Latest Posts by iamyoojin - Page 6

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

 Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

:(

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. “I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

 “You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE PLEASE I WANT THIS TO BE REAL I WANNA BE THEM 😭😭

rkgk

: ̗̀STEP BY STEP (pt 4)

stepdad!gojo satoru x fem!reader

<<previous part

part 5: ?

summary: It was a hot summer, the hottest you ever experienced... From the 40 degree heat, to the new man your mom brought home; so suffocatingly hot that he took your breath away.

tw: daddy kink, age gap, affairs, dub-con, stepcest, harassment, rough sex, breeding kink, degradation, porn w/ plot, pervert!satoru, +

filling chapter, just the calm before the storm

Despite what happened yesterday, Satoru kept acting normally, as expected.

Your mom went to buy food for lunch, and you were walking around the living room waiting for her to come home so she could take you to your tennis class... But you have been waiting for half an hour and you were already ten ninutes late.

"Stop walking around like some lost dog." Satoru said, he was sitting on the sofa, looking at his phone while he spoke.

You ignored his words as you kept walking in circles.

"I'm getting late to my tennis class." He looked up with raided eyebrows and a little smirk.

"You play tennis?" He asked as if it was funny. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time on your phone for the hundredth time.

"Yes. And I'm getting late, mom was supposed to ride me." He saved his phone on his pocket as he got up.

He stood in front of you with his arms crossed.

"I could ride you." He said, still smiling.

You crossed your arms too, looking up at him, your eyebrows furrowing even deeply.

"Heh, don't look at me like that doll, you can just go walking then." You shook your face, sitting on the arm chair.

"It's too far to walk, and too late to call an uber." You muttered to yourself, sighing softly. "Do you even have a car?" You asked him mockingly, and he laughed out loudly.

"Follow me, brat." You did so, it's not like you had more options.

You were in the parking lot and... Damn.

It was... Wow... This man was rich.

The car in front of you was way cooler than your mom's car.

"Close your mouth, ya're drooling." He spoke mockingly, leaning on his car while looking down at you.

"I'm not, is just that is really cool." You admitted, running your hand along the length of the shiny black car.

Was it a 0km? It looked fresh from the factory.

"You like it that much?" He asked, glancing at you now, getting into the car.

You didn't seem to mind his teasing with how immersed you were on his car.

"Yeah..." The insides of the car were even better, you thought.

It smelled new with a masculine perfume.

"I'll let you ride it anytime you want." He started the car.

"Really?" He smiled and nodded... But it took him a few minutes to accommodate.

You looked at him from besides with a raised eyebrow.

"You're acting as it's your first time driving it." You chuckled and he shrugged.

"It is." Your hands went instantly to the door handle.

"What the hell?" He had a smug smile on his face, probably laughing internally by your sudden change of demeanor.

"Well yeah, usually I've some dude driving for me." Oh he was that kind of rinch. Awfully rich.

"I've a license though." He took his driver license, shoving it into your face. And you barely saw it, maybe it was his fucking ID, but you'll never know.

"At least this is an automatic." He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "... Do you even know the brand?" He leaned back, touching his dark glasses.

"Of course I know." He rolled his eyes. You stared at him, waiting for him to say it "...Mercedes Benz." He obviously tried to guess. You huffed.

"It's a Porsche." He let out a little 'pff'.

"It's all the same, why would I waste my time on looking at the brand?" He was so rich that it was irritating. You just shook your face, putting the seat belt on.

Besides your prejudice about Satoru's lack of experience while driving, it took you by surprise how well he actually did for someone who only drove on the driving test... If he ever went to one.

And yes, maybe he hit some corners, and more than two curbs and sidewalks... And yeah, sure, he also got cursed a lot for getting too close to the tail of the cars in front of him... But you arrived at your class in a perfect time, Satoru drove as if he was insane, like a damn ambulance with a women giving birth.

And the talk during the trip was surprisingly chill and entertaining.

He told you how he learned to drive when he was on highschool with his dad's car. Some old-ass vintage Rolls-Royce or Aston Martin, he didn't remember which one... And probably his dad had the two if he was as rich as him.

"I'm just saying it's better." You still got some minutes left before your class (surprisingly). You giggled at his words.

"No way! you're sick." The question was what he preferred: fucking his ex or his hypothetical twin... And he choosed his fucking twin.

"It'll be like a clone, right? it's called self-love." You let out a little 'eww'.

"Did you end up that bad with your ex to commit incest?" He snickered at your words.

"That bitch was fucking crazy... And we weren't even officially dating or anything, luckily." You shook your face with an amused smile on your face.

"So you don't like crazy girls?" He looked at you shortly as he smiled.

"Mm... It depends." You hummed at his words.

When it finally was time for your class, you really didn't feel like leaving. Satoru was more fun than you gave him credit for.

"Want me to pick ya up after class?" That made you smile and nod as you took your racket and sports bag.

"You're the best." You got out of his car and waved at him with a pretty smile.

"See you in two." You jogged to the front door.

Looking so cute, Satoru couldn't help but think about how messed up he was while looking at how your miniskirt moved as you did.

After classes, you waited outside of the building a few minutes for Satoru... Was he always that late.

It was hot and you were a little damp with sweat...

Finally, the man appeared, stopping in front of you, lowering the window to shoot you a wink as he looked at you from head to toe.

You got in with a no so friendly face.

"Someone is in a bad mood." He said, staring at your face.

"I had to wait for you fifteen minutes under the sun, I'm all wet and sticky." You stuck out your tongue in disgust, touching your own hot skin.

"Well, sorry for leaving you all wet 'n sticky." He teased, closing the windows and turning on the air.

"Better?" You nodded, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Still looking upset, huh." He said, his eyes were looking forward, but apparently he noticed your clenched eyebrows.

"I feel dirty." You crossed your arms, uncrossing them seconds later from the heat.

"And I'm so thirsty too, do something." You complained, and Satoru's grin was even wider than earlier.

"What ya're sounding so needy for?" You glared at him.

"Just joking pretty." You looked out through the window, trying to ignore the tension and how the weather was making you think what you shouldn't.

"Wanna go 'n have some drinks with daddy?" Ew.

"Don't ever say that again." He couldn't help but laugh when he saw your disgusted face.

"Want it or not?" That wouldn't be like a date... Would it? "It's all on daddy tonight." He teased again, but you ignored that.

"... Okay." He smiled lightly, changing the route... And maybe this wasn't the best idea.

i cannot do this today

Charlie gets her cute little nose from Lilith!

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 .ೃ࿐

★ amira speaks!: this was requested by my most beloved @juliavilu1, I hope you enjoy this dear and it was what you expected! I found it super fun to write. Thank you for the idea! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : being the daughter of Lord Bartimos Celtigar, a close ally to Rhaenyra Targaryen, you have grown up next to Lucerys Velaryon; your childhood best friend... And crush. By the time you receive the news of his betrothal to Lady Rhaena, you distance yourself for years, not even being able to attend her funeral after dying during childbirth. But when Lucerys finds you once again in King’s Landing, attending a feast his mother as Queen had invited you to, he decides that he won’t easily let go of you. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 21.3k (this is the longest I have ever written 😳)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : Friends to lovers, angst to smut ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Lord!Lucerys x Celtigar!Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; jealousy, slight angst, Rhaena dies during childbirth, slight mentions of blood, neck kissing, praising, reader’s first time, body worshipping, P in V, seated missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, and overall soft smut.

“Do you think we will be able to avoid war, Luke?” you inquired sheepishly, craning your head to stare at him.

The soft sound of the seawaves clashing against the beachshore was the only thing heard amidst the night as well as the faint noise of the cool windy breeze, bringing a soothing comfort. Both Lucerys and you laid on your backs against the sand, quietly admiring the bright stars in the darkness of the night as you spoke to one another. Arrax peacefully slept by your side; his pearly scales glistening under the moonlight.

It wasn’t unusual for you to surreptitiously sneak away from your chambers late at night with your childhood best friend Lucerys Velaryon whenever your family visited his own at Dragonstone, only for him to take you towards Arrax, fly on dragonback around the Dragonstone castle, and lay down on the beach before having to return to your private quarters. Ever since you grew up a bit, that was a common routine for the two of you to follow.

The war was imminent — inevitable. No one wished to provoke it, much less his mother Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but everyone knew it was there, and the time to prepare for war would eventually come. You dreaded the mere thought of it, but you always sought and found comfort by simply being by Lucerys’ side.

The realm was coldly divided, and his mother Rhaenyra would have to fight hard for what was her birthright. Such times were complicated to deal with, and you knew you would have to be greatly prepared for what was yet to come... But knowing you had a great loving friend to rely on, was all that soothed you.

Or at least, you wished to think of him merely as a great best friend. It was quite obvious what you genuinely felt for him, despite you wouldn’t even admit it for yourself — yet, you were endlessly teased by his and your own family. You — in a flustered manner — always disregarded such teasing remarks when they mentioned how head over heels you seemed for him, but deep down inside, you knew there was some truth to it.

At your question, his head tilted towards your side to stare at you. A soft huff escaped from him, feeling uncertain on what to answer. “Well,” he began, frowning slightly. “I’m not quite sure, my dear.” his nicknames to you had always been endearing, and they never failed to make you timidly grin. “We can only hope so. But I’m afraid, war is always inevitable.”

A frowny smile appeared on your lips. While you wished to believe war could be easily avoided, part of you knew Lucerys was right — war is always inevitable. You knew you had to prepare yourself for the worst, and in like every war, your Houses would have to get good allies. And with alliances, came betrothals — and knowing how most betrothals were — unwanted, unhappy, or both — you dreaded the mere thought of having your parents choose a Husband for you. If you could, you would choose to get betrothed to Lucerys; but you knew that situation was solely hopeless daydreaming.

The young Velaryon Prince knew about your discomfort regarding betrothals, and he always made sure to comfort and soothe your mind out of such thoughts. Though, Lucerys daydreamed as well about having the chance of choosing you as his wife some day. You were the only girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, and desired to have — and he knew he would be able to give you all the love and care you deserved to have in the world.

Unfortunately, as expected, Luke got betrothed to his cousin Rhaena. It wasn’t bad, since he got along her, but she clearly wasn’t you — the one Lucerys only longed to have.

A few moments of silence loomed over you, being only able to hear the way the tides clashed against the beach shore, occasionally hitting against some small shells or rocks. “I don’t want to get betrothed just now, Luke.” you muttered quietly, fixing your gaze on the sky, which despite being dark, the stars scattered across it and the moon brought some calming lights. Lucerys stared at you with his hazel green eyes in a dreamily manner as you spoke. “I wish I had the full liberty of choosing whomever I want to marry, instead of praying in hopes of receiving a sweet, kind husband.” you continued, “If we all had such liberty to choose the person we truly love, everything would be less complicated.”

And he couldn’t agree any more with what you said. But his betrothal was already settled, as much as it pained him. “I know. It would be less dreadful, and it would feel less… Forced.” a soft sigh escaped from his lips, frowning briefly. “And I wish I could break off my own betrothal, but I have no word against it.” there was certain reluctance coming from him in telling you, but sooner or later, you would have to know about it — and he would much rather tell you about his betrothal himself. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you didn’t waste a single second in turning your head around to stare at him, believing you misheard him. What did he mean with… ‘Break off his own betrothal’?

Propping your body with your elbows in the sand, your staring remained on him. “What? What do you mean?” doing the same thing as you did, he slightly laid on the sand, but used his elbows to prop himself. His rosy lips partly opened as he was about to begin explaining, but you kept talking. “Luke, are you…” the words trailed off for a moment, lingering on your lips before you could say them. It felt bitterly venomous to even acknowledge Lucerys had already been betrothed. It couldn’t be, you wished to deny it. “You are betrothed, already? To whom?”

As you awaited for his response, you could feel your heart loudly thumping against your chest, to the point it was as if it nearly escaped from your chest. Swiftly, his tongue passed over his lower lip, huffing faintly. You didn’t seem very pleased at the news, and neither was he; but it was eventually expected. “I have been betrothed to my cousin Rhaena.” he began. A soft scoff escaped helplessly from you, clenching your jaw discreetly. “I got betrothed to her the day we went to King’s Landing for the first time after years.”

A knot had been formed quite tightly on your throat as you attentively listened to his words. Your chest rose and fell continuously as you managed to hold yourself back from allowing the tears threatening to spill to expose how you felt — seemingly making your emotions worsen with the dreadful passing of the seconds. Your heart dropped abruptly, and it was a burning pain mixed with jealousy. You knew this day would come, and every passing day it was overwhelming to even be reminded of him getting betrothed, and you as well.

“I see.” you managed to mutter, swallowing all your own emotions that seemed to wash over you violently. You didn’t even know how to answer, you felt perplexed at the sudden situation. “Well, it was expected for both of us to eventually betrothe someone. At least, she will be lucky to have you as a husband.” gods, each word that came from your lips was one more painful than the other. Saying them felt like poison, completely bitter.

A frowny smile appeared on his lips, as he gently took your hand in his, squeezing it ligthly and caressing your skin with the tip of his thumb. In a sense, he tried to soothe you by giving you some physical affection like he always did, but it felt more painful than comforting. “I hope you find happiness and are very much loved with her, Lucerys. Because you deserve it, and you deserve to be appreciated every day of your life.”

It seemed as if you nearly spew out those words dreadfully, and you were; but as well, you genuinely wished for him to be filled with an immense amount of love... The same immense amount of love you could give him every single day, until your last breath. Love killed you, thorned you apart brutally — but there were duties to follow. And you couldn’t easily object against them.

Lucerys had known you ever since he had memory, and probably, he knew you better than you could possibly know yourself. The prince noticed the struggle in your features, and the faint voice tone that managed to not break in between words. You felt upset, and it blended along notorious sadness simultaneously. Softly, he exhaled, and leaned closer to you, close enough for you to feel his sweet boyish scent, while he continued to tenderly squeeze your hand in his own.

“I wish the same for you, (y/n). And even a thousand more things, more than you could imagine.” closing your eyes slowly, Lucerys pressed his lips against your skin, smooching your cheek. Gods, if only you could feel his lips against his own, and savour him. “I have never met someone like you. I hope you get betrothed to someone who knows how to cherish and pamper you properly.” he was wishing you nothing more but mere well-being in every sense, as were you with him — why did it have to profoundly hurt the way it did? A shaky sigh escaped from your lips, opening your eyes slowly as he pulled back from the smooch in your cheek.

The look you carried in your eyes made his heart sink. In a way, instead of noticing how you had to hold back the way you truly felt, he preferred for you to talk to him about it, but Lucerys knew that wouldn’t possibly happen. “Thank you, Luke.” was all you replied, a bit shortly. Softly, you stood from the ground, progressively letting go of his hand. And even so, his warmth ghastly lingered on your delicate skin.

His hand returned to lay on the ground, feeling the small grains of sand under his fingertips, watching you stand up with his green eyes. “I think it’s time for me to return back to my chambers, Luke. I do not wish to rest late, or get scolded by our parents.” giving you a single nod, he rapidly stood up along you, briefly shaking off some sand from his clothing. “I understand, and agree. Let’s go, before anyone finds we aren’t in our chambers.” a small, sheepish grin tugged lightly at the corner of his lips, notoriously trying to lift off the tension felt looming in the atmosphere.

You hesitantly returned the grin Lucerys offered for a few seconds, and followed him towards Arrax to fly back closer to the rocky castle — the pearly coloured dragon seemingly feeling the emotions of his rider, and awakening from its sleep. Swiftly, you climbed into the dragon’s back, right behind of Luke, and wrapped your arms tightly around his body as he commanded orders to his dragon in what you understood as High Valyrian. While you clung to his body, your cheek rested firmly against his back. And while you wished to enjoy the last dragon ride before having to return to your chambers and have a deep rest, your mind couldn’t help but keep wandering off to his future marriage to Lady Rhaena.

The warmth emanating from his body was bitterly endearing, having the need to keep clinging to him as if your life depended on it. But you knew, the more you grew up, that you would eventually have to learn to live with the friendship you maintained, and perhaps, keep certain distance to respect the each other’s betrotheds to yourselves. And despite acknowledging that, you weren’t willing to suffer from a heartbreak, or longing for his soothing touch.

Years had passed since you had been told of Lucerys’ betrothal by none other than himself, got married, and was officially named as the Lord of Driftmark.

Throughout all those passing years, you had kept in touch with him. Raven letters were often sent by him, and you replied back. But ever since Luke got betrothed and married his cousin, you had decided on keeping your distance with him as much as it hurt you; and even if you still wrote letters to one another, your feedback was short and slightly cold at times. Your visits to Dragonstone were delayed, and most of the times if your father had to have a meeting with the Black Council, you now rarely travelled along him.

Lucerys noticed your cold distance immediatly. From the moment he observed your reaction to the news of his betrothal to Rhaena, he knew you had done your very best to put on a straight face without your voice breaking, or tears spilling from your watery eyes. Your abscense was more hurtful than anything else. All he had to cling to, was the shared memories of your sweet laughter, whispered gossiping to one another, and how you never failed in comforting one another no matter the inconvenience.

Of course, he had the replies y he received from your letters; but they didn’t seem as light and sweet as they used to be, they seemed gloomier, and distantly cold. Lucerys adored you, even more than he could possibly adore his wife — as bad as it may sound — and himself, and if he had the possibility of changing his betrothal, Luke would have immediately broken it off just to marry you.

Recently, you had been informed by your father that Lucerys’ wife and Lady of Driftmark, Rhaena, along her newborn babe, had passed away during a difficult childbirth. Not only she had lost too much blood trying to give birth to the child, but as well the babe had taken too much time until it finally came out; and it was too late for both of them, immediatly passing away together.

Guilt burdened on you upon hearing the news. Especially, when you reminded yourself about the negative thoughts and bitterness you naturally had about her — yet, you couldn’t never have wished for such tragic event to happen. And the burden weighened even stronger when a traditional Velaryon funeral was held for her, and instead of assisting to it and visiting Lucerys to check on him, all you managed to do was solely write a letter to him offering your deepest, genuine condolences.

You had to admit to yourself, you felt wrongly awful for not having enough strenght of seeing him once again in person, but you were afraid of it being too awkward, or making him feel worse about the situation somehow. You didn’t want to further avoid him, however, you did, despite not wanting to admit it to yourself.

Until, destiny seemed to push you towards him, without you consciously realising. An invitation had arrived to you, from none other than Rhaenyra Targaryen, whom had managed to become the rightful Queen after winning the war against the Greens, and she was throwing a feast in King’s Landing. Much like you had done with Lucerys when his wife and babe died during childbirth, you had merely sent Rhaenyra a raven letter congratulating her for winning what was her birthright — for being the True Queen.

It had been years since you last saw her personally as well. Ever since you were a child, she had treated you as if you were her own sweet daughter, and she was like your best girl friend during your childhood, and teen years. After such victory and at the invitation to her feast, you never doubted in accepting in a heartbeat. And shortly after accepting to attend the feast, you prepared yourself to travel to King’s Landing.

A mix between eagerness and nervousness lingered on you during your travelling to King’s Landing. Of course, it was all because of the mere excitement you had after not seeing her and her family for many years, and you felt keen in properly congratulating her personally, and chatting together. Perhaps even to meet other allies of hers.

As soon as you arrived to the feast in King’s Landing, the atmosphere felt far more calming than you remembered. The environment was beautifully decorated, just properly for the feast. Soft, lovely music played in the background the moment you got into the feast, meeting other Lords and Ladies in there, and of course, you had the chance of seeing Rhaenyra once again after such a long time, greeting her cheerfully and even getting to chat a bit with her to catch up on how your lives had been.

As the time passed by, you decided to go chat with some other Lords and Ladies. And to have some fun with yourself, you kindly accepted the hand of a Lord that had offered himself to dance with you, amongst other people dancing. You had long forgotten about you own worries, giggles continuously spurred from your lips as you danced with another Lord, talking together about things that didn’t matter much. Gracefully, your dress spun along your gentle movements, and the jewellery you wore jiggled.

From afar, the young Lord of Driftmark, Lucerys, stared at you with both his arms behind his back. His green eyes carefully observed your every delicate movement, helplessly feeling a tinge of jealousy overwhelm him slowly and dreadfully at the sight of you laughing along the other Lord. Gods, you seemed even more precious than he remembered. More mature, and with such beauteous features that made his eyes remain fixed on you. It surely couldn’t be a coincidence, for you to be there, Lucerys had to approach you, and chat with you after many years of exchanging brief raven letters.

With gentle footsteps, Lucerys walked towards you. Your laughter was as endearingly sweet as the last time he had heard it during your shared youth, nearly intoxicating. Carrying a gentle grin, he cleared his throat as he stood next to you, and the other Lord. Both of you turned your heads around to stare at the person clearing his throat, and when you spotted Luke, your breath stopped for a moment. Your eyes went slightly wide, noticing with surprise how tall Lucerys had grown in comparison to when you were younger, nearly towering you, and how matured he looked. Your breath hitched as you fought back a timid grin, feeling your heartbeat thump rapidly against your chest. The way he stared at you with his green eyes… Seven Hells, you could melt right there in the spot.

“My Lord, my Lady Celtigar.” Lucerys greeted, and you gave him a single bow down with your head. As his gaze moved from staring at the Lord briefly, he then stared at you; his eyes lingering on your features for a few long seconds. “I hope you don’t mind, if I steal the Lady Celtigar’s hand from you?” a faint rosy hue crept on your cheeks, as the other Lord immediatly agreed with a smile, giving Luke a final bow with his head before bidding goodbye, and leaving the two of you alone — which, that’s just how Lucerys wanted to have you. All alone for himself.

As Lucerys offered his hand to you, you took it right there, walking with gentle footsteps as to dance together, just like you were doing with the previous Lord. “My Lord Velaryon,” you greeted playfully with a shy grin. “I’m pleased to see you once again.” the atmosphere was far from tense, as you would’ve imagined. You did feel slightly timid around him, but merely because he looked intimidatingly precious, and fully matured like a proper Lord — far from the shy, insecure young Prince he used to be.

Placing your other hand on his arm, you gently danced around together amidst other dancing Lords and Ladies, continuing to hear the gentle music in the background. “I could say the same, my Lady. You’ve grown to be even more beautiful than you already were.” immediatly, you scoffed at him, trying to dart your stare elsewhere as to hide the notorious blush growing across your cheeks. “Oh, shut up, Lucerys. If you think that about me, what is there left for me to say about you?” But Lucerys noticed your fluster right away, and along your teasing retort, it all served to fulfill his pride.

As he gentle held you, spinning around together softly while dancing, silence briefly loomed between the two of you. It wasn’t a bad silence, but the more the seconds kept passing, the more it left place for your own thoughts to occupy your mind. And the burdening guilt had returned to you. The guilt of knowing his wife and babe had died during childbirth, and not having been there for Luke when he surely needed it the most. Your tongue swiftly passed over your lower lip, faintly clearing your throat.

“I-I’m terribly sorry for what happened to Lady Rhaena and the babe, Luke.” you muttered shyly. The young Lord looked down at you, attentively listening. “I also apologise for not having been there for you. I should have.” gently, his thumb passed over the hand that held his own, smiling down at you. “Don’t apologise. You really don’t have to, I understand.” some relief washed over you at his words. “I did receive the letter you sent me, and that was enough for me. I don’t want you to apologise for anything.”

Helplessly, your grin widened at hearing how Lucerys softly comforted you. The warmth of his thumb running across the skin of your hand felt just like the last time he had touched you like that. It felt as if your skin screamed to be touched by him again. “Thank you, Luke. I really did miss you. I hope you know I never stopped thinking you, not even for a single day.”

His eyes twinkled gently. While it was fun to tease you on the inside because whatever thing he said it made you become immediatly flustered, it was now your turn to feel a sense of pride washing over you at the sight of his pale cheek turning a dark shade of red. Lucerys had greatly missed you, and your absence was notoriously felt by him. How could he not miss you, his dear friend... And the woman he so dearly adored more than anything?

“I have missed you terribly as well, vēzos qēlossās ñuho, more than you could possibly imagine.” my sun and stars, as he often fancied nicknaming you. Another trait you had missed from Lucerys, was all the nicknames he had only for you, and no one else. Luke knew just how much you loved High Valyrian, and how you appreciated hearing him talk in it, and he wasted no time in teaching you, and talking to you in Valyrian.

“I have needed you by my side more than anything else in my life. And now, the Seven have brought us back together.”

One thing the young Lord had for sure, is that now that you had returned right back into his arms after yeaes of not seeing each other, he wasn’t willing to let you escape so easily from him. You weren’t going anywhere.

Hours had passed since you arrived in King’s Landing and joined the feast. The nerves you had through your travelled had long washed away from you, now feeling a state of tiredness from all the dancing, laughing, and hyperactivity — and also, you still felt the keen emotion remaining on your veins of seeing Lucerys again, and having great fun with the boy you had always held deep into your heart, unlike no other.

An exhausted, yet gentle huff spurred from your lips as you reached the dimly lit chambers to spend the night in, and get some proper rest before parting back to where you belonged. The wooden door slightly creaked, shutting it closed behind of you the moment you entered. And as soon as you were in, your fingers immediatly moved in a lazily hurried manner to untie the laces from your dress.

You already had enough fun for the day, and you couldn’t await any longer to surrender yourself into a deep slumber. Beginning to open your dress slightly to free yourself from your clothing and change into a nightgown, your eyes were half lidded with tiredness. And before you could manage to fully undress, a hushed knock outside your door was heard. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you turned around.

“Come in.” you chirped gently, curious at who knocked on your door late in the evening. The door was swiftly opened, creaking once again, only to reveal Lucerys. It was hard for you to fight back a smile at the mere sight of him. As soon as his hand closed the door discreetly behind of him, you could feel his eyes curiously lingering on your body, admiring it as your dress was loose. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Trying hard to fight the blushing in your face, noticing the way he took in your figure for his own delight, you shook your head. “N-No, of course you aren’t. I was just preparing myself to sleep.” you explained, “I supposed you were already in bed?” in response, Lucerys simply shrugged. “Yes. But I couldn’t really sleep.” he replied shortly. His arms were both hidden behinds his back, gently approaching you with quiet footsteps.

Your eyebrows kept furrowed, awaiting for him to keep going. Some moments of awkward silence remained on the atmosphere, noticing how Lucerys seemed to struggle whatever he had to tell you. His hazel eyes remained on the ground, before raising his sight and staring at you. “I can’t sleep, knowing you’re finally here with me, after all these years.” he managed to whisper out. It seemed slightly shy, but at the same time, you knew his words were genuine.

