You nod. "I will. I'm just going to watch a movie then go to bed," you say, smiling softly at your boyfriend. "Go fight bad guys, or whatever."

He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His hands cup your cheeks as he admires your face in the dark room one last time before his departure. "I love you, doll. Be safe."

With a final ruffle of your hair, Jason heads out the window of the apartment. You watch him go before shutting the window and curtains and leaving to your bedroom.

"What's B want?" Jason frowns as he walks alongside Dick—well, alongside Nightwing—toward the manor.

Dick only shrugs. "Dunno. But we gotta answer to the old man."

The moment they enter the manor, Jason removes his helmet, shaking out his hair. "What'd you need, B?"

"What the fuck?!" Dick exclaims, removing his domino mask. Jason frowns, watching as his older brother erupts into laughter.

"Oh, my god," another voice murmurs. It's only then that Jason realizes the rest of the batfam is in the room. The voice had been Tim's.

Jason scowls down at Dick, who's doubled over. "What?" he asks. "What the hell is so funny?"

"Never thought I'd see the day." Damian.

Another giggle sounds from beside Jason. "You got a little something," he teases, gesturing to his entire face.

A frown tugs at Jason's lips. Tim chuckles. "That pink is so your color, man."

"You look ridiculous." Damian again.

Jason lets out a low grumble, "is someone going to tell me what's goign on?" he demands.

Bruce only cracks the smallest grin. "Check the mirror."

With the attitude of a stubborn toddler, Jason stomps over to the nearest, full-body mirror, and...oh.

He blinks at his reflection, eyes darting across his whole face. Eight prints total. Eight pink marks the shape of your pretty little lips, scattered across his face like a branding.

"That little brat," he groans under his breath, wetting his thumb and rubbing profusely at one of the marks.

It won't budge.

"Damn good lipstick, I'll give you that, baby," he sighs, accepting his defeat as he rejoins his family.

Dick, who seems to have calmed down, lets out another laugh when he sees Jason. Tim is smiling like the cat that got the cream. Damian is...being Damian, staring into Jason's soul with a look akin to disgust on his face. Bruce only smirks.

"Wanna explain?"

Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I need to?"

"Yes!" Dick exclaims.

"You can't imply anything from...this?" Jason asks in annoyance.

"We never know, brother. You could've had a hookup before patrol. You could be married. It could be a bunch of things."

In Jason's mind, he's hurling a bazillion insults at Dick...and the rest of his brothers for laughing.

He groans rather dramatically. "Fine. I...have a girlfriend."

Alas, Damian grins. "When can we meet her?"

Jason scowls. "Never. She doesn't need to be dragged into all...this."

"You just dragged her in, I'm afraid," Bruce chimes in. "She'll join us for dinner next Thursday."

"B—"

"She'll join us, for dinner," he repeats.

Jason could crawl into a hole and die. "Okay. If she agrees."

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, Jay!" you exclaim.

It's early the next morning, you're still rocking bedhead and puffy eyes when Jason gives you the rundown of his night.

You groan. "Ugh! I should've realized. How did I forget that I tried that lipstick?"

"Doll, it's not your fault," he reassures, placing a piping hot cup of coffee in front of you. He brushes your hair back soothingly, kissing your temple. "They would've found out eventually. Plus, it was—admittedly—pretty cute. I liked your lil prints all over me."

You look up at Jason, forking at your breakfast and taking a bite. "Aww, that's sweet, baby."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, ma," he chastises, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. "Well, anyways, they've invited you to dinner next week. You don't have to go if you don't want to. I already told them that I refused to force you to come—"

"—Jay! I want to meet your family!" you assure him, bringing a hand up to his on your cheek, holding it there. "I wanna meet the man who created you."

"He didn't create me, baby, you know this."

"Yes, yes," you roll your eyes. "You know what I meant! The man who raised you, the annoying siblings you always talk about. I wanna know them!"

He smiles fondly. "You know I didn't want to get you caught in the mess that is my family."

"Jason," you groan at his density. "I want to be a part of your mess, don't you get it?"

"Doll—"

"—don't try to talk me out of it."

He laughs. "I hate you sometimes," he sighs, arms snaking around your neck as he stands over your chair. He tucks his face into your neck. "Stubborn girl. We can go shopping tomorrow, find you a cute little outfit."

"You just wanna dress me up," you giggle, ruffling his hair that tickles your neck.

"Guilty. And we're finding you a lipstick that's easier to remove while we're out."

You nod. "I will. I'm just going to watch a movie then go to bed," you say, smiling softly at your boyfriend. "Go fight bad guys, or whatever."

He laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His hands cup your cheeks as he admires your face in the dark room one last time before his departure. "I love you, doll. Be safe."

With a final ruffle of your hair, Jason heads out the window of the apartment. You watch him go before shutting the window and curtains and leaving to your bedroom.

"What's B want?" Jason frowns as he walks alongside Dick—well, alongside Nightwing—toward the manor.

Dick only shrugs. "Dunno. But we gotta answer to the old man."

The moment they enter the manor, Jason removes his helmet, shaking out his hair. "What'd you need, B?"

"What the fuck?!" Dick exclaims, removing his domino mask. Jason frowns, watching as his older brother erupts into laughter.

"Oh, my god," another voice murmurs. It's only then that Jason realizes the rest of the batfam is in the room. The voice had been Tim's.

Jason scowls down at Dick, who's doubled over. "What?" he asks. "What the hell is so funny?"

"Never thought I'd see the day." Damian.

Another giggle sounds from beside Jason. "You got a little something," he teases, gesturing to his entire face.

A frown tugs at Jason's lips. Tim chuckles. "That pink is so your color, man."

"You look ridiculous." Damian again.

Jason lets out a low grumble, "is someone going to tell me what's goign on?" he demands.

Bruce only cracks the smallest grin. "Check the mirror."

With the attitude of a stubborn toddler, Jason stomps over to the nearest, full-body mirror, and...oh.

He blinks at his reflection, eyes darting across his whole face. Eight prints total. Eight pink marks the shape of your pretty little lips, scattered across his face like a branding.

"That little brat," he groans under his breath, wetting his thumb and rubbing profusely at one of the marks.

It won't budge.

"Damn good lipstick, I'll give you that, baby," he sighs, accepting his defeat as he rejoins his family.

Dick, who seems to have calmed down, lets out another laugh when he sees Jason. Tim is smiling like the cat that got the cream. Damian is...being Damian, staring into Jason's soul with a look akin to disgust on his face. Bruce only smirks.

"Wanna explain?"

Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I need to?"

"Yes!" Dick exclaims.

"You can't imply anything from...this?" Jason asks in annoyance.

"We never know, brother. You could've had a hookup before patrol. You could be married. It could be a bunch of things."

In Jason's mind, he's hurling a bazillion insults at Dick...and the rest of his brothers for laughing.

He groans rather dramatically. "Fine. I...have a girlfriend."

Alas, Damian grins. "When can we meet her?"

Jason scowls. "Never. She doesn't need to be dragged into all...this."

"You just dragged her in, I'm afraid," Bruce chimes in. "She'll join us for dinner next Thursday."

"B—"

"She'll join us, for dinner," he repeats.

Jason could crawl into a hole and die. "Okay. If she agrees."

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, Jay!" you exclaim.

It's early the next morning, you're still rocking bedhead and puffy eyes when Jason gives you the rundown of his night.

You groan. "Ugh! I should've realized. How did I forget that I tried that lipstick?"

"Doll, it's not your fault," he reassures, placing a piping hot cup of coffee in front of you. He brushes your hair back soothingly, kissing your temple. "They would've found out eventually. Plus, it was—admittedly—pretty cute. I liked your lil prints all over me."

You look up at Jason, forking at your breakfast and taking a bite. "Aww, that's sweet, baby."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, ma," he chastises, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. "Well, anyways, they've invited you to dinner next week. You don't have to go if you don't want to. I already told them that I refused to force you to come—"

"—Jay! I want to meet your family!" you assure him, bringing a hand up to his on your cheek, holding it there. "I wanna meet the man who created you."

"He didn't create me, baby, you know this."

"Yes, yes," you roll your eyes. "You know what I meant! The man who raised you, the annoying siblings you always talk about. I wanna know them!"

