last all day.”

“maybe it isn’t makeout proof,” he grumbles back.

“ohmigod, jon was so right about you,” she laughs and snaps her mirror shut before stuffing it back into her overflowing purse. “you are funny!”

damian sinks lower into the booth, wanting the seat to swallow him whole. “did he also mention I have an intolerance for absent-minded, prissy, lackluster individuals.”

“hmm… no, I don’t think so.” her head shakes from side to side as if she’s not the type of person he just purposefully described. “but don’t you just hate those kinds of people?”

“yep.”

“you know, you look really tired.” her voice drops a pitch and tilts her head, looking at him like that observation calls for the utmost sympathy. “you can totally borrow my eye cream. it’ll really brighten up those eyes.”