#I have the skills to make my own skirt but I don’t want to fuck around with a waistcoat

[mossiestpiglet]

Just saw a professional, full length skirt with normal ass belt loops at the top like any pair of slacks would have and I was immediately overcome with gender euphoria and also what I can only describe as textile lust

#like yeah it’s in boring gray so like. still not for a technicolor autist like me #but I’ve never seen a piece of business attire that I actually felt could fit me???? #also because it’s so easily fat friendly which SO many other business clothes aren’t #it’s not really fancy enough for my friends wedding but I do need it #non binary #nonbinary fashion #nonbinary #trans #also I emailed two men’s bespoke suit makers to see if they can make me a waistcoat for the wedding #cuz if not I’ve gotta really scramble to find something #I have the skills to make my own skirt but I don’t want to fuck around with a waistcoat #but I also really don’t want to wear a dress to this thing I already know I’ll be misgendered at the whole time #but if I’m gonna be misgendered I might as well wear clothes that confuse #I’m tempted by a full suit but pants still sound so uncomfortable

[little-diable]

Hate - Draco Malfoy (smut)

Oh boy, this is filthy, like really fucking filthy. I don’t know what came over me, but I hope you’ll love this just as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: pwp, pure hate fuck

Warnings: 18+, smut unprotected piv, oral (m), degrading, hate fuck

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (about 1.2k words)

“You fucking bitch, you just had to ruin it for me, didn’t you?” Draco had her pressed against the wall, eyes trying to burn holes through her skin. His rings left marks on her throat, keeping her in place, with no way to escape. She was heavily panting, snarling at the man.

“You deserved it, you’re nothing more than an insecure piece of-” the rest of her sentence was left unspoken as Draco crashed his lips against hers, kissing her with an all too familiar hunger spurring him on. Both were heavily breathing, clinging to one another, letting their anger, their hatred for one another guide them.

“I’d be careful if I were you, (y/n), I have no problem with making you pay right here in the hallway. But it’d be a shame if somebody would see you with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, kneeling for me, wouldn’t it? We don’t want to ruin your reputation.” His voice had a dangerous undertone to it, dripping with something that left her thighs clenching and her walls fluttering around nothing. Draco held a special kind of magic over her, nothing they had learned about in the past years, more darker and sinister than ever allowed. Both hated one another deep down to the core, spitting and growling words towards one another whenever they could, and yet neither of them could stay away from the other.

“You’re all talk and no bite, Malfoy, nothing more than daddy’s little boy.” A deep growl left Draco, pulling (y/n) away from the wall to push her into the nearest empty classroom, locking it before anybody could follow them. Their lips fought for victory, tongues tangled as (y/n) was pushed against the nearest desk, hissing in pain. His ring clad fingers pulled her skirt up to her waist, forcing her to hiss as the cold air teased her soaked panties.

“I will fuck your bratty attitude right out of you, just like a slut like you deserves to be treated.” A whimper left (y/n) as his hand met her behind, set on leaving his marks on her. “But first, I’ll fuck that mouth of yours, make you forget all your empty threats.”

(Y/n) dropped to her knees without protesting, parting her lips like she had done numerous times before. She watched him free his hardening cock, pushing his precum bearded tip past her lips, letting her taste him. His taste stuck to her tongue, forcing moans out of the both of them as she traced his veins with her skilled tongue, burning words, confessions into his skin.

“Fuck, it’d be so much easier if you’d always listen to me, giving your body to me like my own toy, mine to use how I like.” Heavy pants left Draco as he stared down on her, watching her bob her head, begging him to hold onto her. His fingers tugged on her hair, guiding her for a few more seconds before he pulled her away. “Against the desk, I want to feel that tight, perfect cunt of yours.”

She was pulled to her feet, bent over the desk without another warning, leaving her gasping as the edge of the desk collided with her hips, sure to leave marks. It was an inferno that guided them, a fire so vicious that all those surrounding them would burn to death, but not them, never the two of them, deeply connected, no matter if they liked it or not.

“Please, Draco, fuck me, need you inside of me.” His hand came in contact with her behind again, forcing her to shut up, quiet for the growling man who couldn’t hold back, spitting into his palm to lube himself up, saliva mixed with hers. He didn’t hold back as he pushed into her, didn’t give her any warning, hand placed on the back of her head to press her face against the desk. Curses left the both of them, heavily breathing as he fucked her against the desk, leaving her arousal dripping down her thighs.

The sound of his cock disappearing inside her tightness filled the room, paired with their moans and groans, a mixture so intimate no one would guess that the both were fuelled by their hatred. They were trembling in anger, filled with something that could leave one burning with the first, careful touch.

“It’s a shame you’re such a bitch, otherwise I’d do nothing else but fuck you every single day.” His words left her walls clenching, unable to bite down the pictures now filling her mind, wondering how it must feel to stick to his side day in, night out. (Y/n) had her eyes squeezed shut, letting go of heavy breaths as she clung to the edge of the table, trying to claw her fingernails into the wood.

“Let me cum, please.” Draco didn’t reply, all he did was hum as he dug his fingertips into her hips, holding onto her. His pace grew faster, rougher, set on making her cum on his cock before he’d give in. (Y/n)‘s moans grew higher, letting go with his name rolling off her tongue like a spell she knew by heart.

Her orgasm rocked through her with an almost unfamiliar intensity, leaving her trembling and aching, unable to support herself much longer. Draco pulled out of her, forcing her back down on her aching knees so he could fuck her mouth, set on filling her cheeks with his cum. Tears dripped down her cheeks, clinging to her skin like a veil.

“You’ll be a good girl for me and swallow, won’t you?” (Y/n) tried to nod her head, humming around his cock as a simple reply to the question that left her trembling. She loved hearing his moans - even though she’d never tell him that - loved to watch him fall apart, all because of her. Draco fucked her mouth, forcing his cock deep down her throat, leaving her gagging for him.

“God, fuck.” His eyes rolled back into his head, head thrown back as he came down her throat, pumping her cheeks full with his release. She swallowed every drop just like he had asked her to, clean tongue exposed to his piercing eyes as he pulled away, tugging his cock back into his trousers.

“Look at you, you’re so pathetic. Kneeling for the guy you claim to hate, but we both know you don’t hate me, you love me, you love the idea of being owned by me. Just as much as I love owning you.”

#Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x Reader #harry potter imagine

[blueicequeen19]

Control

Warnings: public cock warming, public unprotected sex, degrading, praise, Frat Boy Rafe 🔥

I didn’t object to Rafe pulling me onto his lap, trapping me between him and the table. I didn’t object when his hand started to trace circles along my inner thigh under my plaid skirt as he continued to read his book with his free hand. I didn’t even object when he began to palm my aching bare pussy. He’d made me take my panties off before we came and tuck them in his pocket. You didn’t complain when you were dating Rafe Cameron. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. And if he wanted to fuck you in the silent library, surrounded by his college peers then you let him.

I tried to be a good girl and not shift too much on his lap but it was hard with the way his skilled fingers kept stroking my clit until my pussy and thighs were absolutely soaked.

“Rafe.” I whispered, my head against his shoulder.

“Don’t move.” Rafe instructed in a whisper, never looking up from his book. I glanced around but no one was looking up or noticed. Everyone had their nose in a book, deep in concentration. The only way they could see what was happening was if they looked under the table. But I still had to remain quiet.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down even as he reached lower and buried two fingers inside me. I clamped my mouth shut, turning my head and attempting to plead with him with my eyes but he didn’t even look up from his book. A minute passed and his fingers didn’t move. I was starting to become delirious with need. I was about to start begging in front of all these people when his thumb pressed against my clit. My body jerked against the table but no one looked up, my heart beating erratically in my chest.

“I told you not to move.” Rafe finally spoke again in my ear, his voice low in warning.

“Rafe, please, let’s go somewhere.” I hissed back, my hands gripping the table to keep myself from grinding against his fingers.

“No, I have to study.” Rafe said, turning back to his book. I was going to die. I was going to cum in front of his peers and die of humiliation and maybe even a heart attack. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Reach behind you and undo my pants.” Rafe murmurs softly in my ear. Oh god.

My hands shake as I do as instructed, his cock springing free the moment his button releases. He wasn’t wearing boxers. I try to bring my hands back around but Rafe curls his fingers inside me, making me gasp and jerk against him. Still, no one looks up or pays us any mind.

“Stand up and take a drink of your water then sit back down on my cock.” Rafe instructs, his low voice like a caress down my spine. He removes his fingers from inside me as I plant my feet on the floor and push myself up to reach for my water bottle. I take a small sip as I feel him guide his cock between my legs and to my soaked entrance.

“Rafe?” I startle, looking to one of his friends across the table who’s trying to get his attention. I’m afraid to move but Rafe’s fingers nudge my thigh, telling me to sit down.

“Yea?” Rafe asks, like I’m not about to sit down on his cock in front of all his peers. Rafe sits his book down to grab my thigh under the table and forces me to sit. The hardest thing I’d ever encountered was resisting the urge to let my eyes roll into the back of my head as he filled me. His cock was so thick and hard that I couldn’t think.

I could barely lean forward enough to grab my book but it only made him reach a different angle and I stopped abruptly, my inner walls spasming and my bottom lip quivers. The pleasure was so intense I felt like I was going to cry.

“Did you get the finance worksheet done?” Rafe’s friend asks. Rafe’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me firmly against his chest as he picks up his book again. I raise my own book to hide my face. They engage in conversation about homework in low voices so not to draw negative attention from the librarian all while I’m on the verge of unraveling. I could feel his cock pulsing inside me. Just as ravenous as I was.

Finally, Rafe relaxes into his seat and widens his legs, only driving his cock deeper. I let the book rest against my forehead to keep from moaning. I could feel sweat running down my back and on the back of my neck. I reach down to slide my hand under my skirt to take the edge off, to hell with these people, when Rafe’s hand suddenly snatches my wrist, holding it firmly against my side.

“Behave and I’ll let you finish.” Rafe murmurs into my ear, his breath on my skin giving me goosebumps and making me clench around him. The teasing was driving me mad. I needed to move. I needed to rock back and forth between bounces on his cock. I needed him to slap my pussy as I chased my release. I needed..

“Easy. You’re tightening around me. Wouldn’t want me to get mine without yours, would you?” Rafe taunts in my ear. My nostrils flare and I debate standing. To hell with this.

Just then a book slams shut and one of his friends announces it’s time to get something to eat. The rest follow suit except one girl who looks between us, her murderous glare landing on me before she follows the rest of them. I suddenly felt privileged to be sitting on Rafe’s cock out in the open if it brought the jealous bitch some misery.

Now that we’re alone, Rafe sits his book down and wraps his free arm around my waist. My heart rate kicks into high gear as he positions my legs on either side of his, opening me obscenely wide while immobilizing me.

“R-Rafe—.” I start, my body beginning to tremble.

“Take your panties from my pocket and put them in your mouth. I know you’re a desperate little bitch but I need you to be quiet.” Rafe murmurs, his hand sliding between my legs to stroke my clit. I buck and whimper as I reach back with a shaky hand and dig my panties from his jacket pocket. This was so degrading but I didn’t care. His cock was so hard inside me and rubbing against places that threatened to send me to another dimension. If he wanted me to put my own panties in my mouth, I would.

“Good girl.” Rafe purred, lightly slapping his hand against my pussy. My body seized and I gripped the table for dear life. Anyone could walk around the corner and catch us. We could be expelled.

All thoughts left me as Rafe begin to move, slowly pumping his cock in and out of me like his soul purpose in life was to see me lose control.

“Fuck yes.” Rafe breathed, pumping his hips harder and faster. The sound of my arousal was obvious with every push and pull of his thick cock. The thought of being caught only made me more wet. I was right there. Right. There.

“Put your feet on the floor and grab the table.” Rafe suddenly says, helping me maneuver my shaking legs over his to reach the floor. My body tightened around his again as I brought my legs together, tears filling my eyes as I did as I was told.

“Lift up just a little and hold it. Don’t move.” Rafe rasps, his voice thick with need too. Good. I wanted this to drive him just as crazy.

The moment I used the table to lift myself up, he started to fuck me hard and fast, his pelvis slamming against my ass where he yanked my skirt up. I buried my face against my arm to keep from making any noises even with my own panties in my mouth as he pistoned into me, using his hands on my hips to pull me back into every thrust. All while he stayed sitting down.

“Cum you little slut. Let me feel it drip down to my fucking balls.” I didn’t have to be told twice. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, my body seizing and convulsing as he ripped the most intense orgasm of my life from my body. I knew I’d made a mess. I faintly heard a small gasp that I knew hadn’t came from me so I lifted my eyes to find the mean girl from earlier watching us with wide eyes and her hand over her mouth. I smiled at her just as Rafe huffed a breath and spilled inside me, flooding my insides with his warmth.

“Goddamn.” Rafe breathed, pulling me back against him as the evidence of what we’d just done drips from me. The girl turns and flees and that makes me happier.

“How about you get underneath this table and clean up our mess then we’ll go get dinner?” Rafe whispers in my ear, his hand sliding between us to cup where we’re still connected. I turn my head to face him and he pulls my panties from my mouth and kisses me hard. I begin to rock my hips again, my cares from earlier completely forgotten about as I chase another high. Rafe pulls back from the kiss to smirk at me, his hand sliding lower to force two fingers inside me along with his cock. I wince. The stretch too much but too good to stop.

“Greedy fucking slut. One more then you’re going to lap up this mess.” Rafe breathes, kissing me again to silence me as I fall apart again.

If he wanted me to crawl naked on broken glass just to taste him.. I would.

You didn’t tell Rafe Cameron no.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #obx2 #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron smut #wattpad #drew starkey #frat boy! Rafe Cameron #tw unprotected sex

[bakubunny]

@dcsiremc you started this with your lil, “better run along, daddy’s waiting,” nonsense, so eat up.

tw: jealous!izuku, f!reader, aged up characters, daddy as title, mild degradation, mild breath play, exhibition, reader is called puppy, katsuki loves to instigate bs

your cheeks grew hot the moment katsuki’s hand lightly rested on your shoulder unnecessarily. he was hovering over you, answering a question you had about a case file. izuku cleared his throat from across the work room. you immediately pulled away from katsuki, who was looking back at izuku with a smug grin, unbeknownst to you. he watched as a vein bulged in izuku’s neck.

fuck, this is too easy, he thought. katuski knew how possessive izuku was and how easily he got jealous, especially when it came to you. he’d been doing this kind of shit all day - standing a little too close, speaking a little too softly so you’d have to lean in, taking one too many glances at your body when you weren’t looking - in an effort to set izuku off for the hell of it.

the final straw was when it was just the three of you in the agency. you were in front of the microwave. katsuki walked over and brushed his hand on the small of your back, hovering there as you froze while he reached around you to grab a coffee mug. you heard a pencil snap and a chair roll against the floor as izuku stood up.

“need something, kacchan?” tension laced his tone of voice.

katsuki looked at him in bewilderment. “no? just wanted a cup,” he said, holding the only other all might mug in the office in his hand.

you kept your head down as izuku walked over.

“then why the fuck are you touching my girl again?” izuku spat. he shoved katsuki’s shoulder.

“izu, stop-”

“shut the fuck up, brat, i’m dealing with you next,” he said.

katsuki bit back a grin. “tch. dunno what’s gotten into you but you need to chill.” izuku got in his face.

“keep your hands and your eyes to yourself, and i will. and you,” he said, turning your direction. izuku grabbed your bicep. “you just gonna let him do that when you know good and well who owns you? hmm?”

you froze, unsure of how he expected you to respond.

“answer me, pup,” he said quietly, leaning in to look you in the eyes.

katsuki’s grin broke and he snorted. your body grew hot.

“n-no, sir,” you whispered.

you flinched when his grip tightened.

“then what should you do?” his voice was as soft as he could manage, but the look on katsuki’s face told you he heard izuku’s every word.

“go to you.”

“that’s right,” izuku said.

izuku dragged you to the table where katsuki now sat with a plate of food for his lunch break. he took a fistful of your hair and pulled hard.

“ow! what are you doing?”

“reminding you of what’s mine. bend over. now.” he pressed your face into the table in front of the smug, blonde hero.

