just me, myself & i

[hadijjj]

threesome with kaiser and ness!

for anon!! I'm lazy tag sorryyy

Ness had you in full Nelson––or better to say, manhandled you in the position––while you were writhing in anticipation of your orgasm: hips involuntarily bucking forward, toes of your flailing legs curled, moans spilled out of your mouth so easily. 

And it’s all because of his dick, throbbing, slipping in and out of your tight heat––obscene view that made you clench even more. 

You trembled in his grasp in the familiar await of your orgasm, breath sharply hitched when Ness’s voice pulled you in this dumbed out state more and more. 

“That’s it...” He muttered, angling his hips to hit your g-spot with each thrust, thrusts that grew faster and more desperate. “Either look at yourself or at him...” 

Him... the one that made your stomach flip and close your eyes––gladly, you’d handle watching your hole sucking in Alexis’s dick more than that smug face that irritated you in the morning and neared you to your orgasm. 

You didn’t even have to say anything––or, better to say, couldn’t say anything––as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, making you clench the sheets, and flutter around his shaft. 

“You’re sick in the head.” 

Coming down from your high, you opened your eyes to see Michael sitting right in front of you both on the bed, chugging another can of coke. He was so hard to ignore, and being seen spread out (now that Ness withdrew his cock, keeping you open on his lap), dripping with cum, was so embarrassing. Luckily, he didn’t know that the thought about him brought you to that peak (he’d tease the shit out of you!) 

“Someone's shy,” Kaiser noted your flustered expression, the way you avoided his gaze, the way you tried to close your legs but couldn't help Alexis’s hands gripping the soft flesh. 

“Look at him,” the magician ordered, palms running up and down the backside of your thighs, adjusting them wider for a better access to your throbbing pussy, before referring to his friend, “She’s ready. Don’t sit there like a cuck.”  

Michael squeezed and threw away the can, muscles flexed, before crawling towards you and your welcoming heat that eagerly responded to his presence with visible and shameless clench. 

You gasped when you felt digits running along your wet folds, smearing the mixed slick over your puffy and sensitive lips, before lewdly licking on them. 

“Prepared her so well for me...” Kaiser whispered, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his raging boner: veins on his long shaft ran down from his pinkish tip to heavy sack of balls. The sight that made you gulp and shiver once you felt familiar pressure on your entrance. 

“S-sensitive!” You writhed in Ness grasp though your sucking hole contradicted all of your words. His cock slid in so easily, making you whimper and your eyes glassy—your nerves were on fire! 

“Shh... you took me so well, I’m sure you can take Kaiser, too.” His whisper scorched your ear, reassurance and feign sympathy that shoot sparks of pleasure straight to your core. “Breathe through it.” 

“F-fuck...” 

“Feel how he stretches you?” he meanly pressed on your bulging tummy, relishing in your quivering movements and high-pitched moans. “Makes you feel so full...” 

“S' dumb,” Michael chuckled, punishing thrusts kissed your spots, making you roll your eyes in delight. So mean, so cruel, so good... “She looks like she might cum any second.” 

Ness gave you a peck on top of your head, tightening the hold on the back of your thighs at the same time––making sure you melt in his grasp and have nowhere to wriggle from the overwhelming pleasure.  

He said, “I think she’s already close,” and still didn’t hesitate to bring his free hand to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Nothing better than Kaiser that stole you off breath with his kiss, fragile string of saliva seemed like the first and the last thing connecting you (along with his girthy cock twitching inside you). 

“I-I am,” you meekly whimpered out, the feeling the lewd slippery sounds and raged breaths fading in the background as the heat became your only sensation.  

“Attagirl... doing so well for Kaiser,” Alexis muttered, swiftly djing you through another...

gush!!! 

Stained sheets, stained Kaiser's abs, embarrassment etching your face, and Alexis's licking digits! Yeah, they'd never make it slide... 

“Love the way you make her squirt for me. Let's repeat.”  

a/n: you can't make me think that Ness isn't working his ass off in the bed

[notshinya]

Sae is jealous of your stuffed animal...!