He smiles fondly. "You know I didn't want to get you caught in the mess that is my family."

"Jason," you groan at his density. "I want to be a part of your mess, don't you get it?"

"Doll—"

"—don't try to talk me out of it."

He laughs. "I hate you sometimes," he sighs, arms snaking around your neck as he stands over your chair. He tucks his face into your neck. "Stubborn girl. We can go shopping tomorrow, find you a cute little outfit."

"You just wanna dress me up," you giggle, ruffling his hair that tickles your neck.

"Guilty. And we're finding you a lipstick that's easier to remove while we're out."

He coughs slightly to clear his throat before starting to dig in the bag, putting the groceries away for you – he can’t help it; he thrives on being useful to you in every way. He closes the fridge before he looks at you again, and you have… a sad look on your face.

Your soft lips are twisted into a frown and he wants so badly to kiss it away… the most he can will himself to do is to stand in front of you, green eyes looking into yours. A calloused hand reaches out and hesitantly strokes your arm, too unsure to intertwine with yours.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

He wonders briefly if he got the wrong brand of snacks – but he knows he didn’t. He knows what you love, and he wouldn’t mess that up, so it has to be something else. A soft sigh leaves yours, and you lower your gaze towards his chest.

“Jay, you didn’t have to do that…” Your gaze veers off to the side, and there’s an awkward air around you, like you’re shrinking in on yourself.

“Baby, I don’t mind.”

A frustrated sigh leaves your lips and a small flinch presents itself in his body language. He straightens up almost immediately afterwards, hoping you didn’t notice.

“No, I know but… Jay, I’m worried I make you… uncomfortable.”

You? No, no, never you…

 “What? No, of course not–”

Jason’s quick to place his hands on your shoulders now and he almost throws up from grief when you take a gentle step back, opting to comfort yourself inside. 

“Then why…” You sigh, defeated and Jason can tell with the way you’re hugging yourself that you’re uncomfortable with facing – what you think is – the truth.

“Why do you like… stay so far from me?”

You finally look back at him and this time, your eyes are watering and Jason wants to smack himself for being the cause of your tears. He strives not to ever burden you and now he’s done the worst of it all… been the cause to your anguish.

“It’s not that baby, I–” He cuts himself off to let out a breath through his mouth, he places a hand at his hip, the other coming up to tug near the nape of his neck. 

There is a reason he’s so… far. He doesn’t want to be but this thing that lives in him, just… won’t let him get closer sometimes. It strangles him, and he ends up choosing – what he thought – was the safer option for you. For you both.

But he’s starting to think maybe he’s given his trauma a bit too much power. He drops his hands back beside him again. He doesn’t know where to start but he just needs to start.

“I…” He clears his throat before trying again, “I… ache to be near you, and I am so sorry for making you feel like it was you who made me want otherwise.”

The watering in your eyes gets a bit heavier and the sight makes Jason’s chest sting, but he doesn’t want to step into your space… the space you’d asked for.

“Baby, I– I’m not good at this – and that’s not an excuse – I just mean that… well, you know what happened to me when I was… Robin.” 

You drop your gaze to the ground, the tears now pooling on the kitchen tiles. Jason’s gaze follows yours, and he finds himself counting the teardrops to calm his shaky hands.

One, two, three, four…

It was a hard conversation, but back when you and Jason were friends, there was a soft implication that Jason wasn’t used to physical intimacy because of his abuse during… that night in the warehouse. That was all Jason needed to say for you to understand, and for the tears to follow, and after telling him that he’s always welcome to talk about it if he needs, you never brought it up again – out of respect for his comfort.

Once that friendship had blossomed into love, you were slow and gentle with your advances towards him – and oh, how he loved you for it – but… after it had been six months of dating, and well, you began to wonder if maybe your advances were making him… uncomfortable and he was just enduring them to be polite.

To clarify, you have no qualms with the fact that you and Jason hadn’t gotten sexually intimate at all in these six months – you’d never rush into that nor do you expect it… but you did want to be kissed more by your boyfriend… and held, and just innocently touched.

“W- Well, I understand that, and again, I’m so sorry but… I feel like I’m initiating everything,” You’re quick to whip your head up, hands out before clarifying, “Which I don’t mind initiating! But… uhm, I’m… I’m not getting any… feedback?”

Jason tilts his head at you, a look of sincere confusion etched into his dark eyebrows.

“Feedback?” His voice is soft as he whispers the word, and you nod, trying to find your next words before wiping your face with your hands.

“Uhm, yeah… for example,” Jason nods along to your words encouragingly, and you take the courage to take one step back into his space. His shoulders lower a bit at your closeness and his hand reaches out before falling back at his side again. You reach out courageously, before grabbing his hand, and he squeezes it almost immediately. You pretend not to notice the slight tremor of his hands.

“When I kiss you, you respond but I have trouble understanding if you… like it or if you’re just tolerating it. And… uhm, you don’t… initiate that sort of stuff with me often so I don’t know if I’m going the right way about it, or… not.”

You look up at Jason and watch as he nods slowly, as if he’s dissecting your words in his mind before his head comes a little closer to yours. His green gaze turns slightly more shimmering than you remember before he whispers down at you, “I want to kiss you, and… I love it when you kiss me.”

A soft fluttering inside your chest makes you sigh out into the space between you. 

“So, why don’t you then?” You whisper your words just like he did, not wanting to disrupt the gentleness between you.

“Why leave me so cold? Replace my food, or be so hesitant to take up space with me? Why not just kiss me?”

The distance closes between you and he rests his forehead against yours. His other hand comes to hold yours, and your hand relishes in the warmth of his palms, still and letting him run his thumbs on your skin… scared a twitch would have him letting go.

“I’m scared.”

The confession comes out soft, hesitant. Yet, you understand, so completely. He’s scared of being intimate because he’s only ever known violence, he’s scared he’ll make you uncomfortable.

Scared… his version of intimacy is… not right.

“Jay?” 

He hums before slowly leaning away from you, as if he wishes nothing but to get closer… so you give him the chance.

“Kiss me.”

A soft breath leaves his lips before he leans back in again, his nose brushes yours and you almost wince at the coldness of it before gently pushing the tip of your nose against his. A soft smile breaks out onto his face as he mimics the movement. 

“Well… now I’m nervous.”

You giggle at him before pulling your hand away from his in favour of wrapping them around his neck. He gently places his hands on your waist, and they feel so natural on your skin, you almost groan. He looks at you expectantly before you nod at him, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around it instead, pulling your body flush against his.

“I guess you’ll have to be courageous. I’m not kissing you.”

A teasing smirk breaks out on your face and he looks at you with faux annoyance, before the softness of the moment brings a smile to his lips again. He leans his forehead against yours again, this time admiring the hues in your eyes as you count the brown specks in the forest of his eyes.

His eyelashes flutter so gently against his gaze before you watch them go down to your lips. His eyebrows frown upwards as he memorises the curve of your lips before he leans closer to you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you feel his soft breath against your lips. Your smirk softens down into a relaxed smile, and his bottom lip grazes ever so slightly against yours before he presses his lips to yours.

A soft groan leaves your lips and he eats it straight up, as his hold tightens on you. Your fingers tangle themselves in the hair at the back of his neck, and you feel just how slightly overgrown it is… you really hope he doesn’t cut it. Your lips dance with his, the kiss ever so gentle yet ever so passionate. 

He pulls his foot in between yours and you realise he’s walking you back. You follow his lead before your back hits the cool metal of your fridge, you surpass your squeak, so selfishly needing him to keep kissing you before – much to your chagrin – he pulls away from you.

You chase after his lips with a groan and he lets you – gladly – steal a few more pecks from him before he whispers your name, causing you to stop.

“How– how can I be better to you?”

You smile up at him before cupping his face in your hands. He treats you, amazingly, but you know he’s asking in regards to the concerns you’ve raised.

“I love when you initiate physical intimacy with me, I only ask that you… aren’t so afraid of what I’ll think about it, and just do it.” You can see the slight hesitation in the creases between his eyebrows before you add, “Jason, trust me to tell you if I’m ever uncomfortable with something and just act on how you feel with me… about me.”

Jason nods down at you now, and you smile, feeling triumphant. You watch as he opens his mouth to say something, closes it before opening it again, feeling more courageous with your new – reaffirmed – promise of communication. He seems to finally ‘bite the bullet’ and blurts out.

