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#must be some nasty block

mandiemegatron · 5 months

Note

Yeah hi me again. I think it's fucked up that you cried to your little friends that I was "bullying" you and now some of my favorite one piece writers and artists BLOCKED me! I had to make a whole new account because I couldn't see anything! It's not my fault I don't like your writing anymore, you changed how you write and I told you I didn't enjoy it and I'm being punished for having an optionn?! Fuck you Mandy that's stupid. I wish I never read your shit.

.... you're actually fucking delusional. You need to seek a therapist asap, and maybe even Jesus because this is the wildest thing I've ever had to deal with. I'm assuming you're also @oplover14 (I have you blocked bc you're pathetic and miserable and a BULLY)

I don't know what the fuck I did to you to make you act out like this. I didn't ASK anyone to fuckin block you or anything. I'm literally here for a good time, to have fun and write some silly smutty things, and you're literally jumpin down my throat for what ???? You say you're 33 yet you act like a fuckin 13 year old throwing a goddamn temper tantrum !!! Who the fuck hurt you dude ?!

Literally grow the fuck up and act your goddamn age. You're pathetic and sad, Law and Luffy would punch you right in your disrespectful face. You're no nakama to either of them.

You're entitled to your opinion but you're not entitled to be a fuckin dick abt it. You don't have to like my writing dude but you also don't have to tell me you don't like it. Whatever happened to "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything?"

Go back to kindergarten and learn some goddamn manners.

#answered ask #BLOCKED.#youre so sad dude. how tiring it must be to be so goddamn miserable.#keep acting up buddy and everyones going to have you blocked and not becausd theyre my mutuals #it'll be because they can't stand you and that nasty ass attitude you have 🤮🤮🤮#33 and acting like this #i womt be rrsponding to anything else you send - new blog or otherwise.#youre done miss maam . please go touch some grass

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superkimvettech · 10 months

Text

It literally has never come up before in my 20 years as a tech, and I got cussed out on tikytok for my admittance of never hearing of this condition before. Explanation of the condition under the break.

Stud tail is a RARE hormonal condition that causes the sebaceous glands in the tail of (usually) unneutered male cats as they enter into puberty. Can be seen in neutered and female cats, but again, it’s rare.

My cat was a neutered male. He had some greasiness on his tail. The video I first heard about this commented that the patient she was working on had it. She explained what it was, but didn’t explain much further than what I did above. I’ve seen one or two other cats in my entire career that had greasy fur on the tail. None were to the point of having pain, and my boss had said it happens sometimes but didn’t explain what it was. That was the extent of my experience with it.

Apparently bad cases of it can be ouchy, but the vast majority (as far as I can tell, I’m still learning about it) are not bothersome.

I learn new things every day and I’m not going to pretend I know everything about vet medicine even though I’ve been doing it 20 years today. It’s perfectly ok for me to have not heard about a rare condition that affects a minute amount of my patients. It meant I had an opportunity to learn. I hope to have more opportunities tomorrow.

I also hope to not have someone else attempt to make me to feel inadequate because I had not heard of a condition.

#veterinary medicine #veterinary #vet tech #vet #animal hospital #it’s sad when I let that lady know that it’s unhealthy to be suspicious of everyone all the time #and that it is okay that I didn’t know something about a rare condition #that she had to call me some nasty things and say I must be a terrible vet tech if I didn’t know about stud tail #the fuck.#obviously I stopped all communication and blocked her because you curate your own experience on these apps #it’s just sad though! like I really hope she can get past whatever made her this way and become a happier person

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

Text

simple woman

simon "ghost" riley

cw: mask kink, dub-con, breeding, bimbo-ish!reader, size difference/kink, choking, finger-fucking, degradation (misogyny), impregnation/pregnancy, minor praise kink, there's a lot happening a word from bunny: like the fic! suggest your own! comments are always welcomed <3

simon just thought you were the sweetest thing to come out the army. he must've thought they were getting desperate by letting a scaredy cat like you in. look at you, you could've even hold a gun steady with your arms shaking! tsk, tsk, tsk. someone like you shouldn't be in a place like this, with all these scary men.

they'd eat you alive and then chew on your bones. they'd lick you in and out like the inside of a crisp package. stay with simon, he'd keep you safe. but safety came with a price. and that price landed you with an extra eight inches inside of you.

he had you alone for the night, away from your barracks and into the single room he had. the privileges of what he did. but a good girl like you had to behave. be good for him.

strong fingers were thrusted in and out of your sweet cunt as he kept another hand of his around your neck to keep you quiet. he wore his mask to conceal his face. even after all this time you saw was his lips and the nasty scar on one side.

"that's a good girl." he said quietly, "i like how you act when i'm three fingers inside of ya. you take me so well."

you whimpered and clutched onto his shoulders. he was just so big compared to you, in every sense of the word. he at least had a head over you and broad enough shoulders that he easily blocked out the sun when he loomed over you. he was strong and domineering.

"that's my girl. you know no one else can have you, right? because if the wrong fucker tried to take you from me. they'd simply end up in pieces in the river."

your nailed dug into the meat of one of his shoulders as you tried to support yourself. you whimpered as he held you still by your throat as he moved his fingers faster in and out of you. you kicked your legs out but he curled around you to keep you close to him.

"stop that, love. i'd hate to have to tie you up and gag you." he squeezed a little and you wheezed. he knew he was in control, he loved the control he had over his little doll.

you squeezed onto him tighter as you tried to take as much air as you could between the moments he relaxed his grip. he dipped his face into your neck as inhaled your sweaty scent, to him it smelt amazing.

"simon." you croaked.

"no, no, girlie. it's lieutenant. and not lt like soap says." he reminded you as he pulled his hand away from your throat and tapped his finger against your nose. he watched you take a deep breath after being deprived of (most) air for some time.

you sputtered and coughed and he continued to fuck you with his calloused fingers. he admired the mark around your neck that he was certain was going to go purple within a few days. he wrapped an arm around around shoulders and pulled you into him as he continued to brutalize your cunt with his fingers.

you panted and moaned into his skin and your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to leverage yourself. you felt on the knife's edge of pleasure even if it was rough and messy. your toes curled as you panted heavily. the room felt hot and your head felt like a mess.

simon was the only anchor you had to reality. you moaned softly into his strong neck, you could feel the sweat drip down it and onto your nose. it must got hot under the mask.

when you climaxed, your cunt tightened around his fingers. he knew and clamped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. he watched your tense as he finger-fucked you, then when you relaxed and collapsed onto the bed with you nude body on display for him.

he pulled out his fingers and slipped them under the back to get a taste of your wetness. he groaned to himself before he got your legs off his lap. he got up from the bed and started to undress. you looked at him, your mind was drawn to a blank as you saw the muscle on his body.

he wasn't simply built the way men in superhero movies were. he was like a classic strongman you once saw in a book. you could tell there was heavy muscle, but a layer of thickness over top. it kept him warm in the cold months on base. if he were an animal, it would be like a bear. bulky, intimidating, ready to tear apart whatever victim got in its jaws.

he was scary, you were in love with him.

simon didn't love, he obsessed. his entire life had been stalking, almost hunting for the 'bad guys'. when he worked it was an obsession to track down the likes of terrorists, so it would only make sense that he loved the same way.

he got undressed, but still opted to keep the mask on. you could see his stern dark eyes staring at you as you laid on your stomach on his bed. he could tell you were still out of it, your mind a blur.

"that's a good girl. nice and dumb for me." he chuckled quietly to himself as he approached the bed once more, "no need to think about a damn thing, just how good i make you feel."

"simon, please." you whimpered.

he chuckled as he came over and ruffled your hair, "i know, i know. you're always trying to prove yourself to captain price. but i know what you're capable of. meant to be a good doll for me, maybe instead of being a Sargent, you can become my wife. a better fittin' title for you." he rarely spoke much, but when he was with you and your brain was splatted to the back of your skull, the words came out.

his tongue was filthy, but he saw how you reacted to them. he knew you were a dirty whore, he was just lucky to find you first and keep you all to himself.

he sat down on the edge of the bed and groped your ass. his touches were rough and you tried to back away from him on the bed. but you could never truly escape simon. he was a ghost, he'd find you. so don't go running away, as he always warned you. he wagged his finger at you like you were some kind of child.

but now he was kissing at your neck and gripping your ass with his broad hand. he loved how you felt under him, how he pressed into you. he could crush you so easily, that was why he never understood how you even got into the army. you bruised like a fruit, there were many times he grabbed you and were left purple within a few days.

simon loved the bruises. but only when he did them. he wasn't going to beat you down, you were his doll. but he did enjoy the sight of the splotches of purple and blue on your hips when you undressed for him. he wondered if your fellow soldiers ever gossiped about them.

but that wasn't anything to worry about. soon simon would have his way and you wouldn't even be in the forces. as he moved your hips to be at level with his hard cock, he thought about the nice house he'll get for the both of you.

somewhere he can keep you safe, his hidden treasure. he did want children, he wanted many of them. and you'd give them all to him, he wondered if your folks would be okay if he got you knocked up before the wedding.

the thought made him smile under his mask as he sank down into your pussy, all eight inches slammed into the back of your pussy. you let out a loud moan but he clamped a hand around you mouth to keep you quiet.

"i'm pretty sure." he said, "you don't want the base to know how much of a fuckin' slag you are." he kissed your cheek through the mask harshly, "that's for me to know." then started to thrust in and out of you with on hand around your mouth and the other on your shoulder to guide your body up and down his cock.

the mask up against your hot cheek was overstimulating, the fabric of the balaclava was rough against your skin. your cheeks stung as he thrusted up into you.

the bed squeaked under you two as the headboard hit against the wall gently. simon was lucky that he didn't have any neighbours in that direction.

he was domineering over top of you, he had you under his weight as his cock bullied against your cervix. you gasped and moaned into his hand as you saw stars in your vision. you were such a treat.

he was obsessed with you, he only wanted you. you were everything to him. now he just needed a piece of land and enough security to make sure that no one was going to hurt a single hair on your head. after all it was his duty as the man to make sure his wife was alright.

"you're perfect like this. this is how a woman should be." he remarked, "under me, letting me fuck that sweet cunt. you're a good girl for me. you'll make a good role model for our girls."

you squeaked and your eyes went wide for a moment. but then he slammed against your womb and your eyes rolled back from the intense pleasure. you held onto the bed under you and your back was arched as he fucked your harder.

he was practically fucking you up against the headboard, with your body contorted so he could thrust into you without much abandon. your wet pussy made the most delicious sounds as he used you. it felt so good. it was like you were made for him.

he groaned against you and continued his harsh thrusts. he kept you pinned to him, where you belonged. "pretty girl like you was probably told her entire life that you could be whatever you wanted. but, i know better. meant to be a wife and mother to a good englishman." he chuckled in your ear, "make the queen proud by havin' a few brats with me." he felt your cunt tighten around him which made him groan, "my doll likes that, huh? puttin' a man on top for once. don't worry i ain't no deadbeat. happy wife, happy life." he pulled up his mack a little so he could get the feeling of your heated skin against his lips.

you hated how he talked down to you because you were a woman. you had enough of it in the military. but it stirred something in you that you had little words for. maybe the idea of having a few kids with simon wasn't a bad idea. no more trainings, no more missions. just you and him. even as you tried to shake the thought off, your body responded by clenching around his cock. As to ensure that he stayed right in your pussy.

he dropped your face onto the pillow and held you by the neck. then with his other hand he raised your hips further. he was holding you up as he bruised your pussy with his cock.

"nice little place out in the country. five kids should be enough to keep ya busy. five under four years if we're lucky." he chuckled darkly, "kept woman, that's what you'll be. my lovely wife in her place, as she should be." he chuckled. you couldn't even look behind you to see the face he was making with his mask pulled up every so slightly.

"simon." you whimpered.

"what did i say, doll? you're a lower rank among other things. don't make me punish ya."

"sorry, lieutenant." you squeaked.

"good girl." he continued his harsh thrusts that left the bed moving. your brain felt like mush once more, his words rang in your head like church bells. you were too far gone with him, he was obsessed with you. his claws were in you long before this and there was no escaping it now.

it almost brought a cold fear in you at the idea of taking another lover. if he found out someone touched what was his. you could only imagine the damage he'd do, not only to the man you were with but also you, yourself.

his movements started to stagger, he had less focus and was relying on instinct as he rammed his cock into you. he was getting close to his own climax. your pussy was such a delight around him, you accommodated his large size perfectly. you were a dream.

he gave a few more heavy thrusts before he finished inside of you, "good girl, take me all. that's it. make sure not to spill a drop or i'll have to get find ways to keep in ya next time."