Something felt… off.

Your eyes snapped open instantly. Without thinking, you reached behind you, your hand gliding over the mattress in search of something familiar.

Warm, toned skin.

Sae.

Not what you were looking for.

Your hand continued to wander over the blankets, your brows slowly knitting together as your search grew more frantic.

“…What’s wrong?” Sae asked, his voice low and rough with sleep.

He turned onto his side, lazily wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you against his chest. His warm breath brushed the back of your neck as he buried his face into your hair.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbled, already closing his eyes again.

“I can’t.”

You slipped out of his hold and sat up, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. They swept across the bed.

Nothing.

You climbed out of bed, crossed the room, and flicked on the light.

Sae let out an annoyed groan, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Where is he?“

You planted your hands on your hips.

“…Who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you.

“You know exactly who I mean.”

Sae sighed dramatically before finally cracking one eye open.

“The shrimp?”

“Yes. Sheldon.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Sheldon? Your stuffed shrimp actually has a name?”

“Of course he does. His name is Sheldon Shrimp.”

You said it with complete seriousness, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hm.”

Sae closed his eye again.

“Maybe Sheldon Shrimp decided he’d rather spend one night away from you. Lucky for you, you’ve still got Sae Itoshi.”

“I don’t want to spend the night without Sheldon.”

“Life’s unfair.”

His answer was so flat that it only made you glare harder.

“Where did you hide him?”

There was genuine concern in your voice now.

You couldn’t shake the horrible thought that Sae had done something to your favorite plush.

“I never said I hid him.”

He sounded far too innocent.

“And why would I?”

“Saaae.”

You dragged out his name with a frustrated whine.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

“I could.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you with that usual calm, unreadable expression.

“I’d actually sleep better if my adorable girlfriend hugged me instead of a stuffed shrimp.”

You blinked.

“We can cuddle all together… if you’re nice to Sheldon.”

Sae stared at you for a long moment.

“…I’ll pass.”

“So?”

You crossed your arms.

“Where is he?”

He let out another quiet sigh.

“In the closet.”

Without another word, you hurried over and opened it.

Sure enough, Sheldon Shrimp was sitting neatly on one of the shelves.

You smiled triumphantly, hugged your beloved shrimp tightly against your chest, switched the light back off, and climbed into bed again.

Satisfied, you tucked Sheldon safely between you and the blanket before instinctively reaching for Sae’s arm, wrapping yourself around it as well.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you felt it.

The slightest twitch at the corner of Sae’s mouth.

A smile.

Tiny enough that he’d deny it if you ever mentioned it.

You smiled to yourself, cuddling both Sheldon and Sae a little closer.

“…Good night,” Sae muttered.

This time, you fell asleep almost immediately.

© 2026 notshinya ; ━━ do not copy, translate or use my work in any form!

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[darlnosis]

"i wann' nut in you—please can i?" ness begs, his forearms tight around your waist.

he looks up at you so pathetically, forcing his head into your petting. he absolutely loves this position with you facing forward on his lap, sweaty bodies flushed against each other as you ride his soul away. your knees dig deep into the mattress, locking in his thighs that stretched out between yours.

"i-ich werde brav sein, bitte sag ja.."

he pulls you down harder at each desperate whine he slips out, stuffing his nose between your breasts and slobbering all over your soft skin.

"bitteee, y/nnn i wanna- inside you s'bad... y/n it hurts..."

you tightly suck in a breath, feeling his limp cock twitch inside your womb. the rock hard head of his shaft bulges through your cervix, fitting right inside like a puzzle.

"y/n i wanna so bad... du tust mir so gut, ich kann einfach nicht andersss.."

"fine, fine... yes..." you grunt, your head immediately sinking into his shoulder.

he could just die here beneath you the moment you nodded, approving another orgasm. slowly, warm fluids seep out between the gaps of your throbbing pussy, his cock still plugged deep inside of you; ness was not letting go anytime soon. clenching so tightly, he twitches and thrusts up once more, your walls wrapping tighter around his pulsing veins.

