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sinelity · 1 year

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eyes like yours, can look away (but you can’t stop dna)

↳ in which dabi struggles with the overwhelming familiarity of his reflection

—-

shaky hands gripped the counter, turning white at the knuckles. it was late, far too deep into the am’s to still be awake and this wasted. dabi didn’t care though. he was so numb to the touch, he could hardly feel the counter digging into his skin. hell, he couldn’t even stand properly without a support.

he deserved this though. at least he thought so. he’s been working his ass off, causing trouble for the hero’s every which way he went. it was rewarding enough to watch them from a shabby alleyway as they scrambled around, trying to save every pathetic bitch that couldn’t help themselves.

well it was, up until endeavor arrived on scene. he could handle seeing him, loved the rush of satisfaction it gave him to watch his father seethe at the sight of his very own signature. what he couldn’t handle was the brat shadowing his footsteps. of course, daddy had to parade around his special lil’ boy that he was oh so proud of. the only heir endeavor ever needed; the only one he truly wanted.

it made bile rise in his throat before he forced it down, walking off with his jaw clenched in a similar manner to his hands, only to make his way back to the bar to wash away any memory he had left of the day.

and so here he was, hunched over the sink after a few rounds too many. any self pity he had left in him was long forgotten, put to rest for the remainder of the night. he hated feeling like he had no control, no power over his own stupid fucking emotions. dabi refused to cope, instead opting out for less savory methods that lead him to this exact situation hundreds of times over.

the faucet gave in with a creak, a sharp flow of water ricocheting against the porcelain. he splashed water over his face, hardly holding himself up without a hand against the surface to steady him. the same routine he’d never outgrow no matter how many years pass by.

he didn’t bother to dry his dripping skin. he only held himself against the counter once again, this time his shoulder leaning into the wall.

an empty box laying close to his hand served as an empty reminder; he needed more dye. begrudgingly, dabi looked into the mirror, avoiding any direct eye contact with the man staring back at him. he just wanted to examine his fading hair and white roots, an annoying nuisance but one that was much needed. it was inevitable though. impossible to ignore his own reflection so when his eyes met the familiar blue in the mirror, he felt sick.

he felt sick because it wasn’t him who he saw, but the cold eyes of his father. the same man who he despised more than anything. the same man who was supposed to raise him with a loving smile, yet only ever looked at him with dead eyes. the sight was unwelcome, but it didn’t mind it’s manners. a foot in the door, pushing past the ever growing force trying to keep it away, it made itself at home in his head.

his gaze was locked on the image that intruded his every thought, attempting to get him to focus solely on its presence like it would heal the very wounds it inflicted.

yet it only ever reopened them, and suddenly he was right back to his past, burning up and screaming for help as his father watched. he waited, begged, cried for even a flash of care or regret in his fathers eyes but all he saw instead was disappointment. it hurt, digging into his sides and letting loose on his worn down body. he caught a small glimpse of himself engulfed in blue flames before he erupted and everything went to hell.

it tore at his insides, starting low in his knees, weakening them as it makes its way to the tip of his ears. a path only it could trace, hitting every nerve and marking its way deep inside him like it belonged. but it didn’t. he didn’t want it to. it wasn’t supposed to be there anymore. he tried so hard to tear it out of his head like it never existed in the first place.

it wouldn’t relent. he could try and try all the wanted, but even he couldn’t rid of every trace of the past that lead him here. it wasn’t what he envisioned his future to be when he was younger, but fate was cruel. it wouldn’t forgive the sins of those it had no hold over, so it would latch itself onto those around.

it wasn’t fair, but the world was doomed from the start much like his family was. his life was mapped out for him before he could even blink and he had no ounce of control over what happens anymore. he never did, and it was foolish to ever think he could change his destiny like he tried to the mind of the very man that put him in this position.

so he looked away, forcing his eyes to look elsewhere. anywhere else but his reflection like it would ever be enough to forget the eyes he inherited. it wasn’t though. it’s always going to be there. every fucking time it will be right there again, waiting for the pained face he makes to stray back. he can turn his back all he wants, but it won’t follow his movements. instead it’ll creep closer, glass shattering as it reaches for him, clawing at his scarred back and dragging him towards it.

then what?

he can’t escape the blood that so desperately wants to corrode his lungs, fill them up until he’s a sputtering mess. he can’t escape the way it begs to seep out of his torn skin, wanting to cling to every inch of his body until he’s drowning in it. he can’t escape it no matter how far he runs.

it sticks to his shadow, outlining his silhouette even on the darkest of days, trailing into his room right after him. it hovers over him as he hardly even gets his boots off before he collapse on his bed, one hand under his head and the other on his abdomen.

his mind is far too corrupt to ignore it. it lingers as his eyes close, watching, waiting for him to drift off to into a dreamless sleep. seconds pass by, then minutes until it decides to bully its way in again, deciding that it was now it’s home and he was just a mere guest. pulling and plucking at his eyelids, forcing them open as a way to make a statement; there’s no avoiding it. no way around it, to forget it, to bury it. he’s forever damned to be stuck with this torment.