“Can I keep kissing you please?” 

You manage a nod through your giggling before his lips are against yours again, kissing you with a newfound bravery laced with love.

Yeah, you could so get used to this.

---

The sun is blazing hot above the three of you, and despite that— and the added weight of three heavy bags and a beach umbrella— Jason doesn’t break a sweat.

On his left arm; a bright pink bag packed with tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches and cold cans with perspiration clinging to the metal. Next to the pink, is a blue one with the towels, and the last is your white tote-bag (also on his left arm), where you carry all of your stuff. On his right arm, he carries the umbrella.

You had tried to grab something, but Jason just took it back without a struggle while you pulled and tugged. He just raised his brow like are you really trying?

You obviously let him win.

Damian is walking further ahead, inspecting the beach with sharp eyes. He’s dressed in a bright green swimsuit you bought him and a white shirt. Jason is practically the same, except his swimsuit is a boring dark red and his shirt is sleeveless.

The wooden pier feels hot under you, despite wearing flip flops. And pesky grains of sand are stuck to the soles of your feet and slowly rising up your ankles. But you don’t mind, it all fades away the second the scent of sea salt hits your nostrils.

You eye Jason’s bulging biceps and moisten your lips. He flexes them once, rearranging the weight of the food bag. You’re positive you’re going to faint— and not because of the heat.

You quickly set up camp near the shore, and you’re grateful that it’s practically empty. While Jason has gotten more comfortable about his scars around you (and Damian), he’s not exactly ready to parade them around.

Damian crosses his arms and stares at the beach umbrella, a blue-and-white striped thing you bought for only ten bucks.

“You set it up quite poorly, Todd.”

He huffs. “Then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I would.” He sniffs. “But I’m going into the water.”

You bend over and begin rummaging through the white bag while the other two bicker. You straighten up with a smile.

Both of their faces fall when they see what you have in your hands.

“Please no,” Damian says.

Jason pats his back. “You can’t fight her, kid.”

“But surely—”

Jason slowly shakes his head.

Damian sighs and looks down at the sand. “Fine. But if it gets into my eyes I’m reporting you to Father.”

You grin and click the bottle open. The younger boy looks positively terrified.

It takes two eternally long minutes, according to Damian, to soap him up with white sunscreen. His taut back, his arms, white streaks on the smooth apples of his cheeks, and more gentle touches wherever scars are. He grumbles something and rushes off toward the water.

You and Jason watch him dive in headfirst. Slowly, you turn to him. “You’re not escaping, mister.”

You get rid of your shirt and shorts, standing only in your bikini.

Jason’s jaw drops slightly, but he catches himself almost instantly.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “that hardly seems fair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To who?”

“To me, obviously.”

He turns around and you squirt a fat dollop of cream onto your palm, applying it directly to the middle of his back. Then you start rubbing it in with slow, soothing motions as your fingers coat the scars and place a kiss under his ear— where the cream hasn’t reached yet.

He goes still for a moment. You pretend not to notice.

Jason turns around again, and you have to go slightly onto your tiptoes to reach his shoulders and arms. You take your sweet time with his biceps, rubbing and admiring them.

Jason snorts. “I’m going to start charging you for staring.”

You roll your eyes. “You're enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.”

His laughter dims a little when your attention drifts lower, lingering over old scars and hard muscle alike. The quiet is comfortable, with only the soft sand of lapping waves crashing against the shore and the occasional squawk of a seagull.

But then comes his face, and his smile slips away when you tell him to crouch down.

You’re far more careful here, using only the pads of your fingers to spread the sunscreen without risking getting any in his eyes, nose, or mouth. You’re so focused that you don’t notice where his eyes have strayed.

To be completely fair, Jason really tried not to look. He stared at the thin strings of your bikini, but his gaze followed the red downward...

And yeah. Oh.

“That’s it!” You smile proudly.

Jason realizes he’s somehow fallen onto his knees. The burning sand scratches at them, and his skin feels slightly sticky and warm with sunscreen. He’s only half-aware.

“Jason?” You gently lift his chin. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? The sun is right behind your head, a halo of gold crowning you. You’re looking at him with those eyes and wearing that bikini. And he knows it’s not a coincidence that it’s the same shade of red as his suit and swim trunks.

“Oh,” he says. His wide green eyes staring up at you, loose strands of hair falling on his forehead.

Your smile widens. “Oh?”

“You planned this.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

“Liar.”

You sink to your knees right in front of him, and link your hands behind his neck. “I knew you’d love this bikini.”

Jason shakes his head once and kisses you anyway. It’s slow and hungry, like eating a juicy peach and trying to get all of the flavour right against your taste buds.

Your lips are sun-chapped but taste like those artificial strawberries— probably from the ice cream you and Damian got at the pier earlier. Sweet, his sweet girl.

He groans and his hands fall to your waist. Big, rough hands that rub against your soft skin, brushing away the scratching sand. You lean further into him.

“This is disgusting.”

It’s practically impressive how quickly you and Jason separate.

Still panting on your knees, coated in hot sand and streaks of Jason’s sunscreen smeared across your chest and thighs.

Damian is drenched, looking like a very angry cat. “Are you two finished being embarrassing?”

Jason smirks. “No promises.”

Damian looks personally offended. “Unbelievable.”

You smile apologetically. “Sorry?”

He huffs. “I may forgive you if you come into the water with me.”

You get up, briefly clutching Jason’s shoulder so you don’t lose your balance. He smirks again.

“You stay.”

Jason snaps his eyes toward Damian.

“Stay here and take care of the fort.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “That's your job, Robin.”

“I'm delegating.”

“Pretty sure that's not how that works.”

“Father delegates constantly.”

Jason opens his mouth, pauses, then sighs. “Fair point.”

You smile Jason goodbye and grab Damian by the hand, running so the soles of your feet don’t burn as you jump into the crystalline water.

That’s when Jason sees it. And his brain, traitor that it is, briefly stops functioning.

Red Hood’s symbol is printed on the back of your bikini bottoms in a brighter shade of red.

Jason closes his eyes. “You're unbelievable.” And insane, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He watches you splash Damian, while Damian loudly insists he isn't having fun. The lie becomes significantly less convincing, when Damian starts splashing back.

Your hand rises above the water, gesturing for Jason to join you.

His smile widens and rushes in.

You end up on Jason’s shoulders, chasing Damian. Slowly, of course— the water is dense, but Jason is strong and Damian allows himself to be chased around.

The sun is blazing hot above the three of you, and despite that— and the added weight of three heavy bags and a beach umbrella— Jason doesn’t break a sweat.

On his left arm; a bright pink bag packed with tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches and cold cans with perspiration clinging to the metal. Next to the pink, is a blue one with the towels, and the last is your white tote-bag (also on his left arm), where you carry all of your stuff. On his right arm, he carries the umbrella.

You had tried to grab something, but Jason just took it back without a struggle while you pulled and tugged. He just raised his brow like are you really trying?

You obviously let him win.

Damian is walking further ahead, inspecting the beach with sharp eyes. He’s dressed in a bright green swimsuit you bought him and a white shirt. Jason is practically the same, except his swimsuit is a boring dark red and his shirt is sleeveless.

The wooden pier feels hot under you, despite wearing flip flops. And pesky grains of sand are stuck to the soles of your feet and slowly rising up your ankles. But you don’t mind, it all fades away the second the scent of sea salt hits your nostrils.

You eye Jason’s bulging biceps and moisten your lips. He flexes them once, rearranging the weight of the food bag. You’re positive you’re going to faint— and not because of the heat.

You quickly set up camp near the shore, and you’re grateful that it’s practically empty. While Jason has gotten more comfortable about his scars around you (and Damian), he’s not exactly ready to parade them around.

Damian crosses his arms and stares at the beach umbrella, a blue-and-white striped thing you bought for only ten bucks.

“You set it up quite poorly, Todd.”

He huffs. “Then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I would.” He sniffs. “But I’m going into the water.”

You bend over and begin rummaging through the white bag while the other two bicker. You straighten up with a smile.

Both of their faces fall when they see what you have in your hands.

“Please no,” Damian says.

Jason pats his back. “You can’t fight her, kid.”