“When I say I missed you, I truly mean it. I wish I could have seen you more often, like we used to do in our youth.” nibbling discreetly on your lower lip, you stood stiff in front of him, playing with the hem of your sleeves. “I never cared about whoever I married. That was supposed to be part of my duty as a future Lord—” abruptly, Luke paused for some seconds, before continuing. “—But the only person whom I genuinely adored ever since I have memory, and never stopped thinking about, was you.”

Lucerys stood right in front of you, shadowing you slightly with his height. Your sight was raised to stare at him in disbelief, feeling heat rise your cheeks. Nervously, Luke placed his hand on your cheek, beginning to caress your skin with the tip od his thumb. “You have no idea how I have longed for you; how not seeing you as often as we did when we were younger made me need you more than anything.” his thumb slowly moved towards your lower lip, brushing it. Your lips partly opened, losing yourself on the way he gazed down at you.

“I can’t hold back the fact that I love you. I’m in love with you, and I would anything to prove it to you, and have you by my side for the rest of my life.” for him, in a way, it was a relief to get those words off of his chest. Lucerys was undoubtedly devoted to you, and he never laid his eyes upon anyone else, but you. Unconsciously, you allowed the weight of your head to fall against the palm of his hand, melting at the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek sweetly.

Without answering, your eyes were fixed on his own for a few seconds, appreciating the silence that had formed between the two of you. Suddenly, you tiptoed, firmly gripping his clothing to quickly pull him closer to you as he leaned further, and your lips immediatly locked against his own for the first time ever. Kissing him was an urgent need that you desperately craved. After many years of daydreaming about savouring the taste of his lips, you finally had the opportunity to do so, and you took it.

His lips tasted like seasalt, and at the same time, they were endearingly sweet, as well as plump. Initially, your actions took Lucerys by surprise... But much like you, ever since he had fallen head over heels for you, not one day passed without him fantasising about holding you in his arms, tasting your lips, and being more intimate with you. You kissed with such vigor, and so fervently that neither of you were aware of what you were doing, or were even aware of your surroundings anymore, as Lucerys placed one of his hands behind your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss.

You were desperate to feel his body pressing against yours, to feel his warmth seeping into you. You wanted him, and you needed him. Your hands caressed his chest as they moved up and down, playing occasionally with the buttons of his clothing, trying desperately to gain some kind of feeling for his skin. Quietly you gasped as Lucerys abruptly pulled away from your lips, leaving you heavily panting, just like he panted. In disbelief, you stared at him notoriously desperate to keep kissing him, and he softly scoffed.

Sliding one of his hands on your waist, he moved to sit on the edge of your bed, falling down into the mattress with a huff. His hand then patted gently his lap. “Come. Sit on my lap.” he offered, smiling at you invitingly. Happily obliging, you did as he offered, immediatly approaching closer to him just to sit on his lap, weighing on him very softly, and wrapped your arms firmly around your neck. A smug grin appeared on his rosy lips as his hands were on your waist, caressing you with his fingers slowly.

You pressed yourself tightly against him, lowering down your face to press a smooch agaisnt his lips, to which Luke rapidly reciprocated. “You should sit on my lap more often.” he whispered, trailing kisses from your cheeks, lowering himself to your jawline, and approaching your neck. “It makes you look prettier, more than you already are.” his hot breath against your sensitive skin made you shiver softly, gasping as he spoke in a low tone, and kept pressing tender pecks on your neck.

One of his hands that rested on your waist moved slowly downwards, attempting to lift your dress to slip a hand under it, grasping your skin. Throwing your head back to give him further access to your flesh, you hummed quietly as your eyes were closed. His sight was raised to stare at you, as his other free hand played with the laces of your dress. “May I keep kissing and touching you?” you opened your eyes, looking down at him. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, scraping his nails across your skin teasingly as one of his hands was under your dress, touching your leg.

If it were for him, he could take you right there, and pamper and show you just how much he adored you more than anything else in the world. But his mother taught him how to be a proper, respectful gentleman — he preferred to have your full consent before allowing his impulses to act by themselves, especially when it came to treating you.

You returned the way Luke gazed at you, with warmth and love, shyly smiling down at him. Leaning closer to him, lowering your face, you placed a gentle kiss onto his cheek, resting your lips there for several seconds. Luke’s lips curled into an easy smile, feeling your lips against his cheek, and gently craned his head slightly to kiss your lips. “Yes, you may. And you don’t need to ask for my permission, Luke” you agreed, closing your eyes once again, allowing him to continue with exploring every inch of your skin with fervor.

Lucerys leaned forward to place feather light kisses along your collarbone and on your throat, his touch almost feverish as he took you in his arms. He continued to pepper kisses on your neck, moving to your breasts, and your chest began to ache from how hard your heart was beating. You growled silently as one of his hands began untying the laces of your dress, loosening your clothing from your body as his lips focused on placing tender, yet desperate kisses on your breasts.

Writhing slightly on top of him, quiet moans spurred from your lips needily. Your hips began grinding against him, sliding a hand behind the back of his head, interwining your fingers between strands of his brunette messy hair. The sound of your muffled moans were drowned out by the sound of your pounding heartbeat, the sensation so sweet that you couldn’t help but feel the need to do it again and again, until it became unbearable.

Unable to wait any longer, you bit your lip sharply to suppress another moan. Your body tensed as Luke lifted your dress by it’s hem, up to your stomach. “You’re so precious, I could take care of you—” he whispered, interrupting himself briefly, moving his hand to caress your stomach with his fingertips in a slow, dedicated manner, until they travelled downwards to play with the waistband of your underwear. “No, I will take care of you so perfectly — like you deserve to be taken care of.” beneath you, you could feel his growing erection poking against your clothed, moistened genitalia; achingly throbbing in need to feel him.

It felt as if you were dreaming. Such things could occur in your fanaties — and yet, you were. Overall, despite the notorious eager wave of emotions washing over you, you felt rather nervous. It was the first time in your life you would ever have such intimate moment, only having known about what other ladies experienced, but never having the opportunity of doing it yourself. What comforted you, was the thought of Lucerys being there to guide you through, and knowing just how gently delicate ans patient he always was around you.

You swallowed, as you were pressed firmly against his lap, grinding against each other unconciously; the room being filled with your heavy pants. One of his trembling hands moved in a hurried manner to unbuckle his belt, loosening his trousers and rapidly lowering his pants. Attentively staring at his actions, your breath sharpened. You placed your hand on his chest, catching his attention. “Luke, wait–” you whispered, nervously.

Lucerys’ eyebrows knitted in worry, being afraid he might have pressured you, or even made you feel uncomfortable, as he patiently awaited for you to continue. “P-Please go slowly, and gentle. I-It’s my first time.” you awkwardly admitted, keeping your gaze elsewhere timidly as a blush crept on your skin. A sigh of relief escaped from him, knowing you were merely wishing him to go slow and gentle.

He quietly chuckled, pressing his lips against the corner of your lips, and placing several kisses on that zone as his other hand cupped your cheek tenderly. “Of course, my love. I wasn’t planning on treating you otherwise, either way.” your eyes closed as a smile grew on your own lips, feeling loved and pampered by the young Velaryon Lord. “Please continue, Luke. I need you.” you whispered back, moving your head to meet your lips with his own.

A growl of approval came deep from his throat. The hand that cupped your cheek let go of it slowly, and moved downwards towards his underwear, tugging on the fabric. He removed them quickly, before leaning forward to place light pecks on your lips once more as your own shaking hands removed your panties, sliding them through your legs quickly and tossing them apart.

Once he did lower his underwear, he pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “If you wish me to stop, tell me. I could never try to hurt you in any way, my sweet.” Lucerys spoke softly, almost shyly; and who could blame him? You were as delicate as the petal of a flower. But you didn’t want him to stop, not now.

You gave him a small reassuring nod, encouraging Lucerys to continue. The young Lord smiled to himself, finally pulling out his erection, feeling it’s tip poke against your wet folds, rubbing himself teasingly; which made several groans escape from you. You straddled him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His panting became heavier, ocassionally hitching his breathing as your moist folds grinded against his tip, which leaked precum. Both his hands gripped firmly your waist, trailing kisses all across your neck in between gasps.

Slowly and carefully, moving his hips, and helping your body move down to him, his erected member slipped inside your tight entrance. Initially, the stinging, burning sensation of your inner walls being stretched made you groan; immediatly hiding your face in the crook of Lucerys’ neck, and digging your nails deep into his skin. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, staying still at the sight of your reaction, looking down at you with concern.

“A-Are you alright, love?” Lucerys knew ladies took their time until they adjusted themselves during intercourse. And for you, Luke was willing to be as patient and loving as he could possibly be. With a hitched breathing, clinging yourself to him as he peppered the top of your head with kisses, you nodded weakly. You awaited until you adjusted to his size, feeling your slick increase as it leisurely turned into a pleasant sensation.

“Y-You can continue, please.” you mumbled in a whisper, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. A smile grew on him as one of his hands caressed the back of your head, playing with the strands of your silky hair lovingly — as if Lucerys admired every bit that composed the entirety of yourself. And with a gentle movement, holding firmly your waist with one of his hands, he kept pushing further inside slowly. A high-pitched groan escaped from you, moving down on his cock.

Your soft moans and pants became louder, the more used you became to the feeling. Despite your sweet sounds encouraging him to go further, his movements remained gentle and slow, yet deep. “G-Gods,” he breathed out, as you moved your face, encountering his own, to press a quick sloppy kiss. “Y-You feel so tight, and you take me s-so well, issa jorraelagon—” continous growls escaped deeply from his throat as your pussy tightened around his erection with each penetration. “I-Is it okay if I move faster? I-I promise I will still be gentle,” he inquired in a low tone, moving his green eyes to stare at you, awaiting to know if you felt comfortable and ready enough. You nodded vehemently in approval, nibbling down your lower lip to hold back your pleasured grunts.

Desperately, beginning to progressively move faster — much to your delight, heard in your high-pitched whines —, his lips found their way to your sensitive neck, making you throw your head back to give him more carnal access. “S-Seven Hells, your skin f-feels like I’m kissing soft silk, you’re beautiful.” he praised, using softly his tongue to pass it across the soft spots in your neck, occasionally nibbling on them while he pressed you all the way down against his throbbing cock.

“A-And you taste so sweet. F-Fuck, I adore you.” a soft fleshy sound accompanied the simultaneous pants spurring from your mouths, which then became slightly loud moans despite the urge of holding them back. His hips moved upwards, making his thrusts against your wet cunt become more intense, hitting deeply against your sweet spot. With each pound against that one spot, his name escaped relentlessly from your mouth. “L-Lucerys,” you growled, as his lips continued focusing on your neck, throat, and moving to your collarbone; in each kiss, a cry of pleasure spurred helplessly from him.

“I-I love you. I love you more than y-you could possibly imagine... More than anyone else.” he murmured into your neck, sucking and nipping at the tender skin there with the gentlest touch he could muster. With each word that passed between his lips, a moan left you with each breath, his hips moving even harder as he let himself get lost in your intimate encounter.

This wasn’t like having intimacy with his previous, now deceased wife — that was done for mere duties and responsabilities; to bring heirs to Driftmark, the ones that would sit in the Driftwood throne. This, was an intimate act strictly out of love. It was a moment Luke always longed to have with you, the person whom he truly desired unconditionally, and the one whom he was willing to give his entire heart and soul, and all of the love that he had. “Skorkydoso kostagon ao sagon sīr vok, se gevie? A-Ay jorrāelan–” (how can you be so perfect, and beautiful? I love you.) You owned his heart, and you most certainly belonged with him.

As his pace quickened, you were able to grab onto his shoulders to support yourself without letting go of him, feeling his muscles tense underneath your fingertips as he continued to move into you. He was going fast enough for both of your bodies to come undone with a mix of ecstasy, but at the same time, pure love that was expressed in his gentle — yet intense — thrusts, kisses, and words of praising. Your slick was coated well enough all across his throbbing member, making it easier for him to slip in and out of you with fervid intensity.

A knot formed inside your stomachs the deeper and faster his thrusts were against your moistened cunt, hitting against your overstimulated folds. Your violently legs shook as they were firmly wrapped around his body, while he continued to hit your sweet spot that made you absolutely weak, clinging to him needily the closer you felt to coming. Both your arms were around his neck, slightly digging your nails deep into the skin of his back.

The panting that escaped from both of your lips intensified, becoming loud growls and moans as the knot inside your stomachs tightened, feeling as if it was about to loosen at any moment. His cock became harder inside of you, pulsating; as you couls feel your own slick coming down faster. Eagerly, while one of his hands remained gripping your hip to help you with your own movements, his other hand went to the back of your head, intertwining his fingers in between strands of your hair, pulling you closer to him.

“Avy jorrāelan,” (I love you) Lucerys whispered against your lips, grasping them against his own. “Nyke kostagon mērī jorrāelagon ao.” (I can only love you), he continued, as his lips needily locked with your own, tilting his head slightly as to deepen the kiss, feeling your intensifying hot pants continously hit against your skins. You could feel your orgasm approaching, your core tightening as your stomach twisted in an increasingly uncomfortable way.

A loud groan escaped deep from your throat against his lips as you felt your walls tighten around his pulsating cock, milking him, and your own cum violently coming down as a flush of wetness. His hands firmly gripped both your hips, pressing you all the way down his shaft. A loud groan pleasantly escaped from him, feeling his cum shot several spurs inside of you, provoking in you to feel warmth in your stomach.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, parting is lips aqay from you briefly, resting his forehead lazily against you. A grin curved on the corner of his lips, chuckling breathlessly to himself as both of you tried to calm down from your simultaneous orgasm and release. His fingertips caressed your hips with a shaky movement from the arousal, remaining buried deep inside of you.

Copying his previous actions, you released a panting giggle. “I-I quite liked that, Luke.” you whispered, rubbing the tip of your nose against his own lovingly. Humming contentedly, Lucerys returned the affection. “You have no idea how much I missed you, my Lord Velaryon. And how many times I imagined for this to happen.” a faint rosy pins hue formed on his cheeks, as his chest rose and fell slowly, trying to catch his breathing.

Without thinking it, both his hands cupped your cheeks, and his lips began exploring your face by littering you with delicate kisses — tresting you as if you were made of glass. “My sweet princess,” Lucerys whispered, not fighting back a smile. His index finger fell to your arm, moving it downward to explore your skin, feeling it delicately on his digit, until it reached your hand. “I could say the exact same to you, and many other things. You are so perfect, physically and personally, I would despise it if any other Lord had your attention.”

Immediatly your arms were wrapped against his neck again, giggling as you placed your lips on the tip of his nose. Gods, his heart was melting at how much pure love and desire he felt for you. It could combust from being overwhelmed at his own affection. His green eyes fluttered shut, allowing to be pampered in those little kisses coming from your pretty lips, leaving their warmth on his flesh.

Lucerys let his head tiredly rest on the crook of your neck, inhaling discreetly as to feel your endearing honey scent intoxicate him. How could he have not missed you? And now that you were there with him, having had sexual relationships and shared kisses and feelings, you weren’t going to so easily escape from him now. Merely remembering how you distanced yourself after his betrothal felt like a burning, stinging pain on his heart.

His arms were protectively wrapped around your waist, growling in delight quietly. Lazily, Luke placed a kiss on your shoulder blade, opening his eyes to look up at you staring at him adoringly.

“Nyke jāhor daor ivestragī ao jikagon, issa prūmia. Ao jāhor daor dakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa dombo.”

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Men who treat you like a goddess>>>>>>

"Goddess" - Aemond Targaryen x Wetnurse!Reader

a/n: a request from my darling jojo @misguidedasgardian - hope you enjoy this, my love!!! 🩷

Summary: When Aemond meets the new wetnurse to his nephew, Prince Maelor, he is immediately besotted.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, ye olde mommy kink, lactation kink, choking, dom!reader, tiddy succin, oral f receiving, p in v sex, breeding kink

Word Count: 3,000 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Aemond never expected himself to be so taken by a woman after only one meeting, let alone a lowborn wetnurse. But you looked at him, with that gentle smile and those soft eyes, something hidden behind them that he so desperately wanted to discover, and greeted him in that sweet voice of yours. He never had a chance against you. He gravitates toward you, finding himself in the royal nursery more often than not, engaging you in conversation as you care for little Maelor. And you never dismiss him. He just stands there in the corner, admiring you as you care for his nephew. He learns that you have a child of your own, a little boy named Robin who you love more than life itself. He knows you must be a wonderful mother and that boy is very lucky to have you. He learns that your husband abandoned you and your babe while you were still with child, leaving the two of you destitute.

It was a miracle that Helaena happened upon you shortly after you gave birth when she had gone into town to visit the apothecary. She immediately took you on as a wetnurse for her own babe, fixing you up with your own quarters in the servant’s wing, cradle included for your little one. Aemond adores how kind you are to Helaena, always treating her with respect and care, always being kind to her twins. You are the epitome of grace, he thinks, the Mother in human form. A goddess among women.

He finds you in the nursery this fine morning, holding little Maelor to your chest, rocking him back and forth as he wails. You coo to him in a gentle voice, trying to calm him.

“Shh, little prince. It’s alright.”

Aemond leans against the wall, staring at you intently, his eye trailing over the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips. He knows he should not desire you as he does. He will be sent off to marry some noblewoman of his grandfather’s choosing while you will remain in service to his sister. But gods, you are the only woman he has ever felt this way for. He watches as you place the babe in his cradle, pressing a soft kiss to his brow as he finally calms. And all he can imagine at that moment is your lips on his own as he makes you cry out his name in the bedchamber.

He stands up straight when you turn to him and smile, “Your Grace, what a pleasant surprise. Did you wish to hold your nephew?”

Aemond continues to stare at you, approaching slowly as he murmurs, “Perhaps I could hold you instead.”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “As always, you are very funny, my prince. I always enjoy our chats when you come to see the little one.”

He takes another step closer, running his fingers along your arm, fire in his eye as he replies, “You know, my lady, I find myself wanting more than a chat.”

As if on cue, Maelor once again begins to fuss and Aemond holds back his groan of disappointment as you chide him playfully, picking the babe up, “And you shall remain wanting, Your Grace. My loyalties are to this little one.” 

He moves to rest his hand on Maelor’s head, smiling slightly as he stands by your side. It’s strange, he thinks, when he stands like this, he can almost pretend that the two of you are looking upon your own little babe. And his thoughts once again return to how beautiful you would look, laying upon his bed, your face twisted in ecstasy as he fills you with seed, your belly swelling with his child.

“He’s been fussing,” you comment, rocking the baby, “It is as if he can tell that King Aegon is hurt. The poor little angel.”

Aemond extends his arms, wishing to lessen your burden if only for a moment, and you carefully shift his nephew to him, your eyes locked on each other’s. Aemond feels awful for thinking it, but he wishes the babe would stop its wailing so he could just have a conversation with you. And yet, the wailing increases when he is in Aemond’s arms. He sheepishly hands the child back to you, watching as you giggle.

“I am sorry, my prince. Sometimes, a woman’s touch is the only remedy, it would seem.”

“You are not wrong,” Aemond says quietly before smirking, taking another step closer to you, “I think that your touch could very easily cure all my ailments.”

You roll your eyes at him, smiling, “You, my prince, are incorrigible. Now, it is time for me to nurse your nephew, so I must ask you to give the two of us some privacy.”

His hand moves to rest on your waist, squeezing gently as he leans in to whisper in your ear, lips ghosting along your skin, “Surely you can find a way to nurse him with me here. I assure you, I won’t be a bother.”

You look up at him, biting back a smile, “Oh, alright. But if your lady mother hears of this, it’ll be my head on the executioner’s block.”

Aemond chuckles, the heat in him rising to unprecedented levels. He can tell that you want this, that you want him as badly as he wants you.

“Perhaps she never has to know?”

“Perhaps you ought to let me do what it is your sister pays me for,” you tease, picking Maelor up once again and moving to sit in the rocking chair beside his cradle.

He watches, his breath catching in his throat as you unlace the bodice of your dress, freeing one of your full, round breasts. Aemond feels his cock twitch against his breeches as he stares at you, watching as you dote on his nephew. The babe suckles at you as you continue murmuring to him gently, smiling down at the little prince. There is something about watching you in this state that drives him mad. The way your eyes shine with adoration as you look down at Maelor, the way your body moves as you care for him. The desire he feels for you is unlike any he has ever felt before. And he finds himself envious of Maelor’s position, wanting nothing more than to be the one in your arms, held by you as he takes his fill.

Maelor soon falls asleep and you lay him back in his cradle, kissing his forehead. You turn to face Aemond, slowly redoing the laces of your bodice, taking your time, allowing him to admire you as you do so. You’re teasing him, he realizes, putting on a show just for him. The thought excites him more than he cares to admit. You give him a half-hearted little apology, your fingers ghosting over your nipples as he watches lustfully, taking a small step toward you. You are beautiful. Stunning. Perfect. Everything he has ever wanted.

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” he says quietly, “The view from here is… Quite breathtaking.”

You give him that smile, demure and yet so very coy, “Thank you. The other nurse will be coming to relieve me soon. I bid you goodnight, Your Grace.”

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he gently grabs you by the hand, “I… I do not wish for you to go.”

“And yet I have my own babe to care for,” you say softly, “I apologize, my prince.”

“And who cares for you, sweet lady?” Aemond asks, moving his hand to your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “Your husband, the wretched fool, is not here to tend to your needs. No one should abandon their wife so easily, especially not a beautiful and kind woman like you.”

“So my abandonment would have been acceptable if I were ugly?”

Aemond rolls his eye at your teasing, entirely charmed by you, “Your heart is as beautiful as your face and your body. So no, it would not have been acceptable.”

“You are kind to say so, Your Grace.” Aemond watches as you begin to walk away, his gaze fixed on you and you alone.

The prince suddenly blurts out, “Do you long for me? As I long for you?”

You do not turn back, only replying quietly, “You’re a prince. I cannot long for you. Goodnight, Your Grace.”

Aemond tosses and turns in his bed that night, consumed by thoughts of you. And finally, he realizes he can no longer bear it, crossing the Keep, all the way to the servant’s wing, knocking on the door to your quarters. And when you open your door, you wear a thin nightshift, one that hides very little from his greedy gaze. And yet, you do not seem shy of the fact. You look up at him curiously.

“Is something the matter with Prince Maelor, Your Grace?”

Gods, he loves how much you care for his nephew. He shakes his head, his gaze traveling from the crown of your head to your bare feet, taking in every part of you. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, just content to stand there and admire you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“No, nothing is wrong. I… I simply wished to see you.”

You are silent for a moment before gesturing to the cradle beside your bed, “This is Robin. My little boy.”

Aemond walks over to stand beside you, gazing down at the innocent-looking little babe as he sleeps peacefully. He cannot help but smile seeing so much of you in this tiny little creature, a soft spot forming in his heart for the boy. He looks at you.

“Surely you have enough love in your heart to care for both of us?”

You laugh softly, the sound making him shiver with want, “You jest too much at my expense, Your Grace. It is quite cruel of you.”

He shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands, his tone serious as he leans in close, “I do not jest. I want you. I have since the moment I saw you. I have thought about you endlessly. My thoughts, my dreams, all consumed by you. And I know you want me too, my lady. Do not deny me. Do not deny the way I yearn for you.”

“You are a prince,” you try to reason, resting your hands over his, “And I am merely a servant. It is impossible.”

Aemond doesn’t care for your reasoning. The only thing on his mind is how much he needs you. His lips come crashing down against yours, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as his tongue explores your mouth, moving against your own. His free hand moves up to your breast, squeezing gently, loving the way you moan against him at his touch.

“We shouldn’t,” you say between kisses as the two of you move toward your bed, “I could lose everything-”

“I would never allow that,” he vows, lips moving to your neck as he rolls his hips against yours, his length hard against your thigh as he continues groping at your breast, “You will never want for anything. Everything you will ever want will be yours. I will treat you like the queen, the goddess that you are.”

“You cannot make me yours, I am not some highborn lady-”

Aemond cuts you off with a laugh, smiling down at you, his forehead resting against yours, “I do not care about that. I care about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your heart. You needn’t be anything other than what you are.”

You relax into his kiss, the two of you falling onto your bed, him on top of you, your lips never once parting. Your hands thread in his long silvery locks, tugging ever so slightly, enough to make him let out a low groan as he pulls you flush up against him.

“You seemed quite fascinated when I was nursing your nephew earlier,” you tease.

Aemond smirks, hands sliding up under the fabric of your shift, palming at your tits, rolling the soft flesh in his hands, “I will admit to it without shame.”

His lips are hot against yours, wanting, his breath heavy as the two of you continue kissing. Soon enough, he helps you out of your shift, admiring your bare body, your heaving chest, the stretch marks that run along your stomach, the patch of curls above where he wants to touch you the most, the soft flesh of your thighs… You are everything he imagined and more. And then? You ask him the question he has been dying to hear.

“Do you wish to nurse from me, sweet prince? I do not mind.”

He cannot help but moan, your touch on his face like fire to his skin. He closes his eye as you remove the eyepatch that covers his sapphire. He is still clothed, and yet he feels more vulnerable and naked than ever. But you just trace your fingers along his scar, pressing your lips to his brow as you whisper two words.

“Beautiful boy.”

Your words are music to his ears. He opens his eye and gazes up at you as you draw him to your chest. His breath hitches, lips ghosting across your skin before he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. Aemond’s lips wrap around your pert bud, suckling at you, his gaze locked on yours. The moment is so intimate it almost makes his heart ache, your milk spilling onto his tongue as you gaze at him fondly, your hand running through his hair.

You moan softly, the sound spurring Aemond on as you coo, “There you are, sweet boy, take your fill.”

It is as if he has died and ascended to the Seven Heavens themselves. Your taste, your gaze, your touch. He craves you like he needs air in his lungs. He moves to your other breast, loving the way you tremble against his lips, how sweet you taste, taking his fill of you as you asked. When he finally moves his lips away from you, you pull him toward you in a soft kiss, slow and sensual as his tongue moves against yours. You tug at his tunic, and Aemond does not hesitate to remove it, sliding his breeches off as well, leaving the two of you completely bare before each other.

“Can I taste you?”

You give him an amused smile, “Is that not what you just did?”