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skyriderwednesday · 1 year

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Hmmm... so if ASiS takes place in 1881, and I've said that Enola was nine the previous year...

Then evidently this version of Holmes and Watson meet when Sherlock is a few days shy of 24.

#fic writing #fiddling with a more idk canon-compliant enola idea?#and i like sevens so this version of her is 14 years younger than sherlock and 21 years younger than mycroft #(she must have married very young)#so at the time enola is ten in a moderately large house with only her mother and a handful of staff #while her eldest brother establishes himself as the british government #and her other brother is about to become quite famous #(i think it's funny that if you got all of the sherlocks who inhabit my brain in a room...)#(the one with a little sister would be the baby of the bunch)#((idk what i'm taking from books/movie/etc. yet [tho EH2 is probably garbage to me in this endeavour]))#((my basic concern is making sure that events outside of enola are happening in basically the right order))#((so holmes and watson have each other at the right time/are doing their early cases in the right order))#((and so on))#((right now she's sitting at home with mum reading her brothers' letters over her shoulder and reading the strand))#((deeply annoyed that mycroft writes very infrequently and sherlock replies to letters on a several month delay))#((and also doesn't seem to be able to read her handwriting))#((it's not a her problem - he's dyslexic and children's handwriting is a weakness in general))#((but enola doesn't know that))#(*she married young as in mrs holmes btw)#pseudo acd compliant enola au

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ofallthingsnasty · 2 years

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I need to write more with reader getting drunk and then diddled. It’s one of my favorites... How heart-breaking. You just wanted to have a good time and now you’re someone’s basement wife 😞 The best part is really the moment when it catches up to you and you realize what’s happening - the regret, the fear. Oh, if only you hadn’t...

#nasty.talks #tw.noncon #the sir wip is just that #i need to finish that omfg... i've had gremlin anon's thirst about that for almost a year now jdhsfdjshjds #and the micah fic is similar... you don't get basement wife-d just diddled #but I NEED MORE!!!#give me endeavour catching #one of his employees getting a tipsy a little too often and then napping them to baby them and give them a better life #*little #give me... so many things... can't think #oooh or low honor arthur using your drunken state to push things further #oh yes... you wake up the next morning and suddenly you're an item?#we see how concerned he is for karen in the game. combine that with low honor + him being protective of you?#well. let's just say maybe a baby WOULD do you good honeypie #for the people who haven't played rdr: she leans heavily into alcohol #so that for context

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luveline · 4 months

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Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?

fem, 1k

“Gideon has a new prodigy.”

Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?”

“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.”

“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.”

Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.”

“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?”

Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action).

“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along.

“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?”

“Here they are now.”

You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute.

“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.”

He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile.

“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking.

He frowns at you.

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.”

“I don't shake. Sorry.”

You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?”

Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.”

“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.

You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?”

“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.”

“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–”

“Hey.”

“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.”

“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says.

You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.”

“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.”

There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love.

“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life.

“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?”

“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask.

His lips part as yours had when you first saw him.

He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.”

You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”

“I see.” He waits.

You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team.

“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.”

You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation.

“Was she messing with me?”

Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.”

"Oh... She's nice."

"You have no idea."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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jessieren · 1 month

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youtube

And here is the tache being interviewed in all its glory

Very cute moment around 2m45 where Shaun goes ‘god I look so young..’

Yes…yes you do. That’s why we call you #babymorse honey

#shaun evans #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #the tache being interviewed #with its very gorgeous host #aka shaun #that end quote in the interview is so cute #he also recognises baby morse #moustache mondays #morsetache mondays #hot damn evans #Youtube

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seravphs · 1 year

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — YUTA x FEM READER

You’ve been trying to get a boyfriend to get over your one sided crush, but being known as Yuta’s girl across campus is a major cockblock for your romantic endeavours. The worst part? You’re not even dating.

wc — 4.8k

tags — pining, childhood friends to lovers, jealous Yuta, possessiveness, college au, Getou #1 wingman Suguru but only cause he gets a kick out of watching Yuta suffer, Yuta and you are so delusional, some suggestive content

♫: cologne — beabadoobee

This is the fifth boy that’s turned you down so far. You’re starting to wonder if something’s wrong with you.

As with all of your woes, it ends with you at Yuta’s apartment. Is it pathetic to be comforted for your failed attempts at flirting by the boy you’re in love with? Very. Do you trust anyone else but Yuta not to make fun of you? No.

“Yuta,” you whine into his stomach. He’s sitting on the couch with his legs tucked neatly together to form a cushion for your head. “Am I ugly?”

He drops his controller instantly, muttering a quick sorry to Inumaki who’s suddenly left single handedly defending their team against the enslaught of monsters. “Why would you say that?”

He pinches your cheeks between two fingers, squishing your face until your lips form an ‘o’. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world! Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Clearly not, or Yuta would have you. He’s just saying that because he has to. He’s your best friend.

“Did someone say something to you?” He asks.

“So you do think I’m ugly!”