“are you crazy?” you asked. heat rushed to your core as izuku pinned one arm behind your back and grabbed the other to hold both of your hands tightly in one of his.

“you wanna play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. you know daddy doesn’t like to share,” he said. he lifted your skirt and ran his fingers along your panties, already more damp than you’d wanted to admit.

“izuk-”

your breath caught as a thick finger slipped into your cunt. his skilled hand rubbed into your spongy sweet spot in a way that made you flutter around him, closing your eyes and biting back a whine. you tried to turn your face away from the grinning man you knew was staring down at you.

“no, no, don’t be shy,” izuku said. “you wanna be a brat and whore yourself out right in front of me, you’re gonna let kacchan see your pretty face when i make you cry.”

a whimper slipped off your lips. izuku pushed a second finger into you. he pumped harder and faster, the messy sound audible as you moaned.

“yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” he leaned into your ear. “you’re just a dumb puppy, need to be put in your place. too stupid to know any better without my help.”

your cheeks burned as katsuki snickered, seeming unphased by what he was doing.

“open.”

izuku shoved slick covered fingers into your mouth to clean off before pulling your panties down. he made quick work of unbuckling his belt and freeing his heavy cock. you cried out when he pushed into your cunt with a single thrust, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from overwhelming girth as he set a hard pace. the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he fucked you, a cold sweat forming on your skin as your body tried to adjust.

“izu, fuc- ah! it h-hurts,” you whined.

izuku’s hips slapped harder and faster into yours. “stop bitching, i know you can take it. take it like a good girl. take my fucking cock.”

the lump in your throat burned from the mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure rapidly overtaking your body. tears fell down your cheeks when a hard smack hit your ass and you groaned. katsuki looked down at you with a sickening grin as he ate.

“tch. dinner and a show. at least you’re good for somethin’,” he said.

izuku grunted. he let go of your arms and moved a hand to grip your hip. his free arm worked its way under and around your neck as his bicep flexed. your eyes rolled with his thrust at a slightly different angle, dragging his cock head along your sweet spot at a blinding pace.

“hear that? even kacchan knows where you belong,” izuku said, his warm breath fanning your skin.

you made a pitiful attempt at pulling on izuku’s tightening arm, the size of him and the strength of his hold only making the sound of your wet cunt sloppy and lewd as you clenched hard around his cock. lightheadedness trickled in as gurgling moans added to the disgusting slew of humiliating noises your body made.

“‘zuku-”

“nuh uh, baby. who owns this pussy? who do you belong to?” he growled.

a shudder rolled down your back. you gasped as his grip loosened slightly. “daddyy-”

“say it again.” izuku’s lips grazed your ear.

“d-daddy, fuck, daddy,” you whined, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth.

his fingers dug into your hip hard enough to bruise.

“that’s it, puppy. better keep it up til you fucking cum. wanna hear you tell me that when you cum for me,” he said.

with your head spinning, the coil in your belly felt ready to snap as you nearly came undone. izuku’s balls clapped against your clit, sparks of tingling pleasure in your body as he moved, fucking you hard and deep. the sound of your slurred, pathetic voice crying out over and over as your legs shook made him groan.

“gonna make - shit - make me cum, fuck,” izuku said. c’mon, i know you’re close. be a good fuck toy and cum on my cock.”

“daddy, ah-”

you moaned and trembled when your orgasm came crashing down in white hot pleasure as you pushed your hips into his thrusts. izuku fucked you through it as his own hit, filling you with his hot cum with a growl.

“fuck, that’s it, milk my cock dry…. s’ a good girl….”

izuku groaned again before kissing your head as you came down from bliss. you could already feel wet heat trickling down your thighs. katsuki’s grin told you he was never going to let you live this down.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

one month later

you stood at katsuki’s desk, clarifying something about his recently submitted case file, feeling the weight of izuku’s eyes on you as he answered you. katsuki glanced in his direction and smirked.

“better run along. daddy’s waiting.”

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @sluttyshigaraki @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @kxtsxkii

#it’s my hc that the tables have literally been bolted to the floor bc of these two and their damn antics #but they work so well together that no one’s willing to split them up #(meaning bkdk) #shamelessly targeted payback after your many targeted aizawa & kiri fics #midoriya izuku #midoriya smut #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #x reader #midoriya x reader #bakudeku smut #bakudeku x reader #f!reader #bakubunny #aged up characters

[dashielldeveron]

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

#bnha #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou/reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou fic #mha #shinsou headcanons #shinsou fanfiction #shinsou fanfic #shinsou hitoshi x reader #soulmates #soulmate #soulmate au #dash it all

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #6

Surprise--Double chapters today! Also a tiny bit of housekeeping, I've changed the alien's skin from blue to purple. Chapters have been changed retroactively to support this.  XOXO, Petra

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

You really didn’t put up much of a fight for the whole ‘mated to Drohako’ thing, and the alien barbarian almost gives you time to reconsider yourself between orgasms...But maybe it’s for the best you’re not overthinking this one too much.

Currently, you’re having trouble forming any thoughts as your alien barbarian mate won’t stop eating you out.

You grab a set of his horns and pull, with all your might, to get him to release your super sensitive clit from between his lips.

Your hips press into the ground as you do everything you can to escape his attentions.

But Drohako’s tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers push his dripping seed back into your pussy as he does.

Even though his knot released what feels like hours ago, he won’t let you find any rest.

“So wasteful of my seed, little human,” he growls into the apex of your thighs. “Don’t you fucking dare let a drop leave your cunt!”

Once he’s scooped the spilled cum from your thighs and plugged it back up into you, he puts two knuckles at your entrance like a cork.

“Drohako, I’ve got to be more cum than water at this point!” You yelp as his tongue laps firm circles all round your swollen clit.

“Don’t care, shut up now, human. Be good for once,” he mutters before resuming his sucking.

Another orgasm? You can’t let that happen again. There has to be a limit to how many orgasms the human body can handle, right? What if this is the one that makes your heart give out?

When you realize that trying to pry him off you by the horns isn’t working, you shove your hands down as a barrier between your oversensitive flesh and your alien mate’s tongue.

He growls, letting one of his sharp teeth break the skin of your knuckle before gathering your wrists easily in his massive palm. He pins your hands above your head and continues to feast on you ravenously.

“Drohako, st-stop. It’s too much,” you whine as your nerves are firing so aggressively you’re afraid your brain might short circuit.

“Stop? You were so eager to come just a few minutes ago. I’m just giving you what you want. If the pleasure is too much, consider it a consequence of your own actions,” Drohako pops his head up and snarls at you before diving back down.

It’s like you're running a marathon, but actively attempting to avoid the finish line. You’re exhausted. The muscles in your core are burning from overuse. Your pussy is probably still gaping from his knot, and your entrance stings where his knuckles plug you up.

You can’t come again, you don’t have it in you.

At least that's what you tell yourself as you feel your muscles coil and tighten.

“I—I—I can’t,” you sob with each agonizing pulse.

“Be a good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing your thigh down as it attempts to snap closed over his head.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you. Listen to your mate.”

He speaks as if you could stop the freight train of an orgasm that crashes into you.

Instead of the usual enjoyable clenching feeling, your body shakes uncontrollably.

Your eyes roll back as he presses his tongue against you, undulating as some kind of agonizing pleasure rips over your body.

The noises coming from your mouth sound like an injured animal and you’re not sure if you’ve squirted or wet yourself.

Do you even care? It seems like an unimportant detail. You’ve already lost control of your motor skills.

You can’t even remember your own name as Drohako slows his pace. The furious licking of before is replaced by him running his tongue over your outer lips, just skirting the sensitive and swollen flesh of your privates.

Are your eyes shut or open? The only thing in your field of vision is blackness.

You’re still twitching when he gathers you up in his arms. He lays you on some soft platform, and you can hear the sloshing of water.

Starting at your brow, Drohako swipes a wet cloth down your face. Your sight slowly comes back into focus, as you see purple hands wringing out red water into the bowl. Slowly and methodically, he wipes the dirt and sweat from your skin. The hours you’ve spent fucking on the cave floor have tinged your skin crimson, similar to this planet’s red earth.

He wets it again and drags it over your tits and torso. You stiffen as his hands dip, expecting him to wash your still throbbing pussy. He pauses at your body’s reaction.

“Calm down human, my tongue cleaned there enough,” he says unusually softly.

“Oh, okay,” you croak out a little awkwardly.

The cloth drags down the outside of your hips and to your bare feet. You try to tug your foot back as it tickles when he moves the cloth between your toes.

“Stillness, please,” Drohako asks with exasperation more than anger.

“Sorry,” you tell him, too spent to brat any further.

When he walks away, you’re wondering what’s next. Will you finally sleep? Will he drag you into the healing spring and try to get you back into fucking shape?

Do you dare ask him for rest?

When he comes back, he has a bowl that looks like it was cut from some kind of dried gourd. He dips his fingers in and scoops out a thick and goopy substance.

You push up onto your elbows, groaning as you do, the occasional shake still wracking your body at random intervals.

“What’s that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Rendered kurthari fat, with herbs,” he says plainly as he warms it between his palms. You can smell the sweet plants as the oils release with the friction of his hands.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with it?” You arch a brow, unsure of where this is going.

“Your reward, as long as you keep behaving,” a hint of a smile cracks his face.

You can’t go again…and why the fuck does he think he’s going to need lube now if he’s found it unnecessary for his enormous cocks before?

“Drohako, I really can’t fuck. I’m spent—“

“Lie on your stomach, human.” He says, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

“I’m serious, you’ll hurt me if we go much longer,” You get a panicky edge to your voice.

As he listens to you, his face softens.

“I will not fuck you. Calm down. Remember, if you listen to your mate, you will be rewarded.” He speaks soft and low. The usual spark of viciousness is gone from his eyes.

“Promise?” You ask him, only a little desperate.

“Lie down and be quiet,” he whispers, putting his slick hands on your hips and turning you over.

Your face buries into a pile of furs, and you realize for the first time that he’s placed you into some large curtained bed.

“You have a bed and we’ve been fucking on the floor all day?” You bark at him, shocked at the revelation.

“You seem to enjoy being fucked into the dirt.”

Well, he’s probably not wrong.

When his hands grab the meat of your ass, you tense. You can’t help it.

“Drohako, please,” you whisper, hoping that whatever he has planned won’t break you.

His fingers dig deep into one of your hip joints, like he’s searching your muscles for something.

“What are you doing?” You swivel your head to get a better view.

He doesn’t answer you, but lets his fingers glide over your flesh until he finds a spot of tension. His palm presses and kneads a knot in your glute. The pressure is slightly painful, but in a way where you know your body will thank him later.

“…are you massaging me?” You ask in disbelief.

“Humans must be quite an advanced species to decipher such mysteries,” he scoffs sarcastically before moving to your other hip.

“I just thought that you were going to, I don’t know—ugh,” you grunt as he gets deeply into a ball of muscle.

“You thought I would rape you?” He says coldly.

“I, I mean…”

“I’d fall upon my blade first,” he says as he moves to the small of your back. “It’s my job to protect my mate and to ensure you’re safe and happy to carry our young. Don’t you dare imply I’d ever do that again.”

His hands move to your neck, and you groan as he pushes the bones of your shoulder blades aside to press the tips of his fingers deeper into the joint.

“But what—fuck oh my god that feels good—what if…” You trail off as his fingers release what feels like a lifetime of tension.

“What if what?” He asks, picking up your suddenly much more pliable body and tucking it against his as he sits on the bed. His oily palms cups both of your breasts.

“Hey, you said no sex!”

“How is holding your udders sex?” He asks you.

“One, please never use that word again, and two…I mean, touching usually leads to sex.” You tell him, appalled at his choice in words.

“Don’t be stupid,” He says as he lifts your heavy breasts up, instantly taking tension off your back. “Breathe, deep breaths,” he instructs.

You almost protest, but the sensation of filling your lungs unencumbered by the weight of your tits is a weirdly amazing feeling.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth,” he whispers into your ear, cupping and supporting you in a way you only wish a bra could. “Good girl,” he tells you as you relax back into his chest.

“What if I need you to stop? What if it’s actually too much?” You keep breathing, closing your eyes as you focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

“Trust me, I won’t hurt you anymore more than you want me to,” he whispers.

“Can we have a safe word?” You ask cautiously.

“I do not know this term. What makes a word safe?”

“It’s a word that we don’t use in regular conversation. That if one of us says it during our time together, we stop. No questions asked.”

He hums a little in your ear, as if he’s considering the option.

“If it makes you feel secure, I will do this,” he tells you as he releases your breast. His finger tips move to work the tissue near your armpit, making you wince.

“It would,” You grit through the pain. “You can use it too, if you need to,” you tell him.

Drohako laughs with his entire chest, shaking you in the process. “Very funny, human! What word would you like to choose?”

You think for a moment, and the perfect word flies into your mind.

“Udder, you’re not allowed to say it unless something is too painful or too intense. Sound good?” You smile, pleased to have all but eradicated that word from his vocabulary.

“But then what will I call these?” He asks, sliding slick hands over your nipples.

“Breasts, tits, boobs, fun bags, literally anything else,”

“Fine,” he seems disappointed. “If you say ‘udders’ I will stop, no questions asked.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, tilting your head back to meet his golden gaze.

“It’s a simple request. Do not make a bigger deal of it than it is, human,” he brushes off the gesture and moves his hands to your thighs, sliding more of the sweet smelling fat down your sore legs.

NEXT

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

[yok00k]

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

sanrio!oc & boxer!jk headcannon

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

⤷ ⊹₊⋆ series masterlist ⊹₊⋆

>pics from pinterest<

—warning: some mature contents, read at your own risk—

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᡣ𐭩 y/n l/n, 19

ʚɞ lives in a tiny/luxurious apartment nearby the lake

ʚɞ works at a bubble tea store. you love being in a minimalistic and cute place. indeed you think you’re just a girl and your world is full of sanrio and cute stuff.

ʚɞ currently studying cosmetology. you dont know what you want to do just yet but you’re trying to figure it out. you love doing your own makeup, nails, and eyelashes. anything that makes you feel that feminine energy you’ll do it. that’s the reason why you’re pursuing something that’s related to your very own interest!

ʚɞ obsessed with hello kitty. you just has to collect at least one every week so you can function properly

ʚɞ has daddy’s issue (just like the author)

ʚɞ friendly to everyone but you have 3 real friends who you know really well. you open up to them about some details of you and jungkook’s relationship. there’s always there to give you advice or just listen to your rants

ʚɞ you’re very affectionate and genuinely loves the people in your life + sensitive: cry yourself to sleep when someone yells at you. how dare they

ʚɞ had multiple sugar daddies prior to entering a relationship with jk

ʚɞ your go-to outfits are mini skirts+black platform boots/mary janes + crop tops

ʚɞ dumb and slow as a turtle. you just never get what’s going on most of the time & that’s why guys get to take advantage of you and your dummy self won’t even realize it.

ʚɞ may look innocent but be the freakiest in the bedroom. 100% certified virgin (just for the first 6 months of her and jk’s relationship) but that doesn’t mean you can’t own multiple toys + toys that jk gifted you.

ʚɞ unintentionally and intentionally tease jk. you just likes seeing all worked up for nothing.. or something

ʚɞ sucker for creampie & cockwarming

ʚɞ listen to kali uchis, lana del rey, mitski, etc.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

<pics from pinterest>

ᡣ𐭩 Jeongguk Jeon, 23

ꕤ born from a wealthy family. he rebels against his parents: they wanted him to be the heir of their business, but jungkook said “fuck that imma do my own thing”

ꕤ was an underground boxer at the age of 20, but because of his skills, he became somewhat popular in mainstream boxing.

ꕤ has lots of boxing competition [i think he likes to fight]

ꕤ has anger issues. especially when he sees men taking advantage of you. boxing helps him to let out all the anger and he’s learning how to be better. [ you can fix him ]

ꕤ nonchalant but possessive? he doesn’t like to share

ꕤ lives on his own for some time now, in a huge penthouse. he gets lonely most of the time, he’s used to it though

ꕤ @ the gym 24/7. he basically lives there.

ꕤ rumor has it that he was a fuckboy? there’s no proof though.. yet. there’s been rumors around and they don’t sound nice.