"yes, lieutenant." you moaned into the pillows. you tensed when he started to play with your clit. his fingers were fat but nimble. they rubbed against your sweet spot as you clenched around his still hardened cock.

"i ain't done with you yet, love." he said in your ear as you climaxed around him, "got a couple more loads before i think i've seeded ya enough. you just lie there like a good girl and let me take care of everything."

there was no option to say 'no', you were pinned under him with his cock buried inside of you. you meekly nodded. he chuckled and you shuddered.

you knew it was going to be a long night.

the last name riley wasn't the worst one to have. simon often joked that it could be long like mactavish. it had been three years since you left the military to be his bride.

now you were on your fourth kid, about six months pregnant. you hard a girl and two twin boys. you wanted to keep the gender of baby number four a secret.

he had your legs open, he held onto your thighs as he sank his cock into you. he groaned out loud. the kids were asleep which meant it was time for mama and papa to play.

he placed your legs up against his chest, closed to one side. he then leaned forward and bent your knees as much as the belly would allow. he had you in a press as he bullied his cock into your pussy.

he groaned as he felt the tight heat around his cock. you looked perfect in his eyes, you gave him everything he wanted. you were a fine mama, a good wife to him. he gave a few gentle thrusts as he looked into your eyes.

the mask was long gone, but the look in his eye remained back when you first started to have sex. he was obsessed with you still and every little thing you did.

there was no place you could ever hide from him. he had claimed you inside and out. but it was alright, he intended on keeping you for a long time.

"good girl." he grumbled.

"thank you, lieutenant." <3

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silkscream · 15 days

Text

pure smile snake venom

ੈ✩ suguru geto x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, dom!suguru, emotional manipulation, fingering, dubcon, blood, yandere behavior, edging, multiple orgasms, choking, loss of virginity, religious imagery

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: oooo i am soo normal about cult leader suguru. art by @/wonowono__3 on twitter

He finds you unconscious.

He feels you before he sees you – your cursed energy permeates the air with dread. He can feel it in his throat, as if the hand of his past self materialized to strangle him, reminding him of desperation. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, not anymore.

It also felt like death.

When he finds you, your body would have easily been looked over, small as you were compared to the vastness of the forest around you. Insignificant, left to rot.

When he’d looked at your face, there was recognition in his chest despite not seeing you before. He hadn’t been drawn to anyone in a while. He barely had anyone that wasn’t at arm's length to him, even his closest devouts, yet something about the delicateness of your face enticed him. A predator finding lost prey.

He finds it mildly sacrilegious to touch you when you’re in this state, but your shirt was saturated with so much blood that it took him a bit to realize that the color of the fabric was supposed to be white and not merlot-red. He lifts your shirt, grimacing at its dampness, and finds a wound that looks fatal.

He looks at it and feels the residuals of a nasty curse. By the time he tracks it down, he tortures it with all of the energy inside of him.

You wake up on a futon you don’t recognize. You don’t remember a thing.

You wince as you attempt to rise, clutching your side. You’re topless, clothed only by gauze covering your chest and ribs.

You exhale, closing your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you see a face with a vacant smile. You are met with that very smile when you open your eyes again.

“Welcome back.”

You blink. He must be the stranger that saved you from — well, what did he save you from? You were used to spirits, took years to adjust to that fact, and have even killed a few yourself. But when you feel the pain in your side, nothing comes to mind.

“You… saved me?”

“I suppose so. It was pure luck that I happened to stumble upon you.”

“Where — where am I?”

He tells you it’s his temple, then he tells you his name. When he asks for yours, you’re reluctant. Eventually, you tell him. If he was luring you into his trap, you suppose you had fallen into it against your will by pure chance. It was probably better than bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you have anyone who will miss you?”

You don’t say anything. You think of the dingy studio apartment you’ve been subletting for a few months. You try to conjure up a narrative of belonging in your head that would give you any reason for you to leave. Nothing comes.

You shake your head.

Geto Suguru is the first person to tell you that you’re magic.

You knew that, in some way, ever since you were a child. Your intuition made you a strange child, always slightly cryptic with a sense of maturity that made you seem like a vessel for a sad ghost. Your visions would only get stronger – small bursts of light whiplashing through your mind into images, rapid like a supercut. The things you saw would come true.

This is what makes you a good weapon. Ironically, you had always thought of yourself as weak.

He was captivating the way a cult leader should be, and you had fallen under his spell. It was his robes and the regal way he carried himself, maybe. You don’t think he’s bad — he’s made you important, and you’ve never felt wanted before. You were a recluse before Suguru found you. Barely the shape of anything, so he found it appropriate to mold you into something to call his.

Suguru doesn’t tell you much. You know that he probably lies to you.

He holds too much power for you to question it. His cursed technique is daunting and his grace is enviable, but he’s mostly kind. You help him when he finds curses, usually the more powerful ones that could threaten him. Able to see into the near future, you can sense their next move each time. It makes it easy to subdue them to Suguru’s advantage.

You also find that he is regarded as something of a saint to non-sorcerers. Something twists in your gut when you watch his exorcisms, seeing the immediate relief in the faces of his followers. They look at him with so much adoration that it makes you self-conscious that you share the same disposition.

He tells you you’re his favorite and the feeling dissipates.

You like how ritualistic living in the temple is. Breakfast at the same time each day. Tea in the garden. Rolling in the gross with bruised knuckles.

You take a liking to his girls. They remind you of yourself, but they lack the meekness you had as a teenager. The twins adore you almost as much as they adore Suguru. They are endlessly fickle, as most teenage girls are, but their devotion is worn candidly in the way they carry themselves. You wonder how they can be so obedient, but you realize that they have known nothing else.

It’s a quiet luxury. You like to pretend that you’re some sort of priestess, sometimes. You had never been as reverent as your mother, but you think that there is peace in serving a God. If not Suguru, then some higher power must’ve granted you another chance at life, even if your new life meant mundane piety.

You liked routine – it fit you. You did your part in the temple and Suguru would reward you with gentle praises. You were only one of few sorcerers in his current entourage, so you felt special.

Despite this, something felt messing. You often wish Suguru could cast out the malaise inside of you, but you’ve carried it in the pit of yourself for as long as you could remember. Even in your pious bliss, you start wondering if the curse that nearly killed you left a part of itself within you. Each day is the same until you wear thin.

When the string finally breaks, you find him with blood on his hands in the temple’s omoya.

It’s not the blood of a curse, either. It’s dark crimson, such as the same blood that is inside of you, and on the tatami mat lies the lifeless body of a servant.

Shin, his name was. He wasn’t much younger than you, but he had the spirit of a boy, always able to make you laugh before he served you breakfast. He had arrived only a few months after you had, citing suicidal ideation as a catalyst to seeking Suguru’s services. Once treated, he had felt larger than life.

And now, his face is frozen in time – the look of sheer fear.

“Useless monkey,” Suguru tuts, wiping the blood off his face. You’ve seen that look on his face before — when he’s cruel and callous in battle. When he snaps the neck of a special grade curse before he eats it.

You run to the bathroom to vomit.

When you emerge, one of the twins looks at you curiously. Mimiko. She smiles at you serenely, her eyes flickering with taunt.

“Is everything alright, Y/N-san?”

“Y-yes,” you nod. “Just a bit under the weather.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Her eyes light up for a second. “Oh, could you be pregnant? Nanako and I really wish there was another kid around—“

“No, no, I’m not pregnant,” you cut her off, shocked. Did she think you and Suguru were… together? Did she think you were his concubine?

“Ah. I can get the servants to prepare some ginger tea for you.”

“No need, Mimiko,” you shake your head, smiling sheepishly. “I just… need to get some air.”

She leaves you alone as you walk towards the pagoda. You feel another wave of nausea when you remember Shin’s lifeless eyes. The blood on his throat.

You stare at the sunset. It’s been a long time since you’ve left the temple of your own volition. Suguru keeps a tight leash on you nowadays, blaming the unpredictability of your power. Bitterly, you realize that you’re only ever in town alongside him.

Sometimes, you miss being a stray.

His presence is immediate. When you turn, his long hair sways in the breeze as he flashes you a cat-like smile.

“Thought you were trying to run away from me,” he murmurs, walking towards you. “But you’d never do that, would you?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

He looks at you, amused. It feels belittling.

“I apologize. I thought Nanako had locked the door.”

Your blood stills. He saw you.

“I thought you only killed curses,” you stammer. For the first time, his presence makes you feel unsafe.

“I never said that, sweet girl,” he chuckles. He plays with a loose strand of your hair. “Humans are beneath us, you know that. Humans are the reason curses are created. Curses just like the one that nearly killed you.”

You don’t have it in you to protest. He’s gotten closer to you now. A hand on your waist. His lips kissing your hairline in a way that makes you feel like a child again.

“I— I liked him,” you stutter.

“Mm,” he hums. “He liked you, too. A bit too much if you ask me.”

You stay silent. Only the sound of cicadas fill the air.

“It’s not your fault,” he grins. “You charm anyone you meet by default, you know. But sometimes, these followers… they want to threaten our mission. Sometimes, they’re paid off by sorcerers who are targeting me to gather intel. And darling, when there’s a target on my back, there’s a target on yours.”

You pull away from him with wide eyes. His face is neutral. So naive, you are. He was only doing you a favor, but a sheltered girl like you trusts too easily.

“Just remember. I will be the only one to protect you.”

He finds you in the garden.

You’re surrounded by wildflowers, your yukata loose enough on you that it falls off your shoulder when you sit up to greet him. The sight of your bare skin tokes the fire in his stomach. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in a plain kimono as opposed to his usual gojo-gesa.

“Enjoying the fireflies?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your smile is tired now. You stare blankly as if you’re in a trance.

“You’ve been a bit off lately,” he muses. “Something on your mind?”

You blink at him in surprise, almost regretting it once you make eye contact. The hint of a lazy smile is there while his eyes scrutinize you. It always feels like he can see right through you, observing you just before he eats you whole.

“No, Geto-sama,” you shake your head.

He laughs, rubbing your shoulder. “So formal with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” you knit your brows. You had been at the temple for less than a year. You weren’t intimate with him enough to warrant that. You weren’t intimate with him in the way your heart longed for.

“Not with me. Never with me.”

“Suguru.” You mull over the taste of his name on your tongue. The shape of it in your mouth. “I’m okay, Suguru.”

You feel pathetic under his gaze. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, sensing the apprehension in your voice. The slight quiver of your bottom lip as you avoid his face.

“I’m just… recovering. From my technique, that’s all,” you say hoarsely.

It’s not a complete lie — the intensive training with Suguru led you to discover that you could bend time and space to your will in small aspects. Teleporting short distances became a new tool for your arsenal. It was still difficult to manage and exhausting to exert. The other day, your nose had bled so much that you almost thought your membranes would burst completely.

“You’re exhausting yourself,” he says gently, rubbing a hand to the small of your back. “But you’re improving rapidly. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth floods your body at his praise. It was too easy for him to wrap you around his finger, and you were starting to hate it.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“Do you feel powerful?”

You take a moment of reprieve when he asks this. Powerful? Despite being a sorcerer and wielding the ability to exorcise the monstrous manifestations of human suffering, you did not feel powerful at all. You never have. If anything, you only felt useful.

“Not really.”

“You should,” he smiles. “You’re getting stronger. We’re untouchable together, you and me.”

You and me echoes loud in your brain. Stitches itself into every crevice unwittingly.

“Ge– Suguru,” you swallow thickly. “Is that why you saved me? Because you wanted me to get strong?”

“Yes,” he nods without hesitation. “I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all I am? Potential? I’m just– just a vehicle for you?”

He leans over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His own hair is down, for once, and you can smell his white tea shampoo as his shoulder touches yours. It almost soothes you.

“You aren’t just a tool to me, you know that,” he sighs, looking at you with intent. “I like taking care of you.”

You nod slowly as you look towards the sky. His words aren’t enough to fill the emptiness inside you. His proximity to you makes your chest constrict in the slightest bit, creaking the floorboards of your ribs inside a haunted house body.

You shiver when he pulls down your yukata and presses a chaste kiss to your collarbone. It must feel the same as when humans get their curses exorcised by him. Lightness in their being instead of dead weight. Blessed by a god.

“Come inside,” he purrs. “You’re getting cold, yeah? I can see your goosebumps.”

No. His hands were just colder than you expected.

He gathers his hair into a half-up bun before he brings you to his room for the first time. It’s rather bare, save for the kotatsu across from his futon and the talismans that are hanging above it. The calligraphy is messy, unintelligible, as if the text was written manically.

He sits you down at the kotatsu and pours you bergamot tea. You cough nervously in anticipation.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“Um.. how long do you intend on keeping me here?”