Yuta grabs you by the wrists and hauls you upright so you’re face to face on the couch, knees uncomfortably entangled with his as you’re forced to sit up. He’s too earnest, too eager as he presses your hands together in his grip and says, “Everything about you is pretty! I never want to hear you say that again. Don’t disparage the eyes and lips and nose that I love.”

This is the reason why you can never get over him. How can you when he says things like that? If you hadn’t known Yuta since you were five, you would say he was leading you on. But because you’ve grown up together, you know it’s just the way he is, like the sky is blue or the sun is warm. Yuta just loves you - but not like that. Not in the way you want.

Never in the way you want.

It’s been difficult. You and Yuta have no secrets between you, or at least you used to. It’s a side effect of growing up practically out of the same womb. What’s his is yours and vice versa. When you share everything with each other, it goes against your very nature to hold things back. Your secret strains at your lips, climbing up your throat, constantly begging to be set free even as you suppress it.

“You’re making me sad,” he says, poking at your cheek at your silence. He’s trying to provoke you. “Why can’t you see yourself the way I do?”

Normally he can get a smile out of you under any circumstance, so it distresses him not to be able to cheer you up instantly. He’s your best friend, the only one you have. You’ve been together your entire lives. Would telling him really change everything?

You want to trust him more than the fear that he would reject you. Even if he can’t love you back the way that you want him to, at least this nightmare would be over. You could learn to accept what he was willing to give you, in time. Isn’t it a slight against the love you share to doubt him like this?

But you’re scared. A childhood friend is irreplaceable. You can make new friends, but you can never get another Yuta. You’ll never be able to replicate the way he’s shared all of the bumps and bruises of your childhood with someone else. His mother has a box of your baby teeth that she keeps with her mementoes of his childhood. Who else can you say that about? You can’t risk it.

“Yuta. Stop flirting and get your ass back in the game before we die!”

Inumaki’s normally quiet voice hits a volume so loud it echoes through the headset. Yuta winces. Sorry, he mouthes at you. Talk later.

God damn it, Inumaki. You were so close.

“It’s not my fault,” he says through a mouthful of rice at lunch the next day. “How was I supposed to know that’s what you guys were talking about? I thought you guys were making your usual goo goo eyes at each other, not making breakthroughs.”

“To be fair,” Panda says. “We never thought you were going to make a breakthrough, so it can’t be Inumaki’s fault.”

“Ouch,” you rest your head against the cool linoleum of the table. “Way to let me down easy, guys.”

“Come on,” Inumaki pushes his miso soup at you in a show of contrition. “You know we’re just joking.”

“I know, I’m just annoyed cause you’re right - keep your mouth shut, Inumaki. He’s never going to see me that way.”

“Didn’t you just jump from friend to potentially attractive friend? Sounds like a win to me,” Inumaki says.

“For anyone else, yeah. For Yuta, it probably just means he’s going to start setting me up with his friends so I realize I’m pretty.”

Inumaki and Panda share a look. You know the look. It means they think you’re being dumb.

You steal Panda’s soup too as payback.

Inumaki and Panda are easy to talk to about Yuta. More often than not, they’re the ones who bring up your relationship woes first because Inumaki loves teasing you and Panda secretly loves rom coms.

It’s a complete contrast from your other best friend. You’re too scared to tell Maki about the latest development in your relationship because she hates hearing about it. She’s a good friend who cares about you and your feelings, or so she claims, but she can’t stand watching you drag your feet.

“Just confess already,” she hisses, using her textbook to shield her face from the professor.

“I can’t! It’ll ruin everything!”

“Don’t be a baby,” she snaps back, unaware of the professor walking towards her. You try to gesture at her to shut up, but she’s too focused on saying her piece.

“Ladies. Would you like to continue your riveting discussion outside?”

Even getting kicked out of class isn’t a deterrent for Maki. “Fine. You won’t confess to Yuta. What about your other plan?”

“No one will talk to me because they think I’m dating Yuta,” you wail as quietly as possible.

“You serious?” She squints at you. “I’m telling you, just confess at that point.”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Fine! Ignore me if you want to, but you see that guy coming our way? Try it one more time so I can see.”

Maki pushes you down the path towards him before you can say no. You have an inkling how this is going to go based off the five previous times you’ve tried this, but Maki’s stare is drilling holes into the back of your head.

“Hey,” you smile.

“No thanks,” he says immediately. “Just save yourself the trouble. No one’s stupid enough to go after Yuta’s girl.”

“Yuta’s girl? What does Yuta have to do with anything? Why does everyone keep saying that to me?!”

“Bark up the right tree enough times and eventually you’ll find the devil.”

“…I think the saying is ‘if you knock on enough doors, the devil will answer.’ How did you even come up with that?”

“I’m just saying! Feels like the answer’s obvious to me, Yuta’s girl.”

“Argh!” You march back to Maki, who’s giggling to herself. You just hope that at least she’ll be able to help you after that embarrassing little display. “So? What’s your advice?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t have advice. I just wanted to see it happen in real time.”

Maki’s no help, either.

The problem with being in love with Yuta is he doesn’t even allow you the grace of trying to get over him. No one will touch with you a ten foot pole until Getou.