Aemond lets out an exasperated sigh, nudging your thighs apart as he stares at you pleadingly, “Please?”

You nod, your head falling back against your pillow as he begins lapping at your folds. Aemond grasps at your thighs, squeezing your soft flesh, moaning against your skin. He cannot get enough of you. Your taste is like ambrosia on his tongue, and all he wants is to keep his face buried between your thighs. He feels your body tremble as his nose brushes against your pearl, and so he repeats the action, grinning to himself at the wanton cry of his name you let out. Your hand threads in his hair as you grind your hips against his face, and Aemond is happy to give you exactly what it is you want. He continues fucking you with his tongue, moving to wrap his lips around your swollen bud, fingers teasing your folds over and over and over until you reach your peak.

He pulls back and gazes up at you, the evidence of your arousal on his lips as he presses them to your own. He is taken somewhat by surprise when you move to flip the two of you over, climbing atop him and straddling his waist. He grins up at you, letting out a groan of pleasure as you sink down on him, your cunt feeling so hot and wet and perfect around him. Aemond feels you squeeze around him slightly, the sensation almost being enough to make him spill himself right then and there, but he holds back.

“I want to make you mine,” he whispers as your hand wraps around his throat, moaning as you squeeze gently, continuing to roll your hips against his, “To raise Robin with you. To have a family with you. Do you feel the same as I do?”

“I do, my sweet prince,” you murmur softly, your breasts bouncing in time with your hips, his hands moving to cup them, squeezing them gently, “I do.”

“My goddess,” he rasps as you rest your forehead against his, sinking down onto his cock over and over, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the air along with his moans and your own. Your hand on his throat feels nothing short of divine, the pressure bringing him closer and closer to his peak, “Marry me. My queen. My goddess. Let me fill you with my seed. Let me watch you grow round with my child. Let me love you for the rest of my days.”

“Then spill yourself in me, my prince,” you whisper in his ear, “Lay the foundation for our future together. Let yourself go, my sweet boy.”

And he does. With a low moan, his hands moving to grip your hips, he spills himself inside you, feeling your body tighten around him and relax moments later, making him realize you have reached your peak.

You lay down in his arms, pressing your lips to his jaw, and Aemond knows that you are the woman he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. He watches as you get up to check on Robin, moving to stand behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles at the sleeping babe.

He will never allow anything to keep the two of you apart. Not his grandfather, not his mother.

Nothing will part him from his goddess.

Tutor Me

michael gavey x bimbo!reader

A/N: this was a request so i hope you enjoy! thank you to bel for putting michael creaming in his pants in my head.

TW: SMUT!! michael is mean and then he cums in his pants, this is the most filthy thing i've written perhaps

word count: 2,099 words

You knock three times on Michael Gavey’s door and flinch when he opens it just as you lay down the third knock.

Was he waiting at the door for you?

He’s almost annoyed by your presence before he takes in what you’re wearing, a tiny, lacy, pink, babydoll crop-top with a slit from your belly button to just below your breasts and the tiniest little white skirt that falls just below your bum. Oh, and don’t get him started on the godforsaken thigh-highs, the things are practically lethal.

“Um, Earth to Michael?” You wave a hand in front of his face to try and snap him back into reality. The poor man is starstruck at just the sight of you.

“S-Sorry yes… come in.” He stutters and steps back so you can walk in. 

You brush it off and strut into his room, sitting down on his bed. Oh god how he loves the sight of you on his bed with your skirt riding up ever so slightly and your plush thighs pressed together. You hold your textbook in your lap as he stares at you once again, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to get his cock to stop rising.

“Are we going to get started?” You ask, trying to snap him out of it once again.

“Started with what?” He blurts out.

“Trig?”

“Oh yes, of course - sorry.” He mumbles and wipes his hands on his palms before apprehensively sitting next to you.

You open up your book and show him the problems you were struggling with.

“These are the questions you’re struggling to comprehend?” He asks condescendingly. “There aren’t many thoughts in that pretty little head of yours, are there?” He seems to get back to his old self with ease.

“Don’t be cruel.” You say with a huff. “Not everyone is as smart as you.”

“Clearly.”

“You won’t speak to me like this if you’re going to tutor me.” You say firmly.

“You can’t make demands when i’m doing you a favour.” He scoffs.

“You’re actually doing Ms. Jameson a favour and i’m sure she would be very disappointed if you couldn’t follow through.”

Michael grumbles something about how he wouldn’t be the one who wasn’t following through but sighs anyhow and begins to look at your attempts that you’ve written under each question. You cross your arms a bit smugly.

“Nothing else to say?” You taunt him.

“I’m trying to be nice…” He trails off when he glances up at you, noticing how your arms are crossed - noticing the way the action pushes up your tits.

You might be a little ditzy but you’re not that ditzy. “Are you really staring at my tits right now?”

“What? No - are you that full of yourself?” He sputters out, his cheeks turning red.

“You don’t spend much time around women, do you?” You giggle.

“Of course I do!” He protests and then grumbles out, “And i’m the rude one?”

“Michael, have you ever kissed a girl?” You ask a little gently.

“I’ve kissed loads!” He claims but his cheeks get redder.

“Oh well then. I was going to offer to teach you but there’s clearly no need.”

He’s silent for a moment, a long moment.

“Out.” He says finally.

“What?”

“Stop fucking with me like that and get out of my room.” He is clearly embarrassed, thinking you’re playing some cruel prank on him.

“I’m not messing with you.” You say but he’s already getting your things together.

“Like hell you’re not.” He shoves your things into your hands and stands to get the door. You put your stuff back down.

“I’m not leaving,”

“Yes you are. I won’t have you making a fool out of me and then giggling about it with your little friends.” He grabs your wrist to pull you to your feet.

“I don’t think you’re a fool. I like you.” You say earnestly.

“Bullshit.” He says but he isn’t dragging you to the door yet.

“I do, Michael. I think you’re cute.” He searches your eyes for dishonesty but the blush on your cheeks makes him inclined to believe you.

“Y-You do?” His eyes soften.

“I do.”

“And you’re not taking the mickey out of me?” He asks one more time, just to be sure.

You shake your head. “I’m not.”

“You really want to kiss me?’

“Only if you tell me the truth about how many girls you’ve kissed… and if you close that door.” You say sweetly.

Michael practically slams the door with haste and proceeds to lock it. “I haven’t kissed any girls.” He admits.

That was easy.

“Can we kiss now?” He asks eagerly and you giggle.

“Sit down on the bed.”

He does so right away, wiping his palms on the covers. You walk over to him slowly, so you can tease him even more. He gulps as you perch yourself right on his lap, straddling both his legs and oh boy do you feel how hard he is immediately. He’s bigger than you expected and you can tell even through his trousers.

“Are you ready?” You ask as you rub your hands up and down his chest and he nods swiftly in response. “Okay…” You whisper out before leaning in slowly to brush your lips gently against his. It’s definitely more than a peck but doesn’t leave him anywhere near satisfied. “How was that?”

“Good but I think we should do it again to be sure.” He says, clearly flustered.

“I think so too, but this time, you’ll open your mouth a bit.”

“O-Okay.” He breathes out and you press your lips against his once again, kissing him with more pressure this time. He opens his mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips to touch his tongue for a moment before pulling it back. He whimpers into your mouth and the two of you begin to properly makeout at this point as Michael grows his confidence. He is an… aggressive kisser so to say but it’s clearly because of how excited he is. You’ve never seen someone act so excited to just kiss you before. You lift his hands as you kiss him and place them on your waist. He immediately begins to squeeze at the soft flesh and he groans at the feeling. He then begins to subconsciously rock you back and forth over his crotch so he can gain some friction. The poor boy is so close to creaming in his pants that he actually whines when you pull away. His lips try to chase yours as you do but you push at his chest to stop him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks nervously as his hands continue to knead at your skin, never straying from your waist.

“No.” You say, finding his concern sweet. 

“Then why’d you stop?” He asks and you find it cute at how such an egotistic man is reduced to using puppy-dog eyes.

“Well, you’re always staring at my tits. I thought you’d like to see them for real.” His eyes light up.

“That would um… be nice.” He tries to say casually and you giggle at his response.

You take off your babydoll top and you’ve never felt more flattered. He looks at you like a kid on christmas, as if your tits came gift-wrapped with a bow.

“Oh god.” He groans out, looking mesmerised. 

“You can touch them if you want.” You say and you could imagine that his face would be the same as a man who has just won the lottery.

He is almost apprehensive at first as if you’ll slap him and storm off the moment he touches them but he lifts his hands anyhow and places them gently on your chest.

“They’re so soft… and plush.” You can feel his hips moving from under you and when he gives your tits a good squeeze, he also moans, bucking his hips up hard.

Then you realize.

He just came in his pants.

When you glance down, he realizes that you know what just happened.

“Oh god, i’m so fucking sorry. Fuck.” He lifts you off his lap with surprising ease so he can cover his crotch with his hands. He stands up, with his back facing you so he doesn’t have to look at what he expects to be, a disappointed look on your face.

“Michael-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just look at me-”

“That’s so bloody humiliating.”

He is clearly in some sort of a state so you roll your eyes, but then an idea pops into your head. You pull your lacy, wet panties off and throw them right over his shoulder. They land right on the desk in front of him. Michael freezes. He knows right away what they are and reaches to pick them up, getting rock hard again when he feels how wet they are. Without a second thought, he brings them up to his nose and inhales. He’ll for sure have those wrapped around his cock when you’re not around. 

You’re laying back on his bed when he turns back around, your thigh-highs still on and your skirt hiked up around your waist. His eyes then fall to your glistening cunt.

“I still need to be fucked, Michael.”

He’s on you in a second, kissing you ravenously as he unbuckles his belt. When his cock is finally out, he pauses.

“I don’t have any condoms.” He’s embarrassed but he’s never had a need for them before.

“I’m on the pill. Do what feels good.” You say, wanting him as much as he wants you.

He does exactly as you advise and does as he pleases, slamming himself in, all the way to the hilt and relishing the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“Jesus - fuck.” You curse.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with concern as you hold his hips to keep him still.

“Usually when a man - how do I put this lightly… has a massive horse cock, they enter a bit slower.” 

“I’ll pull out then.” He says, trying to find a solution as he gets halfway out, dragging a whimper out of you.

“No, no!” You whine, your eyes rolling back in your head from this pleasure of having him inside you.

“No?” He grins a little.

“I just needed to adjust.”

“To my huge dick?”

Great, another thing for him to be cocky about.

“Fuck you.” You murmur.

“I think i’ll be doing the fucking.” He says playfully as he gives an experimental thrust back into you. When he sees your pleased expression, he begins to fuck you harder, loving the way his cock looks slipping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Mmm, Michael.” You moan when he hits your sweet-spot so he continues to bully the head of his cock against it.

“Getting all dumb again? Think if I asked you a trig question, you’d be able to answer?” He teases as he bruises your cervix.

You squeeze around him in retaliation. “Would you?”

His hips stutter a bit and he gets more sloppy. You remember now that he’s a virgin and you’re impressed that he didn’t just cum right away.

“F-Fuck.” 

He begins to truly realize what he’s actually doing. The hottest girl in school is almost fully naked on his bed with his cock balls deep inside of her. He’s going to take full advantage of the situation.

“You’re so pretty.” He says and looks down at your breasts. “Your tits are so pretty too.” He leans down to kiss them, sucking on your nipple. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this. Please let me do it again.”

He isn’t even finished and he’s already begging for more. His pace begins to slow as he keeps sucking on your tits and you know he’s close so you squeeze around him. This time, the action makes him orgasm and thick, hot spurts of cum spill inside you. He lays down on you, happily using your chest as a pillow.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says in a very tired voice. “Did you like it?” He asks.

“Very much.” You say truthfully as you run your fingers through his hair.

He then lifts his head to look at you. “Did you um… cum?”

“Well… no.” His face drops and he feels like he’s failed. He’s also nervous that you won’t like him anymore. “It’s okay though. I never taught you how.”

He thinks on that for a moment and then the sad look leaves his face.

“Let me eat your pussy then.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

▸ manager in public, creampies in private - gojo satoru (hockey player/fwb!)

synopsis: His jinx — fucking the manager behind his coach’s back before every game — has become a rather risky ritual that he’s secretly developed over the years. With you, a regular pattern of his life, Satoru proposes a deal before his final game — the last time he’ll confess, “you wanna fuck me or do wanna date me?”

contents: wc: 15.2k(i am so sorry y'all.... i have no words for this), unedited. fem/afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as "girlfriend," pet names: baby, pretty, (there are so many), satoru calls himself daddy as a joke, locker room sex, fwb!, explicit language, p -> v penetration, creampies, lots of fucking. suguru moved to another uni. cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, teasing, mating press, doggy, gojo can carry the reader because he’s strong like that. little bit of Satoru’s pov..

The stadium is cold the moment you walk in. It’s enough to make your cheeks mildly sting and send shivers down your back, leaving the tip of your nose to feel frozen. From the crisp smell of the rink that’s been brushed out just moments prior, to the vibrant conversations of adults and the cheers from children anticipating the next game, everything tugged for your attention. 

At the apex of winter sports, today will mark the champions for the national collegiate tournament for Division I Hockey. 

For the normal attendee or avid fan of the sport, being there should be exciting. 

But it couldn’t be far more inapplicable for you. A nervous pit coiled inside your gut — a dichotomous force of friction that made your heart thump in anticipation, but your stomach churn in anxiety. 

Your mind felt like a fuzz. Guess, it didn't help that your ears also felt plugged, with every sound muffling inside that annoyingly distorted your rational thought — or whatever was left of it. 

Stumbling onto the bleachers with your cheeks feeling hot despite the chill that surpassed your skin, your legs felt wobbly while walking over to your designated seat as the beloved team manager; like a broken record, your mind replayed a moment you had not less than an hour prior. 

“Control him from doing anything irrational off the courts. That’s your only job today.” the head coach warned before making his way out of the locker room, his thick calloused hand placed on your shoulder, his firm grip a forewarning to not disappoint him.

“Whatever he chooses to do on it, he can go crazy all he wants as long as he brings home the trophy. I don’t care,” Yaga Sensei muttered, lowly chuckling as he hitched up his glasses, “you’re good at your job, make the last one count,” he firmly stated before closing the door behind you.

Of course, that was your job and in no way were you going to fuck things up. Every game was the same: regulate your star player, do damage control for his unhinged actions, and babysit him – the prodigy for the University of Tokyo, from doing anything negative that the press could get their hands on. 

Or in simpler terms: control your fuck buddy and do whatever it takes for him to not be so unfiltered — keyword: whatever.

You recalled the week prior, cringing at the aftermath of his actions, with you sowing the repercussions of damaging your almost perfect reputable reputation — a total disaster of an interview, the distress to your migraines you had every game day thereafter from both him and Yaga-sensei.

Granted, conducting an interview post-game wasn’t fun for anyone especially when it was painfully knowing that the reporters were only interested in trying to leach out any information to make a viral post of the handsome center.

His articles sold, and any gossip obtained was always a hit. 

His last article went viral — a hot topic of gossip in all outlets of social media, trending not only in Japan but in other countries as the hot man that kicked a reporter, Gojo Satoru, University of Tokyo’s center, and the most infamous, Gojo’s girlfriend. It was of a photo of Satoru midshot, kicking a reporter with his long legs easily reaching to their face with a cheeky smile while his hands were haughtily in his pants with a blurred figure hiding behind his back, nimble fingers grabbing hold of Satoru’s clothes. 

Surely, pretty privilege very much exists when more than half of the comments of netizens were:

omg look at his legs! He’s so pretty! That reporter deserved it. 

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone. 

He makes me question my sexuality. What a beautiful man.

Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, but would kill you. 

Don’t worry y’all! That’s me behind him! I’m the girlfriend 😘

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

Is it weird to find this hot? I don't condone violence but if it’s Satoru… 

“So Gojo-san, what do you foresee as your next plan to defeat your rival player next week? Can we expect some friendly competition?” The reporter asked, intently waiting to type up any information Satoru had to give.

Sludging over the microphone, his voice vacant of any enthusiasm, but instead endowed in annoyance, “If he can keep up, then yea. It’s been over a year since we’ve been on the same court, I don’t keep up with his updates but I’m sure he’s been training on his own. He’s good at what he does.” Satoru tiredly sighed, brushing his bangs over his forehead, while lightly clutching onto the mic stand with his other hand, “Next question.”

And of course, the rather infamous question he gets asked every interview. 

“Are you currently dating anyone? I’m sure you have loads of people wanting to date you.” Upon hearing the rather obnoxious giggle of the reporter, Satoru’s jaws clenched with irritation. “Any special plans for the New Year with a certain special someone, specifically maybe the one you were pictured with?” 

Getting questions about his private life wasn’t out of the norm and was a regular occurrence. Usually, he’ll flirt with the idea and throw a little bait to the reporters, but particularly on this day, it rubbed Satoru the wrong way.

“What a stupid question, don’t you get tired of asking who I’m fucking?” Satoru numbly responded with life drained from his eyes despite the rather harsh clench of his jaws, “Well, if you’re so dying to know, I’m currently getting rejected on the daily by a rather oblivious person.”

“Any hints as to who —”

“Why?" he scoffed with a brow raised, unfazed, "so you can go harass her for information? Next question.”

“Hello, Gojo-San could you explain about the rumors that are going around about your fallout with Kyoto’s new center?” Another reporter quickly rode off the previous questions. 

“What rumors?” Satoru furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue against his teeth, briefly glancing at you off to the side. A fair warning that he was getting uncomfortable. 

Talking about his ex-best friend was still a sore spot for Satoru, a breakup without proper closure. 

It happened without a notice, a fallout that occurred in the middle of the season during Satoru’s sophomore year, and for a year he’s been silent until he’s made his return with the rival school.

Closing his eyes to calm himself down, fisting his hand as he clenched his teeth, Satoru annoyingly answered back, “We just aren’t on the same team anymore, nothing crazy about that. It’s normal in sports.”

“Well, people are wondering if it’s true that he betrayed you to give the game plays away to his current team.” The man responded, his ignorance seemed bliss, but the malice undertone with the slight tilt of his upper lip told otherwise.

“Betrayed?” Satoru scoffed, the air in the conference room immediately felt cold, irked from the reporter’s nonchalance in picking at his ego, “the only thing getting betrayed is you when your wife sucks my co —”

On instinct, you rushed over to cover his mouth — fucking idiot — and quickly stated through the mic with a routined rueful expression you’ve made one too many times — on behalf of this dumbass.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll conclude this interview from here on! I thank you all for coming.” 

While leaving, you quickly glanced at Yaga-sensei’s disappointed expression, his jaws clenched as he watched you both hurriedly make your way to the locker room with Satoru trailing behind with your grip over his wrist. 

You were one hundred percent going to get an earful from Sensei.

Gojo dumb fucking Satoru always making your life a complete hell; you were determined to chew his ear off.

“Just wait till we get into the lockers, Satoru” you stated through gritted teeth, your grip on his wrists getting firmer with each step.

“Yea? Ooo I like it when you’re rough with me,” he grinned, the utter audacity of him to take you as a joke, “what are you gonna do to me in the locker rooms?” he gasped, his voice innocent — it’s laughable, really — despite his breath close to your ears with his firm chest right behind you, taunting you to continue with your harmless threats.

It’s cute and makes his cock twitch and quickly pool with blood whenever you’re being dominant — at least when you try to. 

Opening the door, you snapped at him while taking a step in, “You’re fucking annoying —”

But things always seemed to take a turn to his advantage — always. 

The milliseconds leading to the locker rooms were silent — silence breaking the moment you stepped foot into it with Satoru’s lips rammed to yours, his hands hungry for greater access to your body. 

You’re completely caught off guard when his lips come crashing onto yours. The slight grunt of his voice mixed with a hint of a whine when he pushed you against the lockers, your hands naturally landing on his firm chest, easily melting into his grip — a sinful vice he’d been swaying over your head like a pendulum for the past years every time you both snuck around to fuck.

“I fucking tried,” he groaned into the kiss while he rapidly unclothed you. The annoyance that he’d felt a couple of minutes prior all dissipated out and funneled to you. It was apparent in the sheer urgency of his hands ripping off your clothes that his patience was running thin. 

“Ngh, S-Satoru!” your chest felt heavy, your mind feeling fuzzy when you met his carnal gaze, “we need to talk —” you’re cut short when his lips latch onto your neck, his hot breath lacing up your skin as he pulled your arms upward and caged your wrists with one hand, while the other traveled down your stomach, straight to your heated core. 

“Talk about what? How we fuck?” he moaned at the pleasurable feeling of your pussy being wrapped with his favorite cotton panties — the one he jokingly gifted for being his fuck buddy for a year — where soon he’ll be able to play with your cum coated folds while he fucked you against the mirror walls. 

“Oh god,” you huffed in the split moment he pulled away to catch his breath when his fingers started stroking up and down your folds, the tips of his middle and ring finger playing with your tight entrance, “Toru, w-we gotta talk, Yaga-sensei —”

Scoffing out a chuckle, he let go of your lips, his teeth pulling against your lower flesh with his voice deep. He peered down at you with his orbs strictly dilated and dark, “Aren’t you cheeky? Trying to get Sensei involved.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the throbbing pain of your skin feeling sensitive when his calloused finger presses against it, “but you need me to explain to him how we always fuck behind his back?” 

His hand traveled down your throat, his long fingers organically wrapping around your neck, a pleasing accessory around your neck, “I’d like that, too, it’s thrilling isn't it?” he taunted, his breath brushing against your heated cheeks, “but I don't think Sensei will particularly like what I say.”

“Y-your teammates ahh! —” You barely could let out a whine when his lips came crashing again, gasping when you felt the suffocated tension of your bra unclasping, exposing your breasts to the damp, cold air, the buttons of your shirt falling to the floor, “t-they’ll hear!” you tried whispering.

“They aren’t coming,” He growled, “ I locked the door,” his tantalizing voice contrasted with the sharp pain of his teeth biting into your shoulder, a dainty string of spit hung from his lips as he continued to paint your skin with his marks, felt all together euphoric. 

“But they're more than welcome to listen, we'll give them the hottest free porn.”

You can feel his hardened bulge being pressed against your hips, it was torturous to not cup your hands over his hefty cock. And he knew. He could sense it, feel in the way you pulled back into the kiss, the wanton sounds of your needy breaths pleasantly luring him to want more of you.  

“I need you,” he groaned while releasing your wrists and leading them to his member, having your hands hold his throbbing flesh, now painfully pooled with blood, while he aggressively shoved down his athletic shorts, freeing his very erect cock to spring out.

It was a sight to see — his cock freely nodding with pre cum leaking out of the slit, his head flaring a bright red while his veins bulged down his length. You can feel your mouth salivating at the sight of tasting his pebbled release sitting so prettily on his head. 

It’s embarrassing how you were so weak to his touch, how desperately you wanted a taste of his release, to ultimately end up being completely stuffed with both his cock and his cum filling you up to the brim that it just had to leak out of your tight hole.

And it doesn’t help how your mind becomes a blank slate the moment his fingers stroke perfect circles around your hardened clit, the sounds of his reciprocated desires to devour you echoed so licentiously through your ears. 

And accustomed to, your insides perfectly carved with the shape of his length, your inner walls throbbed, clenched the moment his fingers — one, two, three — slowly stretched out your needy pussy. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his voice was teasing with a hint of impatience, “good girl," he praised when he feels you innately opening up for him. "show me how much you can suck me in, I wanna feel every inch of you,” Satoru coaxed, “trained this pussy so well, yea?”

Obediently nodding, your arms immediately latch around his neck, pulling him closer to your heated body. And with that, something short circuits in his brain the moment he sees you vulnerably so ready for him. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” Satoru purred, the playful glint of his tone was the opposite of the sheer force he had when he quickly propped up your legs under his arms, pushing you further into the locker room as he rammed his cock inside you, your back arching at the sudden penetration — a dichotomy of pleasure and pain as three fingers surely cannot suffice and prepare you for the length and girth of his cock no matter how many times he’s fucked you. 

“Hold tight,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips traveling down to your ears, tauntingly whispering, “I gotta swoon over my manager with a good fuck.”

Aggressively thrusting upward as the tip of his head searched for your sweet spot, your body folded from his strength. It doesn't take him long to find it — gummy and deep — especially when you're trembling and writhing in his grip. "because she just loves my cock, doesn't she?"

“T—toru,” you moaned out, the sweet mating call of his name ringing pleasurable to his ears.

“Who’s my good girl?” cooing as he placed a kiss on your nose, gently smiling despite his cock bullying past your wet, puffy folds, the sharp slapping of his skin meeting your thighs harshly echoing in the empty locker room.

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

 — “Me.”

Currently shaking off the memory you had a week prior, you had one job: stop that from happening.

Well, that being another disastrous interview session — sex just so happens to come with it… always.

It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his company. It was rather quite the opposite — you craved his touch and longingly wanted to be by his side despite your words stating otherwise.

In short, you’ve been in denial. A secret you’ve upheld since the realization that he’s crept into your heart and took much more space in it than you would like to admit.

Falling in love with the university’s hot shot wasn’t something you’ve planned to do within your academic agenda. Being prompt with your studies, attending clubs, and enjoying time with friends while studying, with the occasional partying, maybe getting a boyfriend here and there, while accruing a job and work experience was part of the plan. 

Not, him.

More specifically, loving Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, the pretty boy with an even devilishly handsome cock, that’s won your heart despite being your fuck buddy, was not part of the plan.

It should be a universal law: to never fall in love with your friend with benefit. And if there was a fine for being defiant of such a law, you would be the one prosecuted and trialed for such a wicked crime. 

And to no surprise, even today, you were no saint. 

Moments before —

“You know?” panting with his arms wrapped around your waists, thrusting upwards while he met your pace as you bounced on his cock.

With sweat dripping down his temple, he sucked onto your perked nipples, groaning when he feels you further tightening around his length — which was already snugly wrapped around him, “we should seriously date,” he frankly stated.

“Shut up,” you groaned, combing through his hair, adjusting your position to move your hips in rhythmic waves, the fire of your thighs making it difficult to withstand this position.

“Why not?” he groaned while pulling you down, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other motioned your continual movements, his firm touch gratifying and making you feel safe despite the vulnerability of fucking in a public space. 

“I—I don’t ahh ‘Toru that’s too deep! —” moaning from the hitch of his hips, forcing himself to go even deeper, the tip of his cock teasingly poking at your sweet spot as his girth stretched you out — each motion helping him to bottom out.

