andrea! 🎬

[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?”

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."

And Steve was a man of his word after all.

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.

But that was a conversation for another time.

🏷️ @wond3rland13 @mchailover @marieeme @fragileweirdooo @conamoney-11 @mirwors @vanpalmersnumberonefan @watersapple @alyversev @ludoesartandstuff @mangoslayy9 @stupidcupid28 @ilovelightningmcqueen @soapyeaton @glassypze

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“Just kiss me already!”

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.

“Yeah. That would be good.”

From: [email protected] Subject: email? really?

Dear Gojo Satoru,  Clearly you can’t take a hint. Let me spell it out for you. I. Am. Busy. Leave. Me. Alone. Unhappily,  Your girlfriend P.S. Do not call yourself ‘big-dicked daddy.’ It upsets me greatly.

From: [email protected] Subject: keep being mean to me please im close

Dear adorable goth baby,  You’re so hot when you’re being mean. I already know you’re frowning in that cute way that makes me want to smother you in kisses and you’re rolling your eyes so hard NGH! I already said I’m sorry.  Please give me another chance. I’m so damn bored I started playing spin the bottle alone in my room. I made out with that picture of you sleeping with drool down your chin. Picture You was even getting handsy. ‘Down girl!’ I said. ‘Bad!’ Stay tight,  Toru (not Gojo Satoru, that’s like a slur coming from you, very triggering stuff) P.S. I am your big-dicked daddy tho I’m confused?

From: [email protected] Subject: shut up

Satoru,  I gave you multiple chances when I asked you to stop and give me at least 5 hours to study before we go out for dinner and I entertain you, you giant freaking child. But no, you just had to hound me with your dick, like I was supposed to be dickmatised and persuaded to drop everything at your beck and call.  Fuck, I’m getting mad all over again.  Stop emailing me. You’re gonna see me at 7pm for our date anyways. You can last 4 more hours. Yours not for long,  Girl who just wants to pass

From: [email protected] Subject: my bad bro

Sweetiepie :( I’m sorry.  I thought it was gonna motivate you to work hard. Pwease forgive me. Pwease? Towu is vewy vewy sowwy.  In fact, I’m so so so sorry, I’ll pay for dinner tonight. Scout’s honour. Asking for mercy and forgiveness,  Your boyfriend no matter what

From: [email protected] Subject: dinner? that the best you can offer?

You always pay for dinner. Last time I offered, you damn near wrestled me in the middle of the restaurant so you could get your card out first. We’re still banned from there, remember? Btw, you were never a Scout, don’t play with me.

From: [email protected] Subject: you gotta address me and sign off!

Dear love of my life who doesn’t understand how email etiquette works,  Of course I always pay for dinner — you’re broke and your family is destitute, I remind you lovingly. But even if you were as rich as me, or even richer (which isn’t possible, not to flex), I would still pay every single time. It’s the least I can do for reparations for the violence committed by my gender against yours. Plus, that restaurant sucked anyway — the owner is problematic towards immigrants and the servers don’t even know if the meat is locally and ethically sourced, like hello??? In the big 2025?!? How’s studying going? Do you need a snack or a smoothie to boost you?  I can drop by. Promise I won’t linger. I just didn’t see a purchase on my card for breakfast or lunch. Please don’t starve. If I can’t watch your ass jiggle when I hit it from the back, I’m gonna be devastated.  Yours most sincerely,  Satoru P.S. You have to be a Scout to say Scout’s Honour? Crazyyyyyy

From: [email protected] Subject: so fucking bossy omg

Dear Satoru (happy now?), Please don’t remind me of my family’s shortcomings. You know I like to pretend I came from a normal background. And stop being more woke than me. It’s hot. Studying’s fine, I guess. I think I forgot how to study. I’ve missed a lot of content too. If a certain someone hadn’t been clinging to me so tightly every morning, maybe I wouldn’t be so behind. God, you make my life so hard.  A smoothie and pastry would be lovely, actually. I can’t be bothered leaving my room to get some food. Just drop it off outside and disappear by the time I open the door — if I see even a glimmer of white hair, I’m going to freak.  Thanks. Love begrudgingly, A girl who’s gonna fail her exam

From: [email protected] Subject: you're not gonna fail

Dear cutie,  I don’t cling to you that hard. You’re dramatic. I wonder where you got that from. And last I checked, we have a safeword you can use anytime to get me away from between your legs if you really wanted to get to class. But I like our game where you pretend you’re not just as obsessed with me as I am with you (I know you get all hot and bothered when I reference Marx, dirty girl) Food’s outside babe. The line was stupid long and I ran into Fushiguro — remember the guy I told you has the highest body count on campus? He’s in a relationship now and he’s so pussywhipped lmaoooo Couldn’t be me. Hoping you’ll stuff your face and get all the brain power you need,  Satoru

From: [email protected] Subject: not impressed

I told you to disappear before I could see you.  You didn’t have to kiss me and hump my leg you animal. My neighbours were NOT happy with the pornographic noises you made, asshole.  Yeah, I remember Toji. Cool dude. Always wearing gym wear no matter the weather and for some reason hates you. Don’t make fun of him for being loyal and loving to his girlfriend. You’re probably so much worse. I envy his girlfriend. She probably doesn’t have to put up with a yapper who spams her with dick pics. Thank you for the food though. Very appreciated. What I didn’t appreciate, however, was the number and the smiley face on my drink. I already told you, if someone tries to hit on you, bark at them and tell them you have a girlfriend you worship endlessly. 