Getou is two years your senior, thinks of Yuta as this cute little puppy that follows Gojo around, and looks just right for your purposes. He’s not a carbon copy of Yuta. He just shares features with him. If anything, he could be his older brother. He has long black hair instead of short, but the same haunted eyes.

It’s better that way, easier to not cut too deep. You know exactly how far you can go before the pleasure of pain tips too far into the wrong side. If he looks like him just enough, then you can slip in between lucid dreams. Yuta’s face comes to you in flashes rather than consistently when you’re together with Getou.

He’s a smart man. He picks up on it almost instantly.

Another reason Getou’s perfect for you?

He simply doesn’t care. It’s not his problem what his darling little underclassmen get up to as long as it doesn’t interfere with his life. If you just want to have a good time, he’s down for that too.

If you weren’t so hung up on Yuta, you think Getou might be fun. Fun could turn into love, perhaps. But those were only what ifs that were useless to you. It’s Yuta, it’s always been. He’s the only one for you.

You can’t lose him.

But you want him in ways he isn’t willing to give you. Incessantly, he haunts you at odd hours. You’re doing homework at one in the morning when your thoughts wander and you’re thinking of him. The way he’d coach you through this problem. The sure, strong strokes of his handwriting, as familiar as your mother’s voice.

It’s hopeless. Every part of you has already been attuned to Yuta since childhood. You can’t extricate yourself. You can only hope to outlast the growth, and cling on as long as you are able. The only concessions you can allow yourself are small ones.

Yuta’s a good student who sleeps early, but he’ll pick up for you. He always does. You’re his childhood best friend after all, and that leaves a sour taste in your mouth even as you begrudge yourself your own greediness.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep, husky and low in a way that you know doesn’t belong to you. You savor it anyways, these small intimacies you get to keep until he finds a girl of his own and doesn’t need you anymore.

“Hello?” He says again. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“Just bored,” you reply, playing with your pen. “Sorry, were you asleep?”

“Don’t play with my feelings like that,” he laughs. “We both know you knew I was. Want me to stay up with you?”

“Nah. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You know I’d want you to, anytime. Are you working on the paper from English?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep,” you say, letting the smallest of smiles grace your lips. Alone in your room, you can allow yourself these small weaknesses.

“Mm, but I wanna stay up with you,” he says, even as his voice grows softer and softer. You can almost picture him, hair sleep tousled and eyes half lidded. It’s a sight out of your dreams.

“I’ll hang up when I’m done. Go to bed, Yu.”

By the time you finish, you can hear his breathing evening out through the speakers. He’s a light sleeper, so you tip toe around as you finish getting ready for bed. When you have to hang up, you’re almost tempted to leave him on speakerphone so his soft breaths can lull you to sleep.

You banish that unwelcome thought to the deepest, darkest, most remote time out corner of your brain and immediately text Getou to meet up the next day. You need to get a hold of yourself.

“You know,” Getou drawls, “keep calling me out like this and I might get the wrong idea.”

“If you fall for a girl that only talks to you about how much she likes her crush, that’s your own fault.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “So what is it this time?”

“I called him at night and his voice was so sleepy-“

“I meant,” Getou says, a finger running over the rim of his coffee cup as he looks at you. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Please make me forget him.”

Getou smiles at you. “What a coincidence. I needed to blow off some steam today.”

If you close your eyes, you can imagine someone else when Getou kisses you. One thing leads to another and he ends up taking you home.

The thing about your relationship with Getou is it’s so ridiculously easy. There’s no strings attached for either of you, so when you wake up to his peaceful face in bed the next day, there’s no regrets.

Well, except one.

Getou’s a gentle lover in every way, but he’s a biter. There’s a trail of dark bruises blooming over your neck and collarbones.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” He calls from the bed as you admire yourself in the mirror.

“You’re an asshole,” you tell him. “I have to get breakfast with Yuta today.”

He grins. “That’s the point.”

You barely have time to messily apply concealer before you’re almost late to your appointment with Yuta. He’s waiting at the place he and you claimed as your own the very first day you arrived on campus. The nice granny who runs this diner has a soft spot for the two of you and often gives you free desserts.

You slide into the seat across from him just as he’s wrapping up one of his readings for that day. He barely looks up when he feels you come closer, just lifts his arm wordlessly so he can tuck you into his side like a baby bird under its mother’s wings. He turns his head to the side even as his eyes are following the words on the page to press a light kiss to your temple, his breath stirring your hair as he rests his head against yours for a brief moment before returning to his textbook. He flips a page.

Would he still allow you these gentle, nonchalant touches if he knew how you really felt? Your stomach drops at the intrusive fear that he might be disgusted by you afterwards, withdrawing the easy skinship he shares with you that he thinks nothing of, but you savor. You’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand against your shoulder as he lets his arm hand loosely around you.

“I’m done,” he announces, stretching out so his lanky body is pressed flat to the table for a second before he straightens. He must be sore from hunching over his textbook all morning. In sympathy, you lightly rub at his shoulders.

“Did you eat yet?” He asks. “Want me to order you something?”