Your eyes are brimmed with tears as you hold his hair, pulling against his strands while the other digs into his shoulders, marking up his body — it was so easy for him to make a mess of you in such a short time, and he loved it; absolutely craved for it.

“You let guys that aren’t your boyfriend,” chuckling while he pushed your body down, feeling your juices run down his inner thighs, satisfied at how nicely his cock was soaking in your soft walls, “fuck” thrust “you” thrust “like” thrust “this?”

Despite the rather light tone of his voice, jealousy raged inside him. Because there should be no other answer than —

“No — “ your grasping at his back, using any part of his body to find leverage to mitigate the fullness you were feeling inside your tummy — the red scratches of his back and shoulders remnants of your relationship with him.

“Good,” he praised, gripping your ass with a sly smile teased at the corner of his lips, eventually blossoming into a brazen grin when he intentionally stopped his thrusts just to hear you whine out for him again, “and it should stay that way,” he confidently professed. 

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice. 

Commitment issues? Sure, guess you can say you had that.

Insecurities? Most definitely so when your so-called partner was The Gojo Satoru — the university's hottest athlete currently in the process of being scouted to play in the professional league. 

It felt all too surreal, everything inside of you was filled with him — literally and figuratively. From the way his lightly trimmed, now wet with your cum, hair tickled your clit to the way his cock filled every inch of you in one second only to be languid — slow and easy — pulled out and the next, rammed into you like a pistol releasing its bullet.

He usually took his time before games to fuck you, to enjoy and absorb your godly pussy power — he liked to always add while balls deep inside you with your thighs plastered to your chest, his weight pushing against your body, with the silliest smile despite the rather not so silly act he was doing with you.

A jinx, he liked to argue. A just happened chance of a one-night stand, now leading to years of fucking multiple times a week, under his solid impression that without you, there was no success. 

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

What can you say? Dick was good, but being in his arms felt even better.

It’s a sin. But at this point, did you have any leisure to contemplate if that’s even an option for you to not partake in anymore? 

For someone that sleeps with drool coming out of his mouth, to the obnoxious thirst pics he would send only to you with an even more atrocious emoji ‘😜’ with a little ‘heh’ at the end, he sure gave you butterflies in your stomach; his mere presence made you feel good.

Crying and fervently pleading, with broken moans while every crevice of his cock continually carved your insides with his template, “Right there! — fuck ‘Toru, I—Imma cum please!” and he’ll reply with the most greedy moan as he pumped his seeds into your tight hole.

Satoru liked taking his time, but he also lavished under the thrill of a quick fuck. Desperately clinging onto each other, fucked into an absolute mess while he quickly rearranged your guts — that was his favorite. 

“Can’t talk anymore?” he smiles. At the same time, he painfully fucks you at a slow pace, “Thought you were going to put me in my place?” cock twitching inside you when he notices how swollen your lips have become and the little squirm you release when you feel him growing within you, “it’s a shame, I like it when you curse at me,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you tiredly croaked, “you talk too much.”

“Tired?” he breathed out, looking up with his lips slightly bruised from the feverish kiss you had with him just moments before he chose to open his mouth — the type with tongue with spit drooling down the sides, unafraid to use to teeth to bite and tug.

“Mhm,” you quietly nodded, pulling yourself closer to his body.

“Thought you’d get used to me by now,” he peppered your shoulders with gentle kisses, “you know? by how much I’ve fucked you,” his touch now soft — almost fragile in the way he held you. 

“You wanna try getting impaled by this,” clenching on his shaft for emphasis while you relished in his comfort, “and then tell me if you can get used to it too?”

“Relax,” he coached, chuckling as the padding of his fingers gently massaged your hips and eased out at your muscles, “I hear ya, just lean on me a bit.” 

The warmth of his skin felt nice. The touch of his hand pressing against your body felt like electricity pulsing through your body while the circuits of your neurons flashingly fired to cause the heat of your core to spark in flames when he pressed tender kisses against your shoulders — one too gentle and comforting for a fuck buddy to be doing.

“You know,” he hummed, “dating me won’t be all too bad.”

“Sure,” you thoughtlessly answered back, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, taking a whiff of his natural scent.

“You like me,” he placed a kiss on your temple, “and I think we’re pretty compatible,” he continued to kiss areas of your face, spending time to adorn every inch, “Sex is good, and I’m hot, so I don’t see why you won’t date me?”

“Who said I liked you?” your useless pride spoke before you registered his confession.

“Rude, who’s the one that won’t let me go in the mornings?” scowling as he lightly flicked your head. “and you mumble when you sleep, you know?” he smirked, the tilt of his lips teasing, his crystal blue eyes half hidden from his lids as he briefly looked down at your swollen lips, “it’s cute, but I would rather have you confess to me when you’re not half asleep.”

“You freak,” pouting as you tried hiding your face, embarrassed that you unknowingly outed yourself yet still chose to proudly reject his confessions.

“How about this,” looking up with eyes sparkling with anticipation, “if I make the last point, then you go on one date with me.”

“Is there an option to decline?”

“No,” offended you would say such words, you could practically see every aspect of his demeanor — hair, face, eyes — all simultaneous sulk in unison.

“Then what if you don’t make the last shot?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he cheekily smiled, cupping your face to place a soft kiss on your nose before reaching your lips. You can feel his cock starting to harden and twitch, evident from the small hitches of his hips to burrow himself slowly into you.

Leading you into a kiss, pushing you upward to give a little space for him to squeeze his cock inside you, the patience within him to wait for you to slowly sink onto his length again dissipates the moment he hears you tease.

With your mouth gaping open, and eyes tightly shut while your nails dug into his chest, barely managing to garner the strength to go for another round, you always talked so big. “You’re prideful to think one date can win me over.” 

“I mean I already have,” shrugging as he leaned back on his elbows, scanning down to see where you’re both connected. it's arousing when he sees your pubic bone perfectly nestled on top of his, “You’re the one that’s sitting on my cock, no?”

“your mouth is the problem, Satoru,” rolling your eyes while you pushed him away, the heat of your cheeks burning up just as the core of your stomach flared up and coiled inside you. 

Pulling you back, tilting your chin to meet his wanting eyes, “Hey hey, look at me,” he softly breathed, “I’ll be good to you,” he whispers, “I don’t go fucking around other girls, it’s just been you. I promise.”

“ ‘Toru —” you feel him slightly adjust his hips and in tandem, his cock moves deeper inside.

“Shh… just trust me,” shoving the rest of his shaft fully inside you, clenching his jaws and immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist. From the sudden suffocating tightness surrounding his size combined with the pleasurable sensation of you writhing in his arms, he knew today was going to be a good game — his career best, at the least.

"I'll prove it to you. I'll win."

"what if —"

And through gritted teeth, while he steadies himself inside you, with each breath he emphasized, the gushing of your wet pussy coating his cock, and the desperate whimpers of your moans sounding so organic and delicate in his ears as he prepared you for another climax, 

“Shh... you should know that best, princess. I always finish the job.” 

— 

Squirming in your seat, heart racing as you watched Satoru belatedly enter the rink, shaking out his white hair before putting on his helmet — droplets of sweat peeking through from his prior rendezvous, the slight bliss on his cheeks blooming with the puff of smoke huffed from his mouth. 

Swiftly skating to his teammates to start on warmups, donning a blue and white jersey with white lettering with the number 6, there was a divide of a deep chant of his name coupled with the shrieking enthusiasm of his fangirls whenever he effortlessly made a practice shot. Whenever he slightly even glanced over to the audience, there was a roar of adoration.

“Keep it all in for me, yea?” the source of your migraine chuckled as he held your trembling body. His hands naturally moved to lightly massage your sore hips, the huffs of his solid chest inviting you to breathe and wind down.

In response you reached up to pinch his nipples, groaning from exhaustion, "pervert..."

“it’s my last game, so be nice to me.” 

Fucking you till the last minute he could spare, Satoru decided to be cheeky and shoot his cum so deeply inside you. Huffing curses close to your ears as his arms pulled you further down on his cock, nearly piercing you with his length, his member pulsing with every splurt of his seeds pushed into you.

In conclusion, you’re now sitting in your seat, not daring to move for fear that it will spill. He was usually good at cleaning you up, taking his sweet time to kiss your cheeks and brush his bruised lips against your skin as he steadied his breath. But maybe it was from the nervous thrill he had of meeting his once friend, or the pent-up frustration of this past season that’s gotten to him, but one thing for sure was that Satoru came a lot — your wet panties currently pooled and soaked in his cum being proof of it.  

“What took you so long, was looking all over for you?” Someone chirped behind you.

Flustered from hearing his voice, you quickly turned around, flinching when you felt a lump of fluid squeeze out of your pussy.

Cheekily smiling as he pulled up his skates while apologetically smiling, “I need my strings fixed… wondering if you had any extra?” 

“Haibara-chan…” you forced out a chuckle, trying to shake away the sudden surprise, lightly shaking your head while you took his skates, “I’m starting to wonder…” slowly untying his laces, the cold stadium making it a bit difficult for your fingers to grasp onto the material, “if you’re doing something fishy with these?” 

“... That's Gojo-san,” Haibara mumbled under his breath, sitting down on the bench, the clothes of his uniform oddly too big for his growing physique, “It just somehow ends up getting worn out all the time,” the younger man sulked, “I blame Yaga-Sensei for running us so hard during practice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed while searching through the team bag to find a new pair of white laces, “I’m teasing, Haibara-chan,” opening up the fresh pack to string his skates, “just promise me, you won’t be like him.”

“Him?” Haibara curiously asked, cocking his head to the side, his blunt bangs moving with the angle of his head.

Yes, Him — the one who’s currently in a headlock from Yaga-Sensei for completely blowing off the pre-game interviews.

“Ah, guess you’re referring to Gojo-san,” Haibara looked into the field, and took a glance at you, “but you like him, no?” 

“Huh?” you felt a sudden pang in your stomach when hearing those words.

“Sorry! I meant like friends!” He raised his hands to rectify the tension from your question, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “You’re close to him, right? We've noticed you both spend a lot of time together,” he hummed.

“Ah, yeah… I guess,” you softly answered, barely audible.

“He’s handsome and friendly, awfully a good athlete, and is smart too?” Haibara was practically bouncing on his seat while bragging about his beloved senpai, “There’s practically nothing the man can’t do!”

“Sure… but he’s the most insufferable human I’ve ever met in my life,” you grumbled, slouching in your seat to hide your face from possibly showing any emotion while talking about him. 

“Really? Wow, I’m jealous,” he whispered, yet his voice chirped in adoration, “maybe he just really likes you, you know… like how close friends do that to each other! ”

Close friends. 

Guess the dynamic of the relationship was of close friends but… not with a good conscience — close friends with benefits.

Despite the nature of your relationship with him, he wasn’t what you imagined. Indeed, you both didn’t start with the most cordial dynamic. You hated him and despised his guts when he “accidentally” stepped on your white shoes while he rushed out of the lockers. 

Normally you wouldn’t mind. Accidents happen and you weren’t particularly fussy about those things to care. But when the contender that stepped on your shoes had size twelve feet, a literal giant compared to yours, of course, you’ll get livid — especially when the dirt of his soles made your shoe look gray from one step alone; furthermore, when he didn’t dare to say a simple sorry. 

You recall grunting, mumbling curses at the stupidly tall asshole, with an even stupid smirk on his face while cleaning your shoes with a toothbrush during the middle of the night. You slept with the intent to kill him the next morning and make his life a living hell when you’re introduced as the team’s manager.

But guess what, Satoru would always have the upper hand. Before you can even introduce yourself, he’s stiffly walking towards you with a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head while pushing something in your direction.

“Here,” he stares off to the side as he hands you a shopping bag, “I wasn’t sure what size you wore if it doesn’t fit, you can exchange it.”

“What?” you eyed him, unsure why he was acting so weird.

“Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” Satoru lamely threw out a pun, hoping the tension would ease out with a small laugh, instead he was met with your unfazed expression.

“tough crowd,” he softly murmured, sighing before leaving the room, “well, the receipt's in the bag if you don’t like it.”

Suspiciously eyeing the bag, you took out the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of shoes that were similar to the ones you wore yesterday before he ruined them, with a little note inside and a rather cute drawing of himself.

‘Hope we can get along. Welcome to the team.’

You felt acid slowly creep its way up your throat, gurgling in your stomach, making it painfully difficult to succumb anymore to this conversation. A stamp of reality that Gojo Satoru may possibly, after this game, become nothing more than a fever dream. 

It’s silly, really. And it was even more ridiculous how you pulsed in your seat, longingly wanting that he would win — not for his own success, but for yours.

“Sometimes I wish he would be —” 

“Yu and Kento, get your asses over!” Despite being from across the rink, Yaga-sensei’s voice boomed as if he was right next to you, breathing down your ear. 

“I think Sensei is calling for you guys,” you interjected, kindly smiling with your eyes as you passed on his skates.

“Oh shit!” His eyes rounded, face paling and body antsy in his seat, “Ahh thank you for stringing these for me.” Bowing multiple times in gratitude as he reached over his skates, “Nanami! We gotta go!”

“Tell Sensei I’m not here.” You could hear his faint voice coming from the corner, his thick jacket covering his whole body with only his laced skates peeping from the bottom.

“I’ll give you five seconds, ” Yaga-Sensei threatened, “or you’re both running laps around the field till you drop tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara immediately stood up, quickly dragging his fellow blonded friend along with him — for someone less enthusiastic about his games and practices, Nanami was always fully dressed for the game. 

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

“GAHHH! Gojo-senpai is coming here! My phone! I need a picture!”

The shriek of his fans' screams painfully rang in your ears. 

The chant of his name gets louder, the shrill becoming overbearing when you notice him skating towards your side of the stadium.

“Don’t you dare come here,” you mouthed, your eyes shooting daggers at the smirk on his face.

You could tell — no, you could feel every inch of your body being observed by the audience, daggers being sent in your direction. 

Did he just fucking wink at me? 

It was infuriating just how normal he was on the court while you writhed in your seat, having a mental shock whenever you felt a hot gush of viscous fluid drip onto your panties. 

Satoru makes a crisp stop in front of you, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair. It was comical the way his fans fell to their knees, girls practically foaming at the mouth and guys mentally noting how to up their rizz game like the athlete.

Opening up the side door, he leans against the railing with his elbows resting on the surface, “you good?” he arrogantly asked. Though his words sounded caring, the slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes told otherwise.

“What do you think, Satoru?” You hissed through your teeth despite the friendly smile you gave him.

“Good girl,” he whispered out, just enough for you to hear, “ wouldn’t want you to waste any of it.”

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

The stereo briefly shrieks before announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman! Here come the visitors onto the rink! Give them your loudest cheers!”

Immediately you can see his jaw clenching, and the once vibrant color of his cerulean eyes becoming a shade darker as he turned around to face the opposing team. his gaze specifically lands on the team captain — Geto Suguru, Kyoto Spartan’s center. 

“Are you going to be okay?” softly placing your hand on his forearm, worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself and act on his emotions. 

“Yea,” he turned around half-heartedly chuckling as he looked down at your hand comforting him, only to look up with a smug look on his face, “you worried about your soon-to-be boyfriend?”

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you lightly gripped his arm, the look of your eyes solidified his one of many reasons why he fell for you in the first place. 

You were kind. well, kind enough to accept all his bullshit.

“I know, and I am, too.” He calmly reassured with his gloved hand placed over yours, “It’s gonna be a good game, and I gonna make you my girlfriend, so don't fall too hard, okay?” Satoru playfully winked, briefly squeezing your hand before leaving you to join his team,  “I’ll be fine, worry about me after the game because I’m going to need it.”

Today would mark the champions for the Mens Division I finals: the Tokyo Trailblazers vs. the Kyoto Spartans. 

The final terminus of once childhood best friends, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, now stood on opposite sides to be the final victor. Star players of both universities who played together till two years ago now stand as rivals at the collegiate championships. 

“Eyes on the puck at all times,” Yaga-Sensei forewarned, “You’ve practiced with Suguru, and knowing his playstyle should be second nature, by now.” taking a glance at Satoru in his zone, eyes fiercely determined yet his composure was calm, “he’s not in our team, so play aggressive. Don’t ever fall behind Satoru, keep up at his pace and pass when you see the moment.”

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

“Yu and Kento, remember to be careful, be vigilant and sharp, especially you, Nanami…” Yaga-Sensei cautioned, the lines of his furrowed brows behind his sunglasses deeply cut into his forehead, “No one else knows your position better than Suguru.”

Sophomore year, summer —

Jinx. noun. An evil spell; a person or thing supposed to bring bad luck.

It all started during your second year of university. 

Just like how everything just happens, so does your relationship with Gojo Satoru. It started naturally — or you would like to convince yourself. 

You were the team’s manager by title, and Satoru’s freelancing PR manager in private. 

“Why the fuck do you always have to make my life miserable!” You hissed at Satoru uncaringly stuffing his clothes from his locker into his bag, “Sensei’s gonna kill me tomorrow,” you groaned, leaning against the lockers and sliding down to the cement floor.

“I think that’s a you problem,” he hummed, taking a glance down at you before he continued to pack his bags, “I told you, I wasn’t going to do that interview, especially after that shitty game.”

“You're doing this on purpose huh?” you numbly asked, the throbbing pain of your head making you feel dizzy, “you’re just a prick that can’t accept a loss.”

“Not exactly,” he nonchalantly responded while closing his locker, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “I just didn’t want to answer the same damn questions I get all the time, that’s all,” he stroked his hair back to expose his forehead before crouching down, leaning on his elbows, manspreading to your level while sitting on the bench, “it’s nothing personal, princess,” he winked. 

His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as if he was taunting for something more than just a petty banter — especially in the way he titled his face, making it so easy to just —

“I wanna strangle you sometimes, you know?” you huffed out, glaring at him gloating down at you with the most irritating grin to exist. 

Maybe it was the anger that blinded your senses but strangely he looked so fucking handsome, especially in his gray sweats that — you scanned him from top to bottom, and you can almost see the definition of his crotch through the lining. he was big.

You can almost bet the pink of his lips was so soft to touch, and plush to suck  — what the fuck were you thinking.

Smirking when he caught your gaze on his lips for a second too long, he drew even closer. reaching down to grab your wrists to grip around the collar of his shirt, licking his lips while he challenged, “It’s your lucky day, Princess. Try me.”

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy. 

you wanted to kiss him, badly. clenching onto his shirt with a million thoughts spiraling through your head, mentally cursing him with every possible word you knew. Everything soon became quiet the second your eyes zoomed in on him licking his lips — it was absolutely perfect — glossy with a perfect shade of pink that seduced you into agony.

So without thinking, your lips go crashing onto his. The harsh breathing through your nose sounds impatient and gruff. Kissing him, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, Satoru immediately reciprocated by pulling you up to his firm lap.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you,” he panted in between kisses while his hand sneakingly ventured under your clothes to unclasp your bra and while the other pushed its way into your pants, harshly groping onto your soft ass.

Despite the tease in his voice, the quick speed of his hands curiously touching every inch of your body, groping and clawing, showed otherwise but leisure. 

“you started it,” groaning as you threw your head back, allowing his lips to peck kisses on your skin and for his tongue to trace up to your chin.

“You’re so honest when you’re needy,” he chuckles, “practically fucking me with your eyes.” Satoru always had a way with his words. He always irritatingly managed to get under your skin, as if he had an encyclopedia written on how to annoy you, he was practically an expert at it by now.

Normally you would scoff at his ego, and throw in curses just for some flavor. But you fell silent, pussy suddenly clenching on the air when you took a peek at Satoru, easily pulling off his shirt with one hand. His warm body was draped in a perfect muscle tone while he molded your breasts to his palm, his mouth sucking on your nipple, tongue tenderly swirling around your areola. 

“ngh shut up!” you rasped, “you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hmm,” he sounded pretty humming in response. Using his lips as a decoy to distract where his fingers were trekking towards, he pulled your panties off to the side to slip his slender fingers to touch your pussy — throbbing, warm, and laughably wet.

“let’s see,” groaning when he feels the warmth of your core, and your viscous juice coat his fingers. He swears that’s enough for him to cum in his pants but with all the willpower he had, he didn't — he couldn't until he's at least fucked you a couple rounds and has gotten a taste of your pussy — he lowly chuckled, “where you’re weak, princess.”

you gasped out a quiet, “fuck mhm, right there ‘Toru — j-just like that — please,” while tugging onto his hair, the hiss through his teeth sounding so melodic to your ears. 

With your fingers harshly entangled in his hair, you tried to register how this all happened. Your clothes were one by one thrown onto the cold floor, with Satoru now shirtless as he littered your bosom with tender kisses, holding you behind your curved waist while you pressed your chest further into his mouth, to feel the gratification of his warm tongue sucking on your nipple.

As his fingers stroked up and down your folds, the lewd noises of your erection squelched loudly while his mildly calloused fingers rendered pleasurable friction to your clit — a new, profound sensation you’ve never felt before, especially not with your fingers or even your most reliable toys. 

And it felt good — so fucking good. 

“you’re so soft,” he pulled out a groan deep in his throat, “hold onto me,” he ordered, his tongue trailing up your chest while he switched positions to have you lie on the bench.

Quickly pulling out his hand from touching your cunt, to strip you from your pants and throw them off to the side, he smirks when he hears a subtle whine subconsciously release.

“No — ’Toru please —”

That's all he needs to hear. Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs and meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he can see it through your damp panties. He almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. call you out on your ego, but the ache that shoots down to his cock, painfully throbbing in his briefs, banging to be freed, reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself — probably worse and much more needy, desperately wanting, than you can imagine. 

“I got you,” he huffed, pressing a tender kiss on your knees before spreading out your legs to settle in between them, his eyes soaking up every inch of your pussy to have it practically memorized, “I just wanna see you a bit.”

Pulling up your panties and seeing your puffy folds perfectly enveloping the fabric made his cock twitch, forcing his hips to push his hardened bulge against your needy core while a tantalizing, static pulse ripped through his body.

The thick padding of his finger pushes against your flesh. And if there was a pageant for the prettiest cunt, Satoru was goddamn sure you would win. especially with how your pussy softly recoiled every time he poked your wet flesh, simultaneously eliciting an even prettier, desperate moan. 

“god you’re fucking wet,” Satoru purred as he played with just how thick your juices strung onto his fingers, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he delightfully praised under a solemn breath.

“Satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most. 

So what better way is there than to play his own game — to tease and have him be the one yearning, begging at his feet.

“Yea?” gaining a bit of your conscience to lean your weight on your elbows,  instead of needly lying on the bench, expecting Satoru to do something — anything, fast, “you’ve seen other pussies? Thought you were a virgin,” you teased while looking down at Satoru, pushing his bangs away from his eyes — his white hair a mess, cheeks heated and eyes dark and dilated. 

but, it’s his game. no one knows the rules better than he does. 

So instead of your expected reaction, Satoru chuckles, and takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, blowing air while he watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing. your hole pulsates in desire as arousal drips and leaves you into a burning mess.

It’s perfect—you’re perfect, everything about you is what he’s dreamed of — no, it’s better, far better than what he's fucked his fist to all this time.  

“Cute, you think so highly of me,” he snorted, unfazed by your mockery, eyes still focused on your pussy, “but you can see for yourself —” Satoru fastly pulled you down, causing you to yelp in shock at how strong he was. his face was now dangerously close to your leaking core, fingers delicately spreading out your folds, to uncurtain your pulsing hole and clit, contently smiling in adoration.

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

“do you even know where the cli— oh my god,” you sobbed, the heaves of your chest becoming greater the moment you feel Satoru suck on your hardened bud, the plush of your thighs pushing against his head, curving your back as you pulled onto his hair, breathless from how he, too, was desperately eating you out.

it’s jaw dropping hot when his veins bulge and Adam’s apple bob while he gulps down thick saliva mixed with your sweet cum down his dry throat, his palm presses down your stomach to keep you pinned from squirming away.

he hears you and feels that you want him to. so he works, he works till his forearms burn and his biceps beautifully flex every time he fucks his finger into you, completely stretching you out, expertly adding more of his fingers to see your tight rim around his fingers clench in needy desire.

It doesn’t take him long to make you cum. Perfectly in tandem with the pressure of his mouth sucking your clit, to the rhythm of his finger inching deep within to find your sweet spots, guess, it’s not a surprise it takes him less than two minutes to locate it and another minute for you to be gushing. Quivering in his reign, the pleasure overwhelming as you came in his mouth— it’s almost painful how euphoric it felt.

Sucking and lapping every last bit of you while steadily pulsing his fingers in and out as you slowly came down from your climax, it wouldn’t be Gojo Satoru if he didn’t get the last word.

Letting go of your abused pussy with a soft kiss to your clit, his lips down to his chin were drenched, glistening, and dripping with your cum.

“You were saying?” he grinned.

Two hours thereafter, that day, Gojo Satoru performed a career-high of scoring seven goals.

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

“Nanami,” throwing his arm around his Kohai, "I always knew you would be most fitting for this position,” a gentle voice welcomed himself.

“Geto-san,” Nanami's voice was emotionless, “you’re more than welcome to come and take it back,” the junior sarcastically jibed.

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

“Get away from him, Suguru,” Tokyo’s team captain cut the rival off, “the game’s about to start, Nanami.”

Suguru shrugs while Nanami swiftly strides to his position as right-wing, carefully watching the scene behind Gojo’s back.

“Satoru!” The raven-haired now standing in front of Tokyo’s center amicably called out, eyes forming a crescent behind the thick black and white helmet, “long time no see.”

Satoru was straight to the point, desperate, “why’d you leave…?”

“No hello? My… Satoru,” the other chuckled while he comfortably situated his stick, next to the puck while both teams waited for the starting bell to ring, “where have your manners gone.” 

“are those rumors true?” Satoru asked while lowering his stance, preparing himself to get the first puck to start the game.

“The rumors?” Suguru questioned, a slight twitch of his lips giving away his faux innocence, “Oh —” scoffing while reciprocating Satoru’s actions, “Ahh, the one about me being a traitor?”

“Suguru, I know you. Tell me the tru —”

A loud buzz echoes in the stadium, Satoru’s words falling blank under the blaring cheers of the fans.

“Taking the lead —” the announcer reported live through the blaring amplifier.