“But surely—”

Jason slowly shakes his head.

Damian sighs and looks down at the sand. “Fine. But if it gets into my eyes I’m reporting you to Father.”

You grin and click the bottle open. The younger boy looks positively terrified.

It takes two eternally long minutes, according to Damian, to soap him up with white sunscreen. His taut back, his arms, white streaks on the smooth apples of his cheeks, and more gentle touches wherever scars are. He grumbles something and rushes off toward the water.

You and Jason watch him dive in headfirst. Slowly, you turn to him. “You’re not escaping, mister.”

You get rid of your shirt and shorts, standing only in your bikini.

Jason’s jaw drops slightly, but he catches himself almost instantly.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “that hardly seems fair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “To who?”

“To me, obviously.”

He turns around and you squirt a fat dollop of cream onto your palm, applying it directly to the middle of his back. Then you start rubbing it in with slow, soothing motions as your fingers coat the scars and place a kiss under his ear— where the cream hasn’t reached yet.

He goes still for a moment. You pretend not to notice.

Jason turns around again, and you have to go slightly onto your tiptoes to reach his shoulders and arms. You take your sweet time with his biceps, rubbing and admiring them.

Jason snorts. “I’m going to start charging you for staring.”

You roll your eyes. “You're enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.”

His laughter dims a little when your attention drifts lower, lingering over old scars and hard muscle alike. The quiet is comfortable, with only the soft sand of lapping waves crashing against the shore and the occasional squawk of a seagull.

But then comes his face, and his smile slips away when you tell him to crouch down.

You’re far more careful here, using only the pads of your fingers to spread the sunscreen without risking getting any in his eyes, nose, or mouth. You’re so focused that you don’t notice where his eyes have strayed.

To be completely fair, Jason really tried not to look. He stared at the thin strings of your bikini, but his gaze followed the red downward...

And yeah. Oh.

“That’s it!” You smile proudly.

Jason realizes he’s somehow fallen onto his knees. The burning sand scratches at them, and his skin feels slightly sticky and warm with sunscreen. He’s only half-aware.

“Jason?” You gently lift his chin. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? The sun is right behind your head, a halo of gold crowning you. You’re looking at him with those eyes and wearing that bikini. And he knows it’s not a coincidence that it’s the same shade of red as his suit and swim trunks.

“Oh,” he says. His wide green eyes staring up at you, loose strands of hair falling on his forehead.

Your smile widens. “Oh?”

“You planned this.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.”

“Liar.”

You sink to your knees right in front of him, and link your hands behind his neck. “I knew you’d love this bikini.”

Jason shakes his head once and kisses you anyway. It’s slow and hungry, like eating a juicy peach and trying to get all of the flavour right against your taste buds.

Your lips are sun-chapped but taste like those artificial strawberries— probably from the ice cream you and Damian got at the pier earlier. Sweet, his sweet girl.

He groans and his hands fall to your waist. Big, rough hands that rub against your soft skin, brushing away the scratching sand. You lean further into him.

“This is disgusting.”

It’s practically impressive how quickly you and Jason separate.

Still panting on your knees, coated in hot sand and streaks of Jason’s sunscreen smeared across your chest and thighs.

Damian is drenched, looking like a very angry cat. “Are you two finished being embarrassing?”

Jason smirks. “No promises.”

Damian looks personally offended. “Unbelievable.”

You smile apologetically. “Sorry?”

He huffs. “I may forgive you if you come into the water with me.”

You get up, briefly clutching Jason’s shoulder so you don’t lose your balance. He smirks again.

“You stay.”

Jason snaps his eyes toward Damian.

“Stay here and take care of the fort.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “That's your job, Robin.”

“I'm delegating.”

“Pretty sure that's not how that works.”

“Father delegates constantly.”

Jason opens his mouth, pauses, then sighs. “Fair point.”

You smile Jason goodbye and grab Damian by the hand, running so the soles of your feet don’t burn as you jump into the crystalline water.

That’s when Jason sees it. And his brain, traitor that it is, briefly stops functioning.

Red Hood’s symbol is printed on the back of your bikini bottoms in a brighter shade of red.

Jason closes his eyes. “You're unbelievable.” And insane, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He watches you splash Damian, while Damian loudly insists he isn't having fun. The lie becomes significantly less convincing, when Damian starts splashing back.

Your hand rises above the water, gesturing for Jason to join you.

His smile widens and rushes in.

You end up on Jason’s shoulders, chasing Damian. Slowly, of course— the water is dense, but Jason is strong and Damian allows himself to be chased around.

"don't," he cut you off, his voice raspy, deeper, and rougher than you had ever heard it. he looked up, his dark eyes dilated so wide they looked almost entirely black, a faint, dark flush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheekbones.

he gripped the insides of your knees, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessiveness that made your blood run hot. "shit—do it again."

"w-what? but i—"

"please," he begged, the word slipping out with a desperate, breathless edge that made your stomach flip. his chest was heaving. "squeeze me again. oh fuck—just like that, baby. lock your legs."

the raw hunger in his expression made it impossible to refuse. slowly, hesitantly, you brought your thighs back together, locking him in place once more, applying a firm, steady pressure against his neck.

a low, ragged groan escaped him, vibrating directly against your sensitive bud. he buried his face back into you, his tongue working with a newfound, frantic intensity that completely derailed your thought process. "harder," he mumbled against your pussy, his hands sliding up to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he anchored you. "squeeze harder, baby."

you complied, tightening your hold, completely overwhelmed by the blinding intensity of it. you were caught so deeply in the throes of your own approaching climax that the world narrowed down to just the pressure of your legs and the wicked, relentless motion of his mouth.

because of the sensory overload, you didn't notice the subtle, rhythmic motion beneath you at first. you didn't realize that with every tight squeeze of your thighs restricting his airflow, choso was heavily, desperately humping his clothed length straight into the mattress. he was completely losing himself in the friction, his hips rolling in a tight, frantic pattern against the sheets, riding the intoxicating sensation of being choked by you.

your climax hit like a freight train, your walls pulsing violently around his tongue as a loud cry left your lips. you squeezed him tight, your thighs locking like a vice as you rode the wave.

right as you peaked, choso let out a choked, broken sound. his whole body went rigid beneath you. his hips gave one last, hard, desperate shove into the mattress, his fingers digging so deeply into your hips it was almost painful. he trembled violently, his breath catching in a long, shuddering gasp as he buried his face entirely in your thigh, hiding himself away as he spent.

as the sparks in your vision began to fade and your breathing slowed, you gradually loosened the grip of your legs. choso slumped forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow pants.

it was only then, as the quiet returned to the room, that you noticed the heavy, uneven thumping of his heart against your leg, and the distinct, damp heat pressing through the fabric of his trousers right where he had been pinning himself to the bed.

you blinked down at him, your hand coming up to rest in his dark hair. "cho...?"

he didn't move for a long moment, completely spent, his shoulders still twitching slightly. when he finally looked up, his face was completely flushed, eyes heavy and hooded with a profound, dazed satisfaction. he swallowed hard, a sheepish but utterly dark look in his eyes as he realized you had figured it out. he hadn't even touched himself; he had finished purely from the friction of the bed and the suffocating pressure of your thighs.

Watching narrowed eyes, Shigaraki looks you up and down. His hand twitches on the bar top, ready to strike out should you give him even the slightest inkling you’re a threat. Are you a villain that heard of the team he’s putting together? Or a hero who somehow found his hideout-?

“Weather out there is brutal, huh?” You complain casually, sliding into the seat right next to him, propping your head up on your hand. “I swear, the summers get hotter every year…”

…Or maybe you’re just a regular ass person who was stupid enough to wander in here.

He glances you up and down again, this time not assessing you as a threat, but genuinely confused. I mean, what is he even supposed to do in this situation? It’s not like he’s averse to killing random people, but, y’know…he’s not always in the mood for it. Replying with only a quiet grunt, he turns away and takes a sip of his own drink.

You glance sidelong at him, a bored little frown on your lips. After a second, you look behind the bar instead, pursing your lips impatiently. No bartender? Maybe they really are closed…But then how’d he get his own drink?

“…’S it always this slow?” You ask out of nowhere, looking up and down the bar to see if there’s a hell for service or something. “Or is the bartender on break or somethin’?”