ꕤ smokes + vapes [oc hates it]

ꕤ has a big dog named Bam, he’s such a good dog to you!

ꕤ always horny, he keeps the videos of you playing with yourself for his personal use

ꕤ has lots of fantasy of you, he’s infatuated then later on will be in love

ꕤ listens to partynextdoor, metro boomin, brent faiyaz, etc.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #bts jk #jeon jk #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeongguk #headcanon #sanrihoe #boxer au #bts ff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jjk fluff #fluff #bts fluff #bts ffs #jeon jungkoooook #i love him #so silly #x reader #jjk x you

[leossmoonn]

Could you maybe do some head canons for like goth or alternative!reader x mike? Maybe he was intimidated when he first saw her or like Abby really likes the way she dresses and wants to borrow accessories from her and stuff? Idk this idea popped in my head you are such a good writer! 😺

yes! i’m not goth but i looked up some outfits and makeup and stuff. i know the media waters down goth style, but i hope this is what you had in mind!! this is also kind of all over the place sorry 😅

includes / warnings - reader fem, has piercings :D. hc format. after freddy’s.

————

first time mike sees you hearts shoot out his eyes like he’s in a cartoon

“what’re you staring at?” abby asks.

“uh,” mike trails off, not being able to answer as he literally locked on you. it’s when you glance over at him when his face get all red and he looks away and goes back to grocery shopping.

abby walks up to you after seeing mike’s interest and starts a conversation with you

mike tries to steer her away, but he can’t get to her before she says:

“my brother thinks you’re pretty.”

lmao if mike didn’t want to die before this, he definitely wanted to now

“oh, he does?” you grin at him.

mike visibly gulps. but he’s glad he’s closer to you and he can really see how hot you are lmao

“yeah,” he nods. “i-i really like your piercing,” he points to his own eyebrow where you have a piercing on your face.

“thank you. it’s new, actually.”

although mike was a little worried about abby running off to talk to you, in the end it was a good thing 😸

mike loves watching you do your makeup. he’ll sit there for hours staring at you for hours if he could

he loves watching your skilled hands paint eyeliner over your eyes. he likes watching you mix lipstick shades together to create the perfect shade you lay desire that day

“don’t you have to go to work?” you ask.

“i can be late if that means i get to stare at your pretty face.”

also, he’s just so impressed with how talented you are at doing makeup and will literally tell you how artistic you are just bc you know how to make a straight wing

mike loves the chunky heels and boots you wear. he likes when you tower over him 😼

not to mention, when the boots go up your thigh he lowk gets all hot and bothered by it lol

he also loves buying you new accessories to put in your piercings. the first holiday you spent together, he bought you a shit tone of necklaces and new pieces to put in your septum

mike loves taking you out. not only bc he loves showing you off in general. in his head he’s definitely walking around like “yeah i know i bagged the most beautiful woman in the world. all you other guys suck.”

but in all seriousness, he loves the dresses you put on. he always says you look like a vampire princess, and he’s not entirely wrong

the dresses you have are fabulous omg. there’s one where it all connects form a choker-like strap around your neck and has straps connecting to the sweetheart neckline of the dress (soz if this doesn’t make any sense lmfao). the dress is textured on the skirt and stops a little bit above your knees. and fuck if mike doesn’t just want to rip it off of you after also wanting to stare at you in it for all of eternity.

you also have this sleek, black, satin dress that has like a straight neckline and long sleeves and goes down to your feet.

everytime mike sees you wearing that he mouths literally waters

now, just to go back to the fact that he is super intimated when first dating you

he was so afraid he was going to be too boring for you or basic. and also just not the type guy you were looking for

but just to his luck, you think he is perfect for you

omg but in the first month or two do you two dating, i just imagine him finding out what music you like and trying to learn every word of every song to siouxsie and the banshees, specimen, sisters of mercy

it definitely does impress you and you think it’s so sweet

for your bday he definitely tries to take you to any concert he can get tickets to

now on the subject of abby, she is definitely obsessed with you

she’s always asking you to do her makeup for school, and you happily oblige!

mike always looking out for abby in his own way, so he was worried if she went to school caked with eyeliner, she would face some backlash, but he knows how happy it makes her — and you — to play with makeup

abby’s always asking mike she can get a tattoo and piercings

“abby, you just turned 11. you won’t be able to drive anytime soon, so no tattoos anytime soon.”

she’s always trying to have you convince him, but unfortunately you have to agree with mike

buuuuttt you do paint and draw designs on abby sometimes and she acts like their tattoos and that’s close enough for her until she’s older

you also buy her face piercings that hook on her nose and lip

mike does let her get her ears pierced once she promises she can handle the little needle poke and she proceeds to try and steal all your earrings lmao

luckily, you buy her copy cats of them so she can have her own

other random things:

mike definitely lets you paints his nails. this is not at all that crazy of an idea, but, it’s smth new he’s never done but he loves watching you get so excited. you can even practice nail art on him too

you have a couple of tattoos, specifically one that goes around the side of your thigh and it just makes him fall to his knees!!

Halloween you guys dress up as the Addams family !!!

so fitting cuz you’re a hot, powerful woman and mike’s like gomez: unwaveringly obsessed with you. and of course abby is wednesday hehe

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x you

[dollwrites]

That draken piss kink post you reblogged is making me act up rn ngl. So I need to know, what's your thoughts on Griffith with a piss kink? Do you think he would be more subtle with it like having you clean his dick off with your mouth after he pissed? Or do you think he would like the power of just completely pissing all over you whenever he wanted? I'm kinda torn between the two, part of me thinks Griffith would think it's too messy and would only do it in the shower tbh

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!princess!reader, dub con and some noncon, piss kink, omorashi, golden showers, humiliation, public play, oral sex ( m!receiving ), scent marking, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ I TOTALLY GET WHAT YOU MEAN however… consider the fact that he’s power hungry and possessive, he would love to see you covered in it as his way of claiming you. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

he controls your bladder. “You just look so cute,” Griffith purrs into your hair, “dancing around on your tippy toes, I bet your little knees are push inward, yes? Trying not to wet yourself right here?” it would be most inappropriate for a mercenary ( even once that had been recently knighted ) to be as close as he was, had there been any wandering eyes, so he’d pulled you away from the center of the ballroom after your dance and hid away in a darkened corner with you. luckily, the sheer size of the skirt of your gown was enough to mostly conceal him behind you. his hand, skilled and svelte, with calloused fingertips from brandishing a sword for many years, weaves beneath the chiffon of your skirt and worms his digits between your thighs, even as you clench them tight. “Poor, little Princess. Did they not allow you a moment to relieve yourself before they cinched your corset and escorted you to the gala?”

with a sheepish sound, and your own hand struggling to find his beneath the sea of pastel fabric, you shake your head, whispering desperately, “Sir— Sir Griffith..! That is…”

“What?” he teases, pushing his fingers against your netherlips, the tips of them prodding to scrape at your sex, “Is Her Royal Highness humiliated? Uncomfortable?”

“D—don’t… touch…” you beg, finally grasping his slim wrist in your weak grasp, but it doesn’t stop his teasing. his other arm wraps around your waist and pulls your body back against him, pushing against your lower abdomen through your thick, boned corset. “I… have to…”

“I know,” he croons into your ear, his open mouth dragging over it. his fingers inch upwards to tease your button to swell, before he pinches it, and you squeak and squirm, “you must be struggling, hm? the pressure getting hard to ignore? Does it hurt, sweet princess?”

with a flustered pout, you nod. your gloved hand tries to dig into his wrist, and your eyes close tight.

“Does it? Wouldn’t you feel better if you went?”

his fingertips press harder against your stomach, and your back arches when the other hand cups your trembling sex. your eyes widen, cheeks heating up with a furious, hot blush at his suggestion, “S—Sir? Right.. here?!” you gasp, incredulous at him, “I couldn’t possibly— ah!”

Griffith’s fingers rub your clit in rough circles as he pushes your abdomen inwards, applying enough pressure from every angle that you start to feel your control slipping. “Go on,” he urges in a soft, reassuring sigh against your neck, “no one will see you. I would gouge out their eyes if they saw your piss running down your legs, but your skirt is shielding you, this.. my shameful, dirty princess, is only for me to witness. Relieve yourself for me. Let me feel it.”

he doesn’t mind if you go during sex. his thrusts are much too calculated. the shape of his cock too perfect to pummel your hyper-sensitive g-spot when he ‘s pushed your legs up. your ankles rest on his shoulders, feet flopping helplessly as he fucks you like you’re the only girl in the entirety of Midland that he would have. a man possessed when he’s inside, he won’t slow down, he won’t stop, even when you gasp and reach down to your core. “L-Lord Griffith—! I have to… I have to go…”

your features, albeit twisted in pleasure, are shy and innocent, placing your hands on his shoulders to try and ease him off of you, but he doesn’t budge. if anything, his muscles tighten under your fingertips, and he hunkers lower.

“G—Griff—!”

“Shh,” he croons, smothering your mouth with his own, pounding into you hard and fast, jostling you about the bed beneath him. “Go if you have to.” his hair is sticky and damp from sweat, bangs tickling your hot cheeks as he grunts, “Your cunt is much too warm, much too tight, to pull out of even for a moment, for something so trivial as a bathroom break.”

you mewl into his mouth, finding your breath sparse as he seems to suck it directly from your lungs, drilling himself into you, bending your body in half to lay his way against your legs. “I—it’s messy…” are the only words you can choke out as he pins you there. you can hear the bed frame scrape against the floor to the rhythm of his brutal thrusts, and you can feel him jab into your guts, putting too much pressure on your stomach, too much on your bladder.

“The sheets will be drenched with sweat by the time I’m satiated anyways, little princess.” he assures you with a raspy chuckle as he shifts, changing the angle of penetration to batter your cervix, force you to lose control, “If you’re too shy, then I suppose you will simply have to hold it. But I, however, will not make that an easy feat.”

he has you clean him. the first time you spent the night in the Band of the Hawk’s camp, you were much too nervous to allow Griffith to leave you, even for a moment. you’d never been surrounded by so many men before, especially not cold blooded killers, so you even toddle out behind his tent with him when he says he has to relieve himself. at first, your hands clamp themselves over your eyes, and you can hear his stream, spattering the leafy bushes at the forest’s edge. the sound alone has your tummy turning, but it’s only when he elicits a soft moan in the sound of your name, followed by a breathy, “Open your eyes.” that your insides start to knot up.

you do as instructed, cracking your fingers to create enough room for you to peek at him, and your eyes go wide with sordid awe. his cock is thick and beautiful, and the steady stream of golden that flows from it is mesmerizing as it waterfalls over the bushes, raining down on to the grass. his relief emanates not only in the sound of his piss, but the soft sighs that leave his lips when he tilts his head back on his shoulders. his sapphire eyes never leave yours, though, zeroed in on your flustered expression when your hands drop to your sides. “Do you like to watch me?” he chuckles, fondly, when you nod, before he answers. “Would you like a taste?”

your heart pounds against your rib cage as you realize what he’s offering, and just how sinful it is. how utterly vulgar, but you nod, slow, your wide eyes never leaving his stream, until it begins to dissipate. “T—taste…”

Griffith chuckles, one hand reaching out to grasp the nape of your neck and draw you closer, “Well, if you must follow me even out to piss, then you should, at the very least, make use of the moment, no?” his eyes twinkle in the moonlight as he gives you a warm smile, and whispers, “Wrap those sweet lips around my soft cock and suck until I’m clean again, little highness.”

you stare into his eyes, but your knees are already bending as he guides your head downward, and you find yourself opening your mouth before they even hit the ground. the excitement of doing something so… utterly base has your head swimming when you grasp him. his skin is soft, and guide the tip of his cock to your open mouth. the dribbles that would’ve otherwise been shaking off soak your tongue, and you gurgle, happily, eyelids fluttering. you’d never tasted anything like his piss, and as embarrassed as you were, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. your tongue swirls the tip in slow, butterfly strokes, slathering every, twitching inch in your saliva, bathing him with it.

Griffith moans again, this time planting a hand on the top of your head, “Easy, now,” he purrs, playfully, “if that devious, little tongue of yours gets my cock hard, I’ll have to pin you to my cot, won’t I? We don’t want the men to hear you scream for me, do we?”

he uses his power over you and pisses on you whenever he feels the need. “On your knees, my filthy, little princess.” if anyone saw the position he had you in, he would be beheaded on the spot, that much you knew. on your knees, still clad in your tiara but not much else, mouth open, tongue hanging out, ready for him to soak you. “Hold out your hands, cup them, beg me for it.”

you do as he desires, eager to please him. you can’t help but want his approval— his affection, his adoration. when those icy gems stare at you, you want to bare yourself to him and let him have you however he wants. you cup both of your hands together, hold them up near your open mouth, as if begging a summer sky for a cool rain. “P—please, Sir Griffith… p—“ it’s humiliating, to speak the words, but you know that he wants to hear you in your shame. he wants to hear you low and pathetic. “Please piss on me!”

his cock starts to swell, hardening as you beg him, and he grasps it tight by the base with one hand, the other gripping your flawless tendrils in a vice fist just beyond your tiara. “You’re a very obedient, little girl.” he smiles, pulling you even closer. “Pleading for me to drench you in my piss. Tell me, does Her Royal Highness enjoy being made to swallow it, or do you prefer to feel my piss running down your face, soaking your pretty hair?”

you whimpered. you couldn’t decide, and you stuck your tongue out, letting it dangle against your chin as you bat your eyelashes up at him, instead.

he chuckles, “I see, you’re too needy to choose. Such a needy, perverse little princess needs a man to decide for her, is that it?” you nod, eyes wide and happy when he grunts and the first splatter of his stream hits your cheek. you close one eye, and scoot on your knees. “That’s right, little one, you do not need a say, I’ll make up your mind for you.” your open mouth starts to fill up quick, dribbling sparkling diamonds as some escapes, only to cascade on to your cupped hands so you may sip it from the reservoir created, whining softly and happily when the warmth dribbles down from your forehead, rolling over your cheeks, to drip against your chest. the droplets tickle, and you squirm on your knees— but it’s more than that.

you’re getting wet at such a vulgar display of ownership. Griffith can tell by the way you rub your thighs together. “You enjoy this far too much, isn’t that so, Princess?” he teases with a powerful grin, “Your pristine face is dripping with my piss, and your little cunt is wet because of it, isn’t she? Are you getting all excited and sensitive, knowing that my scent is on your skin? That’s ownership, my little love. I do this because I’m claiming what’s mine, and every other man will know now. That makes your cunt happy, doesn’t it?”

#PISS KINK RIGHTS #griffith imagine #griffith smut #griffith #berserk griffith #griffith x reader #Griffith x you #berserk #berserk smut #berserk x reader #berserk x you #berserk imagine #griffith berserk

[obsessive-disfuntion]

Gun-Slinging and Impressing the Literal Devil

Your favorite place to hang out was the constantly buzzing saloon owned by one of your acquaintances, Rosie. But after hearing too many men brag about how good they are with a gun, you grew tired of their egos and decided to shut them up. But in the process of showing off your skills you happened to impress a certain cowboy outlaw.

A/N: This is based off of the LOVELY art of cowboy Lucifer drawn by the incredibly talented and sweet @bat-boness so please go give them some love!! This fic is literally so outside of the Hazbin universe, Lucifer isn’t even the king of hell I just took his character and ran with it. Thank you all so much for all the love from my sneak peak for this fic, I barely had the motivation to finish it but you guys definitely helped me out with all the love so thank you ❤️

Warnings: Femme reader, AFAB terms and she/her pronouns used for reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read!

You tilted your head back as you finished off your second glass of whiskey, letting out a groan from the burning in your throat. You pushed the glass back towards Rosie for a refill before tucking the stray hairs falling out of your braid behind your ears.

“Well sugar, I think you’ve had enough this afternoon… I want you to be able to walk out of here,” she grinned, taking the glass and starting to clean it. “Any particular reason you’re trying to drink yourself under the table today?”

“You know I got nothin’ better to do,” you chuckled, looking at Rosie. “And all these boys taking up air in this damned place are making me wish I was elsewhere.”

“They are rather… loud.”

“That’s an understatement,” you scoff. “I dunno how you put up with their bullshit, Rosie.”