“Guess, we’ll both have to see how much you know me, Satoru,” Suguru swiftly stated in the milliseconds of passing Satoru, speedily making his way for the opponent’s goal.

“— ladies and gentleman, has the Tokyo Trailblazers finally found their match? The Kyoto Spartans will take the lead with player Geto Suguru setting the pace!”

The second period, five minutes till the buzzer for intermission —

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

Grunting as he pushed his way through the defense, despite the chaos of the stadium, he could hear the familiar crisp sound of skates closely behind him, “I heard you’re finally sleeping with her,” Suguru smirked, now skating parallel to Satoru.

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru grunted, making every effort to keep pushing for the offense, expertly navigating through the rink while juggling the puck past the opposing team, quickly passing the biscuit to Nanami, “it’s none of your damn business,” Satoru hissed out.

“You're scared that she might not like you? ” Suguru breathed behind his ear, “when that’s all you’ve been painfully doing till now?”

Wrong, Suguru couldn’t be more far from it. 

Because since the beginning, for him, noncontingent of your response to him, it’s always been you.

And outside being the gifted athlete who’s endowed with greatness, with you, Satoru had two personas.

the one that desperately fucked you.

Crashing into the lockers, the impact of your back being further pushed onto the cold medal sent shivers down your body with every desperate thrust of his cock into you. It was awfully dangerous to moan out of his name, let alone to even breathe when his teammates were just outside the door.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he grunts while slowly fucking his cock out of you, only to ram it back in with even greater force, while his hand simultaneously covers your mouth, “don’t want people to hear you getting fucked, do we?” 

Muffling your moans with his palm, his cock relentlessly pistols in without any leisure to be accommodating to your aching core. His breathing becomes more hitched as his thrusts become more languid to press deeper — his length reaching as far in as it can go — it would be an understatement if you weren’t scared that he could practically rip you in half in this position.

You grab him. and your nails dig deeply into his back, marking his skin with angry scratches of crimson red. maybe he was a masochist, but the pain of your nails coloring his back was nothing compared to the pleasurable satisfaction he got when your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Kicking out his teammates, only to fuck behind their backs as they cluelessly started on their warmups before a game was routine.

He’s memorized every inch of your body, studied where it makes you writhe, tremble, and immediately latch onto him for your dear life while he helps you reach your high. 

And right now, he knew. He can feel it in the way you’re clenching down on him that you were close. Not that he had any idle leisure of his own, but just enough to pump his cock feverishly into you, bullying past your abused hole as he lavished in the melodic symphony of his balls slapping against your cunt.

He has you folded against the wall, his arms holding you up and hitched under your thighs while he mercilessly fucked you. The burning in his muscles and the strain he felt in his body was nothing comparable to the heaven he was experiencing with your powerless stance under him while his hips snapped forward, his cock dominating your insides with his hand covered in your drool.

“—Toru please” you tried yelling, only for your voice to fall faint each time he rutted inside you, his cock completely disappearing in your body only to magically reappear to stretch you out again and burrow its length deeply within.

“angel,” he taunted, his breath fanning against your heated face, causing your eyes to swell up in tears when your eyes linked with his, briefly opening up his hand to allow you to breathe, “you gonna be quiet?”

You softly nodded, your insides clenching to stop the weird pressure that was building up inside, “it feels weird here, Toru — ahh it’s too much!” you whimpered, touching your tummy while your body ricocheted from his force.

“Yea? Then cum for me princess, I know you’re close,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making it even more difficult to breathe, “you’re such a good girl taking my cock so well,” he praised, groaning when he immediately felt you throbbing around him in response.

The moment you see stars and your mind fall blank is when thick ropes of cum shoot inside you. you can almost feel the individual splurge of his hot seeds coating your walls, with every desperate thrust he made to completely milk out his cock, his tip throbbing while he grunted with pleasure. 

“I fucking love —” he rasped out, face nuzzled into the cave of your neck. it was difficult to mesh out his last word from his harsh panting to catch his breath as he felt the lumps of his cum squeeze past his member, still inside you, splattering onto the floor with a warm trail of liquid gushing down his thighs.

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

The one that, still, fucked you — because he loved you, like a lover. 

With the days that surpassed as being his friend — with benefit — the more he’s taken a place in your life. It started with freely coming over after practice — fucking, despite not having a game the day after. Your bathrooms would naturally have another towel hung, and an extra toothbrush would stand next to each other.

Groceries were always Satoru’s duty, while you stocked up on the self-care necessities. Satoru particularly loved getting a facial with you with all the high-end masks and oils, cuddling under the blanket while you both watched cringy romcoms.

But it was undeniably his personal favorite when he could give you a facial with his cum splattered onto your face — it’s beautiful seeing you covered with his seeds. Or when his face is drenched in your sweet juice, despite his lungs desperate for air he immediately pushes you further down to sit on his face when he catches you trying to move away.

It’s become a ritual. you've become his religion.

He comes at exactly 8:47 P.M. And you wait for him.

The key to your door opens at the exact time. 

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

“Waited for me?” he softly cooed, placing his index finger under your chin, his lips onto yours while sucking gently before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you both, but quickly snapping when he brushes his thumb across your cheeks.

If the universe orbited around you, he was your centripetal force.

“So pretty,” he praised while looking into your eyes, breathless as if he could be absorbed into it.

“I have food —” 

"Later,” he abruptly cuts you off, pulling you close to his body, ”but, I think —” humming with his lips barely brushing against your cheeks, his hand squishing them together as he confesses.

“— I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” his voice was unusually sweet for saying something so crude, “that you won't even be able to see out of those pretty little things."

You softly gasped, flustered and unsure of how to respond to such a comment. Instead, you roll your eyes as your hands find the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

His hands roam around your body, particularly groping your ass before his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts — his favorite ones that always managed to get him bricked up.

"No panties, huh?" He states with amusement, "Aren’t you a bad kitty acting all coy,” he chuckles.

"Shut up," you retort, your cheeks feeling hot under the pressure.

“You don’t want it?” he rebuttals, taking a step back as if there was even a choice.

It’s infuriating how much power he had over you, enticing you in his grip as you mindlessly frolicked in his palm. And it doesn’t help that he looks… well… he looks gorgeous, dangerously handsome — especially with his hair mildly wet, and his warm body fragrant with cologne and body wash. 

“I said,” wrapping your arms around him, further pulling him by the neck — so close that you can feel the tent that’s bulging under his sweats and the desperation that overflows in his visage while he angles his lips to perfectly match yours, “fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs before kissing you — it’s feverish and wanton, the type that makes you weak in your knees and your core to burn up in flames. 

His steps immediately guide you to your bedroom, groaning and grunting while clothes are being stripped off one by one, leaving a trail of evidence with no intent of stopping the kiss. 

Your feet knock against the foot of the bed, his signal to push you onto the mattress, abruptly ending the kiss as he looks down at your flustered expression with a smirk on his lips. 

Relishing in your gaze, Satoru strips in front of you. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders with one hand, he flexes his stomach and takes his time to get naked.

He knows you'll look — you always do. Outside of being an athlete, what was the purpose of hitting the gym? To catch you lusting after him. He can practically see your mind racing with thoughts, and he couldn't wait to show that he's better than what your silly, pretty, little brain could ever imagine him doing to you.

Examining him from top to bottom, propped up on your elbows, you absorbed the sight of his smooth, toned chest as he stripped, the dentures of his muscles beautifully sculpted down from his chest to the crisp lining of hip dents that led to his crotch. 

Leaning over, his body caging you with his toned arms, he gently places a kiss on your forehead, “like what you see?” he chuckles, “I’m pretty sexy, right?”.

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

“what?!” he whines — you can see his hair practically deflate.

Brushing your fingers over his chest, running your hand down to his abs, it’s smooth and toned. “thought your nipples would be pink,” you snorted, pinching his nipples.

He flinches at the pain, "it’s a brownish pink, for your information," He states, pouting, “and you’ve only noticed it now after how many times you’ve seen me naked?”

"I’m joking, stupid," You laughed, the melodic tune of your joy ringing in his ears like a constant melody.

“but I’m pretty right?” he pouts, biting your shoulders and softly kissing his denture marks. 

“Yea sure whatever,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he now kisses up your neck, your heart just about to burst out of your chest.

"Let's get this off, hm?" Satoru kindly asks while tugging on the bra strap.

Obediently nodding, you raise your arms like a kid, and he pulls it off over your head. And unlike the trail of clothes you’ve both left behind, he manages your garment with care — especially after the last one he “accidentally” ripped.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers stroking every curve before he brings them up to cup your boobs, pushing up your breast to squish it softly.

“Feel good?” he asks, watching your expression slowly unfold in bliss.

And before you know it, he's dragged his hands down to your thigh, his fingertips softly grazing slowly to your panties, getting dangerously close to womanhood.

"Tell me how much you want me to touch you," He whispers, and in response you shove your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.

The light callous of his fingertips trail over your clothed clit, gently stroking the base with his fingers, feeling your panties slowly becoming more damp with each touch. 

Further opening up your legs, allowing him full access, he immediately takes the offer and ventures further along. situating himself in between your thighs to pull your panties off, kissing your hardened bud while peering up to see you touching your breasts, it’s a sweet sight to see for Satoru — breathless — while you longingly waited for him to just hurry the fuck up. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

"Right there-" you whisper, and he nods, dragging his fingers along, slowly moving them around to stimulate you as he sucked on your clit, taking his time to prep you

“You still didn’t —” The vibration of his voice further stimulates your needy pussy, gasping as you curve your back, desperately reaching for more of his perfect stimuli, “answer my question,” he states.

"Don't piss me off," you groan, pushing his face back into its rightful place.

"Goddamn," He mutters, the grip of his hand on your thighs becoming harsher, and the stuck of his mouth further fueled fire to your core. 

"I don't know how much longer I can wait when you treat me like that," he grunts while standing up again, simultaneously pushing down his pants and briefs, wasting no time as he wiggles out of his sweats.

You can see his dick is hard, twitching as it greets you. 

He exhales heavily, stroking his length as he situates his head to brush over your pussy. He’s seen it countless times, but will never get enough of measuring just how far he can settle inside you. The sweet plush of your tummy offers more cushion and excitement as he watches you hitch up your hips, impatiently waiting for him.

"aren't you excited?" Gojo says with a grin, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, guiding himself past your folds, purposefully missing your entrance to coat himself with your natural lubricant.

He doesn’t even wait for your answer, and wastes no time pushing himself in, pulling out a whimpered groan, allowing your walls to open up and welcome his entrance.

He picks up his pace, rhythmic and balanced while sliding his hands under your hips to lift you up slightly to make sure his entire length can fit inside. 

"You're so tight.” Satoru grunts with a furrow in his brows as he dug his nails into your ass. hissing through his teeth while he continued to fuck through your tight hole, “You don't make this easy for me, do you?" He mocks, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you forward, your naked breasts bouncing with every impact.

You close your eyes, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. The slight tickle of his trimmed pubic hair brush against your clit as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

"You're so —" You whined, concentrating on keeping your sanity every time his tip painfully brushed back your sweet spot, "ngh — lazy!"

"Lazy, huh?" he scoffed, licking his lips like a predator locked in on his prey.

“ahh!” you yelped. within seconds you immediately find yourself on your stomach with Satoru’s weight crushing you from above. flipping you over without notice, wrapping a hand under your jaw as he turned your face towards him to deeply kiss, his feet harshly spreading and locking your thighs apart while his cock rammed into you, his balls splattering your wetness with each thrust.

"Maybe I won’t be so lazy if you become my girlfriend,” He states with a smirk, “just give in angel, you like my cock.”

“fuck — ‘Toru! slow d-down” you managed to cry out his name, his cock mercilessly thrusting into you, “you have n-no,” by now you were a babbling mess at how good he was fucking you, drooling with your lungs burning inside your ribs, “game tomorrow.”

“boo you’re boring,” He provokes, pushing his hand under your stomach to pull you on all fours, “never answering my questions.“ 

It doesn't take long for Gojo to adjust himself behind you. especially since your dripping cunt made it so for him to slide through every time. but it takes moments for you to readjust to him — every new position meant greater access for his cock to rearrange your insides.

“but this pussy will always be my good luck charm.”

It's almost as if you can feel his smirk as he grabs your hips, and begins to roughly pound into you in doggy.

"Look who’s lazy, c'mon, keep hips up, angel," He effortlessly teases, spanking your ass and firmly gripping onto the pulsing flesh.

"S-shut up, asshole,” you hissed, putting your head down on your arms for more leverage — it’s shocking how you’re not flying onto your headboard from the force of him thrusting into you.

"That's rich considering your asshole is right in front of me.” he chuckles, spreading open your cheeks to see your other hole pulsing on top of the one he was currently fucking, the rim barely withholding his girth, “ wanna try anal? it’s pretty, by the way."

"D-do you ever shut up?" You complain, reaching over to grab your pillow to muffle your moans. but in that split second, Satoru catches your wrists and pulls you backward, your back heavily arching and breasts rapidly bouncing in all directions, mimicking the robust thrusts of his cock pistoling into you.

“how can I, when you look so pretty,” his thrusts become more aggressive, “getting” thrust, he watches you crumble, face contorting in pleasure, he can tell you’re close, “fucked? thrust “by” he quickly catches your hand trying to reach down to stimulate your clit, “my” deeply pushing in, further splitting you open in half, the tip of his member knocking against womb, “cock.”

“too much…ahhh—wait! ‘Toru!” The bed violently shook as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs trembled with warm liquid dripping down from your thighs, slowly pooling onto the sheets.

“just say it, princess, you love me,” he growls, thrusting more as he nibbles on your lobes, pleasurable tears sliding down your cheeks as you instead gasp out his name.

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

“I’m not here to talk, Suguru, get the fuck out of my way,” Satoru growled while pushing the other off.

“Don’t tell me, you still got no pussy to ask her out, Satoru,” the raven hair taunted.

“Nanami!” Satoru called out noticing his wing’s position wide open to shoot for a goal. It was apparent in the way Satoru briefly lost his balance, his composure starting to chip away from the strain of his muscles that he was getting exhausted — a feat Satoru would normally never struggle with until the last couple minutes of the game. 

But speedily passing by and braking with thick shaving of ice spraying from the sudden stop, intercepting the puck when Nanami passes — a gameplay Suguru’s practiced countless times with Satoru — the Kyoto’s center was now in possession of the puck, taking no moment to rest before charging the opposite direction.

In those split seconds, Suguru jeered, “wasn't this our favorite play?”

“Fuck!” Satoru muttered under his breath, quickly changing momentum to skate the opposite way.

And just before the buzzer goes off, Suguru easily angles his stick to chip the puck, the force of the impact causing the biscuit to shoot straight into the net.

Satoru huffs just meters away, dumbfounded at how much Suguru’s improved and curated his craft. A force he once relied upon and leaned on, trained tooth and nail while shedding blood, sweat, and tears together since fourteen now has become a thorn to his side that contrived to bring him down, Suguru bypasses his once best friend, standing in shock.

“are you still in denial, or have I answered your question about who’s the traitor, Satoru?”

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

It was the longest eighteen minutes of your life. no one dared to even speak. Through the chatter and vibrancy of the stadium, only the heavy huffs and gulping of electrolytes of the players were heard. Even Yaga-Sensei just sat there, brows furrowed with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

And Satoru, too, silently sat on the bench, leaning on his elbows parched to his thighs, manspreading with a towel thrown over his head. The heat of his body contrasted with the gelid stadium had faint white smoke radiating from his expended body.  

“Satoru,” you gently called out while handing out a fresh towel for him to use, “you’re going to catch a cold.” 

“Don’t need it,” he dully murmured without taking a second to raise his head to acknowledge you.

“I —,” Yaga Sensei grasped hold of your shoulder to stop you from saying anything regretful that would further disturb him. Biting your tongue, you sighed, “Sure.”

The cold response of someone who literally just rearranged your guts so wantonly before the game, sharing an intimacy with him throughout the years that bloomed into something more than what you’d like to acknowledge than simply being a friend with benefit caused both frustration and helplessness to boil within you for not being unable to help him.

Not like he needed your help, nor did he ever ask. But from time to time, you wished he would let down his burdens with you, and allow you to carry his weight for a while.

Only once has he ever shown you his emotional side. The infamous night when Satoru received the news of Suguru’s departure, you found him drunk in front of your apartment waiting for god knows how long.

all you could remember was that the night was awfully cold for someone to have a broken heart.

That night, despite no words being said, the comfort of your arms and the warmth of your skin helped him to sleep despite the storm that raged in his mind. 

It was understandable his mood. Normally he wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in a game, even if he had lost. During intermissions, he would either be chatting up a storm, blowing your ear off about all the plays he’s made and if you’ve finally fallen in love with him. Or, two, he’ll be listening to you nagging at him to not go throwing his opponents against the wall while wrestling for the puck.

Hockey was aggressive, but it was also an athlete’s duty to learn how to play smart and do their best to abstain from injuries that could potentially harm their career — especially, if the athlete in question is one preparing for his national debut to representing Japan in the Winter Olympics the following year.

Awkwardly, eyeing your expression, Haibara laughed while scratching the back of his head, cheerfully asking, “I would like a new one, mine’s a little damp.”

“Me too,” his blonded friend chimed in, his voice not as enthusiastic as Haibara’s.

Smiling in appreciation, you lent them a towel and extended the care to the other players as well.

“Why’d you give him the steal?” Sensei bluntly asked, looking at the rink while sternly watching Suguru make his way onto the field. His ex-disciple gave his old coach his respects with a little bow when he caught his gaze. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Satoru numbly stated, the clenching of his fists reflecting his true emotions.

“You know what to do,” Yaga-Sensei firmly stated, pushing his sunglasses up his thick nose, wasting no time before the buzzer rang again to redirect his player, “you know him better than anyone else, trust your instincts.”

Twelve minutes till game —

The crowd roars. Currently in the last period, with a couple more minutes on the clock to crown the final winner, both teams ferociously fought to control the game. 

The pluck clicks with each hit against the blade. Speedily sliding against the ice it was almost difficult to see it on the field. 

Currently, in possession, Nanami pushed forward, putting pressure on Kyoto’s defense as Haibara simultaneously rushed to the other side, leaving Satoru wide open for a pass. Nanami prepares to hit a pass over to his captain, hitching the puck in the air for a quicker velocity towards Satoru, who’s ready to receive —

The glass walls tremble on impact. Flinching at the loud noise, your eyes widen when you see it unfold in slow motion. Both bodies harshly collided against the wall with Satoru getting sandwiched between two forces. expelling out a groan as he slid down the wall, with puffs of white smoke spewing from his lips with each harsh huff of his chest. 

“Seems like a brawl has occurred between the two captains!” 

“And from the looks of it, Gojo Satoru is struggling to get back on his feet!”

“No,” you muttered under your breath, face paling and body going cold despite the adrenaline pumping through your blood, you pushed your way through the audience to get to where he was.

Your mind felt like a minefield. With bombs ticking, threatening to explode with each step you took. Nauseous from the anxiety, it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as if there was a ball stuck in your throat. And despite the efforts to try and stay calm, it was rather difficult when your thoughts replayed the countless other injuries Satoru sustained during your time as his manager.

“He’s going to have to take at least 8 to 10 weeks off for his fracture to heal.” The emergency physician stated, pointing at the small crack on his right clavicle.

“He probably won’t listen,” Sensei remarked, crossing his arms while letting out a deep sigh, “is there any way he can recover faster?” 

“It’s fine guys —” Satoru tried playing it off.

“Shut up,” you and Sensei simultaneously interjected, scolding him to be quiet as if he were a child.

Clearing his throat, “As I was saying, it must’ve been painful for him to have played in this state, I imagine this was an ongoing injury he’s sustained in the past,” the doctor murmured while further analyzing the film.

You immediately shot daggers at him, glaring when the doctor unintentionally outed Satoru’s injury he’s been keeping a secret. Flinching, Satoru slowly sank further into his bed, covering his face with his blanket. 

“Though, being diligent with his PT and fully resting his body for at least six weeks will be the fastest route for recovery.”

But, well… it doesn’t take more than five weeks for you to get a text from Suguru.

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad… 

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

Just bring some icepacks and some sweets and head over to Satoru’s place. 

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

And it doesn’t take you more than thirty minutes to be blowing up his doorbell, knocking on his door at exactly 12:34 A.M. with an ice cooler with icepacks and a bag full of his favorite candy. 

Thud! 

“Fuck… ow that hurt.” You heard a muffled voice through the door. 

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

Quickly opening the door, his elbow leaning against the door with an insouciant tone to his voice, he cracked a boyish smile, “Ah, isn’t this my favorite person. What brings you here?” 

“I told you not to —” Rage bubbled up inside you as you glared at him. 

“Okay!” Nervously holding up his hands, doing his best to calm you down, “before you get mad —”

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

“Okay! Fine! Before you get even madder,” taking the heavy loads off your shoulders, settling them onto the floor, his warm hands cup your face, “it’s really nothing big. Just feels a little strained that’s all,” he tried to reassure when he sees you about to object.

“Really, I’m fine,” his eyes urged you to trust him, “I just… missed being on the rink, that’s all.”

Your eyes soften when you see the little sulk on his lip, and notice how he’s lost a little weight in his cheeks. Quickly letting out a deep sigh through your nose, you mumbled out, “I’ll be the one to decide if you’re fine or not.”

---

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, firmly holding onto the hem of his white shirt while saddling on his thighs.

“Oh wow.” he placed his hands on his chest, acting innocent from your forwardness.

“Satoru, take your shirt off,” you grumbled, pulling at his shirt and rolling your eyes when it was easily removed, despite him acting naive, again his hands covered his bare chest — just managing to barely cover his sculpted pectorals.

“It’s really nothing,” he blushed, awkwardly looking off to the side with a guilty smile. 

“Satoru you just took off your sleeve,” you murmured, placing an ice pack on his collarbone, your voice filled with worry. 

“I’m really fine, baby,” he loosened up after seeing the cute pout on your lips, your brows faintly furrowed as your fingers ever so lightly iced his injury.

“I’m not your baby,” you stated with a glare, clearly not impressed with his defiance to go against his doctor’s orders, “I don’t date people that don’t listen to me,” you said without much thought while tending to his bruised clavicle.

“Oh —” his ears perked at hearing your words.

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

It was evident that he was trying to contain his smile from the way he bit his lips. “You so wanna date me don’t you?” 

---

It’s not a surprise how you ended up in this position.

It started off with a light kiss, lips softly meshing with each other with light teasing of tongue — he swore, it’ll be just one kiss.

Soon enough hands start to idly move on their own accord, groping areas, and massaging places that wouldn’t particularly follow with just one kiss, leaving you both simultaneously panting and yearning for more. 

And then you’re grinding on his throbbing cock, spit slightly leaking from the edge of your mouths while tongues feverishly fought for dominance, naked with your pussy pulsing and dripping in need to swaddle and engulf him whole. 

Progressing forward, you’re slowly sinking onto his length, bottoming out with your ass seated on his thighs, foreheads linked while you both took a minute to adjust to one another. like an unspoken language, you both solemnly breathed, that even if the world crashed around you both, nothing would matter because the other was there.

He’ll cum.

It’s beautiful how he does it. And in moments like these, you can’t deny that the man who’s chasing after his high under you was the man you loved. 

With his mouth gaping open, his white brows furrow as he gasps for air while his large hands grip your bum, spreading out your cheeks for easier access through your hole. He desperately thrusts into you, unrhythmic and hips helpless from the warm seduction your plush walls have over him. His seeds shoot straight to your womb, filling you entirely with pulps of his cum leaking through your cunt. And it takes him a couple seconds to breathe as he rides out his high. 

And then you’ll be sandwiched in between the sofa and his heavy body, his cock rummaging inside, amplifying the sound of his member shoved through your dripping cunt. It’s loud and sloppy the way he fucks into you. Wanton and bashful in the way his muscles tighten in tandem with you clenching down when his head hits just the right spot. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, securing him down to fuck you in that position. And he doesn’t retaliate from the limited position, instead, he welcomes it. With his face burrowed into the curve of your neck, his palms pushing your thighs to your chest—  biting, clawing, scratching, and licking — doing whatever it takes for you to rectify the burning ache in between your thighs, and for him to release his seeds into you again — again, and again, and again. 

“—toru! please,” you cried out and in your plea, he answered, “I’m right here,” Satoru groaned, “Keep up with me — fuck, I swear, jus’ a little more.”

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzled closely to your ear. Despite him already being inches deep within you, his every grunt and pant, the desperate moans he releases while he states your name, mixed with delirious curses has you craving for more.

With his mind hypnotized from the pleasure of his cock rummaging your insides, swaddled in care despite his cock bullying past your folds, he becomes possessive and carnal.

“This is mine,” he harshly bites your shoulders, pleased when you yelp while simultaneously tightening your reign on his cock burrowed within your walls, “all mine. You’re fucking mine,” he proclaimed.

“ — ‘Toru please keep going fuck right there!” you sobbed, cheeks stained with euphoric tears.

“Just say you want it,” he growls muffled with his lips smashed with yours, “tell me you want me.”

“yes, I want it. I want it so, so bad — need you so bad ‘Toru!” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper, feeling the vibrations of his grunts, pulses of ecstasy pulsing through your veins and straight to your core as you succumbed all authority and control for him to do whatever he desired.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk.” he curses when he hears your words. Like a broken record, it echoes in his brain, with every release of his cum, his breath hitching and body vibrating as he finally reached his climax.

The voice of you calling out his name so dearly repeats so melodically in his ears. 

Soon, the room once filled with the savage slapping of wet skin and immoral use of dirty curses of pleasure while you both partook in unholy matrimony was now filled with a thick smell of post-sex pheromones, coupled with softened breaths and sweet hums of foolish lovers. 

“Be careful,” you softly mumbled, under him, while your hands lightly weaved through his damp hair. you placed a soft kiss on his bruised collar, his pale skin accentuated the blue-green tint, making it look far worse than it was.

“aw, you worried for me? I’m so touched,” he faked a sob as he pulled you tighter into his arms, mumbling while he lavished in your warmth.

“I still didn’t forgive you,” you lightly pulled on his hair. his eyes were droopy and his body felt even more heavy over your limp one. 

“Yea?” he hummed closer to your lips, gently kissing you while slowly grinding his hips to your wet core, “thought your harder harder ‘Toru harder was you forgiving me,” he lightly chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re the worst,” grumbling as you tightened your arms around his neck, snuggling closer to his warm body.