He raises a brow. Looks at you like you’ve asked something stupid.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he asks sarcastically.

You triple-blink at his bluntness. He isn’t taking you seriously.

“Well, I have a friend or two in my hometown. I was thinking about—”

Your breath hitches when he grabs your chin. His gaze bores into your face, his lips in a hard line.

“You’re unhappy,” he says plainly.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can completely fulfill the purpose that you—”

“Do you think anyone else will take you in?” he spits. “You told me yourself. You have no family. You were barely scraping by when you lived alone. With the amount of cursed energy you possess, you think you’ll be able to protect your friends from all the curses you’ll attract?”

You sink into yourself. As if a switch is flipped, his expression changes completely. There’s that familiar softness in his eyes again. God, the tea was making you feel so warm, too. One look from him and you find yourself melting. Even the Devil would swoon.

“Don’t you think fate brought us together?” he whispers. “Don’t you know how valuable you are to me?”

He almost sounds like he means it. Your rabbit heart speeds up when he strokes your collarbone with his thumb. A heady feeling consumes you and you force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“Look at me,” he demands, grabbing your chin again. He crowds your space, not leaving you any room to breathe. Your gut aches from sudden heat.

“God made you for me. Don’t you know that?”

Your mind goes blank as you nod slowly. He looks at you like he’s starved. No one’s ever looked at you like that before. No one has ever really looked at you before him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper.

He caresses your cheek, his breath tickling your jaw as he leans in.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand what it’s like to feel a little stir-crazy. I’ll take you out more often, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and it comes off as sardonic.

“Such a spoiled girl. Only the very best for my girl, hm? I clothe her, feed her, make her stronger. And what do I get in return?” he scolds, thumb swiping over your quivering bottom lip. “She tries to run away from me.”

“I’m not,” you pout.

“You’re not?” he scoffs.

You don’t know what to do other than apologize. You were weak like that.

“You’re so good,” he sighs. “And you want to keep being good, is that right?”

“Yes,” you mumble.

You shiver again when he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand undoing the ties of your yukata. You sharply inhale at the cool air hitting in your nipples, the rest of you trembling at the prospect of being so bare in front of him. God or prophet, you didn’t know. All that you know now is that there was no coming back from this.

“My good girl,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “My best girl.”

You whimper when you feel his tongue on your jaw. His kisses are tantalizingly slow. Teasing. He marvels at the flutter of your lashes in response to his touch.

He had tried to deny those feelings in the beginning, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He feels as though he’s created you. He liked you delicate, lace winged. A butterfly caught in a jar.

Suguru thinks this is fair. He has always believed in fairness, and although one might argue that his philosophy is a direct contradiction to that, he could beg to differ. Different people had different values, that was all. You just happened to have an advantage in the hierarchy he holds in his head. A precious thing, his treasure.

When he turned his back on Jujutsu society by becoming a curse user, he would avenge the suffering of the sorcerers around him. Years of adapting to the taste of shit and vomit would eventually earn him something that made it all worth it. He’s convinced that something was you.

He was your savior, therefore you were his blessing. It was only fair that he could take you the way he wanted. You were meant to be found by him. You were meant to be kept.

You barely put up a fight.

You whimper when he parts your legs with his hands and finds you embarrassingly wet. Every stroke of his hands on your inner thigh has you twitching involuntarily.

“Oh,” he coos. “Look at that.”

You look away in shame, trying to close your legs, but he forces them open with a bruising grip. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“What’s wrong, baby? You want to be good for me, right?”

You nod without a word, trying to control your breathing. Your brain is telling you that you want this — you’d wanted to be his from the moment you saw him. Your body tells you the same, but dread creeps up your spine.

You gasp when he grazes your clit with his fingers. He plays with it, stares at your cunt through your underwear like it’s a prize.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m the only person in this world you can trust.”

He slips your panties off easily and you wince at the sound of your wetness sticking to the fabric. He applies more pressure to your bud, distracting you with his mouth on yours. You mewl into his mouth without realizing and he grins against your lips, slipping his tongue inside.

When you feel a finger push into your walls, you convulse in surprise, though you don’t pull away like he expects. You merely clutch him harder, your hands wrinkling the sleeve of his haori.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he rasps. “No one’s been here before, is that right? Just me?”

He groans when you look at him with innocent eyes and nod meekly. Of course he would be your first. You were nothing but a wounded dog when he found you, barely had a life of your own before he took you. You were pure and the world was keeping you for him. It was meant to be.

“S-Suguru…” you breathe. He’s pulled you into his lap now, your cunt getting his kimono wet. The slick of your cunt around his finger is enough to make blood rush to his cock.

“So pretty,” he mumbles. In one fell swoop, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the futon. You squeak in surprise at being lifted off the floor so quickly and so easily.

He takes the pause in his actions to undress himself, slipping off his robes, and when you see the thickness of his length prodding against his toned stomach, your mouth goes dry.

“C’mere,” he beckons. You obey.

He kisses you sweetly on your mouth and then down your jaw, squeezing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he takes the time to rub his thumb over your nipples. Suddenly, his teeth graze your chest. Biting, tasting. Forbidden fruit.

You let out a quiet moan and he chuckles. “So sensitive.”

Without a warning, he plunges two fingers into your cunt and you nearly cry out. There’s a choked noise, something in between pleasure and resignation. It’s all too much. When he adds a third finger and feels much less resistance, he laughs.

“Taking me so well. You’re doing so good,” he encourages before lapping at your chest again. When his fingers curl at just the right angle, your vision starts to get fuzzy. His thumb on your clit only intensifies the feeling.

“I c-can’t—”

“Hm? Use your words.”

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

His movements still and you nearly scream. He pulls back to see tears brimming your eyes and he kisses them away gently despite his cruel smirk.

“Nonono, please—”

“Please what?” He feigns innocence.

You bite your lip, your face too hot to feel comfortable expressing what you want. You feel the ghost of your curse wrap around your throat again. Once again, you find that the ticket to salvation has silky black hair and snake eyes. The artillery of a fallen angel disguised as something pure.

He can tell you’re frustrated but too afraid to voice it. You’re as pliable as he knew you would be. Endlessly easy to coax a reaction from.

“Do you expect everything to be handed to you? Just because you’re mine?” he taunts.

His. His. His.

You shake your head, whimpering.

“Then ask nicely, baby.”

Your cunt is on fire even though he isn’t touching you. When he strokes your lip and pushes his thumb into your mouth, you let him. Your tongue tickles his fingertip.

“Ah, so you still have a tongue. You can still speak.”

He laughs when you pout.

“Please touch me,” you say, your voice as quiet as a breeze.

“What was that?” He grins even wider.

“Pleasetouchme,” you whimper, your voice light as air.“Please… please make me cum.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles, licking into your mouth. His fingers fuck you in earnest now. You feel so full that your eyes roll back. It’s cute.

Poor thing. Suguru is a patient man, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to wait. He could make you cum three more times so that you’re truly ready for him, but he doesn’t want to. He supposes that if he breaks you, you’ll thank him anyway. No one else wants you more than him, you had to understand that.

His cock throbs at the sight of you coming undone. It’s nearly animalistic, like provoking violence from weak prey. Cataclysmic like a falling star. He’s consumed with it, with the fact that he can do this to you and no one else can.

He fingers you through the aftershocks, too, until you sob loud enough that his other hand has to cover your mouth. You squirm underneath him, shaking your head in desperation.

He admires the slick of sweat on your chest, your glowing figure. When he releases you, he thinks briefly that you’re on the verge of passing out. But you tremble, rapidly breathing, eyes unfocused as your lashes flutter.

Suguru licks you off of his fingers and you stare in horror, returning to yourself. It makes him giddy, how even your spirit is infinitesimal.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs. He kisses you roughly, tongue prying your mouth open and making you moan. “See? Sweet. You’re perfect.”

He likes seeing you all flushed. Glaze on your cheekbones. He thinks he should make you his wife, memorialize your fucked out form with a commissioned painting and hang it above his bed. A good luck charm among the talismans. You look too good to ruin with his cock, but he knows he’d already taken all of you anyway.

He’ll put you back together after. Pamper you with yuzu slices in a hot bath. Play the part of a boyfriend instead of a master.

He pins you down even though he doesn’t need to. You let him settle in between your thighs, his aching cock slapping against your stomach.

“So cute when you’re scared,” he chuckles at the look on your face.

“It’s… big,” you say meekly.

“It’ll fit. It won’t be so bad, yeah? I changed my mind about punishing you for trying to run away.”

Panic paints your features.

“I wasn’t trying to run away! I promise.” Your lip quivers again. Maybe he should make you beg.

“Is that right?” He leans in, precum spreading on the skin above your cunt, tip grazing your clit just slightly. You bite your tongue so you don’t moan from the sensitivity.

“Yes. I want to stay.”

“And why’s that?” he jeers.

“Because— because you’ve given me everything.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Because I’m yours. I’m… your good girl,” you slur through tears, voice above a whisper.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Of course you are. Always will be.” Whether you like it or not.

You moan at the same time he prods his tip inside. When he sinks in even further, right to the hilt, he becomes delirious with need. It takes everything in him to not pound into you recklessly.

“Pretty fucking cunt,” he groans. “So warm.”

More hot tears, but your dread is replaced with rapture. He fills you up, already poking at the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your body ripples with pleasure as he moves and digs into your guts, an ocean of tender heat.

It’s a branding. You don’t exist if it isn’t for him.

“Suguru,” you moan.

He kisses your neck, teeth hard on your flesh. Pulling it taut while his tongue rolls in it and leaves mouth-shaped blessings.

His hips drive into you with more force, cock reaching places that your fingers could never reach. You shut your eyes and phosphenes float through the static of blackness. They linger when you open them again, Suguru’s face illuminating in grainy color.

It takes you a bit to realize his mutters, the way he’s babbling through moans.

Good fucking girl. All mine forever. I’ll die with you.

You let out a pitched moan as Suguru wraps his fingers around your throat. Every part of your body feels like it’s bursting. You cum like that, your walls outstretched by his thickness carving you out in the shape of him.

“Take it,” he grunts. “Take my cock. Fuck, I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

He’ll probably obsess over your cunt for ages. The face you make when you’re being used. Your ragdoll body.

His bun had come undone. Even if his cock wasn’t in you, your stomach would ache from how beautiful he looked. Eyes focused on you, nearly deranged at the way he was blistering you raw. The cascade of tears down your cheeks. It made him impossibly hard.

He pulls out quickly to flip you onto your stomach so he can rut into you from behind. The angle makes it so that his cock is even deeper.

“Oh, Suguru—”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again?”

You whine, all high-pitched and girlish.

“Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me,” he grunts.

“I’m yours,” you hiccup. “I’ll n-never leave you.”

Your cunt was starting to burn, even with how wet you were. Suguru cums with a rough thrust at your words, nose buried in between the lovebirds littering your shoulder. You’re full of him. He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard inside you.

“Shit,” he hisses, looking down to see his cum oozing out of your pussy, all mixed up in your arousal. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him. You can barely form words now, crying as you can feel yourself about to cum again.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on that cock for me.”

You’re twitchier this time. Your moan tapers off into squeals as you bury your tear-stained face into the pillow. He follows after you with a gasp, his large body covering you like a cocoon.

He kisses the nape of your neck. Between your shoulder blades. His cock stills inside you, but he doesn’t pull out until he softens completely. When you stop shaking, he turns you over.

“There’s my angel,” he says fondly. “Thought you passed out on me.”

You shake your head. He smiles lazily, leaning to kiss you all over your face.

Your bones feel like jelly, but you still switch your positions with intent, and to your surprise, he lets you. Naked and breathing heavily above him, you examine him with his hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and cherubic. He almost looks innocent.

He groans at the way your leaking cunt grinds on his crotch, prompting him to get half-hard already. He grabs your hips at the same time you grab the base of his throat. He laughs.

“Do you feel powerful?”

You blink twice and your eyes glaze over.

In your vision, you see Suguru’s face flashing you his usual grin, this time showing all his teeth as blood drips from his chin. When you look down at your hands, they’re saturated in the same red. He kisses you despite it all and you understand.

“Yes,” you breathe. “I do.”