"y/nn~ hnghh—" ness gasps, biting onto your nipple, wanting your cum to somehow come out of your breasts instead.

you and ness breathe deeply together, mirroring beasts in hibernation, feeling each other's raging heartbeats. his hands slide low to the side of your legs, lazily pumping you up and down.

you tap gently on his back, "enoughh..."

ness chuckles. bulky arms wrap harder around your bare hips as his forehead nudges your collar.

"thank you... than' you~" he repeats in soft murmurs, quietly milking you over and over with subtle movements . . .

[pin-k-ink]

FICTION VS. REALITY ⋆✦⋆ hoshina soshiro

synopsis ➸ five hours of punishment paperwork turns into eleven hours trapped in the office with vice-captain hoshina. a hidden sake bottle and a secret romance novel spark a heated debate about fiction versus reality—especially when it comes to two people who can't decide if they want to strangle each other or do something else entirely

tags ➸ forced proximity, superior/subordinate dynamic, drinking, desk sex, sexual tension, power dynamics, authority figure, praise kink, nipple play, hair pulling, marking, unprotected sex, manhandling

wc ➸ 8k

The fluorescent lights of the Third Division office hummed quietly as you signed the final document with a flourish. Five hours of mind-numbing paperwork finally complete. You flexed your cramping fingers, the pen leaving a slight indentation on your skin where you'd gripped it too tightly. The stack of completed forms—mission reports, resource requisitions, personnel evaluations—sat neatly organized before you, a testament to your punishment duty. A week of administrative hell for what Vice-Captain Hoshina had officially termed "excessive initiative in the field" but was really just you ignoring a direct order because you'd seen a better tactical approach. You'd been right, of course, but chain of command was chain of command.

You glanced up at Vice-Captain Hoshina, who was sprawled comfortably on the leather sofa across the room. His long legs were stretched out, his standard Defense Force after-hours uniform somehow looking immaculate despite his relaxed posture. His dark purple hair fell in that perfect bob around his face, not a strand out of place even after a full day. The bandage on his cheek from a recent mission was the only thing marring his appearance. Those perpetually half-lidded eyes were fixed on his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly across the screen as they had been for the past five hours. The soft blue glow illuminated his sharp features in the dimming light of the office.

For someone so deadly with a sword, he certainly knew how to waste time. You wondered what was so engrossing—a game? Messages? You'd never know. He'd barely spoken ten words to you during each punishment session, just sliding the stack of papers across the desk with that infuriating little smirk when you arrived each evening.

"I'm finished," you announced, the first words spoken in at least two hours. Your voice sounded oddly loud in the quiet room.

Hoshina didn't look up immediately. He tapped his screen a few more times before his eyes flicked toward you. "Are you now?" His voice was smooth, with that ever-present hint of amusement. He stretched, his broad shoulders rolling beneath the fabric of his uniform, before standing with the effortless grace that made him so lethal in combat.

He approached the desk—your desk, technically his desk that you'd been using—with unhurried strides. You could smell his scent as he drew closer: clean sweat, the detergent from his uniform, and something faintly metallic, like polished steel. The scent of a swordsman.

Hoshina leaned over your shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His presence filled the space around you, commanding and intense. He flipped through the completed paperwork with practiced efficiency, his long fingers moving swiftly through the pages. You sat rigid, uncomfortably aware of his proximity, of how easily he dominated the space around you without even trying.

"Well done," he finally said, straightening up and clapping you on the shoulder. His hand was heavy, strong, the calluses from years of swordplay evident even through the fabric of your uniform. "Everything seems to be in order. Congratulations on completing your punishment, Soldier."

You stood, eager to put some distance between yourself and the Vice-Captain. "Thank you, sir."

Hoshina's mouth quirked into that familiar half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Just don't mess up again," he added, voice dropping lower, almost intimate in its warning. "I'll have to come up with something much more... creative next time." The threat hung in the air between you, not entirely professional, laden with something you couldn't quite identify.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself. "I'm sure you will, sir," you replied, the honorific carrying just enough sarcasm to be noticeable but not enough to be insubordinate. Again.