A hush fell over the saloon, causing you to perk up and look towards the entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, absolutely dumbfounded.

“My days… is that Lucifer?” Rosie gasped.

You nod your head, ensuring that your mouth was closed and not completely open in shock. What was he doing here in a place like this?

He walked in, completely ignoring the silence and heading towards the bar. His spurs clinked against the wood floor, and you quickly take in his appearance before looking away back towards Rosie. You only saw his eyes, which were narrowed in concentration. The rest of his face was covered by a white hat tilted over his brows and a red bandana hiding his mouth and nose that made his eyes nearly glow. Although the bandana wasn’t doing much, since the cut of his shirt was rather… low…

He stood to your left, leaning his arm against the bar counter causing him to nearly press against you he was so close. You couldn’t help but look up at him.

He smelled of barley and gunpowder… and his hair was unkempt from the wind that most-likely came from riding horseback.

“Well howdy,” he greeted Rosie, tipping his hat.

…What?

His voice was so… cheery. It didn’t match what he looked like at all. It contrasted his concentrated and unapproachable appearance.

“Well hey there, Lucifer… what can I get for ya this afternoon?” Rosie smiled as she grabbed a glass, being her usual charming self.

He pulled the bandana down to speak. “Strongest drink you have, if you please.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He was pretty… Smile that could make your knees buckle, rosy red cheeks, and… a surprising amount of manners for such a well-known outlaw.

“Of course… What brings you to our little town? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Just passin’ through. You know me. Well, not really. But I mean- I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Wait, that sounds awful full of myself, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little,” you butted in, causing you to widen your eyes in spite of yourself.

Why did you say that?

This brought his attention towards you, smile still on his face as he gave you a once over. You pretended not to notice, but it made you squirm in your seat and subtly adjust your ruffled skirt.

“Well hey there pretty lady. You come here often?”

You snort, which makes you flush in embarrassment. “Sure do. Rosie here is a close friend of mine.”

“Well, you both look absolutely lovely this afternoon,” he winked at the both of you, causing you to shrink in your seat and Rosie to let out a giggle.

“Why thank you,” Rosie smiled back, sliding over a glass of clear liquid to him. “Enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank ya, ma’am,” he tilted his hat once more and grabbed his glass, taking a sip before heading over to that damned group of men you’ve grown to hate and starting up a conversation.

“Well he was… surprisingly friendly,” you observed, looking to Rosie.

“Yeah… especially towards you,” Rosie smirked, propping her elbows on the bar counter and leaning her face into her palms. “He fancies you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and dismissing the thought. Even if it was true, you couldn’t entertain the idea. He was an outlaw always on the run. You didn’t really want that life.

“Oh please, I could shoot circles around you.”

This caused you to glance behind you at one of the buffoons that was inflating his own ego earlier. Which he somehow had the audacity to say that to Lucifer, which caused your jaw to drop just slightly in disbelief.

But Lucifer didn’t even challenge the statement, for some reason. He just laughed and nodded.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I believe ya.”

“Damn… for a famous outlaw you don’t have a spine, now do ya?”

You slam your hands on the bar counter, causing the group of men to shut up for once.

“Y/N… I really don’t think-“

“Y’all sure are cocky for a bunch of bitches, aren’t ya?” you cut Rosie off, ignoring her warning and standing up out of your seat. 

You ignored the snickers coming from a few of the men, standing in front of them with your back straight and proud. You sure as hell weren’t gonna back down now that you’ve stepped in it. 

“Every goddamn day y’all come here and talk about your skills but I never see it.”

You lift your skirt, high enough to show your mid thigh, which caused almost all of the men to blush, wide-eyed as some stared and others looked away. You reveal your gun holster strapped to your thigh, pulling out your revolver and spinning it by the trigger guard with your pointer finger as you let your skirt fall back down.

“So how about you boys let me show you mine,” you smirk, tilting your dark brown hat back so they could all really get a look at you. 

“Why the fuck would we give you the time of day, little lady? Why don’t you go back to sittin’ and lookin’ pretty at the bar counter there-“

You pull back on the hammer spur of your revolver, lifting the gun up with one hand and narrowing one eye as you aim. You shot directly in the center of the cocky man’s hat, knocking it off of his thick skull before the bullet bounced into the wooden wall, it coming to a stop once it was wedged in between the boards. 

“Hey!” Rosie snapped, causing you to wince. “Not here, not inside- get out! All of you- you too Y/N!”

You shot her an apologetic look as you pushed forward on the hammer spur of your gun, walking outside with an anger bubbling in your chest. How dare those dumbs bastards speak to you that way…

You turn around when you hear the swinging doors open, watching with a smirk as the group of dumbs men get on their horses and ride away, not even sneaking a glance at you.

But then Lucifer walks out, and you look at the ground. Was he angry? But why would he be?

He called out your name, which he probably figured it out when Rosie yelled at you to get out, gaining your attention and causing you to look up.

“Ya still wanna show off your skills?” he asked, raising a brow and giving you a smile.

Your heart fluttered and you gave him a shrug. “Well if I have an audience.”

“Of course you do, couldn’t take my eyes off ya, sweetheart.”

He grabbed 3 empty food cans out of the bag hanging on the side of his horse, which he probably ate out of during his travels, leaving you to stare at him with wide eyes and blushing cheeks at his words. He set them up on different posts on the fence of a pasture that was next to the saloon. 

“Alright, show me what you got,” he shot you a toothy grin, stepping away from the cans as you scoffed.

“Please,” you laughed, making sure to take more steps back than what he was expecting. 

You shot the cans just like you shot the man’s hat from before, one eye slightly narrowed and gun raised with one hand. You shot one after the other, hitting them perfectly and knocking each one off of their posts with only a few seconds in between each shot.

Once they all hit the floor, you put the safety back on by pressing forward on the hammer spur.

“Damn…” Lucifer whistled, stepping towards you. “Haven’t seen someone shoot like that in a long time.”

“Glad I could impress someone like Lucifer himself,” you smiled, tipping your hat before lifting your skirt again and hooking your gun into the holster strapped around your thigh.

You tried to pretend you didn’t notice him staring at your skin as you let your skirt fall.

“Already was impressed when I saw you for the first time. Wasn’t kiddin’ when I called you a pretty lady.”

You blushed at the compliment but played it off, taking a stop towards him. “And you’re strikingly handsome for an outlaw… you’d think always being on the run would ruin one’s appearance.”

“Well, I suppose I’m criminally handsome as well.”

You snicker behind your hand. You really liked him…

“I’m not stayin’ here too long…”

“What a shame,” you frown at him, sticking out your bottom lip in a fake pout. 

“But I’d still like to have a pleasant stay. Any ideas on how I can make my visit a little more… fun?” he asked, stepping so close to you that his crossed arms nearly touched your chest.

Your eyes widened at his words. You looked at him, and his eyes were narrowed, honed in on you and only you and taking in your appearance.

Well shit. Who are you to deny someone like him?

“I might have a few… it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to show a merciless outlaw to my own home, would it?”

“Well… I certainly don’t think so… at least, not this outlaw,” he smiled at you, placing a gentle hand on your hip, and you caught him staring down at your figure.

“Well, let’s get on your horse and I’ll show you the way.”

“You don’t have your own?” he asks, taking your hand and showing you to his horse, which was a beautiful dusty grey color with a black mane.

“Nah- everything ‘round here is walking distance. If I need one I usually use one of Rosie’s- that there is her pasture, she has a few animals she likes takin’ care of,” you explain, ignoring the hand he puts out to help you and mounting the horse by yourself.

Lucifer’s eyes were slightly widened in shock as you made it clear that you didn’t need his assistance, getting on the horse and sitting behind you. “I see,” he smiled, pressing himself against you and holding onto your waist. “Lead the way, darlin’. And take your time, I’m in no rush.”

Your lips part and your heart hammers at the sudden touch, gently snapping the reins of the horse to a soft trot as you guide it to your home.

But just after a few steps from the horse you felt Lucifer’s hands travel down your waist to your hips, and then they slowly made their way forward.

“Lucifer, just what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, breath falling short as you sneak a glance over your shoulder back at him.

“Just keep goin’ sweetheart. I’m just havin’ a little fun.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to concentrate on getting the two of you to your home, breath hitching as his hands travelled down towards the center of your thighs.

“Lucifer, I’m… I’m trying to concentrate here,” you try to scold, lungs sputtering for air out of nerves and excitement when his grip tightens on your thighs and teases the area where your pelvis meets your hip.

“I know, darlin’. You can still get us there, can’t you?”

“Well… yeah,” you sighed, placing one hand on the hand that was getting dangerously close to a place you DIDNT want him touching out here.

“Don’t try to hold me back, baby,” he teased, breath hitting your ear.

You pull on the reigns of the horse, getting him to stop.

“We’re here,” you sighed. “Thank god.”

Lucifer jumped off the horse and you quickly followed. “I have some fenced off land in the back. You can keep your horse there, if you’d like,” you offer, handing him the reigns and showing him to the land you had behind your house.

It was peaceful where you lived- just at the end of town but close enough to everything you needed.

Once Lucifer let his horse back, and made him comfortable, he turned to you with a smile. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

“Why, of course,” you teased with a smile, taking his hands and leading him inside your home.

As soon as the door closed behind the two of you, he grabbed onto your waist and you gripped onto his shoulders as he pulled you into a lip-bruising kiss. 

He pulled you close, hands lowering to your hips and slotting one of his legs in between yours to press his thigh against you.

“Lucifer…” you breathed, running your hands to his hair and gripping onto the roots, moving towards his neck and pressing soft kisses along the skin. 

“Baby, you are…”

“C’mon,” you interrupt him against his skin, pulling back and leading him to your bed. “You wanted some fun while you’re in town, right?”

“Right,” he nodded, pushing you atop the covers as soon as you got near the mattress, kicking his shoes off and getting on the bed.

He hovered over you on his knees, already beginning to hike up your skirt which made you laugh under your breath, slightly nervous. You reached for your ankles, sitting up slightly as you unlaced your shoes and threw them to the side as Lucifer removed his hat and serape and putting them to the side.

You watched carefully when he took off his shirt, pulling it off and placing it aside, immediately inviting you- whether he meant to or not- to touch all of his chest and stomach that you could. You sighed out a deep breath (of slight disappointment) when he pulled away from your hands and pushed up your skirt enough to see your bloomers and under-skirts which he quickly removed. “You alright?” he checked in, looking up at you, barely able to rip his eyes away from your body.

“Yeah,” you whispered, giving him a smile and reaching out to run a hand through his hair. “Of course I am.”

He gave you a cheeky smile, immediately ducking down and starting to kiss along your upper thigh. He didn’t even have the patience to take your skirt off first, he just lifted it up so it would be out of the way and pushing it back so he could still see you. Right after the skirts were out of the way, he unclipped the gun holster around your thigh and dropping it onto the floor.

“Damn, you’re impatient…” you teased as an attempt to keep your composure, letting out a small, nervous laugh as he looked back up at you.

“I said I wanted to have fun while I’m here… and I don’t play around. I get what I want, if ya didn’t notice, sweetheart.”

“Aw, but you don’t wanna take your time with me?” you teased, trying but failing to hide your smile.

“I think you and I both know you like it hard and fast too, darlin’. I don’t really think you care if I take off our clothes or not. Do you?”

You flushed at those words, unable to get yourself to answer, let alone decide what to say.

“That’s what I thought.”

He dives back into your thigh, immediately making his way to your pussy and spreading your folds before licking a stripe across your hole and to your clit. 

“Jesus- fucking christ, Lucifer,” you gasped, glancing down at him and placing your hands in his hair to brace yourself. 

He doubles down, chuckling against you causing to let out a breathy moan. You felt your whole core spasm against the sudden attention, tilting your head back and getting lost in the feeling as soon as he thrust his tongue into your hole. 

“Fucking shit, Lucifer!”

You let out a small cry when he holds your thighs open, causing them to shake. “Please, oh my god-“

He pulled away so that his lips were just barely against your clit, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Please what, baby? What do you want?”

“You, you… please-“

“Already desperate for me?” he whispered, having the audacity to laugh at you.

“Shut your trap…”

He apparently didn’t like that response, so he gripped your thighs harder and started sucking on your clit with an unwavering vigour.

“What- Lucifer!” you cry out, one hand gripping onto his hair and the other slamming onto the mattress, gripping onto the sheets in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not burst into tears right there. 

He moves one hand from your thigh up to intertwine his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly and still keeping his gaze on you.

He finally gave you a break, pulling away and giving you a smile. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathed, studying your face and tracing his fingertips along your thigh.

You blushed under his admiration, looking off to the side out of embarrassment from his intense gaze.

“Whatta ya say, darlin’?”

You look back at him, face warm and eyes wide. “Thank you…”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, sitting up on his knees before leaning over you, his arms planted by your torso against the mattress to keep himself up.

He pressed his face against your neck, causing you to inhale a sharp breath and gripping onto his hair with one hand again as he peppered kisses along your neck. “Are you teasing me now?” you laughed under your breath, slowly lifting your bare hips to press against his.

He let out a gentle groan, nipping at your jawline. “What can I say? I wanna take my time with ya…”

You scoff, smile evident on your face as you trailed your hand down. It rested at the top of Lucifer’s pants, slowly undoing his belt. “But I thought you were here to have fun, sugar… where’s that needy attitude now?” you mutter back, placing the belt next to you two on the mattress and trailing your hands down again to push down his pants, just enough to…

“Well, you’re gonna take away my fun by rushing me,” Lucifer frowned, immediately grabbing you by your wrists and pushing your hands away. “Fun doesn’t mean quick, sugar,” he mocked. “Let me play a bit.”

He gently pressed your hands down against the mattress, a silent signal to keep them there, before trailing his hands along your chest. He grinned down at you, slowly unclasping the hooks from your corset and throwing it aside before beginning to undo your shirt. “Beautiful- best part of this town.”

You shudder at the touch to your breasts, letting out a small laugh. “Do you say that to all the girls you bed?”

He looked at you with a raised brow, unbuttoning your shirt all the way as he obviously began to lose his patience with you. “Haven’t done this in years, baby. You’re special, don’t you worry.” 

He tossed your shirt to the side, straddling your hips and running his hand along your jaw. He ducked down, kissing your lips and nipping them immediately. You opened your mouth, tentatively, which he took advantage of and invaded your mouth with his smooth tongue.

You gasped, his tongue working wonders as you were able to taste yourself, and you lifted a hand to place on his hip as an attempt to get him to not stop.

He pulled away, though, and stared down at you with narrowed eyes. “I thought it was obvious I wanted you to keep your hands to yourself, but apparently you didn’t pick up on that.”

You opened your mouth to complain, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed his belt, which made your mouth go dry. “Gimme your hands, love.”

You stutter, tongue feeling as if it was swollen while your hands remain still. “Lucifer, you won’t-“

“C’mon baby,” he interrupted, gaze turning slightly cold which sent shivers down your spine. “Hands.”

Your eyes widen and you shakily hold up your hands, embarrassed at the feeling of your pussy already dripping onto the bedsheets.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll still treat you right. I’d never hurt you,” he reassured, slightly alarmed at your shaking, but he gave you a look that you knew was him telling you you could stop whenever.

There was the man that you saw at the bar. Bless his heart, he’s too kind.

“I’m…” you trail off, thighs nearly twitching when he pushes your hands against the bed frame. “I’m just fine.”

He wrapped the belt around your wrists and the headboard of the bed, finally fastening it which caused your thighs to press together.

“Goddamnit will you PLEASE get on with it,” you felt your voice betray you, causing Lucifer to pause as soon as the belt was fastened. 

He pulled away, going back to hovering above you with a smug grin. “Darlin’… you like the belt?”

“I didn’t fucking say that, did I?”

“Oh, touchy… you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he laughed at you, situating himself so that he could reach back, pushing past your thighs and pressing against your clit in between your folds, before reaching down further and pressing one finger into your hole. 

Your eyes closed, body relieved at the attention as you slumped against the mattress and gently tugging against the belt around your wrists. 

“You do like it.”

“Perhaps,” you muttered, looking down at him. 

“Oh, no need to be shy… it’s alright, you can tell me anything,” he teased, slowly pulling his finger out of you, then slowly thrusting back in. 