“No-“ You’re in the middle of replying when his face is suddenly far too close to you.

“Hey there,” you laugh nervously. “What are you doing?”

Yuta pulls back, but there’s a minute crease in his expression.

“There’s something on your neck.” He says.

“What?”

His hand curls around the base of your neck. It doesn’t hurt. There’s a complete lack of pressure in his grip, fingers loose and curled. He’s just holding you. You inhale sharply, a recoil aborted.

“Sorry,” he says, easy smile and gentle demeanor that doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re a little shadowed today, harried. He wears his emotions all over his face. You know he has a final today, that he likely didn’t sleep last night. It must be why he’s acting weird.

His fingertips ghost over your neck, light tap-tap-tapping that makes you shiver. “What’s this?”

You pull out your phone to check yourself in the camera. The concealer you put on this morning has sweated off, leaving streaks on your shirt. Underneath the smudges, the blurry outline of the marks Getou left on you last night are visible.

Your face burns with mortification.

“Yuta! You shouldn’t ask people stuff like that!”

It’s not like he’s a child. You know he knows what a hickey is. He’s just pointing it out so you know he knows.

He shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’d be more careful about what I was saying if it was anyone else, but it’s you. What the hell happened? It looks like you had a tryst with a vampire.”

Gingerly, he touches your neck again, his fingers cold from holding his iced latte. You need him to stop doing that before you do something stupid.

“Does it hurt?” He asks.

“It felt good-“

“Stop! I didn’t need to know that,” he says, face turning red.

Defensively, you retort, “Well, you asked!”

“Forget it,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I spent all of breakfast studying. What are you doing later?”

“Hanging out with Getou, probably. He said he wants to go to this new restaurant that just opened up.”

“He’s the one that gave you all those love bites?”

At your nod, Yuta rolls his eyes. He’s certainly in a mood today. Poor thing. He’s been working really hard lately. Not just today, but every day this past week, he’s been studying non stop. You should reward him.

“Don’t go with him,” Yuta coaxes. “Hang out with your best friend instead. We can have another sleepover. Don’t you want to game all night?

The decision is made before Yuta even offers you a choice. You text Getou a quick apology, to which he replies with a lazy ‘lol. Loverboy?’

You’re happy Yuta asked you to come over. You’ve spent so much time fearing how he’d react if he knew that you’d forgotten how nice it felt to just hang out with him.

You’re cuddling with Yuta on his couch as you watch a movie. He opted for a quiet night instead of gaming, so he broke out the snacks and remotes instead of controllers. You wish there was a way to push him away without explaining what’s going on. You and Yuta have always been touchy like this, comfortable with each other in a way that superseded even the closest of friends.

It was never abnormal until now, when new love has redefined every aspect of your relationship with him. It makes it awkward to touch him, to be this close. But you always want to be this close. It’s hard, fighting a war with yourself.

You snuggle into the hoodie he lent you, trying to hide your face. Your eyes dart to him, watching him instead of the movie. His hair has a faint blue sheen from the screen. He’s enraptured, staring open mouthed at the action sequence.

Your heart beats double time, as it always does around him, prey instincts going into fight or flight. Yuta just does that to you, makes your body sing like it’s in the most exquisite agony possible. Like a runner’s high, you’re addicted to the pain of having him but not having him. Even the scraps of romance you can get are worth more than a lifetime of other lovers.

You hope he can’t tell. Yuta has always had weirdly sensitive senses.

Yuta’s line of sight shifts from the TV to you. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped in the yawning black void of his gaze as he looks back, watching you as you have been watching him.

‘Hey,’ he mouthes at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a soft smile.

‘Hey back,’ you mouth in return, wanting him, loving him, missing him.

You rarely bring clothes when you’re staying the night at Yuta’s. Either he has some for you in a dresser he’s saved for your use, or you can just borrow his. You always end up changing into his clothes, anyways, so big and comfortable they swallow you up.

He’s lying on his belly on the bed when you come out of the bathroom freshly showered and in his T-shirt. He looks up when he hears you.

“Oh,” he says. He blinks once, hard. “Come here, please.”

Self conscious, you cross the room to him. Your crush makes you miserable, coloring your every action. The fear that your desires are written across your face shadow every step you take. Are you that transparent? Can he tell?

He reaches up to touch your face, reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, then he pulls you down onto the bed next to him.

“Don’t tease,” you tell him.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you. Even this feels too much. His skin against yours feels like a thousand colts of electricity. Where his nose brushes against your nape is so sensitive you squirm in his grasp, kicking uselessly in his hold.

“I only say things that are true,” he tells you solemnly. “You are pretty.”

You don’t know how you’re supposed to sleep after that.

In the morning, you’re finally back in your own set of clothes to head out and face the day. You and Yuta get ready together, running through your morning routines. You brush your teeth and eat breakfast side by side.

Before he leaves for work, he spritzes himself with the cologne he leaves on the dresser. When you reach for the perfume you keep in his apartment, a twinning his and hers set you had gotten together one day during the holidays, he pins your hand down. With an appeasing glance over you, he spritzes his cologne on you instead.