“Wow, you love me? I’m so touched,” Satoru softly chuckled, gently stroking your heated cheeks as he held you in his arms, he too, soaking in the warmth and feeling the beatings of your heart. 

—

Your eyes focused on nothing but him despite the chaos around you — just a couple of steps from touching his slumped body,

A loud buzzer goes off, quieting your thoughts, the loud announcement ringing static in your ears. 

“ Sustaining the blow, Gojo Satoru gets back on his feet again! He proves once again on the court he is The Honored One!” 

Two minutes till game —

Head throbbing, and every inch of his body burning from the strain, Satoru vigilantly fought for control of the puck. Every second felt like an eternity, and every stride of his skates felt tortuous as if every fiber of his muscle were being torn apart.

Satoru quickly passes to Haibara, and fastidiously receives the puck again when he's open. Faking a move to juke out his opponent, Satoru was getting closer to Kyoto’s goal. 

It was evident that fatigue was overwhelming each player on the court. With their voices hoarse, and sweat starting to sting their eyes, while puffs of smoke perspired with each agonizing breath causing their lungs to burn in their chest, no one was willing to back down.

Watching from the side while nervously biting your cheeks, you observed the game as Satoru flew through the rink. From the calmness of his eyes, and confidence in his strides, to the quickness of his feet and the gentle care to his game, things started to make sense.

For the man that obnoxiously barged into your life, ruining your pair of white shoes, to managing a spot in your heart, he sure made you fall — hard.

On one random afternoon while you watched him soundly sleep in your arms, lightly drooling as he mumbled something incoherent about some zunda and cream at Sendai Station — loving him came easily.

Because even if you tried running away, your feet would always end up back to him. And you knew the fire that you'll hold for him was going to burn, but you couldn’t resist the flame that he lit in your heart.

“With seconds to the clock, with Gojo Satoru’s lead, the Trailblazers are fighting desperately to win this game!”

Gojo Satoru — with him, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. 

“The Spartans are putting up a ferocious fight, Geto Suguru tries to steal the puck but is unsuccessful! Ladies and Gentleman, Gojo Satoru goes for the goal —”

Satoru sped his way across, the white tint of his jersey barely recognizable with his speed. The crowd cheers, sirens blow off to the throne the victors of this year’s champions.  

And currently, tears freely flowed down your cheeks. And you let them despite the blur as you rushed onto the rink, the soles of your shoes about to slip on the scratched ice.

Because the saddest word in the world is almost, and he was worth more than being dwindled down to a regretful almost. 

And if you had to defy fate, and create your own ending, so be it. You’ll suffer the consequence of meddling with destiny, and amend for your sins, in the future, when you’re dead if that meant there was a guarantee to have him in the present. 

Because in the world of almost 8 billion people, somehow your worlds are intertwined. 

“Be careful!” He panicked, throwing off his helmet as he rapidly skated over to you, “You’re going to hurt yo—”

Grabbing holding of his jersey, you slammed your lips with his — with thousands in the audience, cameras obnoxiously flashing up the rink in all directions. 

You won’t hear the end of it from Yaga-Sensei, he’s certainly, most definitely mad. 

Your anonymity is fucked, and now everyone will know you as the ‘girl that kissed Gojo Satoru’ — probably will be trending on all socials for at least a week, and that's being generous. 

Maybe you were delusional or so high off adrenaline that you didn’t notice the mayhem surrounding you  — especially not Satoru’s shocked expression when you suddenly kissed him. 

But your ignorant bliss was soon interrupted when you slightly opened your eyes and were met with a thousand flashing lights that almost blinded your vision.

“— oh my god!” you squealed, immediately embarrassed at what you just did, only for Satoru to quickly hide you in his embrace, your face nuzzled into his chest. 

“Looks like I’m not the one that’ll get in trouble by Sensei time,” he teased with his cheek placed on top of your head.

“Get me out of here,” you whined, “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Nah” Satoru cheekily smiled, tightly embracing you, “not until you give me a date.”

“You didn’t make the last shot stupid, Nanami did.”

“False, I assisted,” he stated after briefly calling out for one of his teammates, “If you weren’t so lovestruck by my handsome face, and actually saw my brilliant performance, then you would’ve seen the phenomenal play I had with Nanami.”

“Satoruuuu,” you whined, lightly stomping on your feet, getting increasingly squirmish from all the mess you’ve created.

“Told you,” whispering into your ear, “I’ll always win,” he stated before pushing his helmet over your head, reaching down to hold your hand as he led you out of the rink. The confidence in his walk looked almost arrogant, with you helplessly following, as he made his way to the lockers — a routined celebration after a game now as your boyfriend —

“Because you're my lucky charm, babe.”

author's note: if you made it to the end, thank you. i didn't expect a silly thought to lead to my distress about creating another au for him. But nonetheless, I hope you've all enjoyed ◡̈

Masterlist

Thomas Shelby ;

- Mere silver 

- Dancing on broken glass

- My dear Charlie 

- a little tipsy

- when the moon disappears

-little daisy

-jailbreak

-on a mission

-faith

-random headcanons | “1”

-baby, its cold outside / a poor , innocent woman

- a man with a reputation ; series masterlist

Across The Darkened Room {1}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader || Modern AU Summary: A night out to your favourite sex club takes a turn when a distraction nearly costs you dearly, a distraction by the name of Aemond Targaryen of the Targaryen dynasty and owner of the BDSM club Red Keep. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, spiked drink, alcohol, mentions of BDSM WC: 3k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven ||

The moment you laid your eyes on him you knew he was something special. Everything about him radiated confidence and he had the swagger of a man that knew exactly what he wanted. He was enthralling to watch as he made his way through to the parting crowd to the bar and you were not the only one captured by his entrance.

“Don’t bother even thinking about him, sweetcheeks,” a stranger said with a bite of jealousy in his tone. “That’s Aemond Targaryen.”

Your lips parted with an appreciative sigh as you placed your chin on your hand and watched the bartender reach for the vintage bottle Macallan that cost more than your rent. 

The Targaryen’s were infamous in King’s Landing. A thousand years ago the city was ruled by the very same family and although the monarchy dissolved the family remained in positions of power. Aemond’s older brother, Aegon, was the current head of the family and religiously spent his nights screwing his way through the socialites. But Aemond, you knew little of, hardly anything was ever seen of him in the tabloids.

As if your thoughts drew his attention from across the room, he turned with his whiskey in hand and caught you staring. You dropped your hand that you were resting on and sat up, glancing down at your drink as you pretended you hadn’t been checking him out. 

Like most others in the club he wore some form of leather and oozed sex appeal, but beyond that was a dark aura of mystery that clung to him as tight as his dark wash jeans. His long silver hair glowed even with the dim mood lighting and you wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. 

“Is this your first time here too?” the stranger beside you asked and you jumped a little as you forgot he was even there. “What’s your kink?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been coming to The Red Keep for a while now,” you murmured as you tried to be polite and make small talk despite the distraction in the corner of your eye. “Subbing mostly.”

The man sat back on his stool and cast his eyes over you, the look darkening with each second that passed and an uncomfortable pit settled in your stomach. Tipping your drink back, you quickly finished the strong cocktail before excusing yourself. 

You waved to a few of the other regulars that frequented the BDSM club but since your last partner had left the city you hadn’t found the right person to play with. You hadn’t connected with anyone so far and you wouldn’t trust just anyone to keep you safe in the vulnerable state, so you waited. 

The bar of the club sat central in the inconspicuous building with corridors branching off to various rooms. Some were private like hotel rooms, some were specific for categorical kinks like the room with glass walls for the voyeurs and exhibitionists, and there were the jacuzzis and bathing pools for relaxation and aftercare. 

You decided that your night would not be wasted daydreaming about the enticing Targaryen in the bar when you could be up to your neck in a hot tub. The dimly lit corridor seemed to sway as you walked along and you reached out for the wall as your legs turned to lead. 

“What the hell?” you slurred as the ground swelled up to meet you but a pair of hands saved you from the fall. 

“I’ve got you,” the somewhat familiar voice said. “We’re going to have some fun.”

The face blurred in and out of focus as you were half dragged down the hall towards the private rooms and you struggled against the hold. Your mind was still sharp but your body would not listen to you as you tried to kick the stranger from the bar and scream for help. It was no use, whatever drug he had slipped you was already working. 

“What do you think you are doing?”

Your head lolled weakly as you tried to look at the newcomer and plead his help but your mouth was drier than a desert. 

“Just enjoying a night out with my girl. Mind your own business.”

A low growl that reminded you of the caged animals you had seen at the zoo echoed down the hall. “This. Is. My. Business.”

You were shoved aside and pain radiated your back as you hit the wall and slumped to the ground. Two fuzzy figures went down on the carpeted corridor and a flash of white hair told you who it was that had come to your rescue. 

He was all you could see, all you could focus on and he straddled the stranger he was assaulting. You should have been repulsed by the uncontrolled violence he unleashed but it paled to what the stranger had planned for you. 

“Aemond,” you muttered, your voice wavering and weak. “You’re gonna…kill him.”

Aemond froze with his bloody hand raised and turned to you with a wild look in his eye. Across the darkened room in the bar you hadn’t noticed the scar that ran across his left eye but with him so close you could see that one eye was almost violet while the other was a sapphire. 

“He deserves to die.”

You blinked trying to process that as his fist shook like he was losing the fight to restrain it. “You’re not…a god, that’s not…up to you.” Your tongue was heavy and swollen in your mouth and each word was a struggle to vocalise.

The curse under his breath was barely audible before he dropped his fist and sat back on his heels to sneer at the unconscious lump of a man beneath him. The sigh of relief from you turned to a groan as the room spun around you and Aemond was there in an instant, his hands gently cupping your face as he asked you to keep your eyes open for him. 

“Can’t,” you whispered as you tried to fight the darkness closing in. “Too tired.”

Your head ached when you woke between satin sheets and the pain radiated to behind your eyes as you blinked away the haze of sleep. 

A dim glow around the edge of blackout curtains provided the only light to the room and you slowly pushed yourself off the soft pillows to look around. The memories were slippery as you tried to grasp them and remember what happened but all you could recall was Aemond. 

You found him with ease despite the low light and he was watching you from a chair across the room. He still wore the same clothes as you had last seen him in, skinny jeans tucked into leather boots that almost reached his knees and a leather coat over his fitted black dress shirt. He was the living testament to tall, dark and handsome. 

“Thank you,” you croaked as your throat protested the sound and you reached for the glass of water that was already set beside the bed. “I should have been paying more attention.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he rose from the chair, the leather he wore creaking with the movement. “I should have been paying more attention,” he said as he stepped closer. “My club is renowned as a safe space and that reputation was put at risk by a man that should not have been permitted entrance. I have already spoken with security and made amends to the screening process so something like this does not happen again.”

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and you gripped the sheets covering your lap as you felt foolish for finding yourself in the position you were in. Cool fingertips curled under your chin and tipped your face back so you were facing the Targaryen magnate. “None of this is your fault.”

“I know,” you replied meekly.

“Do you?” he asked as he tilted his head inquisitively. “I’m pretty good at reading people and it looks to me like you’re blaming yourself.”

“I should have been watching my drink instead of…”

“Staring at me?” he finished as you trailed off to an awkward silence. “I’m used to it, a thousand carat sapphire has that effect.”

“I didn’t notice it until you nearly killed…oh my god, you could’ve killed that guy!” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you took Aemond’s hands and saw the evidence before you. “What if he reports you to the City Watch? You could go to prison.”

Aemond laughed and the sound was decadent like rich chocolate. “I assume you know who my family is?” You gave a small nod and the corner of his lips curled up. “The City Watch wouldn’t dare touch me and anyway, if I wanted him dead, he would be dead…He’s only going to wish he was.”

You gulped at the ominous tone and wanted to ask where the man was now but found a little voice in your head stopping you. Whatever happened was not on your conscience. 

“So if you weren’t staring at my eye, why were you looking at me?” Aemond asked, and you realised you were still holding his hands. 

“Everyone in the entire club was looking at you.”

“I didn’t ask about everyone else, I want to know why you were.” He leaned closer and you caught the woodsy scent of his cologne that seemed at odds with his social status. Most men of money you had met wore a sharper cologne that was as overpowering as their need to win a pissing contest. “Why were you staring at me?”

The authority in his tone was felt along your spine and your lips parted with the answer before you could think of stopping as you dropped your eyes to your lap. “I couldn’t help myself. The way you hold yourself, your presence is so dominating that I couldn’t look away.”

“Ah,” he murmured as rose to his feet and stepped away. “Where is your dom? They should have been watching out for you.”

“Oh,” you sighed sadly, “Arryk moved to Dorne a few months ago.”

“And you haven’t found another since?”

“I haven’t found the right one yet, though your staff have been wonderful in trying.”

Aemond frowned as he took his seat again and crossed a leg over his knee. His fingers rubbed along the seam of his jeans and his lips pursed as he contemplated silently. He knew most of the elite members who frequented his business but Arryk and you were not in the top tier whose membership cost more than a year of your wages. 

“What was so special about your dom?”

You shrugged and picked at the non-existent fluff on the sheets. “He wasn’t just a dom, he was a sadist too.”

“There are very few of those here,” Aemond said with an agreeable nod. “It is in their nature to forget safety protocol when things get a little too hot. They are often bad for business.”

Your back straightened and the sheets released from your grip as a flutter of hope blossomed from his word. “But there are others? Are any of them unmatched?” 

“One.” Aemond’s phone pinged and he slipped the device from his pocket to see the notification before sighing. “I need to take care of something. Rest and I will be back shortly to continue this conversation.”

He left before you could even answer, sweeping from the room without a goodbye. 

Left alone, you looked around the room and found it was far nicer than the private room in the Red Keep. It could have been one in the upper floors or even the penthouse but you doubted Aemond would bring a stranger to his own personal suite.

You spotted your handbag that had been in the lockers of the changing rooms and tossed the sheets back, swaying a little as you rose too quickly, before grabbing it and finding your phone amongst your belongings. “Shit,” you cursed as you saw it was almost noon and you were going to be late for work. 

Forgetting Aemond’s instruction to rest, you slipped your shoes on and slung your bag over your shoulder before opening the door he had left through. Bright sunlight exasperated the throbbing pain in your head and you blinked through the burn before seeing that the light came from floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the picturesque harbour. This wasn’t just a penthouse above the club, this was a mansion - and it was nowhere near Red Keep. 

A huge staircase wrapped around a central pillar and you followed the spiral down as you opened the app for Uber, praying a driver wasn’t too far away. 

“Going somewhere?” 

You nearly missed the bottom step as Aemond stepped out of a room, his leather coat discarded and the sleeves of his fitted business shirt rolled up to his elbow.

“I have to get to work,” you stammered as your heart beat rapidly against your sternum. 

“I thought I told you to rest,” he said as he sauntered closer, each tap of his polished shoes making you jump slightly. “You’ve had quite the ordeal.”

“I don’t think my boss would have much sympathy and unfortunately I can’t afford to call in sick.”

His lips pressed as if he had to think about the implications and you could see it wasn’t something he was familiar with, but that came as no surprise. 

“I really should go, but thank you for, um, well, everything.” You skirted around him as your phone vibrated and you sighed with relief that a nearby driver was on his way. 

His hand caught your wrist and stopped you from passing him completely before he plucked your phone from your hands. 

“Hey!” you growled as he cancelled the trip and closed the app. “That was my ride.”

“We still have a conversation to finish, and I have a car.”

He released your hand and turned on his heel, holding your phone up over his shoulder with a wave that told you to follow him if you wanted it back. With a frustrated sigh you ceded and skipped to catch up before he disappeared deeper into the mansion. 

“This isn’t a car,” you gasped as he hit a lightswitch and a cavernous room lit up to reveal almost a dozen vehicles. “Why do you have so many?”

Aemond shrugged as he opened a cupboard and trailed his fingers over the car keys hanging from the hooks. “Because I can.”

You couldn’t even recognise some of the cars’ makes but you did know it was a Ferrari he chose from the yellow badge with a rearing horse. It was unfathomable to you that he could just buy such ostentatious objects without the need for them. 

“And the Red Keep, is that something else you own just because you can?”

He stopped swinging the keys around his finger and caught them in his fist. “No, the Red Keep is more personal.”

“Oh,” you murmured as he stopped before the candy red race car and opened the passenger door for you. You chewed the inside of your cheek as the tan leather interior screamed money and you hesitated to climb inside. 

“Something wrong?” Aemond asked, his closeness surprising you as he waited beside the door. “We could take something else if you prefer.”

You looked over the lineup and realised this was by far the most inconspicuous of the lot, even if it was the colour of a firetruck. “No!” you said too quickly and his lips twitched into a smile that passed too fast to be considered one. “This is fine.”

You were still wearing the leather and lace dress you wore to the club and the short skirt slipped high up your thigh as you slid into the seat that felt like it was barely above the road. You could feel Aemond’s stare on the bare skin and knew that from above he would have a clear line of sight down your cleavage, a thought that made your chest swell with the shaky breath you took. 

“Something wrong?” you asked as you bravely looked up at him beneath your lashes. He rewarded your bravery with a real smile and shook his head before closing the door and going to his side. 

The drive went by quickly as Aemond sped along the city streets, fearless to the City Watch that patrolled the streets. It was only when he pulled up to the apartment block that you lived in that you realised you hadn’t given him one direction.

“That’s not worrisome at all…” you murmured as he turned the engine off and ignored the envious stares of the gang bangers that dealt their drugs from the block corners.

“I found it in your file after you passed out, I was trying to find your emergency contact.” 

It had been empty since Arryk left since you could hardly have your parents listed, god forbid they ever receive a call that their daughter was found in a sex club. You would possibly die of shame if they ever learned what you enjoyed behind nondescript doors in the industrial side of town. 

“Right, that makes more sense,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Thank you for the ride.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said as he watched you with a wry smile as you tried to figure out how to open the door. “Allow me.” He leaned across your body and pressed a button, a button not a handle, while you inhaled that rich scent of his. “Come to the club next Saturday.”

“I can’t,” you said with a frown, “it’s closed for the elite event.”

“Nevermind that, you can be my plus one.” He sat back in his seat and enjoyed the shock that flitted across your face. “The unmatched sadist will be there. It will be the perfect opportunity to test your compatibility.”

 You perked up and unclipped your buckle so you could lean across the centre console and surprised Aemond with a hug. “Thank you,” you gushed a little breathlessly as you buried your head in his neck. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

His hand ran soothingly along your spine and you were so distracted by the gentle touch you nearly missed his whispered words, “I do.”

Click here for part two.

"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. wc: 5.2k

“No.” 

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.” 

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.” 

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.” 

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–” 

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.” 

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–” 

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry. 

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm? 

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer. 

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach. 

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope. 

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road. 

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.” 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.” 

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.” 

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.” 

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare. 

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to. 

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto. 

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck. 

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed. 

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home. 

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. 

“Yes you can. I know you can.” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” 

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.” 

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.” 

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–” 

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.” 

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours. 

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

~

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly. 

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs. 

“Feel anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter. 

“Sleep, baby.” 

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot. 

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs. 

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.” 

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint. 

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-” 

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.” 

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.” 

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place. 

“No, baby.” 

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully. 

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin. 

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.” 

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” 

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight. 

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants. 

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead. 

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit. 

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives. 

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him. 

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need. 

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. 

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away. 

“Gonna knot you good, princess.” 

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes. 

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk. 

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.” 

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss. 

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything. 

“Sugu–” 

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling. 

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens. 

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness. 

~

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that. 

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…” 

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much. 

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine. 

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.” 

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams. 

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.” 

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it. 

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…” 

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl. 

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised. 

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

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balance the scales ; aemond targaryen. (m)

alternatively titled soda. track six of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x strong!f!reader

synopsis ; he flinched away when your fingers brushed against his eyepatch. despite this, you reached out once more to pull it off, your touch ever so gentle—and this time, he let you. you whispered that he was beautiful as your lips grazed against the marred skin of his cheek. aemond didn’t believe you, but he let you say it nonetheless.

words ; 40.3k (my longest oneshot!)

themes ; heavy angst, action, smut (minors dni!), mild fluff, enemies to lovers back to enemies trope, slowburn, betrothed au

warnings / includes ; violence/war, several character deaths, descriptions of injury/blood, birth scenes, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, hotd s1 spoilers, reader is fiercely team black, implications of rape (aegon), really really heavy angst, harwin is reader’s older brother, helaena is the sweetest ever :( jace and luke are reader’s best friends, rhaenyra is practically reader’s mother, lots of Emotions in this one, asoiaf politics and references for all of you book nerds

main masterlist. read on ao3!

It was said that you came into the world silent. 

A problem with your lungs, the midwives had solemnly told your father, the Hand of the King, proclaiming you dead not three minutes after. Lyonel Strong was grief-stricken at not only having lost his dear wife to the perilous task of childbirth, but you as well. 

But you were a fighter from the very beginning. At least, that’s what Harwin had told you. Once they’d laid you in your eldest brother’s arms, your airway had miraculously cleared up and you’d let out a hoarse, shrill cry—and the rest was history. 

“I was twenty when you were born, you know,” said Harwin, voice rife with affection, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from your face. “I was so scared that I’d lose you. Now look at you—eight years of age and healthier than ever. Are you excited to meet the new baby?”

Keep reading

"i'm team black" "i'm team green"

well i am neither because i choose my teams with my pussy and not my moral compass

Happy New Year 🍾🐉

IDGAF they are his kids now

izuku is moaning louder than he ever has in his life. he’s a little self conscious about it because you’ve never seen him like this before, heck, he's never seen himself like this before, but he has no control over the sounds coming out of his chest.

“...oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!"

izuku, the sweet, loving partner he is, agreed to let you fuck him with a strap.

"...fuck, baby, that feels so good, shit, holy shit, fuck..."

you might have been joking a little the first time you suggested it, but when his face turned beet red and he laughed nervously, you found your cheeks heating up just the same at the thought of him underneath you. and now he is.

"...'s too much, i can't, too much, fuck..." he's coming unhinged at the seams with the perfect way your hips smack into his as your strap bullies his ass, hitting his prostate in a way that makes his head spin.

you slow down, softening your thrusts out of genuine concern and he whines. "you sure, baby? you need me to stop?"

"nonono, p-please, don't stop, please," izuku begs, a frantic look of need in his eyes.

you kiss him, full of love and warmth. "since you asked so nicely...."

you return to your previous pace and fuck him hard. you can't help but think, as his eyes roll and another heavy groan leaves his chest, you finally get why your big, strong hero loves to split you in half and fuck you dumb any chance he gets.

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

this is kol mikaelson with davina

Incomplete Report

TW: spanking | WC: 2.4k

How did you end up here? L on top of you, the both of you in a heated kiss, and no one watching. His skin is paper white except for the hickies you left on his neck. His eyes were wide, they were calling to you, yearning for more.

. . . 

It was later in the night, everyone had gone to their rooms and it was only you and L working. “Y/N, are you almost finished with your reports?” L sat in his chair, his feet straddling the end of his seat like always. He sucked on a lollipop, his eyes on you, waiting for a reply.

You brushed the hair out of your face and look up from your laptop, the bags under your eyes showing. The man frowned, ready to get you a coffee if you needed it.

“I’m almost done, I just need to figure out a few more things.” 

Exhaling from your nose, your gaze fell back on your monitor, frustrated that you’ve been at it for so long. Hearing rolling sounds beside you, L sat right next to you.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” You sighed, ready to rebuttal, but he took the laptop without your confirmation. “Let’s see…” His finger fell onto his lip, he bit down softly, and you watched him. 

A part of you was happy he was this close to you. His elbow was near yours, and you imagined yourself brushing your arm against it. You didn’t realize you were daydreaming, staring at his arm, until his head made its way to your stuck eyes’ view.

“Uh-” Your eyes widened, and you backed up. You wished you didn’t react that way. You wanted to linger there just enough to get a good whiff. 

“I can finish this for you. It’s almost complete, and you look like you really need some rest.”

Your arms raised, your fingers saying no, but the man didn’t care. You frowned and then stood from your chair. L turned on the lights to make sure you didn’t trip, the brightness causing you to wince.

“I’ll come with you,” you felt L approach you once again, this time holding your arm in his. “Close your eyes, I’ll lead you to your room.” You did as told, closing your eyes and clinging to him. 

On your journey to your room, you leaned close to L. Every time you breathed in, you smelled how sweet he was, exactly like the sweets he ate. That thought made you wonder, and you wanted to know if he tasted just like the lollipop he was sucking. 

This wasn’t the first for you to daydream about your boss. His appearance and stature might have been a turn-off for some people, but his lanky body and demeanor just made you cave. To help you sleep every night, you’d dream about all the things you’d do to him. You’d dream about pulling his hair, seeing your handprint on his ass, and seeing what he looked like unclothed. 

You already knew how his ass looked when he and Light were fighting, you were extremely delighted.

“We’re here, you can open your eyes.” L stood beside your door, waiting for you to react.

You smiled and thanked him. You went and opened your door, but you hesitated in the doorway. You turned around, your eyes connecting with his. Your mouth opened, then closed, your pupils darting to the floor. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure of what.

“Are you alright? Do you need to talk to me about something?”

“I-...” You sighed, scratching the back of your head. “Just, thank you again.” He smiled and nodded, but he still stood there. You leaned on your door and widened your mouth again, “I don’t mean to take so long with these reports. I could do them faster. It’s just… you’re the problem L.” His head cocked back as his eyebrow arched, his eyes opening more ever so slightly. 

“What do you mean I’m the problem?”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe you were done with having this crush on him, but you were letting it out now. Who cares about how it might change everything? You didn’t really think it would. You mostly cared about your work and catching Kira. So, if he didn’t reciprocate anything, you could just move on and focus better.

“Y’know what.” His eyes stayed fixed on yours, “I like you L. I’ve liked you for a while. I can’t concentrate on my work well enough because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

It took a moment, but he responded, “You like me?”

“Yes, I like you.” 

After another pause, “I like you too, Y/N.”

The both of you stood there for God knows how long soaking in the shared knowledge that was dumped on the both of you. When you finally recuperated yourself, you smiled, your cheeks heating. L was doing the same.

“Do you want to come inside?” 

L nodded and entered your room, you close the door behind him. You motioned for him to sit on your bed and you sat beside him. Your bodies were turned, wanting to gaze at one another. You watched as he shifted in his jeans, his posture curled towards you. He moved his black hair away from his face only for it to fall back into place. Laughter broke the silence that the room was once filled with. 