You gasped, now realizing just how powerless you were at the fact that your wrists were completely restrained, looking at his face as he pressed barely-there kisses along your sternum.

He teased the pad of his second finger around your entrance, then slowly pushed it inside to join the finger that was already there. He was stretching you out.

“Lucifer… please go faster, I’m fine, y’know. Don’t need to worry about me.”

He looked down at you and smiled, pressing a quick and soft kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly to look at you as he rubbed against your walls with his fingers. “Ya sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He chuckled, pulling his fingers out of you before trailing them up to his face and licking his tongue along the two fingers slowly, savouring the taste. “You’re just perfect, love.”

You shrank under the praise, heart skipping a beat in your chest at his actions. He pulled away though, tugging down his pants. You watched, with hardly any shame at all, as he throws them to the floor, and he climbs closer to you again, leaning over you as he uses one hand to press himself against your entrance. He looks up at you with his hair slightly in his eyes and an excited grin stretched across his lips.

“You ready, angel?”

You smile, surprised that he checked in with you so suddenly, but it made your heart swell. “Yes… of course,” you nod. 

He gave you a soft smile which made your chest tighten, and he pushed himself into you slowly. Your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat, and once he noticed that your breathing stopped, he stopped too. “Breathe, sweetheart… breathe.”

You gasped for breath, probably louder than you realized, and your wrists slacked then tightened against the belt. “Keep going,” you whispered, words barely falling out of your lips.

“Okay, just… tell me when you need me to stop, alright? I don’t wanna hurt ya,” he soothed, leaning up and pressing careful kisses against your cheek as he pushed in further.

Tears welled in your eyes at the stretch, your back arching and your jaw nearly going slack. Lucifer tightened his grip on your hips, keeping you still.

But then he kept going, and your eyes squeezed shut at the lack of control. But you weren’t panicking. 

There was something about the smell of dust in his unkempt hair against your face, and the way his body slotted against yours, that just made you trust him completely. Which was… jarring, to say the least, since you just met him.

You grew used to the intrusion, even if it did just keep growing and growing. But then his hips slotted against yours, and you were finally able to breathe again. 

“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Easy for you to say…” you panted, smiling at him when he pulled back to look at you. 

“Mmm… not THAT easy. You have no idea how much it’s taking for me to not fuck you into this bed right now.”

It was then that you noticed that his arms were shaking, and you smiled a little to yourself. He felt this way just for you?

“You can go, baby… just go slow, please,” you instructed, holding back a laugh at the way his face lit up.

“God bless ya, darlin’,” he laughed breathily as an attempt to tease you, gently pulling out, which made your wrists unintentionally tug aggressively against the headboard. 

But once he slowly pushed back in, your vision went white and you let out an unfiltered, drawn-out whine. You didn’t want to say it out loud, but holy shit… he was huge.

“You’re so pretty like this, love. Look at you…”

You open your eyes a bit, peeking at him only for them to roll back when he pulls out and pushes back in again, this time a little faster.

“Sound so good, angel. And you feel so good, too. Easily best part of coming to town.”

You let out a breath, or at least tried to, since your lungs were absolutely fluttering at the feeling and his words.

“Lucifer, you can go… faster,” you muttered, looking at him with watering eyes and a wobbly smile.

He cursed under his breath, examining your face for a moment before pulling out again. The friction against you made you cry out, weak and soft, only for him to push back into you.

But this time he didn’t stop in between thrusts, he just kept going, which made your hips twitch.

“Fuck…”

He groaned, turning his head so that his lips pressed against your ear. His breath hit your skin, causing you to shiver against his hold.  He liked the reactions you were having, though, which made him double down and push your limits even more.

“I felt that, baby… You’re reacting like that just for me?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, nodding as an answer. He pulled back a bit to look at you, giving you a smug grin before lifting your hips slightly and deepening his angle.

“Oh- oh…! Lu-!”

“I bet you’d like me to come back every now and again, just for me to fuck you like this over and over. Ain’t that right?”

“Yeah-! Right, Lucifer!” your voice hiccuped with the way your body moved against the bed with each of his thrusts, eyes half-lidded.

“Lucifer, wait,” you gasped, jaw clenching. 

He stopped in his tracks, not moving as he looked down at you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, of course not. I feel so good… just… please undo the belt. Please.”

He immediately nodded and reached over you to the headboard, quick to listen. As soon as the belt was unfastened he threw it off the bed and massaged along your wrists, trying to soothe the slight burn. 

Instead of letting him continue you grabbed his hands, pushing him away before sitting up, pulling him back so he was laying down. You straddled his hips, placing your against his chest to keep him there.

“What are you…?”

“You pick up on things easy, just wait.”

You reach back, lining him up with yourself before lowering down onto him. He let out a breath, instantly gripping onto your hips.

“Baby, sweetheart, I can’t keep this up that long if ya-“

“I know, that’s the point,” you smile down at him, raising yourself and lowering again.

He let out a noise. You’d never heard anything like it, it was soft and high pitched, but you’d do anything to hear it again. 

You looked down at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open as you rose and fell again, then again, until you started consistently bouncing.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so goddamn tight.”

“Just for you, baby.”

Something in him shakes and he slams you down on his cock, forcing a near scream out of your throat. 

“Just for me?”

“Yes- yes, just for you!” you exclaimed in surprise, doubling down and speeding up your pace.

He tilted his head back in response, becoming lost to the feeling which just made you shudder all over.

“You’re so pretty, love… so gorgeous, I could watch you do this for hours,” he praised, tracing along your hips before tightening his grip again. 

Your face flushed and your body shuddered at the praise, the friction from your bounces starting to get to you. Lucifer noticed and trailed one of his hands down from your hip and immediately circled his thumb around your clit. 

“Ah! Lucifer, I’m close, are-“

“Right there with ya, angel,” he smiled at you, albeit a little wobbly since he was barely containing his own whimpers.

You clenched around him, bouncing stuttering only for Lucifer to help you out with the hand that was still on your hip.

“You’re such a good girl- so good you make me want to stay,” you heard his weak voice whisper in between his whines, causing your eyes to widen as you looked down at him.

You gasp, your back arching and your stomach fluttering as you climax. Your eyes just barely caught Lucifer’s expression while he finished himself, his eyelids nearly falling and his breath hitching before letting out a strained whimper while he finishes inside you.

You cried out at the feeling of him spilling into you in the middle of your peak, doubling over as your moans stutter and hiccup while you finally get over your peak.

“You did so good, love…”

He slowly sat up, breath still erratic as he gently and carefully pulled out of you which caused you to whimper from your own sensitivity. 

“That’s it… just breathe, you did so well, darlin’.”

He laid you back down, grabbing a quilt that was folded on the bottom of the bed and placing it over you so you’d stay warm. You smile at the soft fabric against your skin and watched his hand cup your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your face. He delicately took your hair out of its braid, massaging your scalp once your hair was down and splayed out along your shoulders. 

He moved to lay down behind you under the quilt, slotting his body against you from behind and hugging around your waist. “Can I stay the night?”

You decide to not let the reality that he has to leave hit you yet. With how his arms felt around you, with this new feeling in general, is presence just felt… right. Might as well pretend that the feeling doesn’t have to leave for a little bit longer.

“Of course you can.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading <3 sorry that it took me so long to write, I literally hate school with a passion :)

Taglist: @heavenlyraindrops

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin x reader #cowboy au #western au #rosie hazbin hotel

[path777]

darling: document title 천사 생일 anyway happy birthday angel i wish you happiness forever i'm sorry this birthday post is filthy and absolutely nasty. sorry

a bunch of stuff.. noona kink size kink graphic pussy eating whatever. squirting.? i usually characterize better than this but i started this one when i was baby carat so. anyway who gaf let's get into it

-

when you walk in, jeonghan is laying stomach-down on his bed, fully unclothed save for the pair of white socks on his feet which reach just above his ankles. there’s a purple dildo in his mouth, and he’s licking up the length of it with his eyes closed. he pulls away from it when you walk in, clearly embarrassed but trying to pretend otherwise, a thick string of saliva connecting the silicon and his lips. he swallows. 

“hi,” you say, trying to hide your smile, putting your bag down on the floor. “what do you have there?” 

jeonghan shifts on the bed, the sheets rustling as he did so. “a dildo.” he’s still holding it in his hand, the entire length of it practically glistening with his spit. 

“uh-huh,” you reply, taking off your coat and walking towards him. sitting down on the bed beside him, you place your hand on the small of his back. “who are you practicing for? shua? coups?” 

jeonghan laughs a little. “those guys don’t deserve my practice.” he’s told you a little about their escapades. “it’s- ‘s for you,” he says instead, ducking his head. the tucked strand of hair behind his ear falls like curtain between you - you see the tips of his ears turn red instead of his cheeks. 

“for me?” it’s your turn to laugh. “jeonghan-ah, i don’t have a-“

“i know!” he interrupts you, shy but bright - it’s uncharacteristic of him and so, so intriguing. “i know that, obviously.” it’s said with a little bit of attitude, like, you’re stupid for thinking that i would be that stupid, even if it was to tease me.

“i don’t know,” he says like he does, in fact, know, and tucks his hair back again to turn to look at you. “just- i was thinking of you, while- while i was-“ he stops, cheeks reddened. 

“tell me more.”

“thought about you pulling my hair. fucking my mouth.” jeonghan turns over then, dildo still clutched in his hands. your eyes are immediately drawn to his cock, flushed red against his stomach. he was clearly rutting against the bed before you entered, and what a lewd picture that paints — jeonghan fucking his mouth with a dildo, riling himself up, his own cock rubbing helplessly — needily — against the sheets. “i almost died, felt it all the way down here,” he tilts his head back just slightly and touches his adam’s apple, “i could feel my throat stretching to fit it.” 

he adjusts his position a little, recalling the scene in his mind. he had been trying to relax his throat, relax the muscles there fighting to contract against the intrusion. it had just barely worked as he felt himself start to gag at the last second, throat choking and pulsing around the silicon. but it had felt strangely good — the stretch of his throat accommodating the thick dildo leading him to rut needily underneath him, the friction of the sheets against his cock — already leaking and wet — eliciting soft whiny noises from him. 

“thought you would make me take it anyway, no matter how big…” jeonghan looks at the dildo in his hands, embarrassed and a little guilty, “as if you were doing me a favour, knowing that i like it.” 

“noona, i want- i want-” he continues, eyes big and doelike, gazing up at your from his place on the bed. “can i…eat you out?” it’s not a strange request from him but it is one out of place, with his state of undress and your state of, well, not — not to mention the desperate state of his arousal. 

jeonghan takes off only your skirt and panties, leaving your blouse intact. if he looked lewd before, he looks unbelievable now, with his gaze on your cunt, eyes hungry, and his cock hard and leaking but still untouched.

and nobody eats pussy better than jeonghan — not because he’s particularly skilled, but because he just loves it so much. it’s in the ravenous way he pulls down your panties and licks his lips at the sight of you, glistening with slick. it’s in the first lick of his tongue, flat and wide, clear in an attempt to try to taste as much of you as possible. and he always moans, after that first lick, like he’s eating his first meal in days. and he continues this way, messy and wanting, without a care for the kinds of obscene noises he’s making, or with the amount of slick getting onto his cheeks. 

usually, this makes you want to hold him down and ride him until he cries, but today was a little different. cheekily he laps at your cunt, nosing at your clit lewdly. his moans are obscene, exaggerated — provocative. 

it’s like he wants to make you do something about it, like place a hand at the back of his head and shove his face deeper in your cunt, or tell him that he’s a messy slut who loves to get his face fucked. 

“jeonghan-ah, you’re being so sloppy. are you even trying to make me come? do you just love my taste this much that you’re trying to have it for dinner?”

“noona- ah-!” his voice comes out muffled and wet, your hand on the back of his head. “noona always tastes good, mmh-” he mumbles into your cunt, tongue lapping at you without pause. 

“you’re so good to me, jeonghan-ah. such a- mmh- good girl for noona,” the pet name slips out of you carelessly as he suckles at your clit, but he pulls away sharply. “say that again,” he says, before leaning back once again. “say-”

“want me to call you a good girl? my good girl?” jeonghan moans against your cunt in lieu of a response, the ends of his hair tickling your thighs. and from this angle he really does look like a girl, a crown of blond hair surrounding his face, obscuring any features that might tell you otherwise. his tongue is laving flat against your pussy, licking sloppily, almost lapping up your slick. “i have such a sweet girlfriend,” you coo. “i’m so lucky to be with a cute girl like you who loves to get her mouth fucked.” jeonghan’s lips wrap around your clit and suck, drawing a broken whine out of you, “god, hani, you’re so good at that, fuck-“

-

“you’re so tight, baby,” you murmur, two fingers inside jeonghan up to the second knuckle. “you’re a virgin here, right, hani? my girlfriend’s first time getting fingers in her sweet little cunt? how does it feel?”

“feels good,” he responds, lips parted, eyes glassy. “feels- different.”

“different how, angel, tell me,” you coax, wanting to hear more. jeonghan’s voice is wet, thick with arousal when he continues, “feels like- feels like ‘m gonna come just on your fingers- ah- feels so-“ 

“oh, is that what it is?” you tease, “you’re feeling sensitive because no one’s ever touched you here before? inside this pretty cunt?”

“no- never, never-“ jeonghan chokes, hips rolling down in sync with the motions of your digits. “please, more, want more-“

“again,” you request, fingers curling, stroking at his prostate. 

“please, please give me more, mmh- my- my cunt wants it, wants it so bad-“  

“jeonghan-ah, you have to relax. you’re already clenching so tightly around just two fingers, how are you gonna take my cock?” you scissor your fingers to emphasize your words. “you’re so tight that i feel like i can’t pull my fingers out. what, you like it this much?”

he makes a soft noise like a whimper, “‘s my first time-“ he moans as you start rubbing against his prostate, “i’ll be good, i promise, i’ll take all of it, whatever you give me-“ he breaks off with a choked whine, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you massage that spot with your fingers. “i’ll be good, i’m your good girl, mmh-“ your relentless massaging of that sweet spot has left him boneless, leaning back onto you with nearly all his weight. his cock, pink and pretty at the beginning of this evening, is flushed red and wanting, obscenely leaking from the tip. “look your cute little clit, angel, it’s all swollen,” you murmur. “will you touch it for me? touch your sweet clit for me?” your words send something of a spark down his spine, and his hand reaches forward to stroke at his cock. using the copious amounts of precum, slowly he works his fingers up and down, moaning and whimpering uncontrollably with the stimulation, both himself at his cock and you at his hole. “noona, wanna- wanna come, please-“ he whines, voice high and wobbly. “touched my- my clit like you said, gonna come-“ his cock is twitching and jumping at every sensation, clearly sensitive, “noona- please let me come, i’m yours, this pretty clit is yours, my cunt is yours, please-!”

“i might have to plug you up, hani, you love it so much- look at you, sucking my fingers in like that. what do you think, hm? a nice, thick plug buried inside you all day, feeling it when you walk, when you sit. when you dance. nobody but you and i will know that my sweet girlfriend has got a thick, fat cock inside of her, has been deep inside all day, and she’s been trying her best not to come at any moment, into her undies like a slutty little girl.”

“fuck-!” jeonghan swears, his voice pitching up like a squeal. “it’s so big, why is it so big- mmh- oh-!” he covers his face with the crook of his elbow, lips quivering as you settle the strap all the way inside him. “feels full, so full- how is it fitting-“ you adjust your position, jostling the silicone inside him. jeonghan whines, loud and obscene, rocking his hips in search for that same sensation. words burst from him like a breaking dam, 

“i’m yours, your good little girlfriend with a sweet cunt that needs to be fucked- ngh- ah- my tight cunny’s all yours, i’m your good girl-“ jeonghan chokes out, his cock leaking more precum between your skin with every word. “oh god, you’re so big- ‘m gonna come, ngh- gonna come on your thick cock noona-“

he feels like a rag doll underneath you, body shaking with every thrust - but he’s taking it so well, every movement of your hips burying your strap as deep as possible inside of him. “feel it in my stomach noona, oh god-“ jeonghan places a palm over his stomach as you fuck into him relentlessly, “please, i’m- ‘m too full-!” and he comes then with a cry, ropes of white shooting from his cock. but you don’t stop or slow down your harsh pace, continuing to fuck him full of the strap. 