He leans in and sniffs experimentally.

“You smell nice,” he says.

You lift your wrist to your nose and inhale.

“I smell like you,” you say, laughing. He smells like a crisp winter morning, a hint of pine and frost.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I wouldn’t have picked this scent if I didn’t like it.”

It’s true. Nothing Yuta does is unintentional.

“What the hell,” Getou says as soon as he opens the door to you. “You reek.”

Your face burns.

Getou roars with laughter when you tell him why you smell the way you do. “What a brat,” he says.

“Hey!” You feel the compulsion to defend Yuta against even the smallest of slights. It’s instinctual, even though you know Getou doesn’t really mean it.

He shakes his head at you. “I really pity you, you know? You’re so whipped.”

Hanging out with Getou doesn’t end in anything physical tonight. He injured himself playing volleyball with Gojo and he’s not interested in anything but good company. You don’t know if you’d be interested, either. It’s always easier to pretend you don’t want him after a little bit of distance. Trying anything right after seeing Yuta would only tear your heart apart. You and Getou pass the time in amicable silence, working on your separate assignments in the same room.

Your phone buzzes three hours in.

Yuta 4:15 You busy?

You 4:24 With Getou Working on homework Why?

Yuta 4:24 Come over I miss you

You 4:24 I saw you this morning

Yuta 4:24 …

Yuta 4:25 …

Yuta 4:25 I always miss you when you’re not here

Getou cackles. You jolt, startled. You had honestly forgotten where you were.

“Is that loverboy?” He says, trying to grab the phone out of your hand so he can see the message. “You look so lovestruck.”

You yank it back from him. “I gotta go.”

“Abandoning me again?” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m really just a toy to you, huh?”

That makes you hesitate, even though you do want to see Yuta.

He ruffles your hair. “Ah, youth. So gullible. I’m fine, sweetheart. Go see your beau. And send him my regards,” he says with a devious smile as he walks you to the door. His eyes light up when he sees the forgotten garment he had discarded on his coat rack.

You look at him quizzically. It’s not strange for him to be a gentlemen, but it is strange for him to offer you his letterman before you leave. He loves that jacket. He wears it so often that his name emblazoned across the back has been worn down into a soft cream instead of eggshell white.

“What’s this for?”

“Just wear it. And tell me how Yuta reacts.”

With that, he pushes you out of the door.

Yuta wrinkles his nose at you in a display of badly disguised contempt. He was so excited to see you when you walked through the door, but as soon as he saw what you were wearing, his smile dropped off his face.

“What’s with that guy?” He grumbles. “It’s so weird that he’s giving you his letterman. Isn’t that almost like a claim in the sports world?”

For some reason, it pisses you off. On most days, Yuta could commit a crime and you’d help him cover it up, but this time you seriously can’t tell where he gets off acting like this. He’s not dating you. He’s not interested in you. He doesn’t even see you as a potential partner.

You jab your finger into his chest, punctuating every word you speak by prodding him. “Why do you think you can judge Getou? You don’t even know him.”

“I know that he’s going after a taken girl.”

“We’re just friends, Yuta.” The admission stings. No matter what anyone else thinks of your relationship with Yuta, that’s all you will be.

“Yeah, but no one else thinks so.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Is it so bad to be seen with me?”

“It is if I’m trying to get a boyfriend! You’re the reason no one wants to date me!”

“Do you need to date someone?” he says. Every word out of his mouth only makes you’re more incensed. He’s being condescending without meaning to, but it doesn’t soften the blow.

“I want to!”

“And if I don’t want you to?”

“Excuse me?”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head is spinning. “That’s not funny.”

“I don’t want you to be with Getou,” he says. “I want you to be with me. You’re right, it’s not fair, but I get this ugly feeling in my chest when you’re together and now I know why. I can be so much better for you than he is.”

“This isn’t about who’s better! You’re always-“ You’re on the brink of tears. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating, Yuta! I’m trying to get over you and you think you’re being noble by dating me because you want to keep me safe? Why would I ever want that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, so soft it makes you want to run into his arms and run away from him at the same time. Then he frowns. “Did you say you’re trying to get over me?”

You glance at him, then the door. The calculations you run in your head say you can make it outside before he catches you. You turn so fast on your ankle the floor makes a despairing screech beneath the soles of your shoes as you beat a hasty exit.

The calculations in your head are wrong. He loops his arms around your waist and picks you up, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder so he can carry you to the couch. You’re deposited with a soft grunt as he climbs over you and pins you down so you can’t even think of escaping. You thrash, regardless.

“Let me go, Yuta!”

“I thought you called me Yu,” he teases.

“You aren’t being cute!”

“Is it him?”

“Him?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to look at me that way this whole time,” Yuta says despairingly. “I didn’t want to scare you away, but I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. But before I even got a chance, this asshole steals you away?”

“Yuta, what are you talking about?”

“Are you in love with Getou?”

“Are you stupid?” You can feel hot tears well up in your eyes. It’s frustrating to be crying so easily because you’re embarrassed and angry. “I said I was trying to get over you! Just say what you have to say, don’t torture me like this.”