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfiction

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midnightwriter21 · 6 months

Note

can we have the first meet soulmate thing for sorcerer! reader please?? w gojo only

jjk hcs: satoru meeting sorcerer!soulmate!reader

characters: satoru gojo x reader, megumi (mentioned), yuji (mentioned), nobara (mentioned)

warnings: u kill a cursed spirit, possible injury but not rly, mature language (reader cusses gojo out lmfao), the kids & reader lowkey bullying gojo lol, gojo is kinda suggestive at the end

AN: soulmate au where the first words your soulmate says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body!! read the non-sorcerer version HERE

SATORU GOJO

being called in as back up for a mission involving a 2nd grade cursed spirit was not on ur to-do list today

but guess where you are!!

an empty mall!!

an empty mall where you’re currently watching 3 teenagers run around like headless chickens

the curse is ugly… as most of them are but..

this one is NASTY looking

several different colored eyeballs sticking out of various places on its body

it’s oozing some sort of greenish brown liquid

and the smell

dear lord it’s bad

the poor pink haired kid is simultaneously holding his nose and trying to fight the curse with one hand

and it’s main attack seems to be the ability to spit that greenish brown liquid at whoever it’s attacking, rendering them immobile

almost like a glue trap for mice

the curse backs the three kids into a corner and prepares to spit that sticky liquid at them

and that’s when you decide to make your entrance

jumping from the second floor of the mall, in front of the kids, and drawing your weapon

you block the attack and jump towards the curse

severing it’s head and therefore exorcising it in one quick movement

you sheathe your weapon and turn to the kids, “why the hell are you three taking on a 2nd grade mission?”

the pink haired boy from earlier explains, “our sensei was supposed to be with us but when we split up he went to the food court… and uhhh… we haven’t seen him since.”

you give the kids a sour look, “your sensei must be a complete moron”

all at once the kids agree

“he is” -the girl with the hammer

“yeah, pretty much” -the boy with the black spikey hair

“i mean.. kinda, sometimes” -the pink haired boy

you sit the kids down on a bench so that you can check over them and access any possible wounds

mama bear mode activated.

you ask the boy, who you now know as megumi, to get in touch with his sensei

when his sensei answers the phone, megumi explains that the curse has been exorcised

but before he can explain about your presence, you snatch the phone from him and let out a string of expletives directed towards the man on the other end

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

before you can continue you hear the dial tone

he hung up on you

without even saying a word

nearly growling in anger you shove the phone back to megumi and move over to yuji

you take his hands in yours and begin to wrap his hands in bandages saying, “you know, if you keep punching through walls you’re going to end up really hurting your knuckles”

as you wrap his hands you’re not really paying attention to your surroundings, so the smug voice coming from behind spooks you a little…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

he’s throwing your own words back in your face

whipping your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash, you prepare to launch into another ass chewing

but your words get stuck in your throat when you’re met with a tall, blindfolded, white haired man

a man known to everyone in the jujutsu world

Satoru Gojo

in response to your stunned silence he lets out a chuckle, “what? cat got your tongue, pretty?”

his mocking snaps you back into reality as you fire back, “no, i’m just surprised on how someone like you can be such a complete and utter dumbass!”

“awww cmon is that the way you’re supposed to talk to your soulmate?” he smirks down at you

you give him a confused look before it hits you

his first words to you from earlier…

“it’s good that a pretty little thing like you came to the rescue or else my kids could’ve died since i was off being an irresponsible jackass”

those exact words are printed on your back underneath your shoulder blade in neat handwriting

looking up at him with wide eyes, you watch as he turns his back to you, pulling off his uniform jackets and lifting up his shirt

ignoring the faint gagging sounds from his students

and there it is, printed in the exact same spot as yours, in your handwriting

“you must be a fucking idiot huh? your kids could’ve died taking on a 2nd grade alone and you’re off being an irresponsible jackass somewhere-“

“no. fucking. way.” you say in disbelief as he turns back to face you

“you have a dirty mouth, sweetheart,” he leans in and whispers softly in your ear, “can’t wait to see just how dirty it can get,” he leans back and says in his normal voice, “but we’ll save that for later!”

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luvyeni · 1 year

Note

Could you make a fic abt perv heeseung ?

THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN; LEE HEESEUNG

pairings. perv!heeseung x fem!reader

wc. 0.7k

warnings. both heeseung and reader are pervets, handjob, blowjob, cum eating, mentions of sex

authors note. i'm gonna slowly start writing longer fic request, i'll just take my time , so i won't stress myself out again <3

i hope you like it <3

heeseung gets caught being gross on the train , but you don't seem to mind , at all.

—

"s..shit." heeseung palmed at his hard cock through his jeans , he felt gross , he shouldn't be doing this , he shouldn't be palming his cock to watching the pretty girl asleep across from him.

he was gonna to ignore you , his headphones already on , ready to pretend you weren't there, but you moved in your sleep , your skirt riding up , revealing your plush thighs. that made heeseung's head spin , and next thing he knows he grinding against his hand , eyes glued to your thighs.

he was so caught up in his own world , he hadn't realized that you had been awake the whole time rubbing your thighs together trying not to moan, your panties sticky as you pretended to be sleep. you watched him palm his cock to your thighs, you felt bad for him , he had been at it for like 10 minutes, and he still hadn't came.

you guys finally made eye contact when you decided to just open your eyes , staring directly at him. "shit." he quickly tried to remove his hand , not knowing you were watching him. "i..im sorry." he was embarrassed , but you just eyed his hard cock.

"it's been at it for 10 minutes and you're still hard, poor you. " you pouted.

his eyes went wide. "w..what?" he stuttered , had you been watching him? like you could read his mind , you spoke up, "you've been grinding against your hand , looking at me like a pervert for ten minutes , and you haven't came yet , you must be struggling." he doesn't know if it's because the way you're talk talking to him , or the fact that you've been watching him do it for that long letting him do it , but it turned him on even more.

you stuck your head out to see if anyone was near , closing the small curtain , climbing over to his side, sitting next to him. "let me help you." you raked your nails over his jeans , unbuckling them , his hips lifting some so you could pull them down just enough to pull his cock out, stroking him slowly.

"f..fuck."

he bucked up into your hand , trying not to be loud , it was only a curtain that was blocking you from the outside , but all that flew out the window, when you bent down , spitting on his cock , putting his tip to your mouth, sucking on in.

"f..fuck , you don- oh my god." he moaned as you took him all the way into your mouth , his tip hitting the back on your throat, you gagged around him. "shit- you're just as nasty as i am." he groaned his head thrown against the seat.

his hand came to your hair , making a makeshift ponytail , maneuvering your head up and down , forcing you to take him all the way down your throat. "fu..fuck." he bucked up into your mouth. "that's it -shit- im gonna cum soon."

he roughly fucked up into your face a few times , trying to reach his high. "shit shit shit." he pushed your head down to his your pubic bone, hilting your movements , as he painted your throat with his cum. "fuck- that's it, take it." he road out his high.

he released your hair , letting you come up for air, his cum still in your mouth, wiping the spit and extra cum off your lips. "i hope i wasn't too rough." he reached in his bag for a tissue , but his eyes widened when you swallowed his cum , licking the excess off your fingers. "shit." you laughed at his shocked face.

"you dry humped your hand to a strangers thighs for 10 mintues and then let them suck you off on a train and that's what shocks you." you tool the tissue, wiping your tear stained face. "it's not like you stopped me, you watched you're a pervert too." he said.

"that you're right, what's your name?" you said , even if was a few steps to late. "heeseung." you pulled your phone out your bag. "well heeseung it looks like we're both going to seoul , give me your number , you obviously owe me." you said. "what you thought i'd suck you off and not get anything in return, you can at least take me for coffee." he smirked taking your phone, putting his number in, whispering in your ear.

"how about i take you out for coffee then fuck you in the cafe bathroom."

©️LUVYENI

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen headcanons #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung headcanons

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feverish-cuddles · 4 months

Text

Okay I'm really into humiliation + contagion+ mess, so here's a lil scene.

B has come down with probably the worst headcold they've ever had. Definately the drippiest, every sneeze forcing out more snot from the red, swollen passages. They texted A requesting they pick up some more tissues on their way home, and thankfully A listened. When A came home B was in the middle of a fit or well trying to get it out. Holding a tissue to their nose to try and hide all the mess threatening to come out. The bed was covered in used tissues and the one in hand looked like it should've been tossed by now. A couldn't help but grin at this. Seeing the poor thing with tears in their eyes, gasping desperately, their body shivering from not only chills but the need to sneeze! "aaaw my my my, look at you, seems like you really did catch the worst of it, my love." A smirked sliding beside them on the bed with a fresh box of tissues. B sighed as the sneeze fades away again though their face blushed brighter than what the fever gave them. They started sniffling trying to keep back the flood of mess which A caught onto. "You sound rather stuffy, honey, why don't I help you." Opening the box A pulled up a tissue, using their other hand to lower the one B had pressed to their nose. When they did this this had all the snot leaking back down. A then held the tissue just under their nose to catch what was dripping. "Oh look at that poor nose of yours, so drippy and red, it looks so angry too. One sneeze and I think its going to be more than a little mess." B kept trying to sniffle and snort the long thick cords back up, A wrapped and arm around then and gave them soft encouragements. "thats it love, try and sniffles all that back in" "you can do it" "oh there's so much, I'll help you keep it in okay. Just keep going" sdff sdfff sddrrrrck sdck! Finally all of it just barely managed to go back inside. A tilted B's face to make sure. seeing just how full their nose really was. All that snot was blocking B up badly. The nostrils flared widely trying to push the slimy stuff back out, but B did their best to keep it in. "there you go, love. See isn't that better, you did so good sniffling all that snot back in. Should I take away the tissue now?" B shook their head and used their hand to keep A's up at their nose. A soft hitching sound came, A could feel their breathes against their palm even through the tissue. A knew what would happen next, and decided to tease B. "aw is your nose tickling, I bet all that sniffling is making you feel sneezy huh? You don't wanna make a big mess do you? It'd get all over you and that pretty face of yours." B whimpered a little at this blushing harder, they tried to keep a handle on it but. Soon A started to use the tissue to rub a their septum and the tip of their nose. Feeling the soft cloth making teasing circles and rubs at the sensitive and raw skin of their nose. B's mouth dropped right open, their hitches growing desperate as were their sniffles. A could feel the snot beginning to leak out and onto the tissue in their hand, practically pouring out.

"oh it must be so tickly, darling sniffling back all that snot, feeling it drag against the inside of your nose aaaw. I bet its almost unbearable for you, and I know this cold has you sensitive." without a second longer B gasps and sneezed, and sneezed, and sneezed. The sneezes were just a forceful as they were desperate. Their nose doing all it could to get this nasty cold out. Snot soaked the tissue with in the first three sneezes, the next absolutely obliterated it leaving A's palm drenched in spray and snot.

When the fit slowed to a stop, B's nose was trembling, anything could set it off now and it looked like it needed to blow badly. Luckily they had A there to get them through it.

"oh look at the mess you've made darling, you're getting that cold of yours everywhere~"

#feverish mess #nonkink blogs don't interact #feverish scenarios #snzblr

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dashielldeveron · 10 months

Text

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 💜🍡

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

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alwaysforevermaybenever · 10 months

Text

YANDERE FARMER BOY: INTRODUCTION

× cw: general yandere stuff; getting lost; large families; implied scary relative; stalking; manipulation; murder; cannibalism

× note: kenji my beloved

⌗ A country bumpkin who just moved to the big city with his father, mother, four sisters, three brothers, grandparents, other grandparents, uncle, aunt, six cousins, dog, cats and cow. His family isn’t big at all, it’s normal sized! Your family is just pretty small, you know?

⌗ He was lost, wandering in the busy streets when you found him. He looked so pitiful and innocent: who in their right mind wouldn’t stop to help him? In the end, you directed him back to the apartment block he lived in with his family. (They brought up the entire floor.)

⌗ His family was so thankful they gave you their home grown watermelons - they’re super delish, and completely natural, unlike those supermarket fruits with nasty preservatives.

⌗ From then on, you keep seeing this farmer boy everywhere! The park, the mall, the shopping centre, even in your neighbourhood! He must have a terrible sense of direction, huh? Either that, or he’s stalking you.

⌗ But that can’t be it! Who’d think that? He’s a sweet summer child, with not a single mean bone in his body. Sure, he may be a little naïve, but he’s an honest and compassionate person. He treats everyone he meets with kindness and respect, and gains a lot of friends as a result. In fact, he’s already quite popular with the local community!

⌗ You think that after four months he’s pretty used to the city, but he still insists on you visiting him at his apartment - his siblings miss you! (So does he.) Everywhere you go, he’s right behind. You’re going to buy some groceries? What a coincidence: he’s been sent on some errands as well! Visiting the post office? He’s free right now, so he’ll accompany you!

⌗ If you ever try to excuse yourself from his clutches, he’ll attempt to guilt trip you into staying. His grandparents have been waiting to see you for a week already! His grandma even made your favourite snacks - won’t you visit? If that doesn’t work, he’ll resort to sticking to you like glue. It’s okay if you don’t know he’s there. He’s just protecting you, okay?