“That’s one reason I like you,” you placed your hand on your bed and leaned on it. “I really like your mannerisms. Like how you have to eat your candies and how you curl in your chair.”

The man smiled, “I like yours as well. I like when you move your hair and reveal your neck or when you're nervous because you fidget.”

Your cheeks heat again, your posture shifting to scrunching into itself, wanting to feel your skin on your skin. “Stowp,” your hands rushed to your face, and you hid behind them. L chuckled and moved closer to you, moving your hands away with his own. The contact sent a warm rush through your body.

With the small string of confidence you had, you sat up and moved to be inches away from him. You could feel his breath on you, but he didn’t back away, “I want to know how you taste.” Your eyes turned sultry, your lips now with a thin layer of saliva. “I want to know if you taste like candy.”

L’s pale skin showed a hint of pink around his cheeks, and he smiled. Collecting courage for himself, “Then kiss me.”

Never in a million years did you think this was ever going to happen, you connecting your lips with L, feeling how soft they were, and finding out he tasted exactly like sugar. His taste was contagious. You only wanted more. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stuck your tongue out during your kiss. His tongue pressed against yours, and you found your tongues dancing with each another. 

As the kiss intensified, you found your back pressed against your bed, L on top of you. Your hands traveled all around his back. You used your fingers to run up and down his sides. Your kisses traveled to his neck, your lips attaching to the skin and leaving marks. As you did, you heard noises come from the man above you making you smirk on his skin. Soon enough, your hands traveled to his ass and you found yourself with your hands under his pants, squeezing him. 

Lawliet moaned, and he felt his legs go weak, his chest falling onto yours. Your lips separate, your hands going to the nape of his back, and you gazed at his lips and chuckled. The skin around his lips was red.

“I like how reactive you are” He smiled and fell onto your bed, him laying beside you. 

“Watch this,” he lifted his plain white T, which you used to joke camouflaged with his skin, and dragged his fingers across his stomach. Red lines slowly appeared causing your wet dreams to replay in your head.

“Can you go on your stomach?” He nodded, his head facing you, his eyes littered with wonder.

You hooked your fingers under his jeans and glanced for approval. With a nod, you lowered his jeans and realized why you didn’t feel extra fabric. He was commando.

“Do you do this often?”

“No. We ran out of laundry detergent, and I’m out of boxers.”

You both chuckled, and you placed your hand on one of his cheeks. It was soft, and the skin was bare. He was warm, and he smiled when you placed your lips on it. Leaving a kiss, you bit down softly and left a red mark. 

“Do you mind if I do something?”

“Go ahead.” In an instant, you smacked his ass. Your handprint next to the bite mark you left. “You can go harder if you want.”

“Is that a suggestion or a request?” You smirked as you rubbed his butt. He grabbed the sheets of your bed and hid behind them. “Oh, come on. Don’t lose your confidence now.”

“A request.” You blushed and grinned, L doing the same.

You found yourself mesmerized by L’s ass. The way it bounced when you hit it, the fact that your hand was perfectly copied onto his skin, and how he’d whine and ask you for more. 

What you didn’t know was that L was secretly very kinky. Whenever it was one of those days and his hormones would scream to be let out, he'd watch videos like what you two were doing in the bedroom. He’d fantasized about it and kinda hoped that he’d do it with you. To plead and beg for more, to be on his knees. He wanted to be below you, but he beat himself up for it. He shouldn’t have been thinking about an employee like that. In his own way, he showed he cared by being nicer to you. 

“Huuughh~” L let out as you started stroking his cock. He was on his knees, his back arching, and his hands clenching the bed’s footboard as you knelt behind him. You yanked on his charcoal hair, his eyes reaching the ceiling. You smirked, satisfied that in front of your bed were mirrors, so you could see every single expression he made. 

“Look how pretty you look,” you lowered yourself, grabbing his face in your hand and kissing him. 

“Fuuuck, Y/N, stroke me faster,” you did as told, and whimpers engulfed the room.

Your attention went to his backside. You continued to fasten the pace as you caressed his balls. Soon enough, you began to kiss his gooch and pressed your tongue against it.

This evoked a cry. “If y-you keep d-doing that. I’m... I’m gonna-” 

His legs clenched, his torso fell onto the bed, and you heard him stifle his cries. You felt the warm liquid on your hand, and you gazed at it with interest. Lawliet rolled over, his back on the bed.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it close to him, “Sorry for making a mess on your hand.” He gazed into your eyes before ingesting it all. “All clean. Now it’s your turn.”

“There’s no need for that, I’m tired anyways.”

His eyes furrowed then he grinned, “Well, this will definitely make you fall asleep.”

You laid back where your pillows were, and L placed himself in between your legs. He kissed up and down your thighs, smiling at you whenever your eyes connected.

“Nice and sweet,” he gazed at your underwear, which was clearly stained with your fluids. He placed his fingers on you over your underwear, making small circles around your clit. 

You clung onto a pillow, biting your lip as he did. His actions fastened and then slowed, creating a little pattern. You moaned quietly, whining for more. He then removed your underwear to see the river that you left for him to turn into a lake. The motion you were getting before stopped as he drooled, staring at how beautiful you were. His fingers inspected your folds; he was so happy to see your beauty to the fullest, to be so trusting that you’d be this vulnerable with him.

His motions began shortly when your groaning continued, but he teased you. He didn’t touch your clit, but instead the crevasses of your folds, going up and down. A part of you wanted more, but the other liked how much he liked you. You felt just a little more confident in yourself. 

L’s lips pressed against your clit, but before he did, “You’re gorgeous.”

His pace fastened after time, and you gripped onto your sheets tightly, needing something to hold you back. Pressing his hand on your stomach, he slowly inserted a finger in you. It went in smoothly due to you being so wet, and you moaned from it. His finger curled, and after a bit of fiddling, he found that spot that made you want to scream with pleasure. 

As he curled, you couldn’t help but shove a pillow in front of your mouth to make sure not too much noise came out. His tongue attached to your clit as he started pleasuring it again.

“L, I’m gonna cum,” you let out from the sudden contact. He smiled and sped up the pass.

“Fuck~” you moaned as you clenched onto a body part. Your legs stiffened as your eyes rolled back, and heat rushed all through your whole body. Your eyes closed and you almost fell asleep. 

L was still near your clit, eating away your cum. “Thank you, L. I’m gonna clean myself up and go to bed.” L moved away and nodded, following you into your private bathroom. 

Laying in your bed, you were happy to find L beside you, hugging your torso. He wore one of your fluffy pajama pants, and you matched him. After only a little bit of cuddling, you both fell asleep.

. . . 

“L, what happened to your neck?” Light questioned as he watched L walk into the office. 

Lawliet raised his eyebrow and pointed towards the hickeys, “There’s nothing on my neck.”

You swiveled in your chair, internally admiring your work, “Yeah, what are you talking about? There’s nothing there.”

It will one day be forgotten because the next day, they were gone. Not really… just covered up with foundation. 

Light looked at the both of you baffled, and as everyone else entered the room, they supported your claims, throwing him into a frenzy. You and L chuckled.

The both of you told the team that you put hickies, using makeup, on L’s neck and to pretend that they weren’t there. Light was shocked, making comments the whole day. 

I love Jujutsu Kaisen men.

♂️

meowyn davis reblog if you agree

what goes down when you…

❤︎ get drunk with your tokyo rev s/o. ❤︎

!!!!!! VERY NSFW ❤︎ including: baji, chifuyu, kazutora, takemichi, mikey, draken, mitsuya, smiley, angry, rindou, ran, izana, kokonoi, inui, kakucho, sanzu, taiju, kisaki, hanma, shion, naoto, wakasa, shinichiro

a/n: just in time for valentines!!😀 had the weeknd’s cover of drunk in love on repeat, so I smashed a bunch of Tokyo Rev ideas I had into this prompt that weren't working as full fics. Some of these I ended up loving a lot (pt 2??*cough*shin) & some of them will probably just stay here. have a wonderful v day & stay safe! if u don’t have a date (like me) buy urself flowers and read these in the bath bc ur fav TR character wants to f*ck you rn <3

— — ❤︎ Baji Keisuke

“No listen! Apparently we weren’t even a couple despite all the times we fucked at the winery? And then it ended up catching on fire?? That’s like the last message, like we don’t even know how Aiden’s contest wine rank—” Baji smashed his lips against yours, ceasing your rambling immediately. “Babe, respectfully, I have no fucking idea what you’re talkin’ about.” He smiled and lowered his lips to your ear. “But, ya know, I could listen to your voice all damn day,” Baji planted a featherlight kiss near your earlobe as he whispered, “…’specially like hearing those moans of yours.” Something about liquor made your usually stoic boyfriend run his damn mouth. His topaz eyes twinkled as you stared at him in shock. You felt his heavy hand against your cheek and leaned into his comforting touch, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Keisuke,” you sighed. “You made me forget what I was saying.” You kissed his hand and lightly bit down on his thumb. “Good.” He sighed as you opened your mouth enough for him to slip his index finger in, another one following the first. You closed your lips around his knuckles and sucked him in, beckoning him further down your tongue until his fingertips tapped the back of your throat. He chuckled softly when you gagged. Baji pulled his hand away from your mouth and stuffed it down your pants to finger you. You could feel the heat radiating from his face as he kissed you firmly, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

— — ❤︎ Kazutora Hanemiya

KBOOM. Heavy rain drummed against the window. Thunder erupted outside your bedroom, followed by a loud crackle, leaving you and your boyfriend completely in the dark. “Aw, shit,” Kazutora huffed. “Well, s’good thing we made a blanket fort.” He giggled and patted around for his phone. You were watching Regular Show in your little cave and playing one of those drinking games where you had to take a shot every time Benson yelled or someone said “whoaaaa,” for example. When the power cut out, you were several episodes in and needless to say, both pretty drunk at this point. “Here, I’ll help,” you say sweetly, fumbling around the wad of sheets on the floor. “hEy, babyyy, watch it.” It took a moment for you to register what had transpired; it seems you pawed Kaz’s lap... and accidentally grabbed his dick. Drunk y/n suddenly had a great idea. “Ohh, I’m so sorry pretty boy, ’m still looking for it,” you feigned, crawling closer to his body and intentionally getting handsy with him. You flipped up his shirt and ran your fingers across the skin of his lower stomach. Your touch danced over the waistband of his sweats, teasing him mercilessly before fully cupping his hard-on. Tora whined. You could barely make out his head tipping back in the dark as you squeezed him. “Mmh, god… y/n, baby, ride me,” his tone made your heart pussy jump, it was a mix of desperate and demanding. Before you could move, he grabbed your ass, pulling at the flesh of your thighs and hips to get you to straddle him. You rolled over onto his lap, french kissing him feverishly. Kazutora sucked at your bottom lip as he pressed your body down to grind against his pelvis, rocking your hips forward and back slowly.

— — ❤︎ Matsuno Chifuyu

The refrigerator was overflowing with Jell-O shots for the party tonight. You and Chifuyu were so ready to impress your friends, having gone all out with a batch of rainbow ones AND a batch of chocolate pudding ‘dirt cup’ shots, complete with sour gummy worms on top….. only for it to get cancelled:( “I’m sure they’ll reschedule really soon, Fuyu. at least these should last a few days,” you comforted your love. “Yeah… no point in letting them go to waste, though. I’m tryin’ some—” Chifuyu made a b-line for the fridge and returned with handfuls of the mini containers. He plopped down next to you with an expression one could only describe as epiphanic. “Actually… Hold that thought, I’m gonna order pizza.” You snorted, “We having a party of our own?” Chifuyu put the shots down on the coffee table. “I mean, why not?? With a pizza box and all these cups we can play…” he paused for dramatic effect, “battle shots!” You giggled and nodded, “Battle ships with Jell-O shots and a pizza-box board, huh?” You smiled brightly. “Have I ever mentioned that I love you?” Chifuyu grinned playfully at your comment and hovered over you on the couch, nose inches away from yours. “Mm, no, never. I think I’d remember something so impo—” you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his before he could finish his sentence. ••••• “A5.” It was the last turn of the game. “Hit, and you sunk my battleship,” you sighed in defeat, utterly wasted after having Chifuyu wipe the floor with you this game. “Woo! I wiiinnn, what’s my prize?” Chifuyu beamed. You crawled over to him and laid your head in his lap, kissing his thighs playfully. “I’ve got an idea.” He shivered and bit his lip. A deep sigh left his chest, relaxing his body as he stroked your cheek. He gazed at you adoringly. “Oh? I think I like where this is going.”

— — ❤︎ Hanagaki Takemichi

You are seated next to Takemichi at his beautiful cousin’s wedding, looking on as the newly wed couple shares their first marital kiss. Michi squeezed your hand before contributing to the growing applause and cheers. He breathed a sigh of relief upon surviving the most stressful parts of the ceremony, and now everyone was just ready to let loose. “Whoa, check it oouuut!” He exclaimed, pointing towards the delicious spread of food and drinks decorating the room. Music blared as everyone helped themselves. Takemichi twirled you around the dance floor a few times, and now you were seated near the mini bar to get your drink on. You two had a toast to yourselves first (what better way to celebrate the romantic scene) and stared into each other’s eyes lovingly. The chemistry was almost the same as when you two had first started dating, the conversation flowing effortlessly all evening. One, two, four… you lost count of how many drinks you had at this point, and your boyfriend was looking pretty flushed himself. You stared at the just-married couple at the center of the dance floor. “They look so wonderful together... I bet,” you began boldly, “they are gonna have the wildest night after this,” you took a sip of your drink and smirked. “Y-Y/n!! That’s such a dirty thing to say,” Takemichi sputtered. “Baby. Don’t play coy like you haven’t said some of the filthiest shit I’ve ever heard.” Your eyes flicked over his flustered expression. You paused for just a moment before leaning in close to his ear. “Tell me you don’t want to act on all the love and romance in the air.” Your hand rested on his face close to the bottom of his jaw. Takemichi trembled, he was visibly caving under the pressure. You heard him swallow hard and nod slightly against your cheek, “I could kiss your lips until they bruise. You have no idea...” he whispered. “That’s more like it. We’ve never really explored having sex in a public place, have we? C’mon, I’ll prove my love to you now,” you kissed his cheek sincerely. “And I’ll let you prove you’re thinking some things far worse than I am,” you whispered and pulled him out of his seat.

— — ❤︎ Sano Manjiro

“SHIT!” Mikey cussed, his quarter bouncing off the table and narrowly missing the shot glass he aimed for. You both had a few shots of liquor in you and the aims were only getting worse. “HA! That one was double or nothing, take two, Mikey~.” You loved playing games with your boyfriend, even if he was the worst loser on the planet and would conjure up absolutely anything to ensure he won in the end. “Noo, wait! One more! If I make this one, you have to take all my shots. If I miss, I’ll take four.” He stared at you with unwavering intensity. “And how’s that fair at all??” You squinted back, lips curving into a pout. “Okay, okay. Fine, here. You get a chance to shoot when I make this shot. If you miss, both of us only take two shots, but if you make it, I’ll take five.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled sweetly. What absolute nonsense. You thought for a moment before replying, “You’re on, babe.” Mikey flashed you a grin, lining up his course on the table. It was a great attempt, you really thought he had it. Somehow though, his quarter skimmed the glass and bounced right back out. “FUCK-!! YOU SAW IT GO IN!” He screeched. “NO WAY, THAT’S STILL A MISS!” Your intensity matched his frantic screams, laughter erupting from you. “Baby! Youu have to take four shots nooow~,” you poked his stomach and arms playfully. “Nuh uh, technically I didn’t miss.” You stared at him in disbelief. “Mikey. The quarter is on the table. Take. The damn. Shots.” He sprinted away from you at full speed, darting towards the bedroom, “MAKE ME!!” You couldn’t believe how childish-... But you didn’t have time to waste and chased after him. You caught up to him and flung yourself at him, effectively body-slamming him onto the mattress. “Sano Manjiro I swear if you don’t take those fuckin-” his hands gently wrapped behind your head, thumbs grazing the side of your face as he captured your lips in a kiss. That asshole. You melted into him, fingers wandering up his neck to grab handfuls of his hair. He swept his hands down your body, palms landing on your ass, pulling you flush against his hips. Panting, you pulled away from his sensual kisses. “Mm, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

— — ❤︎ Ryuguji Ken

“…you do remember where we are, right?” Draken breathed in a low tone near your ear. Yeah, of course, a casual dinner party with his friends and some of his work buddies. So maybe one of his friends made excellent cocktails, and maybe you overindulged. And perhaps, as a consequence, the liquor had you feeling devious enough to try to feel up your boyfriend around a corner where nobody could see to get a reaction out of him. “Mhmm,” you answered confidently. His grip on your wrist tightened as he pushed his knee between your thighs, backing you against the wall. “And you do know what’ll be waiting for you if you keep acting up here, hm?” You whimpered, maybe a bit too excitedly for his taste. Draken tilted your chin up to meet his gaze with his free hand, his brow raised into an expression that read ‘don’t test me’. You blinked innocently and pouted. “I’m sorry daddy. Can I have a kiss?” Ken rolled his eyes at you before answering, “Tch, fine. Just one, then we are going back for a little while longer.” He leaned down to kiss you, his hand softly resting on your jaw and his other hand releasing your wrist to settle on your hip. Just as your lips met, you pulled him close by the collar of his shirt with one hand, the other sneaking its way to his belt, dipping below the buckle slowly in attempt to tease his cock. You felt his body briefly relax before pulling away from you, breaking the kiss in the act. “Mm, you shouldn’t have done that.” He huffed. Without warning, he belted, “Oi, Mitsuya! S’getting late, I’ve gotta get my s/o home. Tell whoever’s left I’m headin’ out.” Your eyes widened in shock that he just announced your exit… and now you had no escape from the punishment you earned yourself. “C’mon, baby, let’s get you home and into bed, ah?” He laced his fingers with yours and led you to the car with a knowing grin.

— — ❤︎ Mitsuya Takashi

“You are so fucking sexy.” Your incredible Mitsuya, the absolute perfect partner, had the filthiest mouth after a few glasses of wine. It was dinner at your place, just some pasta and wine, nothing crazy, but Takashi had it out for you tonight. He beckoned you over to where he was sitting, heavy kisses quickly escalating before you could wrap your brain around it all. “God, you smell good…” he squeezed at your flesh ferociously. “Turn around, wanna taste my dessert,” he breathed, shifting in his seat at the dinner table. “N-no, other way, baby. I want a face full of ass while I eat that pretty pussy,”  his voice was low, growl-like tone making your cunt pulse as you climbed on the table. “Taka--!” you attempted to call to him pitifully. He pushed your dress up and sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties, pulling them down your leg teasingly. “Spread ‘em wider,” he demanded. “Mitsuya!!” He was being embarrassingly direct. You would’ve been humiliated if you didn’t find it so hot. You slid your knees further apart on the sleek wood, back curving into a pronounced arch to put as much of your pussy on display for him as you could in this position. “Mmm, just like that, good girl,” he purred. You jumped when his tongue swiped along your slick folds, the contact making your legs tingly. He kissed and licked at your cunt before sucking your clit in his mouth. You both moaned in unison. “So good,” he whined in a low tone. “Want more?” he gripped your thigh with one hand and teased your entrance with the other. “Yes, please, Taka,” you mewled softly. You leaned your hips into his touch, and he let out a deep, lascivious giggle in response. “Baby, you’re gonna have to beg a little better than that.” You wished you could see the wide grin you knew was on his face. “Come on. I know you’ve got it in you.” 

— — ❤︎ Kawata (Angry) Souya

Tonight, you ventured to a bar within walking distance of your boyfriend Souya’s apartment. The two of you had as many drinks as you wanted since nobody was driving, the area was relatively safe, and left with confidence knowing if anybody messed with y’all, Angry was more than capable of kicking their ass. Your arms wrap tightly around your boyfriend’s midsection, face pressed into the back of his shirt as he walked, dragging you forward with him each step. “Pleaseeee! Souya, pleeee-,” your incessant cries were cut short by your boyfriend stopping abruptly and whipping around to face you. You flinched at his furious expression, but the words that left his mouth were surprisingly… sweet. “Sure, princess. It’s on the way to the apartment.” Angry took your hand and led you towards the barren park. You playfully danced around him and cheered excitedly, insisting that he push you on the swing. “Fine, fine, but only if you’ll go down the slide with me.” Of course you agreed and the two of you played around for some time. It was now Souya’s last time going down the slide, so you waited at the bottom for him. He let out the most adorable ‘wheee!’ sound as he swirled around to the end of the slide. You saw him laying at the base, slightly breathless, messy blue hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, and a subtle grin on his usual scowling face. Before you knew it, you hovered over Souya, a handful of his thick hair in your clutches as you leaned in to kiss him. He sighed warmly and pulled your body close, deepening the kiss. “Ready to go?” You asked cheerily. “Mm. Wanna shower with me when we get back?” You caught a glint of mischief in his eyes as he spoke. “Sure. C’mon,” you replied and pulled him to his feet. “Y/n,” he began, and you looked at him expectantly. “…never mind.” Soya shied away from his words. “You sure?” You asked gently, eyes shining in the moonlight. “Um… We should play around like that more often.” He laced his fingers with yours as he walked you back to the apartment. “I love you too, Souya.”

— — ❤︎ Kawata (Smiley) Nahoya

“Oh~? What’s this, eh?” The toy whirred in his hands as he tinkered with the buttons. “Nahoya!!” You screamed. Why was he digging through your stuff?? Even worse for you, it seems that earlier today while you rushed to pack a stay-the-night bag, the mini vibrator you kept hidden in a small pocket in your backpack was overlooked. “So, my girl’s a pervert, huh?” His trademark smirk appeared especially daunting now. You hid your face with your hands. “I—,” you began. Although you and Smiley had some heated moments, being the tease that he is, the two of you hadn’t exactly gone all the way together yet. Tonight was supposed to be the night, you even had some drinks with him to dampen the nerves, but the implications of finding a sex toy in your possession made the anticipation spike back up. “I just, I forgot it was in my backpack,” you winced. “Ohw, why’re ya all pinched up, pretty baby?” His tone softened ever so slightly, “Don’t cha want me to use it on you?” Your eyes widened and your brows raised slightly. “Would you..?” you sucked in a breath, “I think I’d like that…” Your body moved faster than your brain as you slowly crawled towards your boyfriend sitting on the floor. “Yeah? C’mere, then,” he cooed, coaxing you into his lap. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled it firmly enough to cause your mouth to pop open. He quickly brought your face close, stealing your lips and slipping his tongue inside you with a soft groan. You barely heard the sound of the vibrator before Nahoya traced it up your leg, snaking under your shirt and bra to tease your nipple. You moaned sweetly under his touch. He pecked your lips once more before pulling away and grinning. “Heh. This’ll be fun.”

— — ❤︎ Haitani Rindou

Shit-faced at a concert? Sounds about right. You and Rin had been dancing around the pit and waiting for the headliner to start for almost two. hours. He made you get there EARLY because he “didn’t wanna miss the openers.” Bruh. Nobody sane goes to a concert early. You needed some liquor or you were gonna lose your mind. You and Rin smoked beforehand, he had a drink or two already as well, now it was your turn. It wasn’t a super large venue bc Rin wanted to check out an up-and-coming rap artist, but the crowd was starting to swell, the energy buzzing in the air. “Rinnie, you up for a little bet?” You tugged at your boyfriend’s shirt and gave him your best doe eyes. “Mm. Wassup?” He leaned his ear down to your lips to listen to your pitch. “I bet the cost of our bar tab that I can out-drink you tonight.” He perked up almost instantly. “Ohh? You really think ya could, huh? That’s cute.” He smirked and you elbowed his arm. “I’m serious,” you pulled him close to you, lips almost touching. He leaned in the rest of the way to kiss you slowly. “Since you’re so confident, lemme add to the bet,” he started, his hand dropping to the small of your back, pulling you close and brushing his cheek against yours. “Whoever wins… gets to fuck the loser’s ass.” You took a step back and stared at him in disbelief. “Are you deadass right now? …You know you could lose, right? How high did you get Rin..?” He stared into your eyes intensely and half-laughed, “Nah, ‘m deadass serious. Guess I could, but I won’t lose. You’re already startin’ out behind, doll. Best get to drinkin’ if the bet’s on.” His confidence was almost enough to make you change your mind. almost. You sucked in a breath and hurried to the bar to order yourself two drinks.

— — ❤︎ Haitani Ran

“Ran baby!” you called, “What is this!?” You got up at noon and headed to the balcony right off the bedroom for some air, only to reveal a fantastic looking breakfast spread on the patio tables. It was complete with a drink dispenser full of a vibrant orange liquid that very much resembled a mimosa. “My love,” his model-esque figure sashayed down the hallway, then stepped out onto the balcony dramatically. “You know how we always sleep in and miss brunch? Well, today, I brought brunch to us.” He beamed as he gestured towards the table, a soft breeze rustling his hair and kicking up the end of his silky robe. What a strange boyfriend he was, but you couldn’t deny that he looked gorgeous in his own right. You let out firm giggle. “Ran! You didn’t have to do all this, what’s the occasion?” He leaned forward and grasped your chin tenderly. “Oh, I just love you, that’s all.” Before you could react, his lips were on yours, melting you completely. Your hand gingerly grasped his, meeting his eyes with nothing but pure, wholistic love. “How did I get so lucky? I love you very much, Ran. Thank you.” You brought his palm to your lips and kissed it softly. “So, now we’re gonna get drunk… and then you’ll give me the best head I’ve ever had in my life, right?” He smiled blankly. “RAN!!” You playfully whacked his chest. “As if I’d say anything other than yes.” You both moved to the table and enjoyed breakfast, downing mimosas like nobody’s business. “You better understand what you’re in for now, Haitani.” You warned. “‘M not stopping after the first, second, or even third time you cum.” Ran’s face contorted into one of amusement as he drunkenly giggled, “You better not, but after that, I’m taking you to bed, k?” As you crawled under the table on the balcony, a fleeting thought penetrated your mind, could anyone see you? The minute you got a taste of Ran’s cock, however, the thought vanished, and you didn’t have a care in the world.