“Did it work? Are you over me?”

“I’ll never be over you,” you sniffle. You just want him to leave you alone now so you can wallow in your own patheticness.

“I’m glad,” Yuta says, and then he cups your face in his hands so delicately, like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, and kisses you like he’s trying to steal the breath from you.

Your knees crumble underneath you. He catches you easily and hoists you up, letting you settle with your legs wrapped around his waist. He holds you up with just one arm as he presses you harder against the wall, cushioning your head carefully. You’re pinned between his body and the wall. You moan against him, pleased and warm and disgustingly in love with him. All your senses are full of him as you cling to him..

Distantly, as if through water, you hear your phone buzz.

Getou 6:01 You owe me for that, by the way.

#sera writes #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta fluff #yuuta fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x you

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ectologia · 4 months

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♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝒫𝒰𝒮𝒮𝒴 𝐸𝒜𝒯𝐼𝒩𝒢 ؛ 𝓀𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾 𝒷𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ cunnilingus ﾉ fingering ﾉ profanity

Katsuki loves it. He’ll take you in any position available, backwards, forwards, upside down, right side up, from the back. He doesn’t care as long as he’s getting a mouth full of his baby’s muff.

He asks you to tease him, pull away and circle your hips in the air while his tongue slithers out of his mouth like a serpent, just barely brushing the outline of your juicy slit. Blunt nails tear at your legs and ankles, tugging you this way and that way, dragging you through the valley of his bedsheets to suck your pussy into the concave of his mouth as you try to escape his voracious appetite.

His tongue quickly probes your outer lips for access, slicing through your folds with a stiffened peak while jabbing at the crease of your hood throughout it’s endeavour.

Two fingers follow the outline of your spread open cunt to meet your clit, already puffy and twitching and flinching beneath the calloused pads he uses to squeeze at the sensitive bead.

“Ouch, ‘suki! Not so hard.” You scold, shooing the invasive digits away while he inspects the ring of slick pooling above your urethra.

He grumbles a gruff snarl, knitting his brows at the pair of smaller hands flapping below his nose. He dismisses your squirms in favour of suctioning your soft mound into his mouth, practically eating away at the folds before releasing you with a drawn out groan, swishing his head side to side as if he were a predator ripping flesh from bone.

He loves the little sigh you do when he does that, so breathy and elongated as you battle between the choices of doubling over to hug his head or falling back against the cloud of pillows propped beneath you. You choose the latter, practically collapsing against the mattress, your back bending and arching like a willow tree as he teethes on your sex, smacking his jaw over your pert little clit.

A pair of knuckles pump themselves past the first ring of taught muscle guarding your pussy hole, popping in and out with a wet click as he massages the tender spot nestled right against your bladder.

“Oh, not there..” You mewl, fearing the inevitable.

Katsuki hums, thumbing the crest of your labia. “Yeah baby, right there?” He punctuates his sentence with a curt flick to your G—Spot, tapping the tiny groove with the hard edge of his forefingers.

You squeal at the sensation before the tip of his nose bumps the chub of your slit once again, prickling your hair and bouncing you on the balls of your toes, lurching off of his big shoulders as his tongue laps against your cunny.

“Stay still.” This time it’s his turn to scold you, pinching your swollen sensitive pussy lips closed until you fall limp once again. “I’m tryna’ clean this sloppy little pussy up.”

#mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x female reader #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bakugou x female reader #bnha

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 5 months

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Die Hard Romantic - Max Verstappen

Summary: To the world Max is a cold and ruthless competitor who goes too far. To his girlfriend, he secretly reads her favourite books so he can get inspiration of how to be romantic in ways she likes.

The relationship is still fairly new. Only a matter of weeks old, but seemingly Max doesn't like a slow pace in relationships as well as on the track.

"What are you reading?" Max asks as she pulls out a book while they sit on his private jet.

"I'm not telling you." Y/n smiles hiding the book when Max tries to touch it to look at the cover from a better angle. "Let me read in peace."

"Let me know what you're reading." Max argues with a laugh while she tsks smacking his hand lightly before he slumps in defeat. Settling for resting his hand on her thigh while she curls up to use her lap as a rest of her book.

Max has learned some habits of his new girlfriend. One of which includes, that any flight they're on. She'll read for the better part of 15 minutes then pass out. So Max only has to wait for her to slump against his shoulder for him to take the book. Bookmarking her page to not lose her place before he begins reading the book.

He's not really much of a reader in general. Especially not romance books, but sometimes it's not the worst idea to steal from them when it comes to making y/n happy. After all, who doesn't want a storybook romance?

By the time they land Max has a couple ideas knowing that y/n will melt along with calling him out for reading her book and stealing the ideas.

"Baby, you need to wake up." Max whispers gently rubbing her back which makes her stir lifting her head slightly before mumbling something incoherent. "Ok, maybe not."

He sighs picking her up, much like her habit of falling asleep, he's used to carrying her off of flights.

Max doesn't think anything is too much of an expense for the people he cares about and with his income he doesn't need to concern himself about prices either.