“noona-! noona, noona, noona-“ jeonghan wails, trying to twist away from you to no avail. “i came already, i came untouched, just for you, just from fucking my pussy, please-“

“sorry, jeonghan-ah, but noona knows that this pretty cunt can take another, hm? don’t you wanna squirt for noona?” 

he feels like a live wire; every touch of yours setting him alight. your hand reaches around, wrapping around his cock, softening and still sensitive. he’s a mess, too fucked out to even speak as your every thrust and jerk of your hand brings him closer to yet another release. broken moans and whines fall from his lips as you take your pleasure from him, a litany of noonas and pleases like music to your ears. it doesn’t take long for him to come again, his cock dribbling out liquid with the consistency of-

“oh my god,” he gasps, “oh my god,” he says again, moaning as he releases more into your hand. “noona, i- it’s-“ he looks embarrassed at the pleased look on your face, “noona-!” he whines, pouting. “don’t look at me like that. go run me a bath.”

-

extra extra read all about it (aka snippet that didn’t make the cut):

“jeonghan-ah, one day, here’s what we’re going to do. i’m going to put your hair in a neat braid, gonna do your makeup all pretty and put you in a little dress - something soft and cotton - and we’re gonna go out shopping. people will think you’re my best friend, hm? we’ll link arms and kiss each other on the cheek, and you’ll blush for me, hani; yes, just like that - nice and pretty. oh, did i mention that i’m gonna plug you up beforehand? something sizable and thick, just how my girl likes it. i’ll pull you into some store. grab something random. the attendant’ll let us share a dressing room, she’ll think our friendship is sweet. i’ll lift the hem of your skirt up, and you’ll be leaking already, the condom on your cock already filling up. it’s a miracle no one saw your cock through your dress - that wouldn’t do. you’ll whimper in my ear, rutting your cock on my thigh like the slutty thing you are - my girlfriend all worked up, always so desperate. you like that, hani? you’ll look like such a sweet, innocent girl - but secretly has been needing her mommy to fuck her all day long, dripping wet and horny, as if she were in heat.”

#jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt jeonghan smut #my pookie angel baby only 10227 days old #been here long enough you know my ass does not do endings

[pictureinme]

kinktober day xxvi. THIGH RIDING – percy dolarhyde

word count: ~700 tags: clothed sex, competitive overtones, hand-job, cumming in pants, first time kissing <3, a little overstimulation masterlist | ao3

You grind your bare arousal especially hard down on this denim-clad thigh, a high-pitched moan leaving your throat.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, baby…” Percy grips your hips like he’s the one gaining pleasure from this.

His thigh muscles are tensed up, perfect for you to rut against, chasing your pleasure. He loved seeing you like this, all desperate and wanting so much so that you couldn���t wait for him to take his cock out.

Percy’s Adam’s apple bobs as he watches you hike your skirt up, showing him just how in need you are. You roll your head back slightly as you move back and forth, revealing your glistening chest, warmed by the desert heat. He groans as he grabs your corset-covered breast, eager to feel every part of you.

Your thighs begin to shake as the roughness of his jeans rubs deliciously against your clit. The wetness soaks through his pants, and he chuckles, “God, you’re getting my pants all dirty, girl. Better clean that up after, huh?”

“Ugh, you know you like it, you– ah!”

A pinch to your clit has you collapse onto his chest, the sensitivity was almost too much to bear. Your mouth falls open, one of your hands coming to scratch down his chest through his unbuttoned shirt. Percy practically whimpers at that and begins to rock his hips against you– trying to meet your movements, “Come on, get yourself off on me, (Y/N)... don’t stop now.”

You try to fill your gaze at him with resentment– but anyone could see the lust in your eyes from a mile away, even an idiot like Percy. You grip his vest like a vice as you grind down onto his thigh, your knee grazing against his bulge at the same time.

His calloused hands immediately come to grip at your hips, tight enough to leave bruises, “Make a mess on my leg, sweetheart, come on… sooner you do it, the faster I’ll make your face all messy too, huh?”

“You fuckin’ wish, Dolarhyde,” you whine out, the pleasure betraying your intended anger. “You’d be lucky if I even let you come in my hand.”

Percy's chuckles quickly turn into pathetic moans as you reach a hand down to grasp his hardness– punctuating your words. If you were gonna make a mess, he better do it too. His grip on you speeds your movements up, you have no more control over the pace. You knew you were close, Percy always kept you on edge regardless of the situation– but you needed to make him come in his pants.

As his hands maneuvered your body onto his own, you stuck your own hand into his jeans to palm even more so at his arousal– causing him to nearly buckle over onto you.

“You play dirty, don’t you, girl?” He chokes out, eyes full of a competitive fire you so often saw in them. “Just how I like it.”

Not gracing him with a response he’d only cut off by making you whimper, you hold your tongue and start pumping him in earnest. You could feel how messy he had already made his drawers without release– you’d rag on him for that later. You hold Percy’s intense gaze as you repeatedly meet the rough fabric, he knows it’ll only take a few more moments until you lose yourself.

Harshly and quickly, you bash your teeth against his in a kiss, catching the man off-guard– the two of you had never shared a seemingly tender act before. He whimpers into the embrace, tongue already sliding against yours with a fervor like no other. Percy rocks your hips back and forth as his thighs tremble with your repeated strokes.

The two of you release almost in tandem, lips already sore from the muffling of moans– not to mention Percy’s lack of skill when it came to not involving teeth in kissing. You feel him stutter in your fist, trying so desperately to get away from the overstimulation. He does the same with you, trapping your arousal bare against the denim– any slight movement would have you scream.

His breath is hot against your lips, and so is yours as you meet each other’s gaze again.

“So,” you mumble, throat dry, “Let’s call it a draw, yeah?”

Percy looks down at your lips, smirking, “How about best of three?”

taglist: @sunpuffsstuff @abrcmswrld

#percy dolarhyde x reader #paul dano x reader #percy dolarhyde smut #paul dano smut #kinktober 2023

[chronic-escapixt]

His Rose ~ Part 3

(Kai Parker x Bennett OC fanfiction)

content warnings/tags ~ Dark fiction, (eventual) CNC, dubcon, non-con, yandere, murder, abuse, trauma, innocence kink, dacryphilia, smut, masturbation, size kink, p in v, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, manipulation. Minors DNI

I don't claim ownership of The Vampire Diaries or its characters. All credits go to the rightful owner(s). I only own my original character(s).

Word count: 2.7k

K.P. Masterlist

His voice was silky in a way that sent shivers down her spine yet so sarcastic and humorous that he could make her smile and giggle like an airhead until it was beyond embarrassing. He talked with his hands so she learned to watch them more than his mouth, though he equally performed with his lips. The dark and silver rings he started wearing made them more of a spectacle and she fantasized about how his skilled fingers could pleasure and punish her body. 

Whether they were preparing for the eclipse or handling mundane activities, her mind drifted but she tended to keep her daydreams at bay.

Night was entirely another story.

All she had was her stuffed lamb to keep her company. While lamby was a good listener and offered the softest cuddles, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he would feel in her bed. Some nights she fully got off to the thought of him entering her room when he thinks she’s sleeping, feeling the bed dip under his weight, then the ripping of her nightdress from her skin, his strong arms hiking her legs over his shoulders and using her like a fucktoy for his pleasure like the gangsters and brutes would do to the pure damsels in her favorite novels, consumating a twisted romance built on passion and control. Pushing her face into the pillows she tried to quiet her moans but a few would slip free.

He was not only observant but hungry. He noticed everything, how she reacted to him when they were close, her muffled moans through the thin walls that left him throbbing all night, the way she took extra care to style her curls every morning, put on a little extra mascara, and exclusively dressed in flowy dresses and mini skirts. He knew what she wanted but she was too shy to ask for it so he had fun messing with her, breaking her down with his subtle advances until she was just as starved. He was a wolf and she was a fluffy unsuspecting bunny and as much as he craved her tender flesh, he loved the chase. 

One morning, he found her straining on her tiptoes to reach a jar of jam on a high shelf and came up behind her, grabbing it down with ease while caging her small form threateningly, staying there longer than necessary. The lingering proximity made her curse under her breath. His heat and scent intoxicating, lowering her inhibitions enough that her body betrayed her, arching into him. Brushing against his body for the briefest moment, enough to surprise him, making him intake a sharp breath and stiffen. He struggled to regain his composure as she turned and grabbed the jar from his hands with a rushed out, “thank you.” 

She couldn’t slip out from under him before he snatched her wrists and pinned her to the marble counter, his primal growl rumbling in her ears.

“You feel that, kitten?” His hips bucked into her, pressing his hard-on against the groove of her ass. She responded with a gasp. “Don’t tell me you thought you were gonna’ grind your cute little ass on me then leave me all hot n’ bothered..”

She scoffed at him, “maybe I was… It’s not like you’re gonna’ do anything about it.” Her defiant body wriggled against him, in turn he snatched a fistful of her curls eliciting a desperate whine from the back of her throat.

“Such a brat.. m’ gonna’ have to fuck that outta’ you, huh?” He reached down, hiking up her skirt, fondling her mound which had grown damp with his teasings. “Always walking around in these tiny skirts, s’ like you’re begging me to ruin you,” he mused as he freed his cock, sliding her panties aside and finally plunging into her silky heat with one brutal thrust. 

“Hey, Kai… uhh Kai?” She pulled him from his mind-consuming fantasy. 

“… huh?” His throat bobbled.

“Can you also grab that flour for me too? I’m making puff pastry for breakfast.” He placed the sack of flour on the counter, not taking his eyes off of her. 

“Do you want some?” With her head tilted to look up at him, doe eyes wide and soft lips forming that adorable pout, she looked way too corruptible. His pants strangled him. 

“I’d like that,” he rasped. 

So she started on the pastry while he slipped away to the bathroom where he rubbed one out to the thought of her pretty lips around his cock. 

Sticks crunched beneath their feet along the forest trail as they walked off their breakfast.

“If you could siphon my magic the whole time, why not do the locator spell yourself?” She asked.

Kai faced her, walking backwards a few paces ahead. “I already knew I could do it and since you’re the one who has to do the spell to get us out of here, I needed to make sure you could use your magic.”

“Could you show me?” Her sweet voice sounding small and slightly uncertain, made him stop in his tracks. She stepped toward him, holding out her hand. “I want you to siphon my magic…. It will come back right?” 

“Uh.. yeah. I’ll just take a little bit.” He reached toward her, but paused, hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nodded with conviction, “Yes, I am.” 

He took her hand and concentrated. An orange glow blossomed to the surface of her skin, accompanied by a tingly feeling like tv static or a limb starting to fall asleep. He released a shaky breath before letting go of her. She touched her hand as the feeling faded.

He knelt down and hovered his palm over a patch of soil, uttering a short spell. Moments later, an white petaled wildflower grew up from the tiny sprout. He plucked it and handed it to her, tiny goosebumps shot up her arm when their fingers brushed each other.

“You’re really good with magic,” she commented.

“Actually, I was going for a rose, but a daisy is cool too, I guess..” He shrugged. He rubbed his lips together as his eyes took in her sultry mouth. Her perfect cupid’s bow and plump lips that looked edible. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her brow knit in curiosity.

His eyes flickered down. “I guess I’m kinda nervous.”

“Why?”

“Well- I mean- you’re like- you're really pretty,” he stammered, shifting nervously on his feet.

The butterflies in her stomach flapped their wings all at once, tickling her ribcage and a laugh burst out her mouth making her fluster more. “Thanks...” she whispered shyly.

“Ugh, just’ made it awkward, didn't I? Sorry. I have no filter sometimes…”

“It's okay. You’re really sweet.” She twirled the stem between her fingertips.

As he noticed the sun getting low an idea occurred to him.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked as they cut through heavy brush just off the trail.

“It’s a surprise,” he shot back with a wink.

He brought her to a clearing just before a rocky bluff that overlooked a crystal lake. The view was breathtaking, the orange sunset darkened to shades of red with purple fading in from above.

“Wow Kai, this is the most beautiful view I’ve ever s-” Her words left her when she noticed him stripping down, torso already bare as he discarded his belt. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled in response as he wordlessly rid himself of his cargo pants and stood only in boxer briefs. She tensed when he took quick strides toward her, scanning down his sculpted body with her eyes, snapping up from the prominent outline in his boxers the moment he spoke.

“Are you just gonna stare at me or are you gonna come?” His tone dripping with cockiness. 

“I-I wasn’t st- w-wha- come?!” It was her turn to stumble over her words.

He just shrugged, turned and ran before leaping over the edge. 

“Kai!” she called out.

He burst up to the water’s surface and waved her forward. “Come on, Rose!” 

“I-It’s too… cold,” she lied, hugging herself to sell her faux chills. 

“The water feels fineee,” he sang while floating on his back. 

“I don’t have a bathing suit!” 

“You don’t need one! C’mon, are you really gonna’ make me swim alone?” He pressured her with a pout.

Her weak resolve crumbled. “Okay fine...” 

He smiled to himself as she raised her shirt but stopped when she narrowed her eyes. “Turn around!” she ordered. He raised his hands in surrender before turning and resisting the temptation to peek while she removed her top and skirt and placed them neatly by his pile.

Heights were up there on her list of fears and the edge was at least 20 feet from the water.

“Am I allowed to turn back now?” His voice cut through her anxiety. She took a deep breath, reared back and dove in. 

He spun around when he heard the water splash, slightly impressed that she actually jumped in after him. The water stirred as she came up from the surface, eyes piercing like a siren, wet curls clinging to her body. An invisible tide seemed to draw them impossibly closer without touching. She leaned into his caress when he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb moving to gently tug on her lower lip. He lifted her chin, moving closer, teasing her by hesitating a hair away from her lips before she eagerly gave into the mounting tension, pressing her mouth to his in a hungry kiss that he eagerly returned with the same fervor.

Their bodies were intertwined on the rocky shore as they greedily tasted each other. Her fingers tangled in the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, their lips becoming languid and sloppy before they parted in need of oxygen. 

“We should head back to the house,” he whispered against her skin.

“Wait, can we stay a little longer? It’s so beautiful out here,” she smiled up at the twilight sky, the atmosphere was perfect, “… and I need you right now.”

He reclaimed her lips and explored her body with his hands, her supple thighs, the soft skin of her waist, and the swell of breast. She knowingly reached back and unclasped her bra, letting the fabric fall before he caressed them, thumbs rubbing and tweaking the perked buds to her delight.

She eyed him carefully when he pulled away and asked, “Are you a virgin?” 

“... no.. I was with someone… once,” she admitted softly. 

“Did he make you cum?” 

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t count,” he stated matter-of-factly, leaving trails of fire in the wake of his fingers on her inner thigh. “Did he ever.. eat you?”

She swallowed as his touch neared her clothed core, “n-no…”

His chuckle warmed her skin, “I can take two of your firsts tonight, if you let me.”

“... yes… please…” She sounded so breathy and needy.

He lowered himself down her body, kissing every square inch of skin along the way before he reached her trembling core. Watching as he stripped her of her panties, the instinct to hide herself neutralized by the grip he kept on her inner thigh, his cold rings biting into her flesh. He studied her delicate flower, the swollen bud darkened with arousal. 

He inhaled her. "Rose, you're fuckin perfect.."

She blushed and whimpered when she felt him delve in with his warm tongue. Heat blossomed in her belly, hips uncontrollably bucked against his mouth. 

“Sit still for me, princess.”

She obliged as best she could, thankful for his anchor-like grip. His tongue moved with deliberate expertise, parting her puffy folds so he could drink her from the source, thrusting in and out, drawing whimpers and slick that he swallowed down like sweet nectar.

Her fingers carded themselves through his damp hair, tugging at the roots, his hum of approval vibrating against her heat. She clenched around his fingers when two slid in knuckle-deep, working her over the edge in quick tandem with his skillful tongue. Her moans spurred him on, so pornographic he would have doubted they escaped her shy little mouth. 

“Please… Kai, I-I’m gonna…” 

Each flick of his tongue and brush of his diligent fingers had her seeing stars, she didn’t want it to end. He built her up gradually until the harsh sucking of her clit toppled her over the edge. It was like music when she arched and released a chorus of moans into the twilight air. Her climax gushed into his mouth messily as he continued slurping her up, her body trembled and whimpered from oversensitivity. 