⌗ He loves to spend time with you, because you’re the person who noticed him and helped him! Everyone else ignored him because he looked poor, but you didn’t care about any of that! You’re such a blessing! He’ll be sure to treasure you forever and ever.

“Hehe, thanks so much, [Name]! You’re always so nice to me! I’ll be sure to repay you in every way I can.”

⌗ He may be from the country, but he’s no fool. He comes off as naïve, but that’s because he believes that he should only retaliate when the other person hits first. That way, it’s self defence!

⌗ Humans are scum. Of course, the only exception is his family and you, whom he loves with all his heart! He'll be overjoyed if you’d become part of his precious family too!

⌗ If anyone bothers you or even looks at you wrong, he’s already onto them. He may not be able to really read the room, but he still knows when someone holds hostile feelings or thoughts. After all, he knows plenty about hostility. The villagers were full of that hateful feeling when they drove out his family. That’s why they came to the city, y’know? But it’s not all bad; he met you!

⌗ Humans are like cows. They’re fat, and they make a lot of noise. They’re also quite dumb. Whenever a cow misbehaved in his old village, he would just give them a hearty slap. If that didn’t work, he’d knock them out. And if the cow continually made trouble, it became dinner’s beef. There are lots of similarities between cows and humans, actually!

⌗ Don’t worry if the beef patty tastes a little tough or gamey. Him and his mother assure you that it was just a really active cow. It mooed a lot, and ran around everywhere too! It was too bad the cow was getting too big, and too expensive to feed… Indeed, what a shame.

⌗ His family can’t wait for you to move in with them! You practically sleep over with him everyday, why don’t you just stay there permanently? He’s a very (abnormally) strong boy, he can help you move all your things into an empty apartment! They have an empty unit anyway: it’s perfect for you to live in with him!

⌗ His younger siblings are absolutely in love with you - each and everyone of his siblings claim that they’ll marry you when they grow up, but he’s quick to scoop you up in his arms and proclaim himself as your future husband! Wouldn’t that be a dream come through? Oh no, now the cousins are here too! They’re all clamouring for your hand in marriage! In the commotion, he whisks you away to kiss you feverishly (he’s jealous).

⌗ His parents live in the first unit with his youngest brother, and his brothers and sisters live in their respective apartment units. His uncle and auntie have their own apartment, as do his cousins and their two units. His grandparents have a unit, and his other grandparents have one too! With you and your lovely farmer boy sharing a unit, that makes nine units in total!

⌗ But wait, doesn’t this apartment complex have ten units per floor? As long as you don’t inquisitively ask about unit ten at the end of the hall, or the rotting stench that seems to waft from it, everything will be fine and dandy! You don’t need to know about the family’s extra beef stash.

“You make me super happy, [Name], and I’d love to spend the rest of our lives together. You’re always helping me, so I’ll make sure to repay that a thousand times over. Imma make you so happy, you’ll never wanna leave me!”

#yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #my oc #yandere oc #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #farmer boy #babey boi #<3 #tw yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere farmer

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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Was I the asshole for kicking my then-partner?

This happened when we were both 21 and both identifying as non-binary.

I and my then-partner "Cody" had recently discussed sexual boundaries as we planned to explore some shared kinks. Both of us had some "hard no" actions that were clearly stated. Some of my "hard no" preferences were due to trauma, and I didn't clarify that because it shouldn't have come up because "hard no" means we are not ever going to try it or suggest trying it.

One of my trauma-based hard boundaries is against being tickled. Cody knew I was strongly opposed to being tickled, because it was on my preference list, and we both said we read each other's list. I read his list and I respected it.

He tickled my foot, I kicked his hand. If you have been tickled OR if you have been triggered you understand that physical responses are not fully voluntary in either of those situations. Cody started whining that I'd "really hurt" him and I had to drive him to the hospital (he can't drive). I yelled at him to get out and refused to take him anywhere (he had other friends with cars, and I too panicked to drive safely even if I had wanted to spend another minute in his presence).

He waited an entire day to get his hand looked at, and when he walked the five minutes to the nearby clinic, they said that there was no indication of break or fracture and that he was barely even bruised. There was no lasting damage to his hand and he definitely did not need to go to the hospital.

He said that he was willing to forgive me for hurting him and that we could keep dating, if I apologized for my "cruel" reaction. I told him I could not trust someone who violated a hard boundary, that there is no way our relationship could continue, and that I am the one who deserved an apology. He told our mutual friends that I injured him, and I got blocked by four people, one of whom sent me a very nasty message calling me abusive before blocking me. Cody never blocked me, and we tried to be friends for a few months, but we also never apologized to each other and eventually stopped talking.

I don't think I am abusive or the asshole for kicking Cody - I think he made a bad and risky choice by tickling the feet of someone who gave a "hard no" to tickling whatsoever. Neither of us ever apologized, so we must both think our behavior was justified somehow. Was I actually the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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hockeymenarehot · 3 months

Note

Hii, this may sound a little weird but could you do a bill smut with blood kink? Maybe also overstimulation and edging, like make him a vampire or sum? Thank you if you do mwah <3

Bloody Mary feat. Bill Kaulitz

guess whos back! thank u sm for requesting! not weird at all ml, im always happy to make ur fantasies come true! <3 also with saltburn being popular rn it felt so fitting...

summary: i desperately wanted to make a good plot w/ this one, but this is honestly just straight porn w/ vampire Bill kaulitz...

!!warnings!!: dark content!!!, blood kink!!, depictions of blood, he drinks your blood, gonna say sort of dub-con b/c reader does agree but shes sort of in a trance, porn no plot, lots of oral sex (fem. receiving), fem. reader, edging, overstimulation, cum eating, reader passes out, territorial/primal bill, he has a tongue piercing, not proofread!!!, overall just nasty nasty filth LMAO

You think it's so stupid, the people in your new town seem to be so so scared of whatever (or whoever) is living in the castle upon to highest hill. It looks luxurious, and you chalk it up to being someone greedily keeping it for themselves. After all, there is absolutely no way vampires exist. And even if there is a vampire up there, you hoped it was at least a hot one. You were a brave bitch, so you walked up to that castle and banged on the door yourself.

Okay, so vampires are definitely real. And this one is definitely fuckin' hot. Well how could you not think he was hot? He currently had you bare and splayed out for him on his dark red sheets, the black walls of the room blocking out all light except the light radiating off his pale face. He was hovering over you, his black locks loose over his face. He was delicately running his open mouth over your skin, inhaling your sweet scent.

It all started when you entered his castle, his territory. As soon as you stepped foot in this place you also became his territory. Having been caged up in this place for decades, his body was overcome with an insatiable hunger as soon as his primal eyes met yours. You were swiftly brought up to his bedroom, leaving little time to chat. It was then you decided your next hours alive (or maybe not) were going to spent getting your brains fucked out by this vampire.

Your legs were folded back at the knees, your legs spread as he huffed in your scent. He trailed down your abdomen, stopping once he reached your clothed pussy. He inhaled with a sultry groan, shivering as he did so. It was then he looked up at you, locking eyes with you once more. "You want this, don't you? Stepping inside my territory like a little whore, you must want to slut yourself out for me, no?" You had in fact been pretty well covered when you stepped in, but you assumed his touch starved self didn't have the brain power to comprehend that. "Y-yes..." you whined. This felt so out of character for you, almost as if you had been put under some sort of hypnotic spell by his eyes. They felt like a portal to another dimension, one where only lust for him existed. He barely let you finished your stuttered word before he ripped your panties off, leaving your bare pussy exposed to his hungry eyes. You shivered at how he looked at your cunt like it was a meal, one he was getting ready to ravished.

And he did. Before you knew it, you were at the mercy of his relentless tongue, prodding into you and lapping at your clit. His fangs ever so often brushed against your sensitive folds, and you were reminded that at any moment he might actually take a bite out of you. This fact only seemed to make you leak even more, getting wetter by the second. He drank up your juices like they were the last drops of water he would ever receive. As you looked down at him you could see his heavily dilated pupils, staring into your eyes like he was a wolf devouring prey.

You tried to contain your moans, instead opting to whine and make choked out sounds ever once in a while. In the back of your almost-thoughtless head you were afraid that if you moaned for him, shamelessly letting your voice echo, he would mark you as his. And you weren't all sure what that would entail.

You could feel your orgasm impending by the way his nose would ever so often nudge onto your clit. As he used his tongue to reach deeper and deeper inside of your cunt, it was then you released his tongue piercing. The cold metal contrasting against the warmth of his tongue made you shudder, making it impossibly hard to contain your noises. His moans vibrated into your cunt, making your back arch off the sheets like a black cat, blending perfectly into the decor of his black & red room.

Right as you were about to cum all over his tongue, he swiftly pulled away. The loss of stimulation left you a whining mess. It was then you made the dire mistake of biting deeper into your lip to contain your noises, breaking the skin and letting small drops of blood flood down your chin. He had no self control to hold back as he leapt for your chin, licking up the blood that left your lip with only the tip of his tongue before sucking onto your bottom lip. You could feel his length grow against your stomach, and you blushed madly at feeling him get turned on at the sight of your blood.

He let out a small breathy chuckle "Did you honestly think I would let you cum? After you contained your noises? The noises that belong to me?" You finally let out a moan at his words "Please!" You weren't exactly sure what you were begging for, but all of your senses were being overwhelmed. It truly felt as if you were in a trance as you stared up at the glittering ceiling of the bedroom. "Please what? You want more?" He mocked as he ran his tongue down your jaw, laughing slightly at your desperation. You nodded your head frantically, wanting to feel more of him. "If that's what you want, say my name. Let everyone know who's making you feel good." You looked at him with blown eyes, awaiting him to reveal his name to you. "Bill," You didn't hesitate to scream out his name as he dove back into your pussy.

Your cunt was aching, your thighs begging to close in around his head at the merciless pleasure you were receiving. The room was filled with your mewls bouncing off the walls, echoing into Bill's ears and fueling his lust. Your noises drove him to work your poor pussy harder, adding fingers into your hole as he toying with your clit using his tongue. Your hands reached down to his scalp to pull at his hair.

"M-ah!" The pleasure you were receiving was almost unbearable, his long fingers pressing just the right spots within you. You were once more teetering towards the edge of bliss, you pussy clenching around his fingers. It's only taken him the time since you entered his castle to learn you like the back of his hand, memorizing the inside of your cunt with his fingers and the sounds of your moans with his ears. Your cunt was puffy and pulsing with desire, and you let out a moan of his name. "Bill! Gonna cum-!"

Right as those words left your mouth he pulled away again, leaving you a sobbing mess. He payed no mind to you, merely admiring his work of your glistening folds. He inhaled your scent as you wept at the loss of another orgasm, tears streaming down your cheeks. He ran his nose against your thigh, inhaling your scent once again.

His cock was hard, impossibly hard. It was aching at your scent, and your sweet noises weren't helping his situation. He decided to indulge in a little pleasure for himself, smelling of your inner thighs until he picked up on a scent he desired. He blocked out your cries and pleas as he sunk his fangs down into the plush of your thigh, drawing blood to the air before sucking it back in with his mouth. You screamed with pleasure filled pain as he moaned against your thigh. He sucked at your thigh some more before rubbing the flat part of his tongue against it, moaning out once more before releasing his load onto the sheets. Your mind was too hazy and under a hypnotic-like state to register much of another besides the feeling of his tongue, the pleasure it brought, and the pain.

You chanted out his name "Bill, Bill, Bill," anything at all to try and get him to give more attention to your aching core. Once Bill had finished releasing and pleasuring himself, he decided you had been good enough and deserved some pleasure of your own. Most women he had tried this with had screamed with agony, doing anything at all to get away from him. His sharp teeth just weren't for them.

"Good fucking girl" He spoke out in a low, groggy tone. He focused his eyes onto your cunt again, before attacking it with his mouth again. He slurped up your juices before bringing his fingers up to pump in and our of you at a brutal pace, his mouth latching onto your clit and sucking on it. You screamed out his name, egging him on. You used your hands to claw at his sheets, the pleasure being brought by his tongue completely encompassing you. He made sure you felt completely owned by him, totally below him. He had decided that if cumming around his tongue is what you wanted, you would get just that and more. Who was he to leave you unsatisfied when you had been so good for him?

Your legs were trembling, completely at his mercy as you felt your orgasm building up yet another time. This time it felt much faster, the heat in your core heating up your entire body. His fingers were hitting ever spot in you just right, and your entire body was succumbing to pleasurable pain as you sprayed all over his face, your back arching impossibly higher. Your back ached and your entire body shook with the intensity of your delayed orgasm.