From: [email protected] Subject: EMAIL. ETIQUETTE. COME ON.

Look: Dear angry girlfriend I do in fact worship endlessly and beyond,  I’m sorry I didn’t follow your exact orders but I desperately needed a kiss from my girl. If I don’t get my daily dose, I wilt, like a rose. You know this.  And disrespectfully, f your neighbours. It wasn’t anything they hadn't heard from us before. Sensitive ears ahhh About Fushiguro — he does not hate me. Why does everyone say that?  We’re actually besties. We’re like dumb and dumber, but dumber is him obvi. Plus, once he gets some shots in him, he’s super in love with me. I get more over the clothes action from him than from you lol You never need to thank me for feeding you. I fear that’s like bare minimum. Get those standards up girl. Oh and sorry about the drink. I didn’t even notice. Leave it outside your door and I’ll get you a new one. I’ll even make a scene and call the manager over. Maybe I’ll buy the store and get everyone fired. Just give me the word babe. Yours forever,  Satoru 

From: [email protected] Subject: YOU ARE EXHAUSTING

Dear my sweetest, most frustrating boyfriend, Fine, I’ll forgive the kiss (I might have needed it too). And yeah, f my neighbours because the guy on my left loves playing Doctor Who Season 8 on repeat and on full volume every night like clockwork. It’s not even the best season! Forget about the drink. Just don’t ever go back there again. Number and smiley face aside, the drink is abysmal and tastes like bog water. Pastry is great though. 10/10 You’d really make a scene for me? Yours occasionally,  No longer starving girlfriend

From: [email protected] Subject: awww I knew you loved me really

Dear the Morticia to my Gomez,  I’d make a scene for you at the drop of a hat. I’d serenade you in malls, on campus, in a Michelin star restaurant, and in a lecture. Heck, I’d yell ‘BOMB’ in an airport if you asked me to – just maybe not an airport we frequent. There’s quite literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If you didn’t know that already, then I’m not as great of a boyfriend as I thought I was. I will remedy that immediately, my goddess eternal. Obsessedly yours,  Your husband in every way but legally (we can fix that)

From: [email protected] Subject: ugh

Dear Toru,  Stop being sweet. It’s disgusting. Come inside already. I’m done pretending I’m getting anything from the textbooks. I’m only giving myself a headache.

From: [email protected] Subject: woahhhh

You can tell I’m outside???

From: [email protected] Subject: you're loud as hell

I can hear you giggling at my emails, Satoru. You’re probably sitting on the floor, leaning against my door. 

From: [email protected] Subject: just got shivers

Damnnnn are you sure you’re not a witch?

From: [email protected] Subject: well?

Are you coming in or what?

From: [email protected] Subject: yippeeeee

Okay okay, yes I am. LOVE YOU BABY <3

He was standing behind you as you went over the inventory list but he wasn't looking at the list. His large hand was clamped firmly on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your hip bone. Every time you moved, his grip tightened, his palm warm and possessive against your skin.

"And then Ronal said we need to double the medicinal seaweed because the southern hunters are returning," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ao’nung hummed but it wasn't a sound of agreement. It was the sound of a distracted boy. He stepped closer, his chest brushing your back and you felt his nose graze the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the only air he needed.

"Ao’nung," you warned.

He didn't move his hand. In fact, he slid it slightly lower, his fingers splaying across the curve of your hip, pulling you back against his sturdy frame. "Mh?"

You snapped. You spun around in his arms, the inventory list forgotten as you pressed your hands against his chest to create some space.

"Are you even listening to me?" you demanded, your tail lashing behind you in irritation. "I am trying to explain the trade routes, and you are acting like a hatchling who can't keep his hands to himself! Look at me—"

He didn't look at you. He looked at your lips, his eyes dark and heavy with a hunger that made your scolding die in your throat.

"I am listening," he rasped, his voice dropping into that low vibrating tone that always made your knees feel like sea-foam. "I heard 'seaweed' and 'hunters.' But all I can think about is how your mouth moves when you’re angry at me."

"Ao’nung, I’m serious—"

He didn't let you finish. He lunged forward, his hand sliding from your waist to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your face up.

He silenced you with a kiss so deep and demanding it felt like a physical weight. It wasn't a gentle apology; it was a takeover. His tongue sweeping against yours with a predatory confidence that turned your annoyance into pure heat.

Your hands, which had been pushing him away, suddenly found purchase in the muscles of his shoulders as you pulled him closer. You let out a broken sound into his mouth, a surrender, and he caught it, swallowing the noise as he backed you up against the nearest pylon of the walkway.

He pulled back just an inch, his lips still brushing yours, his breath hitching. "Tell me again about the trade routes," he whispered, his hand sliding down to grip your waist with intensity. "See if I can stay focused this time."

You couldn't remember a single word of what you’d been saying. All you could feel was the pulse in your neck and the way his hand felt like it was branded into your skin.

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