“Ahh.. mmm, Kai…” she pushed weakly at his shoulder.

He was a sinful vision, reluctantly pulling away to beam up at her with a cheshire grin, jaw glistening with her juices, lips pink and swollen. She was still reeling, curls disheveled and flat, mascara running, chest rising and falling, face red as a cherry as she tried to catch her breath. Kai ruined her so perfectly but he wanted to do so much more. He kissed her, letting her taste her lingering flavor on his lips.

Only a bit of maroon peeked out over the horizon, so they hurried back to the house before it was completely dark. 

Her back barely touched the duvet before he pounced, grabbing at her waist and thighs to position her legs at either side of the bed, sucking on her neck and collarbone, fingers digging into her skin as they roamed likely to leave a mosaic of bruises by morning, but he relished in the little whimpers that escaped when he groped her a little too hard or bit down on the tender skin behind her ear, before soothing it with wet kisses. He impatiently rut his hips into hers, their moans harmonizing at the contact.

“Kaiiii…” she whined, too drunk on him feel ashamed of her neediness, “please…” 

He smiled down at her, satisfied with his work. 

Upon freeing his cock and stepping out of his briefs his member stood tall against his abdomen, already pulsing with need as precum pearled at the flushed tip. She audibly gasped at the sight. 

He grin at this. “ya’ nervous, sweets? Wondering’ how my big cock is gonna’ fit inside you, huh?” he teased her while giving himself a few good pumps.

“Pleaseee.. fuck me already,” she begged, the anticipation made her legs twitch and core clench with need.

He swallowed her desperate pleas, claiming her mouth in a sloppy kiss of clashing tongues while collecting the arousal from her puffy folds with the head of his cock. Her breath hitched as he stretched past her tight resistance. He paid close attention, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure. He did want her to enjoy it too so she’d come back for more. 

“Breathe, baby… I’m only half way- fucking god… you’re so tight…”

She sucked in a full breath as silent tears spilled down her cheeks but he kissed them away, savoring the salty fluid like a treat he earned, one he was determined to taste again.. and again. A broken sob escaped her lips when he sank the rest of the way in, her tight walls pulsing violently as she melded to his length.

“There’s no way you’re not a virgin…” he groaned, muscles straining as he waited for her to adjust. Her tears stopped but eyes still glistened beautifully. Trembling legs wrapped around his waist, his cock so overwhelmingly deep she could feel him in her belly, her core still drawing him deeper begging for more.

“please, I’m ready….” she breathed out.

His thrusts began with a steady rhythm, their moans mingling together with the creaking bed frame. “You’re.. taking me so well,” he croaked, closing his eyes to savor the way her velvet walls swallowed up each thrust, quickly reducing him to a sloppy, moaning mess. He rubbed her tender clit, making her belt out her orgasm before releasing his own. 

Their spent bodies curled up together.

Rose stirred in bed, feeling around for his warmth when her eye popped open and confirmed his absence. Her shower thoughts were filled with the memories of his diligent hands, wicked tongue and massive cock that she felt in the residual aching of her sex. While scrunching conditioner through her hair she wondered why Kai wasn’t there when she woke up, her imagination running wild with the idea that their amazing night together was maybe not so great for him. But Rose tried to think the best, like she did with most things but her doubts nagged at her until she found him in the kitchen, standing over a hot skillet of pancakes. The table set with fresh orange juice, bacon and eggs that she shockingly didn’t smell earlier. 

Kai turned when he heard her come in. 

“Morning,” he greeted with a chaste kiss to her forehead and a bouquet of red roses he pulled from behind. She stared, unsure what to say. Her stunned silence unnerved him so he piped up, “I woke up really early and you were still sleeping so I didn’t want to wake you… and we were running low on food, so I went to the store and I found these roses that reminded me of y-” She interrupted his ramblings with her lips, instantly reassuring him. He smiled against her mouth.

“What was that for?”

“To thank you.”

“Oh… any time, Rosy.” 

“Rosy?” She giggled at the nickname. 

“Well, your face gets all rosy when we’re together,” his breath tickled her ear, “and now I know you blush everywhere else too…”

She poked him in the ribs playfully. “Kaiiii..” she whined as he nipped at her neck. 

Thick smoke started rising from the skillet. “Kai.. Kai! Your pancakes are burning!” 

“Oh shit!”

#kai parker #bennett oc #bonnie bennett #tvdu #tvd fanfiction #vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #kai parker smut #kai parker fanfiction #kai parker x oc #kai parker x poc reader #tvd kai #dark!fic #dark kai parker #kai parker x y/n #kai parker x reader smut #tvd oc #tw dubcon #tw yandere

[smokingtomas]

An Indecent Haste

Ch. 2 of An Indecent Encounter

AO3

A/n: I still can’t think of Kenshi a normal amount. expect a third chapter, but don’t ask me when lol. i hope you’ll enjoy this tho! s/o to my beta @cryinginthebackseat​ i love u forever.

Warning: this fic literally begins with a more explicit smut. you’ve been warned.

(gif by: @halfwayriight​)

The spark between you and him was quite obvious– you both almost didn't make it inside as you grabbed him along with you to land on the backseat of your car. Even the door couldn’t almost be shut with his mouth hot and heavy over yours. The urgency was clearly felt the second his tongue explored your mouth once more, and you welcomed him with a pull of his suit before letting it loose.

As you undid the button of his maroon shirt, he drove you into the corner of the backseat to feel you properly this time– a hand gave your breast a gentle squeeze that elicited a moan, and it didn't stop there as you sent his shirt flying somewhere in your car.

"What is it?" Kenshi called you out, not realizing you just mouthed 'wow' silently.

"Oh, you know, it's just–" You rose up, making him shift into a sitting position before you straddled him, "Guys with tattoos are my biggest turn on."

He looked far too pleased with your statement, but he didn't stop kissing you, "Well, maybe you would sleep with strangers like me after all."

You raised an eyebrow teasefuly, "Strangers like you, huh?"

"Unless the fact that I am a yakuza scares you."

You grinded on him, only taking your lips off him to say, "Well, if you wanted to cut me and sell my organs, you would've done it by now."

"We don't hurt people on purpose, although…" His raspy tone sent you on the edge as skilled fingers unbuttoned your shirt once again, "I'd like to hear you scream my name."

You gulped– shit.

The lust pooling on your mind was inexplicable that your tongue became untamed inside his mouth. You bit, nipped, pulled his bottom lip, arms getting tighter around his neck with his palm grazing the skin of your back. Next thing you know, your bra was discarded somewhere when he urged you to lay on your back.

You found yourself panting– the car's heat really contributed to the fire inside your chest, and with Kenshi's mouth teasing your bare belly, you didn't realize he had swiftly pulled down your skirt until he spread your leg onto his face.

And there you were– completely bare yourself to a man you barely knew, but Kenshi's mouth finally found where you desire him the most and you couldn't contain yourself. His gentle, persistent tongue lapped on you and you writhe with no mercy at the sensation.

Your heart was palpitating. Your body begged for release. You bucked, squeezed your own breast in the hope for some, but Kenshi caught you in the act and restrained your hand while continuing his sweet, sweet torture down low.

The more you resist, the tighter his hand around your wrist– and you love it. You knew he enjoyed making you fight against his face with how deep he buried his face on you.

"Shit… I'm coming." You really couldn't hold back.

At his final suction, a vision of stars appeared as you tilt your head way back. No, you didn't care when your head bumped the car door as you called his name repeatedly, and frankly, you craved for some more already.

But the plan in your mind was better– there was no way you would let him have his way with you.

So you got up, wiped the satisfied grin off his face by crashing your lips on his, loving the taste of yourself on him as you pushed him until his back hit the backrest.

"You know payback's a bitch, right?"

"And what does that make you?"

Fucking smartass , "I'm the bitch."

You zip down his trousers to the ground and proceed to put him inside your mouth, and the last thing you saw was him, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. A groan rang in your ear.

The sight was beholding, to say the least. You didn't think he noticed your grin in such a position where his head was rolled way back, but you kept working your way around him, bobbing up and down, tongue swirling until he had your hair in his grip to force you deeper.

A few more gags out of you and he pulled you out of him, forcing you to meet his lips by the hair so that he could hover you as if he was the predator and you were the prey.

In this position where your spread legs trapped him, you could feel how his glistening skin collided with yours and made you very much aware that both of you were completely clotheless.

All it took for him to get inside you was a little nudge with your feet and there he was– making you moan his name with a few effective, delicious movements. It got you so high you let one important thing slip out of your mind.

"Fuck," Kenshi pulled out and jerked you with a tiny disappointment, "We need a condom."

Damn– no wonder it felt way too good.

"Shit," you hastily reached into one of the compartments of your car and your hand got a live one, "Here."

"I have to commend you for your sense of preparation." He said as he tore up the foil and put the rubber on himself.

"I sensed a real hot guy looking for an ancient sword that I wanna get on with would walk into a bar today. What can you do?" You joked.

"Well, it takes one to know one."

"So are we doing this, or do you wanna keep talking?"

He chuckled, "Less talking, more sex?"

"More like, no talking, more fucking."

"Yes, ma'am."

So he dipped himself into you once again, and it felt like you could never get used to how he felt inside of you– he felt good, full, and it took you sky high. From the confined space, a merging of sweaty skin and two bodies, it all assisted to the burning heat within every push.

He trapped you by the shoulder and you let out a desperate sigh every time he pumped. Thank god your window was dark enough that it was private enough for a coitus, but who the hell cares what passersby would think seeing a car quaking so heavily.

Kenshi pulled you up and you knew instantly what he wanted, so you landed another passionate lip-lock as you mounted him. You didn't stop toying with his hair, not even when you slowly ease yourself onto him, which earned you an exasperated sigh and a squeeze on your hips.

You couldn't help the curse words flying out, especially when he was pushing you up and down, back and forth, tossing and turning you until it felt hazy– almost blurry with your head tilted way up.

And just when you thought you couldn't lose your mind more, his hands slid up your torso to cup and brought your tits to his mouth.

"Stop…" you mewl, "or else I'm gonna…"

And for the second time, you finished your sentence with a cry of his name, followed by a series of desperate moans. Holding you in place, he kept his thrusts steady to give you the release you'd been aching for.

And as you slowly collapsed in his arms, he flipped you while you were still trembling and forced you to get on all fours.

"You know I'm not done with you yet, right?"

His tone dripped with a pledge of long, rough sex ahead. You bite your lip with anticipation of more fogged up windows, lathery skin, and earth-shattering sways kind of thoughts of his body on yours.

And you have never been more ready.

"Not soon, I hope."

/

You both agreed that the two steamy sessions of humping really worked up an appetite, so there you were with him– in an In-N-Out parking lot, clothes were haphazardly buttoned, unruly hair, with double-doubles ordered from the drive-thru in your hands.

"Do you really enjoy these that much?"

When Kenshi questioned your taste bud, you hissed before you took a sip of your strawberry milkshake, "It's L.A pride, and my first cheat meal in a month. Back off."

"Fair enough. Thank you for dinner, though."

You swung your hands in response, "No big deal, you did buy the drinks earlier."

Sitting on the driver's seat, you caught him stealing some glances at you. He was eating his burger at a fairly moderate pace, while you had been taking chunky bites every 5 seconds.

"What? Is me enjoying my greasy meal a god awful sight to you?" You spread your greasy fingers in annoyance in the air.

He shook his head, "On the contrary, how could you mouth that burger like a little dinosaur and still be attractive?"

You rolled your eyes as you wiped your lips– he really was cheesier than the burger, "You only said that because that's where your dick has been."

He gave you an approving shrug, "Maybe."

"So, you're a Yakuza, huh? How's that working out for you?" You attempted to create a diversion from his cheese festival, maybe your catty remark wasn't enough.

"A quitting Yakuza, actually." He remarked as he grabbed a couple of fries.

"Why?"

You were a tad worried asking this could be stepping over the line– like you could get shot the minute you ask shit about Yakuza business, but Kenshi sounded like he had gotten used to the question, "I detest the corrupt life of it. Although some habits do die hard."

"Is it possible to quit?" You were actually curious.

"A complicated process, but I've seen people do it. Maybe it will be a bit more challenging on my end being a Takahashi."

"Why is that?"

He snorted in amusement, "You’re one inquisitive being, aren't you?"

"Well, I mean I've never spoken to a Yakuza before. Let alone fool around with one," You admitted, crumpling the burger wrapper and setting it aside, "You don't have to tell me if you've signed an NDA or something."

"I will if you tell me your name."

You chortled– who’d been inquisitive just now, "Why is it so important to you, anyway?"

"Well, you know mine, know my family name too. You completely have the upper hand on me." He sipped on the milkshake in your hand, almost too alluring for you, "If we had had sex three times, would you have told me?"

"Maybe." You teased him.

Kenshi made a suggestive face at you, signaling the empty seat in the back. You let out a giggle– you'd just realize he had quite a sense of humor. Maybe you really wanted the dick back then that this fact just passed you by.

"Can I ask now?"

You nodded quickly.

"Why did you agree to take me to Johnny Cage?"

He must have noticed the pause you took– he never took his eyes off you, "If I told you that it's to take my underwear back, would you believe me?"

He chuckled, "You didn't even believe in yourself when you said that."

"Fine." You acknowledged that response, shifted your seating position to face him, "I want you to kick Johnny's ass."

"Huh, I thought being a martial artist means you could do it yourself."

"Oh, I have, alright." You nodded profoundly, "But it didn't compare to what he had done."

"Care enough to tell me?"

"Maybe a story for another day." You refused– maybe it was the sheer embarrassment or the fear that you were getting more acquainted than you would like with Kenshi.

"Oh, so there will be another day?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck . You knew he tried to entice you into an inglorious territory– and as tempting as it is, you only knew a way to respond, "Well, consider yourself lucky if you never see me again."

A lesser man would have agreed, but out of your expectation, he boasted, "Well, consider yourself very lucky because you will see me again."

At that, you cackled, "Do you really have to be so cocky?"

"I'm merely confident I'll get out of Johnny Cage's house alive. Because then I'd be able to go straight to round three with my chaperone."

That sneaky wink of his actually cracked you up, and something dawned on you like a skyfall.

Shit, maybe you had met your match– no, not like soulmate crap you hardly believe, more like how you looked in the mirror and saw a reflection of you.

This time, though, it was in the form of a man– a man whose lit up brown eyes and cheeky beams were powerful enough to drive you to a state of internal panic.

And as you were gazing at him, you were recovering from the tectonic– some alien thoughts that this could be something. But all he would see was you, slowly shaking your head at his illogical charm.

"You're a dangerous one, Takahashi."

/

You flirted slash bullshitting your way into Johnny's household. You were lucky tonight's guard was an easy target. Even when you were with Johnny, this sleazebag had been wanting to get with you.

You had worked with Johnny for a movie where you acted as his co-star’s stunt double. He’d been strumming with you in-between takes, so of course you’d play along his less-than-innocent banters. Unfortunately, you two had gotten too comfy.

That was why you were gonna try to keep this one within an arm’s distance– as charming as he was.

And it turned out telling the guard that Kenshi was your closeted gay cousin worked. You were so sure that he tried to keep a straight face the whole time that when both of you passed the guard, he threw you that 'what the fuck was that?' look.

"I got you in one piece, didn't I?" You told him, "Stop being a bitch and just follow my lead."

"Well, that is true," He nodded, "and for that, I thank you."

"I can safely say that no other one-night-stands would do this for you, and you have to agree." Your tone was asserting.

"Yes, I know.” He professed dismissively, “so, where is Cage's house?"

"There," You pointed to the only white house in the block, "He should be away. He takes thirsty Thursday too seriously."

"Duly noted."

"And I'll be coming with you."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," Kenshi denied your request, "You should leave immediately"

"What? I came all the way here just to flirt with the guards?" You didn't try to hide the disappointment– you agreed to take him for the thrill only for that to be stripped away from you.

"You know it won't look too good when his ex-girlfriend is caught on security camera aiding her new boyfriend to steal a precious item, would it?"