You were moaning choked out screams as Bill didn't lessen his brutal, inhumane pace into your cunt. It was almost as if your noises and squirt only made him want to go faster. No human would be able to move their fingers in and out of you at the pace he was. Your eyes looked up at the ceiling, dots invading your vision. You felt like at any moment you might pass out as you released against him once more. He hungrily lapped up all you had to offer, groans bouncing off against your folds. His hands came up to press against your waist as you continued to moan, and he only continued to get faster. "T-too much! Slower!" You were barely able to form those simple words, your mind turned to mush as the lines blurred between your orgasms, slowly being unable to tell when one started and one ended. The bliss and pain you were receiving were unbearable.

It seems he didn't take into account the fragile nature of the human mind and body, as you passed out. Collapsing from the overstimulation, your body fell against the plush comforter of his bed. He looked up at you to study your face, his lower face covered in blood from your thigh and slick from your spent pussy.

He crawled over you, hovering over your body taking in the scent of your sleeping form. He reached your face, huffing in your scent like it was a drug. He moved his nose down to your neck before latching onto it, a zap of electricity being sent down his spine as he did so. He left the signature dots against your neck, his eyes closing as he inhaled the smell of your blood, marking his territory.

"Mine."

a/n: sorry for the long break, been getting back into doing schoolwork.. i do hope this was to your liking! requests are being closed for now as im still trying to get caught up on them, but feel free to send in quick drabble ideas or just to chat! I love talking to u guys! <3

#smut #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz fanfic #x reader #bill kaulitz imagine #vampire smut #vampire Bill kaulitz

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lesinquietes · 4 months

Text

Summary: You talk shit to the wrong person on a discussion forum. Idly, you troll one user who’s really into the Paranormal Liberation Front’s new leader, Tomura Shigaraki. You’ve heard he’s being heralded as the Villain of Villains, though you’re not sure that’s a valid title. You decide it’s time to make your opinion known. “Idk if I’d give him that title… lol he’s giving insecure incel.”

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. degradation. incel. misogyny. noncon. oral. panic attacks. shigaraki is a mean dom. slut-shaming. yandere.

Next l

You snicker as you press enter. Admittedly, you don’t know enough about the white-haired criminal to make that judgement call. You’re basing your statement solely on appearance. What can you say? Making ignorant comments is the essence of shitposting. You get to act a fool online because no one will ever discover who you are.

Until the user you mouthed off to replies.

Crumbleking: the fuck do you know?

Crumbleking: and you think a guy like him wouldn’t get women? he has a fucking army you stupid bitch he can have anyone he wants. that’s not insecure.

You roll your eyes, noticing he didn’t address the incel comment.

(Your username): I literally do not give a fuck lol do you want him @ crumbleking? Seeing as you know so much about his personal life and all

Crumbleking: you should be thankful he hasn’t killed you yet

(Your username): I’m not hearing a no

Crumbleking: get fucked

(Your username): Apparently shig is doing enough of that for both of us lmao

Crumbleking: you’re asking for it

You block the user. How many times has some moron threatened you online? Too many. But you take solace in the fact that, just like you, everyone’s simply a keyboard warrior. At the end of the day, it’s not like any of this shit is serious.

Right? :)

Well, a few days after this incident, you login to your social media account and notice a message in your mailbox. You lift a brow. It’s probably a meme from your best friend. You’re surprised to find a notification next to Requests. Someone you aren’t friends with has messaged you.

Hastily, you tap the Requests tab. You don’t know why your heart is pounding, or why you have a horrid feeling about this. Perhaps you’re under too much stress lately, or perhaps your intuition is trying to tell you something — that you’re in danger.

The request is from someone named Shigaraki. You know it can’t be the real villain. You clue in that it’s likely that freak who was defending him on the forum. He must have determined who you are somehow and resorted to messaging you on your private social.

Shigaraki: hello you dumb slut

Shigaraki: remember me?

Yeah, it’s definitely him. You wonder what his goal is, what he wants from you; normal behaviour doesn’t include stalking. You debate on whether or not to reply. You could play dumb or own up to your role. Of course, it’s far easier to do the former.

You: no?

It’s simple and to-the-point. You see him typing back right away. You hold your breath when he stops. Then, the screenshots from the forum come, reminding you of the conversation.

Shigaraki: i know you’re (username).

You resort to the IP tracker on your laptop, figuring you’ll spook him and he’ll leave you alone. You power it up and click eagerly. When you’re halfway through locating him, it’s as though he’s read your mind.

Shigaraki: if you think I’m not using a vpn then you’re stupider than I thought

The panic really sets in now. You’re hyperventilating. The message shoots you into a panic attack — the kind when your throat constricts and your lungs heave stale air. You scratch at your chest and gasp. You feel like you’re dying. You can’t breathe. With quivering fingers, you type a nasty message to him.

You: what the fuck is wrong with you. why the hell do you care what i think this much???? please leave me alone. blocking you.

That’ll end this terror once and for all. Or will it?

Shigaraki: Don’t you fucking dare you whore

His response is nearly instantaneous.

Shigaraki: if you block me I’ll find you irl

Shigaraki: i just showed you how easy it was to find your social media profile

Shigaraki: i’ll fucking find you

Shigaraki: and we’ll see if you feel the same about me when we’re face to face

You can’t stand it. You press the block button and exit the app. You turn off your phone — as if that’ll help — and throw it onto your bed. You shut down your laptop place it gently atop your desk. That’s enough for tonight. You have to remind yourself that the person threatening you is just a persistent troll, that the Tomura Shigaraki would never waste his precious time bantering with a random person on the Internet. You get to bed using that precise logic.

Except you’re wrong.

A few weeks pass, and you make the foolish mistake of thinking you’re safe. You start to throw caution into the wind, glancing over your shoulder less and walking home from work at night. You don’t notice the pale man trailing you. He watches you at work, as you hustle under pressure, and at home, before you close the curtains. He’s seen you naked twice. He assumes you meant to show off your body to an audience, that you like a bit of exhibitionism. Well, he’ll keep that in mind when he extensively plots out your payback.

Finally, one evening, he strikes. You come home from work and close the door. Securing the locks, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

He wraps a hand around your neck, keeping his pinky lifted to prove a point. He could kill you if he wanted. He could turn you to dust and be done with this stupid shit. In truth, he doesn’t know why he let his anger overtake him to the point where he had to find you. The problem is, he can’t stop his pursuit. If you escaped him right now, he would find you again.

And again.

And again, until he’s able to teach you a fucking lesson.

“Thought you could get away from me, huh?” He rasps next to your ear. “I found your social media account. Didn’t think I’d find your address?” He cackles venomously. “Stupid whore.”

You know immediately who you’re being held captive by. It’s the guy you were talking shit to online. It also happens to be Tomura Shigaraki, in the flesh. You realize, at once, that your luck is positively atrocious. Like, honestly, how the fuck did this happen to you? You can’t make sense if the madness.

He drags his knuckles along your cheek, stroking it. You feel his index finger trace the outline of your lips. Instantly, your heart sinks. On cue, he hums.

“I bet these can suck dick better than they talk shit,” he remarks darkly. “Wanna find out?”

You don’t, but he does.

“Take off your jacket, or I’ll crumble it off with the first two layers of your pretty skin.”

He takes away his hand to allow you space. The way you understand it, if five of his fingers make contact with your body, you’ll begin to fall apart. You’ve seen footage of what he’s done to heroes who have defied him. It causes you to wonder why he’s chosen to torture you, of all people.

The answer lies in his discovery of your social media account. Before he saw what you look like, he was content to merely leave you a little scare. Then, he started diving into your life, going through each and every one of your photos. It turns out you’re quite the socialite. You with your friends. You with your family members. You with animals. Food. Music. Video games. With all these posts, he was granted a perfect snapshot of what it is you do. And now, he wants to watch everything you ever loved decay.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” You hiss, daring to make eye contact tact with your stalker. “Don’t you have better things to do, you fucking freak?”

You spit the last two words with as much vitriol as you can muster. He doesn’t miss the effort you pour into your distaste. He rewards you with a callous cackle.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He cooes, scarred lips contorting into a smile. “We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

You lick your lips. You can’t recollect if you referred to him by name. Everything is a rapid blur.

“Shig.” He prompts you. “You’re the first and only person that’ll call me that.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You didn’t consider it overstepping at the time because you didn’t think you were interacting with Shigaraki. You can see how it might have been construed as intimate in his eyes, given your casual use of the pseudonym. The least you can do is apologize. It won't save your ass, but perhaps it will urge him to go lighter on you.

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. "T-to be fair, I—“

“To be fair, I should wrap my hand around your throat and watch you beg me for air as your whole body turns to dust.” He interrupts you venomously. “Take off your fucking jacket.”

You unzip the garment and throw it onto your sofa. Next comes your hat and scarf. You finish his request when you’re in only your sweater, pants, socks, and undergarments. He smirks at the result of your swift labour, drinking in your silhouette. He’s seen enough photos of you outdoors to know what lies beneath the rest. Thirst traps, you’d probably call them. Little did you know they’d be used against you one day.

He removes his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. With a languid thumb, he swipes it to life. He logs into his fake social media account and finds yours. It’s bookmarked as a favourite tab, of course, especially considering how many times he’s used your pics to jerk off. If you only knew how many nights his cock twitched, begging to be sheathed in your soft pussy, you’d probably be petrified.

He grins.

“What were you thinking, posting shit like this?”

He twists the screen around for you to see. It’s a photo of you and your bestie in bikinis. Your hair is wet from spending time in the ocean. You and your friend were vacationing at a beach, and you wanted to look your best. Beside her, your lips are coiled around a lollipop, cheeks hollowed out from sucking on it. A thirst trap? Absolutely. But not for him.

He stares at the image one more time before putting the phone away. His crimson orbs lock with yours. A smirk settles across his lips.

“Get on your knees.”

Your eyelids clamp shut. Wordlessly, you lower yourself to the ground. It feels utterly humiliating. You have no choice but to let him use you. There has to be a way out of this situation, but how? If you’re serious about surviving, you have to cook up an escape route.

Shigaraki nears your submissive form. He wishes he brought something to tie you up. You’d look gorgeous bound for him. Helpless and barely willing is how he likes his lovers.

He wasn’t lying when he told you he gets women. Since establishing the Paranormal Liberation Front, people have been throwing themselves at him. They’re attracted to his power. He doesn’t have an interest in any of them, though; there are better things to do, and more enticing partners to find. You fit the bill quite nicely.

He hovers over you, leering at you with his crotch mere centimetres from your face. His jeans smell like laundry detergent — you didn’t expect that. You guess he’s not as crusty as he seems, with his scraggly hair and raspy voice.

Suddenly, he grasps the back of your head with four fingers and pushes your face against his clothed erection. He grinds it along your cheek, twitching in his underwear, yearning to feel the warmth of your slutty mouth. Soon you’ll serve him, but not yet.

“Look what you do to me,” he groans, lulling his head back. “I’ve been waiting for you to fix this problem. Won’t kill you until I’ve had my fill.”

You shiver. You’ve got to get to fuck out of here. If you can distract him, you can jump out of the window and get help. It’s risky, but you don’t have much of a choice.

He releases you and moves to unzip his pants. Your breath hitches. You don’t want this to extend any longer than it has to — not if you can help it. Who knows when he’ll get bored and murder you? He’s unhinged. The time to act is now.

“Wait,” you mumble. “Sh-shirt.”

Shockingly, he lets up for a moment. You take the opportunity to gesture to the garment you’re wearing. It’s your work uniform. Nothing special. He doesn’t have to know that, though.

“Lemme take this off,” you insist. “P-please. I-I don’t wanna ruin in.”

If you remove your shirt, that’ll leave you in merely a bra and pants. Fortunately for you, Shigaraki isn’t a stupid man when it comes to his own satisfaction. He decides to offer you reprieve. Robotically, he steps back to give you space. He’s seen them from afar; he knows they’ll be impressive up close.

“Hurry up.”

He doesn’t anticipate you being a skillful little idiot.

You roll backwards and stumble to your feet. Bolting towards the window, you’re grateful that he didn’t make you strip completely. The hesitation of humiliation and shame might have prevented you from leaping out from the second floor. It’s with luck that you don’t break anything upon hitting the ground.

Shigaraki lunges for your hair a millisecond too late. He catches himself on the window frame. At the same time, you get to your feet and sprint. By the time he reaches the street, panting and growling with fury, you’ve disappeared; there’s not a trace of you left behind.