Frowning at your persistent talking, Shigaraki rolls his eyes. But if a damn drink will get you to shut up and leave, then… “Kurogiri!”

You blink in surprise when he calls gruffly for someone, and your surprise doubles when a man seemingly made of black mist suddenly rises up from the floor. Eyes wide, you lean over the bar a little to see the portal he’s appearing from. “Woah…Cool quirk, dude…”

Kurogiri freezes for a moment, obviously surprised to see a random ass girl sitting in the bar. He glances at Shigaraki for orders, but is met with only a slightly annoyed expression. ‘Just give her a damn drink’ is what Shigaraki’s expression seems to say, and Kurogiri is obliged to obey.

“…Thank you, miss.” This ‘Kurogiri’ responds monotonously, already going through the motions of grabbing a glass for you. “What can I get you?”

You order a drink and he makes it quickly enough, sliding it across the bar to you. Tugging your purse into your lap, you start pulling out your wallet to pay.

“No need.” Kurogiri quickly speaks up, looking down at you now. You pause for a second, surprised yet again…but you won’t say no to a free drink.

“Well thanks!” You cheer, putting your wallet right away without even trying to insist on paying like a polite person normally would. “Keep being that nice and y’all won’t be open much longer, though.”

Shigaraki rolls his eyes heavily, taking another sip of his drink just to cope with your presence. Kurogiri stands there for another second before he’s subtly waved off. Nodding once, he leaves the same way he came in, leaving you and Shigaraki alone again.

You take a small sip of your drink, glancing around the bar. “…It’s cozy in here. You come here often?”

A grunt is all you get in response yet again.

Frowning slightly at the lack of conversation, you look back over your shoulder at the room proper. A couple tables, couple booths…Oh, a jukebox!

“Ooo!” You slide off your seat, drink in hand as you pad on over to the machine, not seeing the way he tenses slightly at your sudden move. “You mind if I put on some music?”

This time, all you get is silence. You glance back at him, only seeing his shoulders slumping even more. Shrugging it off, you fish through your pockets for a few coins and push them through the slot, considering your options carefully.

A minute later, some easy music starts flowing through the room. You smile and trail back over to your seat, your arm accidentally brushing against him as you sit again. His hand twitches at the touch and his eyes shoot over, but he pauses when he sees you. Shit.

Music playing, low lighting, and that damn smile on your face…He must be going insane. It’s like he only just now realized you’re a girl- a pretty one- and you’re just sitting there, completely oblivious, entirely alone with him. This is like- this could be- a…chance…right?

A chance for what?

Eyes darting away to the TV set up on the other side of the bar, Shigaraki’s cheeks tinge pink. Of course, he didn’t actually speak…but his voice and judgment is constant in Shigaraki’s mind. Scowling lightly at himself, he turns his eyes back downwards into his cup, watching the ice cubes float around in the alcohol leisurely.

Meanwhile, you don’t notice any of what just happened in his mind. Instead, you’re sipping on your drink, nodding your head gently to the beat of the song, and glancing around the walls of the place. Mostly bare except for a poster on the far wall of…well, it’s kinda hard to see since it’s ripped up…wait…

“…Not a fan of All Might or something?” You speak up suddenly, meeting his gaze as Shigaraki’s head snaps up like you pulled him out of some thoughts.

He looks at you like you’re insane before he follows your little nod towards the poster. A little scowl forms on his face again as he sees the ripped up piece of paper on the wall, and yet for once it doesn’t quite spark that deep rage it usually does. He’s too distracted by the fuzzy feeling creeping up his chest as you keep sitting beside him.

“…No.” He answers with a real response this time, even if it’s brief and gruff.

You nod a little, admittedly finding that a little strange considering how loved the hero is…but then again, there’s always gonna be people with different opinions. “Interesting…I don’t really care either way about the guy. Seems nice enough, but how much do you really know famous people, y’know?”

Shigaraki blinks at your words, glancing back over to meet your gaze, but he looks down quickly once the fuzzy feeling intensifies. Shrugging lazily, he grumbles out another brief response. “…Sure.”

You eyes him now, curious about the only other person in the bar. He’s definitely…interesting. Quiet, looks pretty tired, kinda lanky, dusty blue hair slightly damp as if he got out of the shower a bit ago…and came straight to a bar?

“Not much of a talker, huh?” You question lightly, now wanting to figure out more about him. When he doesn’t respond, you take another sip of your drink and continue on casually. “…No problem. Kinda prefer when men don’t talk anyways.”

Shigaraki freezes. Like, actually, you can see the way his body goes rigid. Then, slowly, he looks at you with the harshest glare he can muster…which, right now, is maybe 5% less harsh than usual.

But you don’t know that.

You don’t know anything.

So you laugh and take another sip of your drink, smiling at him easily and speaking loosely. “Joking…kind of. Say, what’s your name anyways?”

His fingers twitch again. But this time, it’s not with the urge to kill you. It’s from him holding back on clawing at his neck.

Because you’re pretty- and you’re smiling at him- and you’re talking to him- and when’s the last time someone besides Kurogiri or Master talked to him anyways?

Balling up his fist, Shigaraki continues glaring at you. Then, almost reluctantly, he grits out an answer. “…Tomura.”

You nod a little, glancing him up and down. “Tomura…”

The fuzzy feeling gets ten times worse. Fuck, you say his name like it’s something good. No fear, or gross pride, or condescension. You say it like it’s…normal.

“So…do you come here often?” You lean in just a little closer as you press for more answers, obviously very intent on getting him to talk.

Fuck, if you turn out to be a hero or something…

“…I live here.” He grumbles, not even sure why he’s telling you that. You must have some, like…truth-telling quirk or something- something that makes people lose control around you.

Widening your eyes in surprise, you glance around the place with a new perspective. Then, you start laughing again. “…Shit, really? This is your bar? So you weren’t kidding when you said you’re closed?” You giggle and shake your head a little, already beginning to slide off the barstool. “I’m sorry- You should’ve just kicked my ass out-.”

“Stay.” It’s surprises even Shigaraki the way it comes out so quickly, not as an offer, as a command. Stay here.

The silence stretches as the music ends at just the right (or wrong) time. You look at him with wide eyes, your smile faltering a little. For a second, he thinks you might’ve finally figured out that you shouldn’t be here- that he’s not good- that he’s dangerous. He thinks you’re going to leave.

Instead, you grin, sliding back onto the seat and looking him right in the eyes as you lower your voice just a little and nearly purr, “…Like me that much already?”

—

“Mm- C-Calm down- mmph!”

You giggle against Shigaraki’s lips as he pushes you back against his bedroom door, his kisses so messy and so inexperienced…but he’s just so cute.

He’d flushed like he’d never been flirted with before when you said that to him downstairs, and you quickly took your chance.

He’s cute enough…and you weren’t lying about being into quieter guys. So, with every ounce of your ‘charm’, you got him to bring you up to his own bedroom above the bar.

Now, Shigaraki’s hands tremble where they claw at the door on either side of you, not touching you for some reason. Your own hands run through his hair before sliding down to his shoulders, then all the way down his arms to grab his wrists. When you try to coax his hands closer he pulls away abruptly, all flushed and panting as he stares at you.

“I can’t- can’t t-touch you-.” He rasps, looking more annoyed than apologetic as he tugs his wrists from your grip. “N-not directly, anyways.”

You cock your head a little in confusion, but shrug it off. Lots of people have quirks that stop them from doing things, right? So instead of asking literally any question you probably should ask, you grab his face and pull him back into the kiss.

Shigaraki grunts in surprise as you yank him back in…but he’s not complaining. Instead, he’s kissing you back with an even messier desperation this time, whining softly against your lips as he presses in closer and feels your body yield under his. His hips jerk forward as you run a hand through his hair, a little whimper spilling from his lips. On either side of you, again, his hands shake and cling to his door, scratching faint lines into the wood as he holds himself back from touching you- not even wanting to chance accidentally killing you before he gets his dick in you.

You, on the other hand, are thoroughly enjoying this. He’s just so clumsy- you can already imagine the way he’ll be whining and shaking as you ride him stupid. And from what you can already feel throbbing pitifully against your hip, he’s not a bad size either.