He chuckled, a low sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. "Still got that attitude. Some things never change."

You turned away, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. The sun had nearly set, casting long shadows across the office and painting the walls in shades of amber and gold. The workday was long over; most of the Division had left hours ago. You just wanted to get back to your quarters, shower away the tedium of paperwork, and forget about Vice-Captain Hoshina and his infuriating smirk for at least twelve blessed hours.

You strode to the door, grasped the handle, and pulled. Nothing happened. You frowned, tried again, putting more force behind it. The door remained stubbornly closed.

"Problem?" Hoshina asked, that note of amusement still present in his voice.

"Door's stuck," you muttered, jiggling the handle with increasing frustration.

Hoshina raised an eyebrow, crossing the room with those silent, predatory steps that were so at odds with his casual demeanor. "Let me try." He nudged you aside with a firm hand on your waist, his touch brief but unmistakably authoritative.

You stepped back, watching as he gripped the handle and pulled. His forearm tensed, the muscles visible beneath his skin as he applied steady pressure. The door didn't budge. His expression shifted, the perpetual amusement fading into something more focused, more serious.

"Damn it," he muttered, releasing the handle and running a hand through his hair. Recognition dawned in his eyes. "I forgot about the new security protocols."

"What new protocols?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.

Hoshina sighed, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the situation. "After the Kaiju No. 9 attack and the office rebuilding, they installed an automated security system. After hours, all doors lock automatically to secure the facility." His eyes met yours, and for once, they were fully open, alert. "We're locked in."

You stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking."

"I wish I were," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of his frame.

"Can't we override it? Break the door down?" you suggested, already calculating the force needed. You were strong, and with Hoshina's help, a simple office door shouldn't be a problem.

He shook his head, the purple strands of his hair swaying slightly. "Breaking it down would trigger the emergency protocols. The entire building would go into lockdown, security teams would be dispatched..." He fixed you with a pointed look. "Not great for either of our records, especially for a senior recruit already on thin ice for 'acting out.'"

You winced at the reminder. "Fine. What about calling someone? Surely you can reach Captain Ashiro?"

Hoshina's expression shifted to something resembling chagrin. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and held it up. The black screen remained stubbornly dark. "Dead. Five hours of use will do that."

You stared at the useless device, then at Hoshina, feeling rage bubble up inside you. "You've been playing on your phone for five hours while I did your paperwork, and you didn't even bother to charge it?"

He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though the expression was fleeting. "In my defense, I wasn't planning on getting locked in my own office."

Your hands clenched into fists. "And my phone?"

"Protocol for punishment duty. No personal devices," he reminded you, as if you could forget the way he'd held out his hand at the beginning of each session, waiting for you to surrender your phone like a schoolchild caught texting in class.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. When you opened them again, Hoshina was watching you with unexpected intensity, as if gauging your reaction. The last rays of sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting striped shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

"So we're stuck here," you said flatly. "Until when?"

"Until someone comes to open the office in the morning," he replied. "The cleaning staff, probably. Around 0600 hours."

You checked your watch. It was barely 1900 hours now. Eleven hours trapped in this office with Vice-Captain Hoshina. Eleven hours of that penetrating gaze, that subtle mockery, that overwhelming presence.

With a defeated sigh, you moved back to the couch, dropping onto it heavily. "This is just perfect," you muttered, staring up at the ceiling.

Hoshina remained by the door, his tall figure silhouetted against the fading light, watching you with those unreadable eyes. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and the dawning reality of your shared predicament. You were trapped here, together, until morning. No escape from each other, from the tension that had been building between you since your first day in the Third Division, from whatever this night might bring.

The first thirty minutes of your forced confinement stretched like cold taffy—slow, uncomfortable, and increasingly brittle. You sat at opposite ends of the office, you on the couch, Hoshina leaning against his desk, both of you pointedly avoiding sustained eye contact. The silence settled between you like dust, occasionally disturbed by your attempts at conversation that quickly died away.