He suspects you’re off to alert a local hero or police officer. That’s fine. He doesn’t expect them to believe you, and even if they do, how will they protect you? He can feel his power accumulating; moreover, after the impending procedure that’s set to occur in the coming months, he’ll be unstoppable. He doesn’t mind killing those who get in his way.

Thus, with a heavy huff, he lets you go. You obviously want to play, and he’s a master gamer. He knows you want this just as much as he does. After all, didn’t you grasp that he was serious about finding you as many times as you manage to flee from him — that he’ll keep his pursuit steady until you no longer have the strength to run? You must want to be hunted, like pretty prey reserved only for the best.

You have no idea who you’re fucking with.

#minors dni #tw misogyny #tw noncon #shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #afab reader #fem reader #bimbo reader #shigaraki x bimbo reader

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 4 months

Text

five things about you [k.ohara x reader]

prompt: five things kelley does while you're pregnant that makes you fall more inlove with her.

author notes: i think this is finally the end of my writers block. i have so many requests in my inbox, and i swear i'll get to them eventually (sooner than later i hope). hope y'all enjoy this kelley fluff!

I. how she talks to your belly when she thinks you're sleeping

ever since you started to show a bit with a small belly bump kelley has been talking to it. the moment you drift off to sleep she places her hands gently on your belly and places a few soft kisses on the skin there. smiling as she quietly says whatever comes to mind.

"your momma ate lots of fruit today, i hope you liked them" she says. laughing when she remembers how you refused to eat anything but fruit the whole day. claiming that anything else would be too nasty, too bitter. you needed something sweet and only that. "she walked around a lot today too. couldn't sit down until i picked her up and put her on the couch. did that bother you? huh, baby?" kelley smiles, placing another kiss on your belly.

what kelley doesn't realize is that you are wide awake, just too tired from the day to open your eyes. ever since you gotten pregnant you have became a light sleeper (one of the worst things pregnancy have gifted you in your opinion). it takes everything in you to not smile and tangle your fingers in the brunette's hair. however instead of doing that, you just let kelley continue saying nonsense to your swollen belly. internally reminding yourself to tease her about this when you two's baby is born, but for now you let her indulge.

II. how she lifts up your belly every time you complain about the weight

kelley has been very in tune with any pains you had since you started to show symptoms of pregnancy. finding a way to help with every one or aleast a way to support you though it. when your feet started to swell, she would massage them or carry you wherever you wanted to go even if you complained about how you would be too heavy. same with when your back started to hurt, she massages it with such care that you swear she must have took some classes. weird cravings? don't worry she already is on her way to the store to buy them.

your all time favorite though is definitely when your wife takes it upon herself to relieve you of some of that belly bump weight.

"is this good enough for you, babes?" kelley says against your ear as her hands up under your belly. smiling as she lifts up your bump. placing a kiss on your cheek when you groan out in satisfaction. "very good. thank you, baby" you say. turning your head to give a kiss in appreciation. the brunette hums into the kiss, savoring the domesticity of the moment.

III. how she excited she gets when you two go baby shopping

the best part of your pregnancy is the shopping part. going into different shops as you look at various adorable baby clothes, toys, and strollers makes all the pain worth it. the mental gymnastics you jump though to justify some of your purchases are sorta insane, but it's not like kelley is complaining. far from it. if she could spend half of her day in the shops, looking at baby clothes, she would.

you two's hands are interlocking as y'all walk into a small boutique. d.c is littered with similar shops like these and you enjoy that fact very much. the shop is nicely decorated with baby blue, white, and a light yellow being the main colors. you let go of kelley's hand to go over to the clothes section and you assume kelley walks over to the toys section as you hear a baby rattle that your wife is most likely playing with right now.

"pink or purple..?" you mumble to yourself as your hands rest on some baby dresses. the little ruffles on the dresses making you wish the baby was here faster than your due date. your indecision doesn't last long as you feel the presence of someone besides you. before you can even turn to see who it is, their voice already tells you who it is.

"do you think our little girl is going to like dinosaurs or whales?" kelley says with a t-rex plushie in one arm and a humpback whale plushie in the other. both are absolutely adorable, but you find kelley the most adorable out of the three. "does it really matter? she can just like both, so get both" you say as you go back to back to looking at the dresses.

"but babeee, it does matter!" kelley half shouts, half whispers. "little kids usually fixate on just one thing and i don't wanna get her the one she wouldn't fixate on" she pouts at your lack of attention to the obviously very big problem at the moment. you giggle, turning towards her fully to look at the plushies again. "i don't think that's actually true but okay baby, whatever you say" you grab onto the whale plushie and pull it out of kelley's grasp. holding it up to eye level to really get a look at it.

"hm.. this one," you hand the plushie back to your wife. she smiles at you before frowning again, "but what if you're wrong?"

"why would i be wrong? i'm the one giving birth to the little rascal."

"for one, she's not a rascal and for two, you can still be wrong babe!"

"okay okay, just get both" you say. kelley just nods before walking off, probably back to the toys aisle.

now back to those dresses..

IV. how she always carries you at every opportunity like you weigh nothing

it didn't matter if you were in pain or not, kelley was always quick to pick you up bridal style. you always whine that "you're too heavy" but your wife doesn't really care.

it's another day where your back is killing you and your feet feel like they are water balloons just waiting to pop. you try to ignore the pain by laying down on the couch and drowning yourself in stupid rom-coms until kelley makes it back home.

that method only works for so long so when you hear the sound of the front door opening, you sit up and call out for kelley, "babe!"

"hm? what is it, baby?" she says as she walks into the living room. dropping her bag down near the end of the couch. she realizes what is the problem as she notices how you are still on the couch just like how you were two hours ago when you were on the phone with her. "baby hurting you?" kelley chuckles as you nod, coming around the couch to stand next to where you are sitting up at. taking a single finger to lightly tap on your stomach, "bad baby."

"don't be mean to my princess," you joke, giving kelley a light slap on her hand. she grabs onto your hand and gives it a kiss before placing a kiss on your baby bump. "sorry, little one. just wish you didn't cause your momma so much pain," she says as she lays her head against the bump.

you smile hearing her words. letting out a light yawn that makes kelley look up from your belly to you.

"tired?"

"mhm. been tired the entire day, but i didn't feel like walking up the stairs to bed.." you mumble. the obvious sleepiness in your voice makes kelley frown. she stands up before picking up without any warning. you yelp in surprise, slapping your wife gently on the shoulder. laughter flows from your lips as kelley starts to walk out of the living room. you don't start whining about how you weight too much until she reaches the stairs. "i'm way too big to be carried up a flight of stairs," you whine out. trying to get out of kelley's grasp, but she holds onto you tight enough that you can't wiggle out of her arms.

"never too heavy for me. if that ever happens i guess i just need to hit the gym more," the brunette laughs out. empathizing her point as she easily walks up the stairs with you in her arms. not faltering once.

she takes you right into you two's bedroom and lays you down on the bed. placing a kiss on your forehead before going over to the closet to grab one of her oversized shirts. throwing it to you as she walks back over to the bed. "too sleep in. want you to be all comfy," kelley lays down on the bed beside you. "thanks baby" you say as you change into the shirt, being too lazy to change out of your pajama shorts.

it takes only ten minutes for you to slip off to sleep after your head hits the pillow. of course you wake back up five minutes later, turning over to cuddle into kelley's side before drifting back off. she places soft kisses all your face as you drift off, admiring how peaceful you look.

V. how she proudly shows you off

kelley considers herself to be a pretty private person when it comes to relationships. you two's relationship wasn't even confirmed until you posted a photo of your engagement two years ago. however, she was happy to show off your pregnancy. posting a photo dump of you being adorable doing pregnant wifey things every couple months. she just finds you to be even more beautiful after getting pregnant. that baby glow was doing wonders for you.

it was the day of the baby shower alex and your sister helped to plan. kristie was also the one to help you pick out an aesthetic for the venue, but that was pretty much it.

you have cried about five times since the party started. once because seeing your family come out made you emotional, another two times because all of kelley's friends were sweethearts especially alex who is by your side for a majority of the event, one more time after seeing harper (sam bought along some of her aussie friends and katrina wouldn't miss the opportunity to come to a baby shower) running around with charlie which made you think of the baby that is ready to pop in your belly, and one last time because the vanilla cake was really good.

after eating, it was time to reveal the gender of the baby to you two's family and friends. kelley's arm is resting over your shoulder as you hold a white balloon in your hands.

"ready, baby?" she whispers to you. smiling once you nod.

"alright!" kelley says loudly to the mini crowd infront of you two. "one, two, three!" they count down. on three kelley pokes the balloon and it pops out pink confetti. lynn is the first to gasp out in celebration and pretty soon everyone follows after.

while everyone else is celebrating the reveal, kelley is pulling you into a hug. your arms go to wrap around her neck. tears threatening to fall from your eyes despite having already known the gender of the baby before the whole event. "i don't even know why i'm about to cry. we both already knew it was a babygirl," you say into kelley's shoulder. she pulls back a bit to look at her. wiping the tears that did manage to escape from your eyes. "it's okay. it's not just about the reveal, but having everyone here with us makes it so special. i almost cried but you know.. i would rather not being teased forever" she reassures you.

you two take a few more moments to talk before celebrating with the rest of your friends and family.

later on in the evening, long after the kiddos attending the party were put to sleep, all of the adults sit at the tables. kelley and you are back standing at the front of the venue where all the gifts are. a glass of wine sits nicely in your wife's hands with her other hand resting on your belly.

"okay firstly i would like to thank everyone for coming out, we loved seeing you all. secondly i want to thank the beautiful woman standing next to me right now.." the brunette smiles as you roll your eyes in mock annoyance. "i want to thank my beautiful wife, y/n, for being the perfect woman for me. who happily supports me with every venture i done and is always there for me. you're going to be a great mother once this little one pops. love you, baby" she says before pulling you into a short kiss.

you almost use your hand to shelter you two but decide against it. the damage is already done and you can already hear sam starting her teasing. emily of course has to jump in on it too.

looks like kelley isn't going to go tease-free today after all.

#kelley ohara x reader #kelley o'hara #uswnt x reader #uswnt #woso fanfics #woso x reader

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euaphoric · 11 months

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“i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.”

## pairing — haechan x f!reader / strangers to lovers ? ft. other nct members!

## warnings — smut, light angst, fluff, drinking/scenes involving alcohol, a whole lotta nasty stuff, approximately 3.3k words. did i base some of the conflict on real life events? possiblyyy.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

per usual, it was another weekend filled with back to back partying and going out. jaemin (your new boytoy for now) invited you out tonight so you pull up to the function wearing your sexiest little black dress, making all the heads turn soon as you walk in the club. even jaemin’s friends were eyeing you, they were all pretty hot too which didn’t make the situation any easier. it was your first time meeting all of them properly, you only really spoke to them through quick interactions between you coming and going out of jaemin’s room. they all knew you had a thing going on so they did their best to try and respect that.

“hey, you must be y/n right? i’m taeyong, i don’t think we’ve formally introduced ourselves. it’s nice finally talking to you!” a blonde man comes up to you, reaching his hand out for you to take. you happily accept and shook his hand, “yes, it’s so nice meeting you too!” all of the guys seemed really friendly, especially mark, he can get pretty handsy when there’s a bit of alcohol in his system. “oh so this is the girl i’ve been hearing all about?” mark stumbles his way over to you, already feeling drunk off a couple shots. “nice to meet ya, i’m mark!” you try and go for a handshake like you did previously with taeyong but that wasn’t his style. “pfftt, don’t try that with me, we hug around here!” he pulls you into a giant bear hug, almost embracing you like a longtime friend he’s known for years. you gave him a questionable look, wondering what kinds of things jaemin says about you to his friends. hopefully it was nothing too detailed or invasive, in which that case you’d be heated if he spilled all the tea about your sex lives.