So, pulling away and smiling at the way he chases for a second, you reach down and grab his belt buckle to keep him in place. “…Have you done this before?”

It’s a fucking miracle Shigaraki didn’t cum as soon as you tugged at his belt- because you’re looking at him like he’s something desirable- and you’re murmuring so sweetly- and the fact that he’s even got you in his room at all- “F-fuck- No-.”

You nod a little at his admission, obviously not having a problem with it. In fact, you keep a hold on his belt as you slip out from between him and the door, tugging him along behind you as you step over laundry and empty wrappers or food containers, right over to his bed.

Again. A miracle. Shigaraki’s fucking leaking through his jeans now, his eyes glued to your hand so casually tugging him through his own room by the belt. And he follows so obediently, something he wouldn’t have expected of himself, not resisting in the slightest as you practically lead him on a leash.

When you get to the bed you let go, turning around to face him with a bit of a more serious look. “And you’re sure you wanna do this? With me?”

Shigaraki nods a little, almost a bit dazed, but he’s completely serious. Things that other people seem to think are special don’t mean much to him- holidays, birthdays, and in this case…losing his virginity. With you or with someone else…it doesn’t really matter to him.

You scrutinize him for just a second, making sure he’s 100% okay, before shrugging a little. “…Alright. Lay down.”

—

Oh, you were so right about how he’d react.

Half-gloved hands- which had become so barely a second after you started grinding on him earlier- grip harshly at your hips as you bounce up and down on his cock.

He’d tried to keep his cool at first- grumbling and commanding and even trying to start out on top. You let him have his fun at first…until you got impatient. Now Shigaraki’s under you, moaning and whimpering, shaking, eyes screwed shut, and his cock rubbed raw from how roughly you’re riding him.

“Mm!- Is that g-good?” You purr, gazing down at him with a fond sort of desire, hands sliding up his wiry sternum for balance as you grind your hips in a slow circle. “Hm, Tomura?”

He nods immediately, broken whines spilling from his open mouth as you drag his tip over your cervix. Pitifully, his hips buck up into you, begging for more friction, more bouncing, just more of you.

Cute…

You smile a little, sitting upright as you begin bouncing faster and harder again, plunging him in and out and in and out in such quick succession it makes Shigaraki dizzy. You grab his wrists again, dragging his hands up from your hips to your tits, letting him grope and squeeze.

“O-open your eyes- ngh-.” You murmur, looking down at him and waiting.

Slowly, he cracks his eyes open, half-lidded and so dilated the red of his irises are almost covered with black. He stares up at you in something close to awe, chapped lips wet with drool and parted on shaky moans.

You stare back down at him, taking in every inch of the pretty picture he makes. Reaching up, you brush a little piece of hair off his face at the same moment you plop your hips down. Shigaraki whines shakily, his face turning a deeper shade of pink as his back arches a little.

“Sh-shit- ah-!” His voice cracks as he cries out, hands clamping down on your waist as he tries to hold you still. “Gonna- ngh!- O-oh, fuck!”

Feeling him start pulsing inside you more than before, you quickly grab one of his hands and push it down between your thighs. He looks up at you with a blissed-out confusion, so focused on holding back his orgasm he doesn’t even notice the way you guide his thumb to your clit.

“Rub.” You command breathlessly, whimpering as you press his thumb harder. “There- ngh!- N-now, Tomura.”

As if programmed to follow your orders, he starts immediately rubbing his thumb over your clit vigorously, making you whine and lurch forward in surprise. But it’s fucking good.

Resuming your pace, you bounce on him with renewed desperation, aiming to get you both off at the same time. This time, you’re both whining and whimpering and shaking- clinging to each other- moving with jerky and desperate bursts as you get closer and closer.

Your eyes flutter shut as you reach your peak, clamping down on him hard. With a shaky whine, you grind on him desperately, working yourself through your orgasm. It’s not the best one of your life or anything, but it’s definitely satisfying.

More impressively, Shigaraki holds back his own orgasm just because he wants to watch yours. His head spins as he watches a white ring of cream form around the base of his cock, and he can see himself throbbing inside you. Dragging his eyes up, he watches your chest heave and your face contort with bliss, his eyes practically shining as he watches you feel good because of something he did.

When your eyes open, heavy and hazy with pleasure and satisfaction, you seem a bit surprised to find him still holding on. Then, with a little smile, you lean down and roll your hips, whispering in his ear.

“…C-cum inside, Tomura…”

Oh, Jesus.

If pretty girls could make someone believe in god, Shigaraki would be a preacher. If pussy could grant holy forgiveness, Shigaraki would be the purest person on the planet.

He cums hard. Jet after jet of warm, thick cum spills into you, making him tremble and shudder and nearly convulse under you. The noise that leaves his mouth is broken, and it’s drowned out by the way his ears ring. His eyes roll back so far he sees white, but he’s convinced he gets the only glimpse of the gates of heaven he’ll ever get to see.

You watch the whole thing, moaning softly as he jerks his hips and fills you up. But most of your attention is taken up by the look of pure, unadulterated pleasure on his face. It’s like he’s never felt good before, like his body and mind can’t even comprehend the feeling of something besides ‘bad’.

And that thought is only exemplified by the way he mutters weakly as he starts coming down, panting hard and nearly tearing up as he utters, “…A-an angel…I-I s-swear…”

…And then he’s out cold.

You blink a few times, staring down at the way he’s gone limp under you. His words ring in your head, bringing an amused snort to your lips even as a fondness brightens your eyes.

Too damn cute…

—

A few months later you’re hanging out at a friends apartment.

You’d tried to go back to the bar a few times, but it seems it really was closed now. The sign was never on, the door always locked (although you swear you saw some shady-looking guys going in one time). It sucks, but that’s the way it goes, you suppose. So you said goodbye to the bar, and to Tomura.

Suddenly, your friend’s TV switches by itself to some breaking news, the two of you pausing your conversation to watch the screen.

“Ugh, I’m tired of these ‘League of Villains’ losers…” Your friend grumbles, reaching for the remote to try and change the channel.

“Who?” You question cluelessly, looking at the screen as they show some blown-up building and a few heroes fighting villains.

Your friend looks at you like you’re the dumbest person on the planet…and maybe it’s true, because you genuinely don’t know who that is. Before she can respond, though, the screen flashes with blurry images of this supposed ‘League of Villains’.

And there, front and center, is Tomura.

“Wha-.” You exclaim in shock, shooting up from your seat and pointing at the screen. “I fucked that guy!”

Your friend gapes at you for a second before yelling back, “No you fucking didn’t!”

“I did!” You swear, starting to smile as you look between her and the screen. “Swear to god!”

“Do you know who that is?” Your friend shouts, starting to laugh with you now. “Tomura Shigaraki? The ‘Symbol of Fear’, or something? He’s, like, one of the most wanted people in the country!”

“Well he wasn’t when I fucked him!”

There’s silence for a moment or two as you both comprehend what the other is saying.

Then, breaking the silence, you sit back down and giggle a little, reminiscing on what you’ll definitely never get again. “Damn…He had a nice dick, too…”

Laughter spills from the apartment, a complete contrast to the blood spilling miles away because of Shigaraki. But, well…sleeping with him isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever done.

He’s surprised when you immediately turn and glare at him, snapping like he’s the source of all your problems as you clap back. “Nothing. Shut up and do your work.”

Tomura is take aback. Not hurt, of course, because he’s had much worse than that. But not from you.

Leaning back against the headboard of his bed, he eyes you flatly. You’re laying more towards the foot of the bed, homework forgotten to the side while you glare at your phone, thumbs tapping rapidly against the screen as you type up what must be multiple paragraphs to whoever’s on the receiving end of your wrath. He’s never seen that look on your face before either- twisted with anger and…hurt? Sadness, maybe? Honestly, the most annoying thing about this is that you still look fucking pretty even all worked up like this-

“What?” Your sudden snap at him makes, Tomura blink out of his light daze.

You’re glaring at him now, obviously annoyed with his silent staring. Shrugging a little, he glances to the side and grumbles lowly. “…Just wondering why you’re in such a bad mood.”

Sitting up abruptly, you huff in frustration and turn your phone off to unleash your anger on him instead. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

Annoyingly, Tomura grins a little at your insistence…and obvious lie. He looks at you again, still leisurely leaning against the headboard. “You obviously are.”