You could swear that the 'new boyfriend' remark got your belly all itchy– nope, absolutely not butterflies, just baby worms. You really didn't know how he could say shit like that and expected to get a normal reaction.

"Are you always this weird?" Your brows furrowed, "We just met 3 hours ago."

"And somehow we managed to have sex twice already."

Damn it, he was right– blame your raging horniness towards him.

"Man, you're lucky you're smoking hot." You said bluntly, "Fine. I'll wait here for an hour."

"If I don't come back in an hour, you leave."

"Deal."

As you watched his moving figure, you wondered if he'd come back. A lot of questions popped up– what would happen if he did? What would happen if he didn't?

Maybe you hated the way you get along so well with Takahashi Kenshi– the only one that could jest up with your banters with his hilariously witty, cocky way. Maybe you hated the way he made you laugh over the most irrelevant thing– even during sex!

How fun would it be to mess up with him once again? To keep him on his toes.

"Hey, Takahashi." You bent down to slide your underwear down before throwing it his way, "Did you know you had my name in your pocket the whole time?"

"What? How so?" He caught the black lace with a hand effortlessly.

Seemed like you had successfully gotten his attention, "I named the tags in all my underwear."

He scoffed, shook his head in disbelief. But when he brought the black lace to his face and inhaled it like it was fresh air, your jaw dropped. It wasn’t like you’d never seen guys sniffing panties before, but Kenshi did it shamelessly as if you’d known each other longer.

And fuck– you were down bad for this man.

"You better get ready for thirds." He winked at you.

The last thing you saw was him, breathing your name as he turned away. The things running through your mind were wild– things you would do to him once he returned. Where you would run your hands and mouth on his perfect figure. Somewhere inside the tiniest space in your brain, you’d think that he might be having nasty thoughts as well.

But those expectations crashed after an hour and a half– he hadn’t shown up. Though you were more surprised at your own feelings that you didn't feel so lucky.

//

#mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #kenshi takahashi #takahashi kenshi #my fic #ao3 #this was so fun to write #and i edit like 20 times

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

霊圧 + 淫慾. //spiritual pressure + lust. ( @sashi-ya x twoop)

Shinji Hirako, Rojuro Otoribashi and Isshin Kurosaki x F!reader: creampie 2 N/sfw Created by: The-witch-of-one-piece/WC:880+/Masterlist/Collab w/ @sashi-ya💜WC: 790+

TW: Creampie, Vaginal Penetration, Dirty Talking, Touching Deprivation, Masturbation, Impregnation, Breeding Kink , Unprotected Sex

Shinji 

“You are a goddamn tease, you know that~~?” Shinji was grunting, his fingers were a bit antsy, refusing to let you win this bet. His hands lay to the side of him as you were rocking your hip back and forth in a circular motion the intensity was becoming too much for the Captain to handle as cock was becoming so sensitive with the movement you were doing. The bet you could make him cum without his help he couldn’t hold you or even touch you, you had to do all the work. Thinking it was going to be easy, the cocky smirk was completely off his face. “My my Shinji, it’s getting harder for you not to touch me.” giving him a seductive chuckle. Lifting his head up just a bit he could see the motion of how you were moving on his cock the more he stared the more he wanted to say ‘fuck it and pinned you to the bed. Shinji sees his breast lightly bouncing with your rocking motion. The knots formed in the pit of his stomach he wasn’t going to last that long. “Okay fine you win ______….” he was trying to catch his breath “can I touch you now?” he asked so eager to push you down more on his cock. “Hmmmm…no .” the motion you were giving on his cock was becoming a bit faster knowing she was so close to cum. You could see his eyes twitch the vein popping slightly out on his neck. He couldn't even make a smartass remark gripping the sheets tightly as he let a loud groan out the rush of slipperiness as you stopped your motion as his cock fully stayed inside of you. “You have no idea what's in store for you now ____.” The man panting trying to catch his breath “Count your blessings now, ______.”

Rojuro 

Rojuro's hand turned your head towards him as he delicately kissed your lips. Your back pressed against his chest with your own hand you were lifting your thigh up. His hand was rigorously working on your clit as it reminded you of how he tuned the strings on his guitar. The music in the background sets the mood way more. 

“Your my favorite instrument to play with ______.” he spoke in between the kisses. “The more I play with you the more high pitch you say my name mmmmm thats what I love to hear~~” 

“Please play with me more Rose, no one else can make me cum like you do~~” panting as the words spilled out of your mouth. Rojuro loved hearing those kinds of things and knew his skillful hand work he was going to make it happen. The more he began to toy with your clit the more high pitched your voice became. 

“Keep hitting those high notes for me. ” He cooed in your ear, the way your pussy was suffocating the man's cock as you were coming he was close right after your fingers stopped  “Dammit.” Rojuro pushes his cock as deep as possible inside of you. The hazy expression on your face as you felt his hand caressing your cheek the moment of silence was more than enough for the both as you both were coming down from the high you just had experienced. You could feel a soft embrace as arms wrapped around you. “We do make a good duet.” 

Isshin

He couldn’t control himself around you. “Come on, doesn't it sound like a good idea.” He had you on the table pushing up your skirt panties to the side. Isshin could resist the idea of filling your womb with his cum. “Isshin, are you sure about this??” your hands gripping Isshin’s biceps looking into his eyes seeing the rather serious yet gentle expression.  He was steading his thrusts as they were becoming more shallow holding off on his climax letting a grunt you could feel his arms flexing. “I haven’t been so sure about something in a long time and if you feel it’s the right time I won’t pull out .” leaning closer in pecking your lips “If you don’t I will make sure none of my cum is inside of your.” 

Just how he spoke to you turned you on way more than expected “I promise to keep it all in Isshin.” bashfully speaking to him looking up causing him to blush. The shallow thrusting became deep as you could feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. The panting became louder “everyone will know whose child you're carrying ______, it will be our child inside of you growing.” Isshin finished his sentence feeling his balls tightening up as his semen began filling up your empty womb.

Tagging:- @stygianoir @tealcat001 @dumbbitch223 @bookandyarndragon @jin-supremacy01

#shinji hirako #spiritual pressure + lust collab #hirako shinji #shinji #rojuro otoribashi #rose x reader #rojuro x reader #isshin kurosaki #isshin x reader #bleach headcanons #bleach fanfic #bleach x reader fanfic #bleach x reader #bleach #the witch of one piece #sashi ya

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓁 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓂⎹ 𝓡.𝓗.

fandom dc / masterlist coming soon / @dollsdc-library

featuring roy harper x outlaws tech!reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning kind of detailed!reader ( reader wears a ponytail ), roy’s a perv, oral sex ( roy receiving ), suggested size kink/short!reader, face fucking, light slapping

summary he’s only ever seen your hair in a ponytail when you’re on your knees.

word count 2.1k / mini musing

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.

dammit.

Roy couldn’t concentrate, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jason, the latter leaned forward to peek at the screen as you typed away. he was asking questions. where the drop location was, how much time they had before reinforcements were called in, the routine prep. but Roy couldn’t stop staring at the back of your head.

the tresses gathered and pulled into a neat cinch at your crown, they explode in a soft waterfall over your shoulders. you’d never worn a ponytail into a briefing meet before, but Roy had seen your hair pulled together like this.

he’d felt the tension of the rubber band against his palm when he’d gripped the pony at the base, and held on tight, his own head dropping back. the office chair belonged to you, and so he felt like it was a few sizes too small for him, his neck hanging over the head rest. it definitely wasn’t the most comfortable, but in this moment, he didn’t care. his cap had hit the floor behind him with a soft, easily forgotten thud.

“Holy shit,” he hissed through his teeth, ”I knew that pretty mouth’d feel good but damn, baby, I wasn’t expecting the skill.” you didn’t have to see his eyes to know they’re closed— the way he’s cooing, dreamy. “Suck outlaw cock often?”

“No.” you admit with a huff of air as the swollen head of his cock pops free from your lips, and your lashes fan your warm cheeks, strings of saliva keeping you tethered to his sex.

Roy grins, digits swimming in your hair as he holds tight to the ponytail. he could comb through it for hours, he decided mentally. “You will.” and then, he’s using that grip on your hair and the side of his fist against your head to push it back down on to him, grunting when you open wide and accept his gift like you’re grateful for the opportunity to suck him off. his eyes rolled behind his lids, hips jutting forward to meet your bobbing, “This warm, little fuckhole ‘a yours will be the death of me. You’ll be lucky if I don’t have ya on your knees every, single day, taking me in your throat just like this.” you try to speak, but he’s dribbling your head against him, so it’s only a string of broken and slurred gagging moans.

an elbow digs into his ribs, jolting Roy back to reality. “Hm?” he mutters, blinking several times behind his shades.

“Where’s your head at, man?”

Roy wants to laugh. if only Jaybird knew. he didn’t think his friend would be that pissed to learn that Roy was fucking the new techie. if anything, he’d be jealous— miffed that Roy didn’t invite him to play with you, too. after all, Roy wasn’t the only one who had a problem with lingering gazes. he’d caught his partner staring at your thighs a number of times, probably trying to catch a peek of what was just under that tight skirt of yours. but Roy had never been too keen on sharing. “Sorry, just zoned out for a second.” the archer was rock hard in his jeans and pinned against one thigh, but taking the second to adjust himself would’ve drawn attention right to it. however, he caught your eyes dipping, and he hid a smirk when they widened.

“Well, zone back in.” Jason scoffs, the surface of his palm smacking against Roy’s chest. “We got work to do.” Jason shoots you a look, you nod, and then he looks at Roy, “Gotta make a call. Suit up.” and just like that, the Red Hood plucked his helmet from the desk beside your monitor and turned on his heels to stalk away, already dialing.

Roy hadn’t moved an inch, arms crossed over his broad chest, counting the steps until the door opened and then closed. you were standing now, too, the monitor powering down, but Roy blocks your path when you take a step and nearly collide with his chest. the door had hardly been closed a second when he mutters, “Get on your knees.” he didn’t have to ask you twice, because you took one peek up at his face and saw his jaw drawn tight. couple that with the tent he’s pitching, and you know exactly what he needs. you drop to your knees without so much as a protest. “You know, I don’t think you should wear ponytails to the briefs anymore,” he was saying, unbuckling his belt as he does. the buckle smacks against his thigh, and one hand snatches your ponytail up, whilst the other pops his fly open, “because you’re talkin’ a mile a minute to Jay, but all I can think about is grabbing hold of this pretty, little handle ‘a yours.” a not-so-subtle tug on your pony and you crane your neck with a soft whine. his shoulders hunch as he leans over you, breathing hot air on your cheeks, “Feeling those glossy lips sliding up and down my cock. Hearing you choke on me.”

your tongue slips out to coat your lower tier, before your teeth sink into it, eyes flickering from his to his open jeans as they sag against his hips. you desperately want him to take it out already, so much so that you’re salivating in anticipation. “Was it distracting?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“Incredibly.”

you wished you could stop the simper from dancing over your mouth, but there’s no denying the admission makes you giddy. maybe you shouldn’t be excited to know that the archer hadn’t heard a word you’d said for the past hour, but the idea that he was standing there, solid and daydreaming about fucking your face has you dripping. he could see it on your face, too, and he chuckles. the sound itself is husky and filled with lust. “That get your little motor running, pretty girl?” he teases, pulling on your hair until your brows knit together, lips parting in an O shape. “You get all hot and bothered thinking about how I can’t concentrate ‘cause I’m daydreaming about pounding that pretty mouth?”

you nod. how could you lie in that moment? your expression, the desire in your pupils, they told him everything already. “Are you going to keep talking about it or are you going to fuck my face before Jason gets back?” you challenge. you were already raw for it, and the longer he taunted, the more frustrated you became.

Roy blinks a couple of times, a surprised and, admittedly goofy, grin sketching his countenance after a few moments. “You greedy. Little. Whore.” each word seemingly punctuated by a tug on your ponytail as his free hand delves into his jeans to retrieve his cock, but as soon as he presents it to you, hard and pulsating, you reach for it. you want it. “Hands behind your back.” he barks, instead, and you glare. Roy quirks a brow. “Little teases don’t get a say, and that’s exactly what you are, isn’t it? A little, fuckin’ tease. Didja know just what this little ponytail would do to me? How hard it would make me? You’re wicked. Do as I say.”

you obey, begrudgingly. you wanted to grab hold of him and suck until your eyes crossed, and you wondered just what he would do if you were to disobey. would he take it away? you couldn’t take that chance.

Roy’s never looked so proud of you. “Good girl.” the praise surges through your blood like electricity, setting you ablaze. a few, solid pumps later, he nudged your bottom lip with the tip of his cock. the scent of him alone, his musky arousal cocktailing with the faint sandalwood in his cologne is like pure opium, and it makes you dizzy. “Say ah for me.”

“Ahh—!“ the sound hardly leaves your lips before he’s stuffed inside, strangling it into a submissive moan. your eyes roll back the second you taste him again; he tastes of the worst (and, somehow the best) decision you’ve ever made, the addiction sinking deep. your lips seal around his girth as much as they are able, but his hips are quick to piston.

rocking back and forth, his fist tightens on your hair, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “I missed this perfect mouth, fucking hell.” if you could’ve pulled away, you might’ve laughed or even mocked him. missed? since two nights prior? however, with the vice on your head and the way his hips are snapping, you’re trapped, open mouthed and drooling, your eyes in the back of your skull. your hands start to come up, subconsciously wanting to rest against his thighs, attempt to slow his fervent pounding, but his cruel fingers catch your forearm and forces it back. “Don’t make me take my belt off.” he warns, like he was scolding a child for breaking the rules. what would he do with that belt? the possibilities excited you. cinch your arms behind your back? tighten it around your throat? you almost want to push your luck. almost.

you moan in response, a horribly subservient sound that the archer above you marvels at. “You gonna do everything I say, like an obedient little toy?” you don’t even answer, just peer up at him with tears in your eyes when his tip hits the back of your throat. “Hell yeah you are,” he continues, allowing his free hand to travel back to your face, giving your hollowed cheek a few, playful slaps until you’re squinting, whimpering. “You’re so damn good with your mouth. Gonna make me cum quick…” it’s hard for him to keep his composure, the steadiness of his voice, because he’s slamming his hips against your face with a force that nearly feels inhuman. you’d never been fucked like this before, but you couldn’t even pretend not to like it.

eyelids flittering, you moan with drool oozing from the corners of your mouth, fists balled tight but pressed into your lower back. you were trying your very best to remember to breathe through your nose, but the clucking you were making as he fucked your throat was beyond distracting. it was surprisingly sexy, and you find yourself wetter than ever, just hearing what humiliating sounds he killed in your throat. you gag only a couple of times.

“You ready for it, babe? You want it?” god, you did. you really fucking did. you nod, batting wet eyelashes, producing the biggest, puppy dog eyed look you possibly could, and Roy groans. he sounded practically defeated. “Fuck, you’re cute.” shoving you off of him, you sit back on your calves and pant, staring up at him with face flushed, lips swollen and drool coating your chin. “Open…” he hisses, grinding his jaw as he fucks his fist, dragging his sensitive cock head over your bottom lip. you obey, allowing your tongue to slide out and support the weight of him, moaning happily when streamers of warmth paint your tongue. his release coats your tastebuds, and you mewl in pure ecstasy. intoxicating. Roy lets out a guttural moan, ginger brows knit together tight, eyes zeroed in on you. another milky ribbon falls over your top lip, and dribbles down into your mouth. maybe Speedy’s aim wasn’t all he cracked it up to be, you think with your lips teasing a smile, but you couldn’t be happier. you lap at the source like a pleased puppy, asking for more until he’s breathing ragged and twitching, running on empty.

it’s only when he’s completely satisfied that he releases your hair. your scalp is tender, ponytail sagging, disheveled on your head. “I needed that.” he pants, tucking himself back into his jeans as you wipe the drool from your face.

you croon, tilting your head to one side. “Glad I could help.” as smooth as you could, you push yourself up and back into the office chair, leaning back. your knees were sore, but it was a dull discomfort. you tap your digit tips on the desk. “So, it’s safe to assume you didn’t hear a single word of the plan?”

“Not a one.” he admits with a goofy grin. “Wanna give me the cliff notes?”

you sigh fondly, and nod. “Promise to pay attention this time?”

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