“care to elaborate on what you heard about me…?” you ask skeptically, wondering if it’s something actually worth your time. “i mean.. nah, i probably shouldn’t— it’s like against bro code to disclose top secret info like that!” he recants, not wanting to be the main source of why you might get angry with jaemin. sigh, as much as you wanted to keep prying mark with more questions your vision gets blocked by jaemin who quite literally comes out of nowhere with another shot. “mark hyung i think that’s enough chitchatting for now, just keep drinking and dancing!” he proceeds to hand mark the glass filled with mystery liquid, mark gulped it down instantly and even asked for another. this was definitely gonna be a night full of catastrophic fun. well hopefully. you didn’t drink much so it felt nice being one of the only semi-sober people of the bunch, the club was pretty packed but you were on the upstairs level and near the outdoor patio which had a gorgeous view of the skyline. the DJ tonight was pretty decent too, he played most songs you knew and liked which was rare nowadays. you didn’t need lots of alcohol to let loose and have fun so you make your way to the dance floor with jaemin but not even 5 mins later he runs into a familiar face. “jaemin is that really you?!” a brunette woman comes up to him with the cheesiest smile on her face. “no way, giselle? long time no see!” he hugs her but that hug seems to be lasting way longer than it should.

it’s almost as if you completely didn’t exist anymore to jaemin. he told you he’d be “right back” but it’s been a good 15-20 minutes and he’s still over at the bar with giselle. he could’ve at least tried to hide the fact that he was flirtatious but he wasn’t even subtle when his eyes were glued to her massive rack the whole time she spoke. you know you aren’t dating this man but the disrespect of him to do that so blatantly in front of your face was crazy to you. he’s crossed the big no-no line for you and it’s only fair you give him a taste of his own medicine. you scan the room to look for a hot guy that would make the perfect candidate, settling your eyes on a very, ridiculously handsome man standing a few meters away from you. he seemed to be alone, his facial expression looking almost bored. you never thought white pants looked good on anyone, but on him? he was exquisite. he gave off 90’s skater vibes and looks like type that listens to cigarettes after sex. it intrigued you why such a good looking guy was here out by himself, just didn’t seem right.

you confidently walk up to him, tapping his shoulder to strike up a conversation. the blaring music would drown out your soft voice easily so you get closer to his ear, “hey, i’m just gonna put it out there right now, i think you’re hot and wanna dance with you!” you were bold for sure tonight. the man looks caught by surprise but doesn’t seem opposed by your advance. he whispers back in your ear “the feelings mutual, i’d love to!” within seconds, an array of ring clad fingers wrap around your waist to bring you to the center of the dance floor. you knew you had the full package but weren’t expecting to get this far so quickly, your backside was facing his front, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. a slow r&b song comes on so he rests his chin on your shoulder, “you look amazing in this dress might i add.” the unnamed man says in a raspy tone. “this definitely feels like fate ‘cause i’ve been eyeing you since i came in here.” you met this guy not even half an hour ago and you’re already ready to drop to your knees for him. “i didn’t try anything since i saw you with a guy earlier, that wasn’t your boyfriend right?” you laugh, scoffing at the idea of you ever dating jaemin. you’ll probably never want to see him again after this stunt he pulled. “no, not at all! he’s just some guy i was seeing, but he’s old news now!” “ah, i see. so then i’m allowed to claim you for the rest of the night?” “i’m all yours for the taking.”

the dance floor became a fuzzy obscure entity around you as your bodies collided. the way he danced so gracefully yet so sensual, his hands traveled down your body, admiring your curvy figure. it felt like a steamy movie scene where two hot strangers try and solve the thick tension between them. but your moment would soon be ruined by the constant vibrating of your phone. you tried ignoring it but it wouldn’t stop so you take it out your crossbody purse and look to see who’s been blowing it up. of course, the person who’s been trying to contact you was none other than jaemin. “sorry, s’cuse me i gotta look at this for a sec!” you break away momentarily to check the texts.

5 new notifications from- jaemin (sneaky link 💦)

[1:00 am]: wow..

[1:03 am]: i leave and come back for only a couple mins just to see you with other guys?? you should feel shameful

[1:04 am]: can’t believe you’d do me like that fr

[1:10 am]: funny cause i was starting to have genuine feelings for you too but i guess you girls are all just the same so idc it’s your loss 🤷🏻‍♂️

[1:18 am]: wtv

the audacity of this man was astonishing. you cannot believe him of all people is actually getting mad at you for doing this. you know you’ll probably regret this tomorrow but you tell him off, it’s only right since he wants to pull the victim card now.

[1:25 am]: don’t make me laugh jae, you’re so self entitled that you can’t even see what YOU did wrong. i’m not going to explain myself and idgaf what you think of me after this, i’m thru with your sorry ass anyways. go have fun with your new bae giselle since you wanna mooch it up with her all night which was way more than “a couple mins” btw… you practically threw yourself at her like the manwhore you are and left me to fend for myself! you are the only one who should feel shameful here not me. so kindly go fuck yourself and have a nice day :)

it felt good to let it all out after sending that, you gave zero fucks at this point. you put your phone on do not disturb, put it back in your purse and bring your attention back to the man with groovy dance moves. “why don’t we get out of here?” your ask sounds more like a demand as you pull his arm away to leave the floor, making your way through the sea of people. you reach outside and you were finally able to talk normally, not having to scream over the music in order to understand each other. “my cars parked in that lot over there, we can go back to my place if you want.” he proposes, waiting for you to give him the approval.

usually you aren’t this lenient with just hooking with someone from the club but this guy was on another level, you had to see what he’s all about. “sure, but before i get into the car with a complete stranger, can we at least know our names? i’m y/n.” you finally introduce yourself properly. “yeah that would make sense, my name’s haechan. it’s an honor to have you accompany me tonight!” he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to it. even the most minimal touch leaves you starstruck by him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

once you got to haechan’s place, it started off with some wholesome fun. just talking and getting to know more about each other, haechan asked about jaemin again to make sure you were okay but you shrug it off saying you were fine. “trust me haechan, i’m not shedding a single tear over him so no need to keep asking. i’ll be fine, he was just someone i used as a booty call to be honest.” he nods to your response, “good, now i won’t feel like an asshole for saying what i was thinking.” “what were you thinking?” you wonder, raising your brow. “that i can give you all the exact same things he can, but a million times better.” his voice was laced with seduction as he spoke, “i don’t even mean to sound cocky but i’ll make it my personal goal to be the most memorable fuck you’ve ever had.” he presses his chest up against yours, “i’ll make sure you’ll never think about another man but me after i’m through with you princess.”

you nervously gulp, feeling yourself grow wetter by the minute. you’ve never had a man talk to you in such a way that could make you this easily aroused. “that’s a pretty bold claim you said there, you think you’ll be able to live up to it?” you tease, hoping he won’t take it too seriously. “oh i don’t think, i know. it’s 100% satisfaction guaranteed or your money back love— which will never happen.” he chuckles, snaking his hand to cup your chin and bringing it close to his lips. he stayed like that for what seemed like forever, staring at your petal lips, lightly squishing your cheeks together to turn them into a pout.

“so pretty…” he coos, inching closer to your lips now. he presents you with a deep kiss, sensing the raw passion through him as his hands tease the inners of your thighs. you get a fistful of his messy hair while sinking further down into the memory foam mattress, bringing him with you. he nibbles at your lower lip for entry and you immediately let him slide his tongue in, deliciously exploring each other, making you purr as he tastes the sweetness of you. you softly moan into the kiss, grinding your hips below him, bucking up pathetically to feel some action down there.

“god you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, after breaking away from the kiss. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til it’s morning baby.” that sounded more like a threat than a promise. “you gonna rail me so hard that i scream and call you daddy all night?” you playfully remark, something ignited in him once you called him that, the desire for you only becoming more irrational. “oh my beloved, you have no idea.” his breaths were heavy against your skin, pressing kisses to your jawline then trailing down to your neck to gently suck. he found a hypersensitive area to make you gasp, sending goosebumps all over your body. you feel a hand on your breast, cupping it tenderly whilst littering your neck with pretty purple and red hickeys. your legs squirm underneath from him rubbing your nipple through your dress, feeling it stiffen as he pinched and flicked at them. you were so horny for him at this point, your panties were a soaked up mess. you continued bucking into him for any bit of stimulation, whining to feel something. it’s been a while since you’ve been needy like this for a man… “if you want something darling just ask.” he props his head up to give you a shit eating smirk, wanting to hear you talk just as dirty as he was. “gimme cock, please! i’m so painfully wet right now i can’t take it anymore.. just need you to fill me up” you weakly surrender. drool peaked out from the corner of your mouth and haechan noticed so he licks it up, “that’s what i’ve been planning to do for hours sweetheart.”

haechan gives you a couple more small, fleeting kisses while lifting your dress up, caressing your plump thighs, running his index finger from your inner thigh to your damp clothed clit. “goddamn you weren’t lying, you’re crazy wet.” you blush at how embarrassingly wet he’s made you for someone you haven’t even known a full 24 hours yet. “i’m just gonna prep you bit with my fingers m’kay babe?” he pushes your panties to the side, sliding his digits along your folds to gather your slick. he entered two fingers in you while circling and stimulating your clit with his thumb, your moans echoed throughout the room just for him. he curls them inside you and your walls cinch around needily, arching your back and moaning with pleasure.

you were seemingly going to come undone just from haechan fingering you, all the wetness dripping onto his wrist only making him want you to cream on his fingers more. your legs feel unstable and you twitch as you feel yourself cumming for the first time of the night, your liquids pour out into his digits, coating them with the creamiest mess. your mouth is locked open as you reach your high, another harsh swipe to your clit was the last string that pulled you. feeling breathless at this point, he gave a twisted smile before taking his fingers out and placing them in your mouth to suck one by one, tasting your lovely essence. he rushed to take off his clothes; quickly removing his pants and boxers to reveal his freshly trimmed, hardened cock. your eyes widen at his length, he’s much bigger than you thought, you were figuring out how he’d be able to fit it all inside. he’ll make it fit one way or another.

there will be many more orgasms to come as the night progresses, you’ve lost count at this point as the duvet is now soaked with your juices. he was pounding you into the ground with his cock, producing hefty back shots to your ass while his hands rest on both sides of your waist. he hasn’t gotten tired of fucking your tight pussy since he’s started. “who’s pussy does this belong to?” he pants, hitting your walls precisely, “it’s all mine right? my cock’s better than jaemin’s right??” he growls, already showing his possessive side within just a few hours. a loud slap to your ass comes with full force, barely giving you any time to react. “r-right!! all yours, this pussy belongs to only you haechan!” you internally struggled to speak, feeling faint off of how many times he’s made you cum. you scream and yelp from pleasure that his dick is the best and how good he’s making you feel. he’s fucked your overstimulated cunt so many times but you still subconsciously tighten around him as he draws out and pumps back in. as soon as he’s close to cumming he finishes on your back, spreading his white seed onto you like the filthy cockwhore you were for him.

he had you like putty in his hands, arching into his touch as he digs his nails into your plush hips. you squirt like it was nothing with him, but with jaemin you could never do that. you couldn’t let this just be a one night stand, you have to get this guy’s number before you leave to do the walk of shame in the morning. speaking of morning; you can see a faint sliver of light through the curtains and you realize now that haechan kept his word from earlier. you never kept track of time though, only thing on your mind is hyuck’s cock filling you up repeatedly. his pace would get sloppier as he’s close to his ten thousandth orgasm, hearing a loud guttural groan escape his mouth. he pulls out again but this time he turns you over while manhandling you, pinning your arms to each side while he cums all on your folds, watching it slowly leak down your swollen pussy. he drags his fingers to your cunt to spread your lips open, biting his lip at the sight — he made such a beautiful mess.

with your clit already being overstimulated and sensitive, he flicks his tongue back to it while tightly holding onto your thigh. your whole body trembles as you cry out to him, pulling his hair as he brings you to tears. you don’t know how you’re still breathing right now, waves of ecstasy washing your brain from constant stimulus, you were in utopia and heaven combined. you weren’t sure how much more you’ll be able to endure, “haechan! haechan!” you’d scream at the top of your lungs, body growing weaker and weaker. he was tearing down every part of you like his life depends on it. he forms saliva with his mouth and spits on your already dripping, throbbing cunt; he’ll never get tired of doing this. “i make you feel the best don’t i?” he grunts, slapping your pussy “no one makes you feel as good as i do right baby girl?” “yes…” you whimper from the twinge of pain. eyes roll to the back of your head, that devilish gaze he had could snatch your soul in an instant.

he was completely right when he said no one’s ever made you feel this good, he was most definitely going to be the most memorable lay you’ve had in your life. jaemin didn’t even come close to haechan. you feel crazy for wanting to stay with him and ask him how he likes his eggs in the morning, his cock rewired your whole brain to think only of him, to be of service to his every want and need. he drove you truly, madly, deeply insane. “looks like the suns fully rising now,” he says looking over at the acute sunlight emitting from the window “my work here is done.” “can i just stay like this for a while? i can’t feel my legs..” you croak, unable to even build minimum strength to prop your head up. “of course you can” he murmurs, “i would never kick you out like that. i was gonna ask if you wanted to sleep here and cuddle, hm?” pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shaky thighs, tracing patterns into them. he was a force to be reckoned with earlier but has now turned into a ray of sunshine right after. “yes please, i’d love that. hold me in your arms forever and ever.”

#nct #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader #haechan fanfic #nct x reader #haechan x f reader #nct x female reader #nct hard hours #lee donghyuck smut #lee donghyuk x reader

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