Bristling at his stupid little smirk, you grit your teeth and start getting off his bed. “I’m not. You’re just fucking annoying me, as per usual.”

This time, he rolls his eyes. You’re such a fucking brat, seriously. “I didn’t even do anything. You’ve been pissed since you got here.”

“Well maybe it’s because I have to spend hours in your dirty ass bedroom.” You shoot back, already starting to pack up your things to leave.

Frowning a little now, Tomura glances around his dorm. Wrappers, cups, laundry…you might have a point, but that can’t be the only reason. “…It’s always like this. Obviously something’s wrong besides that.”

Groaning in frustration, you snap the zipper of your backpack shut, glaring at him again. “Why do you even care? You’re always all pissy with me, why can’t I do the same?”

“I don’t care.” He grumbles back, crossing his arms and meeting your gaze flatly. “I just want to know what’s so important you can’t focus on our project.”

You frown, but it’s frustrated and…tight, somehow, like you’re holding back from saying something.

He rolls his eyes again. “What is it? Something not go your way? A party was canceled? Your boyfriend bailed on a date?”

His mocking grates on your already-frayed nerves, making your hands clench by your sides. God, if Tomura Shigaraki is good for one thing on this planet, it’s pissing you off.

So, without really meaning to, you blurt out your problem angrily. “I don’t have a boyfriend because he fucking cheated on me last night!”

At least he has the decency to blink in surprise. And he is surprised that a girl like you would get cheated on…but he’s also surprised that you genuinely trusted a meat head like your now ex-boyfriend. Tomura watches your eyes widen a little in realization at what you shouted before they lower and start watering.

Oh, god.

People crying isn’t really his forte. Especially girls- especially pretty girls- especially pretty girls who happen to be you.

After a good moment or two of silence, he speaks up again, not mocking anymore but still flat. “…That sucks.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes even as you blink back tears. Shaking your head a little, you pull on your backpack and turn to leave. “…Thanks.”

It’s not like you were expecting much sympathy from him anyways…

“I could’ve told you he’d do that.”

You freeze barely two steps away from his bed. Then, slowly, you turn back around to face him.

“…Excuse me?”

Tomura blinks at you like he sees nothing wrong with what he just said. And maybe there is nothing wrong- but that’s not something you say to someone who’s obviously upset.

“The guy was an asshole. Of course he would cheat.”

You sputter a bit at his blunt statement, still jumping to your exes defense out of pure habit. “Wha- you- you don’t even know him- you never even met-.”

“I didn’t have to.” He cuts in bluntly, almost sneering a little now at the way you defend a guy who clearly hurt you. “Girls like you always go out with guys like him, then act shocked when they turn out to be pieces of shit.”

Wide eyed, you stare at him in slight shock. And, naturally, that shock turns to even more anger once his words sink in. ‘Girls like you’? What does that even mean?

“Girls like me? Guys like him?” You demand, taking a step closer and glaring daggers at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally, Tomura sits up a bit now, doubling down on his blunt assumptions. “It means every guy like him is an asshole, and every girl like you is too blinded by his looks to see it.”

“Really?” You shoot back, bristling with so much pent up hurt and anger that it just comes spilling out. “So, what, I should be with a guy like you instead? You want me to sit around in your disgusting room, watching you play your fucking video games all day and listening to you complain about the world?! You think I should spend my time with some- some mean, creepy, lowlife, virgin, loser?!”

There’s silence again. Heavier this time, with the weight of your argument. Tomura’s not hurt- again, he’s been called much worse. But still, he wasn’t quite expecting that from you. He stares at you, eyes flat and expression unexpressive. And somehow, it only makes you feel…bad.

“I-…” You start, looking away and lowering your voice again. “…Sorry, I…I’m just-.”

“Upset. I know.” He cuts in again, but this time you don’t get annoyed. Instead, you’re actually surprised he seems to understand you. “Yell at me if you want. Whatever makes you feel better.”

Sighing, you lift your eyes with a light glare. Since when is he so…genuine? He’s not even saying that to mock or belittle you- he’s actually just stating a fact.

“I don’t want to yell.” You tell him, your shoulders slumping a little as if you’re deflating. “I didn’t mean what I said, but-.”

“No, you definitely meant it.” He insists, grinning just slightly as he cocks his head to the side a bit. “That came out way too easily to be off the top of your head.”

You huff a little, crossing your arms now. “I did not mean it. I’m not rude like you are.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

Your jaw clenches a little as his “gotcha” moment, your eyes narrowing further. “Because I was angry, and you were being mean?”

“I was being honest.” Tomura states like it’s fact. “What, did you want me to comfort you?”

“A little sympathy would be nice.”

“You’re not giving me any.”

Now you just stare at him. Setting aside the fact he’s the one who started this argument (debatable, really), did you not just apologize to him?

“Why should I?”

“You just called me a lowlife, virgin, creep.”

“I apologized!” You’re exasperated at this point, standing by the edge of his bed even though you don’t remember getting closer. “You basically called me stupid while I’m already having a bad day!”

“I never said that.”

“You implied it!”

“…So we’re both feeling bad.” Tomura grins again. God, he’s having fun with this, isn’t he? “But we can fix it…”

—

God, this is disgusting. Or…it should be.

Honestly, you did mean everything you said earlier. Maybe not the ‘lowlife’ part, but everything else? Yeah, pretty much.

He knows it.

You know it.

But Tomura also knows now that he probably was a bit out of line earlier. You’re hurting and he made it worse by trying to give unsolicited advice, he can understand that. You weren’t looking for solutions, you were just looking for someone to vent to, and he was there.

You know it.

He knows it.

But right now, none of that seems to matter, because you’re both too caught up in each other to even remember what you were arguing about.

Tomura’s got you pinned down on his bed, your ankles by his ears, his hands leaving bruises on your hips, whimpers in your ear, drool on your shoulder, and all damn near 7 inches pounding into your sopping pussy.

This should be disgusting…but it’s not.

Your moans ring out high and shaky under him, your hands clinging to his body, nails scratching red lines into his skin, thighs trembling with the force of his thrusts, on the brink of your second orgasm, and struggling to comprehend just how the hell a guy like Tomura Shigaraki is giving you the best dick of your life.

“Shit- ah!- T-Tomura-!” You squeal out, eyes clamping shut as he grinds against your clit seemingly completely on accident.

“Heh- ngh!- You l-like- like th-that?” God, he can barely speak through the way he’s whimpering and groaning through the overwhelming pleasure, and yet he’s still fucking smirking like that.

Nearly pouting, you whimper high and pull him closer, not even wanting to open your eyes to see the way you know he’s looking at you.

You were right about him being a virgin, for the record. But honestly…you would have no damn idea by now. He’s got this shit locked down, like he’s some machine you feed commands to and watch do perfectly. It’s actually stupid how good he is- astronomically better than your fuck ass ex boyfriend ever was.

“Y-yeah?- Mm!- B-better than h-him- ngh!- huh?”

Fuck, as if he needed another boost to his fucking ego.

You clap a hand over your babbling mouth, muffling your whines as your face burns with embarrassment. But there’s no use anymore- not with the way his tip rams into all those little sweet spots inside you, or the way he’s already got you all full and sticky of the cum he stuffed into you when he pushed in the first time.

A rough hand grabs your hand and pulls it off your mouth, but your eyes open in shock when he laces his fingers with yours and pins your hand to the bed. Tomura’s staring down at you, face red, lips glossy from his own drool, and yet he’s couldn’t look smugger about the fact he’s fucking you right now.

Or about the fact that you cum while making eye contact with him.

It hits you hard, making your back arch and your hand grasp at his hard enough to make him grimace a little. But damn, your face is just so pretty when you look up at him and cry and beg for more. Tomura grunts as you clamp down on him, adding to the sticky white ring already on the base of his cock from your combined releases.

“F-fuck- hah!- Gonna c-cum ‘nside a-again-.” He muses roughly, watching your eyes get all big and dewey as he fucks you right through your orgasm and into his.

“Y’want it? H-huh?” Tomura grunts, unable to stop himself from babbling now. “Didja e-ever let your- ngh!- s-stupid boyfriend- mm!- do t-that?…Ever let h-him- ah!- f-fill you u-up?”