So when he gets y/n a necklace with a custom MV1 and tiny Red Bull logo and matching earrings to go with it, it's not a cheap endeavour but when he surprise y/n with it. The expression on her face is worth every penny spent.

Some might say getting your girlfriend a necklace with your initials so early in the relationship is a risk. But Max knows that y/n is a die hard romantic ad she loves wearing any of his Red Bull stuff with his number on or his initials. Though she did try to dig out some of his 33 stuff saying it felt more special when it came to him.

"You stole my book for this idea again didn't you?" Y/n giggles as Max helps her put on her necklace.

"I don't know what you mean." Max smiles then kissing her shoulder.

Y/n rolls her eyes shaking her head at him before picking up the earrings. One of which is the red bull logo in all silver while the other is MV.

"I do love them...How much did it cost?"

"Do not worry about the cost-"

"Max!"

"I don't know. I just wanted to buy you it, I didn't even ask how much it was." Max shrugs while he admires the sight of the necklace and earrings. "Do you like them?"

"I really love them."

"Then what does it matter what it cost. The cost means nothing if you are happy."

Max might think he needs the aid of y/n's books which are pretty romantic by her own admission. But she really thinks he'd do just fine on his own if he had the confidence to say so.

Really she's not going to stop him either. Who is stupid enough to stop their boyfriend from making the most effort to be romantic? Not y/n and certainly not today.

Y/n yawns as she watches the Vegas FP2 which has gone so ridiculously late that she can't help feeing the chill of the air completely consume her.

By the time they finally get to the end of it, Max has clearly had enough of Vegas already and y/n is beginning to understand why.

"It's fucking freezing." Y/n shivers as Max walks her to the media paddock, her presence grounding his annoyance as he moves to take part in some media since the day is never over.

It's not as if y/n is underdressed but waiting in the garage for hours in such chilly conditions is going to have the most hot bodied fighting the cold.

However, the waiting in the media pen (where he really isn't allowed to bring y/n) brings a new opportunity to have another romantic moment that he's stolen straight from the pages of a book. Not that he remembers which book or even what the situation is, but he mentally noted to use a cold opportunity to do it so now is the time.

Max is dressed in a Red Bull coat and he unzips it to pull her into his body that is still a burning temperature in comparison to her own from the heat of the cockpit. He's sweaty and usually that would be something to put her off, but right now she's too cold to complain especially when she finds herself hidden in his jacket as he manages to wrap it around her too.

She hides there feeling Max just swaying them a little as they stand till the media assistant says Max has his turn for the interview.

"I'll make it quick. I don't have much to say." Max promises making her hum before he kisses the top of her head and she steps back from the warmth of his body back into the cool night air.

The media seem just as unhappy to see Max and his attitude about Vegas as he was to be talking about a free practice that took place at such early hours of the morning. Though later than it was meant to be.

"Let's go." Max mutters as she looks at him for a moment worried that he's annoyed but when he flashes her a smile to reassure her that nothing's wrong.

They head back to the hotel where Max semi-smothers her after their shower to try and warm her up despite her insisting she's definitely warm enough now.

"Max Verstappen! Get off of me." Y/n giggles before giving up, defeated as his weight remains unmoved from on top of her.

Y/n groans a little as she looks at him for a moment, his blue eyes staring into her soul as she feels all the love from him just nearly overwhelm her in the moment.

"Why are you crying?" Max whispers reaching his hand up to her face to wipe a stray tear from under her eye.

"I just...sometimes forget how lucky I am to have you. I don't think I knew a love like this existed till I found you." Y/n whispers making Max's face flush before he just gently rubs his thumb on her cheek.

"You never have to know what it's like without this love again." Max promises which honestly makes her heart thud heavily in her chest as she smiles down at him.

"You know...you're better than the men in the books I read without trying. You don't have to keep stealing them to read...you do more than enough without using them as a blueprint."

"I like knowing what you're reading...Even if you read filth sometimes." Max jokes making her eyes widen before he moves up and kisses her softly. "Don't worry, I take notes from those parts more than anything."

"Jesus Christ." Y/n murmurs hiding her face under her hands knowing that Y/n is definitely both fearful and trying to hide her excitement at that thought.

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tteokdoroki · 6 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be.

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right.

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had.

however, that’s when you came along.

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either.

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.”

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal. “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?”

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap.

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.”

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t.

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him.

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo.

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs.

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters.

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs.

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin.

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?”

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?”

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.”

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment.

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust.

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers.

again, neither of you care.

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under.

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm.

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?”

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.”

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.”

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?”

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess.

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.”

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby. “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height.

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.”

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you.

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him.

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.”

“are you sure, baby?”

“please—“

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…”

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips.

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt.

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter.

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.”

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall.

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you.

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.”

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.”

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much.

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds.

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…”

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well.

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct.

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on.

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them.

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.”

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub.

“o-oh! seishiro!”

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.”

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.”

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound.

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you.

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer.

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?”

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.”

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.”

“do you think I can do it?”

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.”

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it.

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

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