— — ❤︎ Kurokawa Izana

“How can you just leave me standing, Alone in a world so cold,” Izana sang softly as he played his guitar in his apartment for you. “Maybe I’m just too demanding, Maybe I’m just like my father, too bold,” you sang along with him, admiring the sounds filling the room. Your boyfriend, however, suddenly ceased his playing, gentle laughter interrupting the song. “Baby, I know you don’t sing like that.” He set his guitar aside, giggles getting the best of him. “Zana, that’s so mean, do I really sound bad?” You felt your eyebrows raise in concern. So maybe you weren’t Prince, but you knew you weren’t the worst singer in the world… did you offend Izana’s ears enough for him to stop playing altogether and laugh? “Not at all, you’re just… so cute when you try to sing drunk. You focus so hard that your pretty face gets all scrunched up…” he leaned forward from his seat on the floor to grab your cheeks. He cracked up again upon seeing your face squished into an exaggerated fishy-lipped pout by his own hand. “Izana, you are so giggly tonight,” you teased. “I dunno, guess I’m just in a really good mood.” He smiled softly, hands coming up to wipe tiny tears from his lavender eyes. “Aww, is that your way of saying I make you happy?” You scooted closer to him and poked at his sides, tickling him slightly. He responded between broken laughs, “Hey, you make me very happy, y/n.” There was a sweet moment of silence before he retaliated. Izana moved on your figure, leisurely yet swiftly grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the floor. He hardly gave you a second to protest before he was kissing you delicately. He made you feel adored and desirable in ways you couldn’t have anticipated. You wrapped your legs around his back, the soft, sensual kisses sinking into dark, hungry ones. His grip on your wrist tightened as he pressed his body against you, the two of you desperate for closeness. He broke the kiss only long enough to say, “bed,” before pulling you to your feet and drunkenly guiding you to his room, your lips and bodies inseparable.

— — ❤︎ Kokonoi Hajime

“Where are you, little slut?” Koko’s voice echoed through the hotel penthouse. You held in your giggles as you hid in the gorgeous marble bathroom, hunkered down in the lavish bathtub. “If I don’t find you in the next 10 seconds, I’m gonna spank you till you cry. One...” You let out a cackle. “Kokooooo! My darling, take a bath with me,” your voice carried throughout the suite. You stood up and stripped down to your lingerie as you waited for him to enter the room, opting to sit seductively on the edge of the tub. “Sigh.” Koko stepped through the door, his face decorated lightly with vanilla icing. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he rolled his eyes and sauntered towards the tub. “Tongue out,” he demanded. You did as you were told, delicately licking the icing from his cheek and side of his nose. You left tiny kisses on the affected areas as he complained. “First you finish off MY favorite wine, then you go and hit me with a cupcake.” He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, sharp eyes boring into your forehead. “Baby, that was a total accident!” You stammered. “Awh, it was an accident~” his lips curled upwards as he mocked your tone. “Koko!! I didn’t know how close my hand was to your face, Hajime, I’m drunk! And I’m very sorry…. C’mon, let’s take a bath, pleaseee?” You tugged at his clothes gently. “Why d’ya wanna have a bath so bad right this second?” He took a step back, heavily lidded eyes fixed on the intricate red lingerie you wore. “Wanna fuck you in the bath, I guess. Seems romantic.” Kokonoi raised a brow, his cruel facade melting. “Mm. Guess it is Valentine’s Day,” he mused. “Tch, You’re damn lucky I love you so much, my spoiled brat. Alright, but first, go prance a little. Get me a drink so I can see the set from the back.” You hopped up excitedly. “Yay!! Yes sir!” You started to head back to the main area before Koko’s voice stopped you. “Hold on,” he paused, “do that again.” You tilted your head to the side. “Do what, this?” you jumped up and spun slightly, all your curves bouncing with you. “Mm. So good for me. Hurry back now,” he teased, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling out a big box of rose petals from the cabinet to put in the bath.

— — ❤︎ Inui Seishu

Hot tears welled in your eyes as you choked back a frustrated laugh. “4th time balls back, you’re fucking kidding me…” you face palmed. Inui stood at the opposite end of the table, arms folded and his gaze fixed on the last two red solo cups in front of you. He was absolutely destroying you at beer pong. Who would’ve thought he’d be so good? You were unbelievably flustered at losing so hard and having to drink so much, but his flawless performance was undeniably impressive… his cool and domineering appearance further flustering you. Inui lined up the shot, and just before the ping pong ball left his fingertips, you hollered, “MISS!!” He flinched and the ball skimmed the cup. You laughed triumphantly. “Tch! Y/n, you cheater.” He rolled his eyes and picked up the second ping pong ball. He shot quickly and it sunk in, leaving one last cup before your defeat. You had only managed to wipe out 3 of his cups:( but you weren’t giving up yet!! You heard somewhere the more drunk you are, the better you get at this game, right? You snatched up the balls and went straight in on your shot, fatally missing both. Inui snickered, a slight smile appearing on his face. “Nice try, y/n. I’ll go ahead and win for us so you can take a break from drinking,” his eyes flashed with a subtle fierceness, bouncing the ball off the table into a perfect shot. Before you could pick up the last cup and remove the ball to drink it, Inui walked over and grabbed the cup for himself. “I’ll take this one off your hands.” You tilted your head. “Why? You won, it’s my punishment,” you inquired. “Little give and take. Let’s just say I’ve got some better ideas of how to punish you than making you drink yourself sick.” After throwing back the cup, he wiped your now nonexistent tears away and kissed your eyelids softly. “So worked up over such a silly thing…” He slinked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pelvis pressing into your back. He leaned down and brushed any clothes or hair aside to work a hickey onto your skin, kissing your neck and up your face, stopping right next to your ear. He bit the shell of it before whispering, “Wanna bend over for me, pretty?”

— — ❤︎ Kakucho

Let’s just say that you did NOT plan on getting drunk at lunch with your darling Kaku today. You skipped breakfast, sure, but what the hell was in that margarita? You were bewildered as to how one drink could possibly put you on your ass. You were dizzy just sitting in the booth across from Kaku. “Y/n, you didn’t answer my question. Sweetheart, you okay?” He smiled softly at you, eyebrows knitting together out of concern as he reached for your hand. “Uh huh,” you replied slowly. “Should’ve thought about drinking on an empty stomach,” you sighed and squeezed his fingers. The sudden flash in your mind of having his thick hands wrapped around your throat made pleasure pool in your stomach. …Were you ovulating? You must be. First you get drunk off of one drink, now you’re lewding your boyfriend at a restaurant midday. You paused. Before you could even correct your mistake, Kakucho looked at you knowingly. You slowly realized you were clenching his hand hard, and loosened your grip. “Oh, sorry, baby…” The corner of his mouth crept upward, and he raised a brow. “Y/n… why don’t you try texting me what’s going on,” he suggested with a knowing smile. “While you’re at it, I’ll make arrangements for someone to pick us up from here.” You gave him a bewildered stare. “Why not have a little fun, um… day... drinking?” He smiled sheepishly as you giggled. Kaku was willing to take one for the team if it made you feel more comfortable. Besides, it’s not like you had plans outside of each other for the rest of today. You pulled out your phone and began rapid-fire texting him every horny thought that came to mind. 📱[Y/N❤️‍🔥: take me to thebathroom and bend me over the sink :: do I think the server would notice if I sucked your dick under the table :: can i test it out? :: hmph. fine but i need u to choke me in the car, ok?] Needless to say, the look on his face was priceless. 

— — ❤︎ Sanzu Haruchiyo

The club. It was ridiculously dark in the room, you could hardly see flashes of Sanzu’s vibrant eyes and his wicked toothy grin in the pitiful blue and purple flashing lights. Somehow, the loud music contributed to your poor visibility and absolutely fueled the fire of lust and love you had for your boyfriend. All you could do is let yourself be consumed by him, fully taking in the feeling of his body against yours. Nobody could see you two making out on the dance floor, the two of you heavily intoxicated and tuned in to each other’s reactions: every touch and moan made your grip on reality slip. Haru backed you tight against the wall, his arms caging you in. Your spine arched deliciously into his chest. His breath hot on your neck, lips dangerously close to sinking into your skin, but he paused right there. He grabbed the side of your head firmly and pressed your cheek to his face, lips tickling your ear as he spoke over the music. “Could fuck you right here,” his voice is low, breathy, and dead serious. “Want to so bad, can I?” His free hand slips between your legs and up your dress… before you know it, his fingers are tapping against your panties, electricity jolting your cunt with each touch. “Uh huh, I don’t care, want you now, Haru,” you whined in his ear. A breathy laugh escaped him before kissing you roughly, his tongue swiping along your own. Sanzu pushed his hips firmly against yours, his feet lightly kicked at the inside of your ankles to make you spread your legs further apart. He aligned your body with his pelvis, effectively trapping you further against the wall. The kiss was broken to mark your neck as his hands hungrily grabbed one of your thighs and wrapped it around his waist, his lanky stature securing your position. You just knew your boyfriend was gonna fuck you so good, his demeanor borderline feral as he bared his pointy canines… it was like he wanted to stake his claim in front of everyone at the club--and you’d sure as hell let him.

— — ❤︎ Shiba Taiju [bar fight/violence WARNING]

There was no denying that your boyfriend was and probably always will be a little nuts, but you loved him for it. You are perched on a barstool, watching the madness unfold with blurry vision. The unfortunate sucker that flirted with you 3 minutes ago is getting his ass whooped by your beast of a boyfriend. You really tried to stop him, but Taiju made up his mind the second he saw that guy put his hands on you. Honestly, seeing him fight for you was as flattering as it was arousing--oops, you meant to think ‘terrifying’... probably. The stupid scumbag’s friend broke a beer bottle and threatened Taiju with it as you scrambled to your feet, backing towards the exit. To your relief, one swift swing of Taiju’s fist and the guy was out cold. Your boyfriend whipped around and stomped towards you, immediately throwing his arms around you protectively. “‘M taking us home.” He breathed, managing to escape the fight with only bruised knuckles and bloody eyebrow. God, he looked so hot. The two of you stumbled out the door. The moment you were out of sight from the people crowding the bar, you pulled him in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your body against his. Taiju’s strong hands twitched on your waist. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt an intense yearning for you just then, the kiss ending all too quickly for him. “I’ll get us a ride,” you said softly. He blinked at you slowly, his wide amber eyes unreadable beneath his furrowed brow. “Mmh.” Was all he said. As you fiddled with your phone, Taiju’s head lowered to your neck, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He clutched the fabric of your clothes at your hips harshly, a ragged breath leaving his lips. “Give me your body.” His voice was barely a whisper. His lips met your neck passionately as his body enveloped yours. “Tai—,” you gasped when his teeth sunk into your skin. “Baby,” you moaned weakly, “our ride will be here in a minute, let’s get home and then,” you panted softly, “you can have whatever you wish.”

— — ❤︎ Kisaki Tetta

“Hi, my diamond. Enjoying the view?” You knew it was Kisaki by his euphonic tone before you felt his arms wrap around your waist. He pressed his body against your back and rested his chin on your shoulder, kissing your cheek before gazing out at the sea with you. “Yes! It’s beautiful, the water is so blue,” you exclaimed. It truly is one of the most beautiful views you’ve ever seen. Kisaki booked a vacation for the two of you: a cruise with a suite room so luxurious you would’ve mistaken it for a grand hotel room if not for the motion of the ship and sound of the waves. You’ve been his partner for years and somehow he outdoes himself every single anniversary. “Wanna have a drink with me?” He offered, planting another kiss to your face. “Sure!” You practically sang. Kisaki took your hand and led you from your private balcony to inside the suite. You almost fainted at the sight. Before you on the coffee table sat an ice bucket with pink champagne, strawberries, melted chocolate, whisky, soda, and a few of your favorite snack foods. “Happy anniversary, darling.” You immediately rushed to capture him in a giant hug, squeezing him tight and peppering kisses all along his face. “You really didn’t have to do all of this, my goodness. Thank you—thank you so much, Tetta. You really know how to make me feel special.” He smiled lovingly before you captured his lips in a heartfelt kiss. Kisaki poured you both a glass to start, you had a cute little toast, and then, you drank. It didn’t take long for the effects of the drinks to hit you. Between the high of the views, snack spread, and your handsome boyfriend... it’d be a fat lie to say you weren’t dying to get in his pants. “Tettaaa,” you whined. “Will you come cuddle me?” You asked climbing onto the bed. “Anything for you.” He said softly, his figure resting next to you on the mattress. One of the many things you loved about Kisaki was that he always dressed well. That, and his scent is intoxicating. You hummed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh? I thought you wanted to cuddle?” Kisaki quirked a brow with a playful expression. “Maybe I just said that to get you into bed with me..?” You met his intense eyes and ran a hand along his chest, kissing him before he could respond. He pulled away gently, a slight snicker escaping him before adding, “Mm, well, I did say anything for you.”

— — ❤︎ Hanma Shuji

“wanna suck you off so bad, pleeeeaase baby your cock ‘s warm n you taste s’good, I want you in my mouth.” unbeknownst to you, the ‘whisper’ that left your lips could be heard by almost everyone in the room. Your friends gawked at you: some cackling, one mortified, others asking for someone else to repeat what you said because they missed it, and a few too stunned to speak. Hanma snorted at your comment, far too drunk, horny, and amused to be embarrassed. God he loved the shit you’d come up with when you drank together. “Yeah? ‘m going to smoke, wanna come?” His sharp golden eyes met yours, alluring grin beckoning you to join. “Mhmmmm,” you tugged at his arms as you stood up, pulling your boyfriend along with you. A few whistles and hollers rang out as you and Hanma stumbled out the door. Outside was surprisingly quiet. The distant sound of a few cars passing by was all you could hear. You walked down the stairs to the poorly-lit yard and backed him up against a large tree. The bark made indentions on your palms as you kissed Shuji with passion and desperation. You thought about asking for permission, but this time, you just wanted to go for it. He deepened the kiss hungrily, his tongue melting into your mouth. Hanma nipped at your bottom lip, trailed kisses down to your neck, and bit down roughly. He too was at a crossroads. Part of him wanted to throw you up against the tree and teach you a damn lesson, but a larger, needier part of him wanted to smoke… and watch you try to suck his dick while he did so. “God, won’t even give me a minute to breathe, let alone light a fuckin cigarette,” he slurred breathlessly. “Down, baby. Let me get this started and then you can have your way with me, hmm?♡.” He fished for his pack and lighter as you kissed down his body, your lips latching onto every inch of bare skin you could get, hands deliberately snaking under his clothes to feel as much of him as you could. “Fuckk, baby, you’re gonna ruin me…”

— — ❤︎ Shion Madarame

“GO GO GO GO—YEAAAAAHHHH ATTA BABYY!!!!” Shion belted as you chugged beer from a giant cooler. It was more liquid than you ever imagined could cram itself down your throat. You agreed to go to a frat party with him, of course, your sweet himbo boyfriend wanted to give the college partying lifestyle a shot. Liquor rushed to your stomach and your head at full speed, you swallowed your last gulp and hoped to goodness none of it would wind up coming back up. “HOLYYYY SHIT. Babe. You’re a goddamn legend.” As if he wasn’t already so whipped for you. “Yeah? s’all for you, daddy,” you slurred, feeling your knees buckle underneath you. Shion quickly moved to support your frame. “Oh fuck, baby, let’s get you layin’ down somewhere.” He helped you into the house and pulled you into an empty bedroom. “Here’s some water… y/n, you okay? I didn’t mean to come off as a dick-…ahh-” you pulled your boyfriend into a heated kiss on the bed. “I know, you didn’t. s’just beer, baby. I’m okay! I’ve taken more shots than beer I’ve had now before.” You smiled confidently. “…Huh? Wha-? Oh. I think I get it. You’re still drunk as fuck, doll. Wanna go home?” He peered into your eyes and cupped your face sweetly. “Uh-uh, lock the door. Come fuck me.” Shion’s face looked like he saw a ghost, or like his dreams were about to come true, or like a ghost appeared ready to make his dreams come true. “A-are you for real right now?” He asked, his voice wavering. You didn’t respond immediately, instead opting to pull him in to a sultry kiss, licking his tongue with your own, pulling away to bite on his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m for real.” You whispered, a handful of his hair clenched in your fist. Shion moaned breathily and hurried to go lock the bedroom door. 

— — ❤︎ Tachibana Naoto

It was so dark tonight. You could only see two things: a faint red hue from the stoplight flooding into the car, and Naoto’s lap. Going out to dinner, you’d both usually have one drink or so, but this time, you talked your boyfriend into being your DD and got a little sloshed. He didn’t mind, though. He loved your raw confidence when liquor was added to your system. He’d get you back safe and take some shots when he got home, no sweat… right? “Fuuuck, baby, slow down,” he rasped, words mixing with moans catching in his throat. “I-isn’t this kinda dangerous?? We are only 5 minutes awAy-aaHh~” Naoto whined as you freed his cock from his slacks. “Nope. Want it now,” you stated flatly, hardly missing a moment before focusing on swallowing his dick. Your lips glided smoothly down his shaft, nose recklessly smashing into Naoto’s lap, his tip jutting against the back of your throat. You set a rigorous pace, hellbent on milking him and tasting his cum as quickly as you could. The light flicked to green. He moaned pitifully and tried his best to focus on driving, easing his foot off the pedal. He could lose control to you, but he would not under any circumstances lose control of the car. “Y/n, fuck,” he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you back roughly. “Slow down. Just a little,” he begged, “…please.” You found Naoto’s feeble attempt to take some control back in this situation to be adorable. You love your boyfriend and you know he can take charge when he means it, but you also know when he’s enjoying being at the mercy of your power. You moaned in response and licked the tip of his cock slowly, stroking the base with your free hand. “Mmh, just wait until I get you home,” Naoto lamented breathlessly.

— — ❤︎ Wakasa Imaushi [rough WARNING]

“Shhhh, shh shh,” Wakasa shushed you softly from underneath your skirt. “Just wanna taste,” he whispered, breath tickling your thighs. Waka had been an absolute menace at the bar all night: kissing your neck, slipping his hands under your skirt, teasing your pussy as you sat on a barstool in a puddle of slick, devouring you with his bedroom eyes as you took another shot together. And to make matters worse, the more he drank, the more bold he became. As if he wasn’t already too much to handle sober. He was so fucking smooth, too, nobody suspected a thing. Waka pretended to be a nonchalant, good boyfriend, helping his wasted babygirl get to the bathroom safely. In reality, he was an animal ready to sink his teeth into you. He made a soaking, shaking mess of you, teasing you to the point of having jelly legs, and lured you to the bathroom so he could continue to torment his prey. “Waka, you’re so cruel,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes. “I don’t want you to tease me, I want you to fuck me, damn it,” you choked, trying to be firm and not to let any frustrated tears slip out. “Come again?” Imaushi pulled away from your legs to look you in the eyes. His stare was beyond intimidating, it was narrow and threatening. You blinked several times. “I said I wanted you to fuck me,” you replied cautiously. “Oh, baby, you should’ve said so sooner if that’s what you wanted.” He cooed, his voice sugary sweet, a little too sweet for your comfort. “But baby, you should be careful what you wish for.” In what seemed to an inebriated you as one swift motion, he stood up, snatched both your wrists in one hand, spun you around and pushed your chest against the bathroom counter. 

— — ❤︎ Sano Shinichiro

“More,” you panted heavily. “’K, hurry up ‘n get this off,” Shinichiro slipped his hand underneath your cropped cardigan, half-yanking the sheer material to the side to plant a hickey on the top of your breast. You hastily untied the top and slipped it off your shoulders to give him a full view of your tits in your tight dress. Your hips circled his lap, desperately grinding against him. The windows of the car began to steam up as your body temperatures rose. The two of you went bar hopping and ended up too drunk to drive home. While you waited for a friend to pick you up, things got more than a little heated in the back seat. “Fuck...” his chest heaved against yours, dexterous hands gliding up your back to unzip your dress. As soon as the zipper was down, Shinichiro’s hands snaked under the bottom of the fabric, giving your ass a firm slap before hooking his fingers under your lace panties and sliding them down your thighs. “Mmh, such a perv, Shin,” you moaned, momentarily shifting to the side to get the lacy garment off one leg. “Yeah? I’m not the one desperate to get fucked-” “Shut up, you want it just as bad,” you rebutted, the both of you drunkenly giggling as you climbed back on top of him, engaging in another slutty kiss. Your hands began to undo his belt as his fingers tugged your dress and bra down to expose your chest. He bit your nipple teasingly, wandering touch disappearing under your dress to grope your thigh and play with your clit. “God, you are wet,” he groaned into your chest, long, slender fingers easily sliding into your warm cunt. “S-Shin-!” you whined, “-can’t get it... off,” you huffed between moans and tugged at his pants helplessly. “Hang on. Busy.” He purred near your ear, lips latching onto your neck while he pressed deeper inside you. 

This is the only day you can reblog this

Safe With Me

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You’ve been sent back in time, landing in 1919 in Birmingham. You’re busy trying to survive when Thomas Shelby approaches you in a bar.

Part 2 Part 3

It’d been almost a month now since you’d been here… in 1919. Adjusting to this lifestyle had not been easy; if it weren’t for the help of Harry feeling sorry for you and giving you the job of the barmaid, you would’ve been screwed.

You were still getting used to everything, even the way these people spoke.

It took everything you had to keep your head down and stay quiet. You had to survive.

You were wiping down the tables at the end of the night. Harry had left and waved you a goodbye on the way out. He was letting you stay in the room upstairs while you worked, at least until you could afford your own place.

You heard the door open, causing you to spin around quickly.

You were about to announce that the bar was closed until you recognised Thomas Shelby. You may have only been here a short while, but it wasn’t hard to see the type of man he was.

Harry always told you to give the man whatever he asked; so when he walked through the doors after hours, you kept your mouth shut.

“I need a whiskey” he stated, already expecting you to pour a glass.

“Of course” you replied quietly with a small smile as you walked around behind the bar.

“Scotch or Irish?” You asked, looking him in the eyes.

“Irish”

You poured him a glass and pushed it over to him, unsure if you could get back to cleaning up.

“Should I leave you alone..?” You offered, feeling a little intimidated by his presence.

“No” he stated without looking at you. “I came here for company” he added.

“Oh.. Harry just left” you replied.

“Who said I was here for Harry?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at you before finishing his drink.

You have him a small smile, not knowing what to say. When he finished his drink, you quickly began washing it up.

Thomas Shelby had barely acknowledged your existence prior to this night. You liked it like that, staying out of the way of this gangster felt like the best thing to do.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax and get through this moment.

“You’re in the wrong place.. workin’ here” he stated, looking up at you.

You looked back at him feeling slightly confused.

“What do you mean?” You questioned with a nervous chuckle.

“You’re too pretty” he said, giving you a small shrug as if his statement was obvious.

You opened your mouth slightly, thinking of what to say in response but you quickly shut it. It felt dangerous talking to him even *this* much.

“I did some digging up on you” he said without making eye contact. “Couldn’t find anyone ‘round here who knows who you are” he added.

You were quiet, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“I’m not from here” you reply quickly, worried he is suspicious of you.

“Hmm” he said with a nod, clearly not trusting you.

“Where are ya from then?” He asked, feeling a genuine curiosity about you.

“I’m from Australia” you answered, knowing it was too far away for him to question much.

“You’ve come a long way then” he stated honestly, feeling moderately surprised by your answer.

“Have you been to the races?” He asked genuinely, moving the conversation on.

You shook your head in response. “No” you answered quietly, trying to hide how nervous you were.

“I’m gonna take you” he stated, not taking no for an answer.

You blinked in surprise.

“Oh… when?” You questioned.

“Two days from now. I’ll pick you up here” he said before standing up and preparing to walk out.

He turned to place some extra money on the bar. “Where something red” he added before he walked out, leaving you alone.

-

You were standing outside the bar two days later, wearing a red dress and keeping your head down.

You felt people staring at you as they walked past, clearly wondering why you were dressed so nice in a place like this.

Thomas showed up shortly after, getting out of his car and walking over to you with a small grin.

“You clean up alright” he said softly, raising his eyebrows as he looked you up and down.

“..oh… thank you” you replied shyly as you looked him over. You hated the fact that you found him extremely handsome.

He gave you his elbow to hold as he walked you to the car, guiding you into the passenger seat before he began driving.

After driving in silence for a while, he looking over at you. “There’s no need to be nervous” he said, sending you felt that way. “I’ll be right here” he added.

You looked over at him when he spoke, not being able to calm yourself. You gave him a slight nod and smile before you looked back out the window, taking in the view.

When you finally arrived, he got out quickly to open the door for you. He offered you his hand to guide you out which you accepted gently.

“Stay close to me” he said gently.

You kept a hold of his elbow as he guided you through the crowds, he made quick conversations with people around him and introduced you to each of them.

Your mind was racing so much, you could barely remember these peoples faces after greeting them.

You reached a ballroom and noticed everyone dancing in the middle. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the women were.

You were looking around in awe at these people which Thomas seemed to notice. He smile at you while you were looking away.

“Do you dance?” He asked, the smile not fading from his face as he asked.

“Not well” you admitted, feeling a bit nervous but smiling back at him.

“I’m a good teacher” he said honestly before holding your hand and walking to the dance floor.

He kept your hand in his whilst he brought his other hand to your waist; tugging you towards him slightly.

You felt yourself looking down at your feet, the last time you danced like this was at your graduation and you were terrible.

He brought his hand up to your chin, lifting it gently to make you look up at him.

“Eyes on me” he smirked, secretly enjoying how shy and nervous you were.

“Sorry” you said quickly, little out a soft chuckle.

After a while of dancing together, allowing him to lead you; you felt like you were getting the swing of things.

Thomas chuckled to himself as he watched you, noticing how hard you were concentrating.

“Fancy a drink?” He asked.

“Yes please” you answered honestly, knowing alcohol was the best way to loosen you up.

He grinned at you before taking you over to the bar. The crowd drifted a part to let you both through.

He ordered you a glass of wine and a whiskey for himself. The bartender was quick, clearing knowing how important Mr Shelby was around here.

You gave him a quick thank you before you brought the glass to your lips, finishing the drink in a few gulps.

Thomas smiled widely and letting out a laugh, amused by how fast you finished the glass.

“Are you always this nervous?” He chuckled.

“..yes” you replied with a smile, starting to relax as you noticed the soft look on his face.

“Stick by me, love. You’ll be alright” he chuckled.

His voice brought a strange warmth to your chest as your eyes locked with his. A strange part of you believed him, somehow trusting the words of a gangster.