You shake your head quickly, your free hand reaching to claw at his shoulder as he rams into you erratically. It’s true, too. Sex with your ex was so boring you never really wanted him to cum inside- also just the fact that it’s fucking stupid to let a guy do it. But with Tomura…it’s like you need it.

Damn near giggling now, Tomura leans down and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, his hips stuttering as he plows you with jerky little thrusts. You’re driving him fucking insane, seriously. With your pretty face, and your wet little pussy, and the way your hand clings to him, and the way you’re moaning and crying out for him- his name.

God knows how fucking hard Tomura tried not to think about this before literally right now. He was in denial about liking you, and he knows it would be creepy to think about fucking you- let alone the fact you were in a relationship until today. No, he wanted to be respectful of you, even if you were on his mind 24/7 anyways. But now…now he actually has a chance, right? Not just for sex, but-

The thought makes a whimper catch in his throat, his hips stuttering one more time before he rams all the way in. A high, broken groan leaves his mouth muffled against your shoulder as he pumps a healthy load of cum deep inside you, pushing it in deeper with little grinds of his hips.

You eat it up, too. Mewling and arching, you drag him as close as possible and suck in as much as possible. Your shaky whimpers and pants echo in Tomura’s ear beside your mouth, making his brain and fuzzy with bliss and his eyes roll back.

“F-fuck…Fuck, Tomura…” You’re all breathless now, the disbelief hitting quickly as soon as he’s done cumming.

“…Hm?” He grunts out, heaving as he pulls back a little to look down at you, dazed with pleasure but focused on you. “…R-Regret it now?”

Your eyes fall shut as you pant and relax under him. He can feel the way you still flutter lightly around him, your thighs twitching a bit even as your expression softens.

Then, blessedly, you shake your head a little. “Was, like…t-too good…”

A relieved sigh leaves his lips before he can help himself, his shoulders relaxing as he holds himself off you. But of course, he’s still too damn cocky about it. “…Forgot a-about your ex?”

Face flushing a deeper shade of red, you tuck it down a bit more as if you can hide. But then your eyes open, all big with satisfaction and a touch of vulnerability, and he just about dies.

Shaking your head, you murmur softly. “No…B-but I feel better…”

It’s a damn miracle Tomura doesn’t get hard all over again just from the way you look at him. Instead he grins a little and leans in closer.

“…Me too…”

As you shake your head and press on, Tomura nearly loses his mind. He never thought he’d be here- pretty girl on his lap, glossy lips on his neck, his dick just inches from sliding inside a pussy for the first time. He shudders as you press your tits against his chest, and he tightens his hold on your hips as you adjust yourself over him.

Once you slide just his tip inside, you both have to pause. Tomura groans and fully hugs around your waist, his fingertips leaving bruises in your skin as he tries so fucking hard not to cum. You have to stop because he’s fucking big- like, even just his tip is stretching you out like crazy.

Getting down the rest of the way is even harder…literally. Tomura is pulsing and throbbing and twitching so much he just bumps inside with little jerks. His arms hold you in place, and you just whimper and whine and cling to him as he tugs you down every thick inch. Once you’re fully seated, you both pause again to cope with him being inside you.

His tip is soooo fucking red inside you, leaking relentlessly and throbbing pitifully as he tries not to cum. And yet, he’s hitting your cervix, making it all sticky with his thick precum. The feeling has you going insane, your head spinning as you drop it to his shoulder, your hands grasping tightly at his sleeves as you whimper his name. Tomura can’t shut the fuck up now- not with your pussy squeezing him and your sweet voice in his ear. He’s all “Oh, f-fuck- ‘M a-all the way-.” “Shit- ‘s this w-what it feels l-like?” “O-oh my god- w-wait- not yet-.” “Ohhh, fuck-!”

And yeah…he totally cums early. Super early. Deep inside you. Without even getting to move. Tomura whimpers brokenly as it happens, his arms crushing you to his chest as he unconsciously bites at your shoulder. You shudder at the feeling, almost regretting letting him hit raw…but damn it feels good. His cum is so heavy and warm as it spurts inside you, although most of it trickles down and out around him.

Tomura, the poor guy, is mortified once he comes down. Not in the flustered, stuttering way. He’s annoyed- with you, with himself, with the situation in general. He’s all cursing and grumbling, his face all red and scowling, his eyes avoiding contact with yours, his hands groping roughly at your hips like stress balls, and he’s still just so fucking hard inside you. All like “Ah, sh-shit-.” “F-fuck- fuck you-.” “Your fault- god dammit-.” “Shut up- shut the fuck up-!”

You giggle because, really, it’s kinda…endearing. And you don’t pull away or get turned off, like he expected. Instead, you lean in close and coo in his ear, your hips rolling down and making his over-sensitive cock jump inside you. Tomura gasps and whines, digging his fingers into your waist as he tries to hold you still, eyes narrowed in what would be a glare if he wasn’t so desperate.

Jason's had you in a mean mating press for what feels like forever, the mattress digging into your back, your legs tossed over Jason's shoulders as he drills into you. Your fingernails claw at his back, leaving behind nasty scratch marks that are sure to be there in the morning.

"Oh, fuck, Jay," you whine, tossing your head back to dig into one of the only pillows remaining on the bed. Your tits bounce softly in his face, moving in tandem with his thrusts.

He groans, the sound throaty and hoarse as his hips plap against yours. His fingers tangle in the sheets beside your head, the strain on his arms making them flex beautifully.

Jason's big—this is a known fact. His cock stretches you so deliciously, filling you up so deep in this position. Jason loved to fuck like this—every time he had you, it was his go-to. Not only did he like to see your face as he elicited sweet mewls from your lips, but he also loved to see the head of his cock nudging against your stomach from the inside.

So, he glances down to your belly, seeing the unmistakable bulge of him rutting into you. He presses a hand down on the spot, making you garble a moan. "Ah– oh, god, Jay, that feels so– mmmph." Your eyes roll back in your head.

He chuckles softly, pausing his thrusts to grind his pelvis against yours. "Yeah, it feels nice, baby, hmm? You can't even get a sentence out," he coos, groaning softly as he feels every thrust against his hand.

You can't seem to shut up, moans tearing from your throat even as he's barely moving. But alas, he picks back up the punishing pace, pounding into you rough and deep.

A string of drool escapes your mouth as your head digs into the pillow. "C'mon, baby, give it to me," he urges, removing his hand from your belly and using it to push your legs further back. "Fuck– she's squeezing me so tight. She loves this, doesn't she, baby? Pretty pussy's gushing all over me."

"Oh, Jay," you whine. Soft trembles begin to wrack your legs, the pleasure overtaking your body. "Harder–"

He obliges and speeds up, his fat tip nudging your cervix with every thrust. "I know, baby, I know. Look at me," he orders.

You only whimper, mouth in an "O" shape, head thrown back. He growls softly, his hand gripping your cheeks until you finally meet his eyes. "Fuck, yes. That's it, baby. Such pretty eyes, even when I'm fucking you stupid."

"Ah–! Jay, m'gonna cum–" you moan, legs shaking persistently.

He groans, head falling to your neck. He sucks warm, wet kisses into the flesh, surely leaving a mark. "Good girl. C'mon, cum for me, baby. Soak me."

His hand snakes down to slot between your sweaty bodies, thumb quickly finding your clit and rubbing tight, firm circles on the sensitive nub.

"Oh, fuck, fuck– I'm cumming," you wail, making sure to look into his eyes—you know he loves that, he always says it feels more intimate.

At the same time as you, Jason also releases with a soft, teary-eyed moan, planting his hot, sticky load deep inside you. Almost immediately it begins to seep out around his cock, creating a sticky, stringy mess as he shallowly fucks his cum back into you.

Slowly, he pulls out, watching as his creamy seed trickles out of your sweet, puffy pussy. "So good for me, ma. Always so good. My pretty baby..." he whispers, sniffling. You wipe away a stray tear with your thumb, smiling up at him.

Yes, Jason, your big, tough Jason, cries during sex. Sometimes—like tonight—it's only a little. Other nights it's a full-on sob. He's your broken boy—your broken boy who so happens to fuck like a pornstar.

He smirks, eyes glued to your messy, pulsing cunt. "So...now you gonna let me lick it out of you?"