"So... how long have you been in the Defense Force?" you asked, knowing perfectly well it was in his file, which you'd read multiple times out of professional curiosity.

Hoshina's expression didn't change, those perpetually half-lidded eyes regarding you with tolerant amusement. "Eight years. Four in the Third Division."

"Right," you nodded, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on your thigh. "And before that, you were—"

"In the training academy, like everyone else," he finished, his tone not unkind but definitive, closing that particular avenue of discussion.

You tried again. "I heard that Captain Ashiro is thinking of implementing new training rotations for—"

"She mentioned it," he said, his eyes drifting to the window, where the last glimmer of daylight had finally surrendered to the night. Stars were beginning to emerge, distant pinpricks of light against the darkening sky.

Another five minutes passed in stifling silence. You attempted to discuss the weather (pathetic), recent kaiju activity (too much like work), and even ventured into asking about his family (his expression had hardened immediately, and you'd backtracked so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash).

Finally, as you opened your mouth to make yet another doomed attempt at small talk, Hoshina held up a hand. The gesture was swift and authoritative, like he was directing troops in the field rather than stopping your babbling.

"Enough," he said, his deep voice resonating in the quiet office. "This is painful for both of us." There was no cruelty in his words, just an acknowledgment of the obvious.

You closed your mouth, heat creeping up your neck. "Sorry," you mumbled, wishing the couch would simply swallow you whole.

To your surprise, the corner of Hoshina's mouth quirked upward. Not his usual smirk, but something closer to genuine amusement. "I have something that might help with..." he gestured vaguely between the two of you, "...this."

Before you could ask what he meant, he moved behind his desk, dropping to one knee with unexpected grace. He reached beneath, arm disappearing into the shadows. There was the sound of something being moved, a soft scraping noise, and then Hoshina emerged with a bottle in hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light as he straightened, holding it up with a look of subtle triumph.

Sake. Expensive sake, by the look of the bottle.

"That's against regulations," you pointed out automatically, then immediately regretted it. Eight days of punishment duty for insubordination, and here you were, quoting rulebook infractions at your superior officer.

Hoshina's eyebrow arched elegantly. "Is it?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Then I suppose I shouldn't share it with someone so concerned with regulations." He twisted the cap off with practiced ease, the subtle pop of the seal breaking unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

You bit your lip, watching as he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long swallow. His throat worked as he drank, the strong column of his neck moving beneath smooth skin. When he lowered the bottle, his lips were slightly wet, and he ran his tongue over them in a brief, unconscious gesture that caught your attention for reasons you didn't want to examine.

"Changed your mind yet?" he asked, his voice slightly rougher after the drink.

Pride warred with practicality. Eleven more hours in this office. Eleven hours of awkward silence or stilted conversation. Or...

"I take it back," you said, holding out your hand. "Pass it over."

A genuine smile spread across Hoshina's face, transforming his features from merely handsome to something that made your stomach do a strange little flip. He crossed the room with that predatory grace, the bottle dangling from his long fingers, and handed it to you with a flourish.

"To being stuck," he offered, his voice carrying a warmth you'd never heard before.

You accepted the bottle, your fingers brushing against his briefly. "To poor planning and security protocols," you countered, bringing the bottle to your lips. The rim was still warm from his mouth.

The sake burned pleasantly down your throat, spreading liquid heat through your chest. It was good quality—smooth with just enough bite to remind you of its potency. You took another swallow before handing it back, already feeling a slight loosening in your shoulders.

The next fifteen minutes passed in a rhythm of shared swigs and increasingly comfortable silence. The bottle passed between you like a peace offering, each exchange accompanied by a brief touch of fingers, a moment of connection that grew less accidental each time. The office seemed to grow smaller, the space between you on the couch less pronounced.

When Hoshina passed you the bottle for the fifth time, you tilted it back and attempted to drain what remained—a desperate bid to make this situation more bearable. The sake burned as you gulped it down, but before you could finish, Hoshina's hand closed around the neck of the bottle, pulling it firmly from your grasp.

"Easy," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "We have a long night ahead of us. Getting drunk in the first hour isn't a strategy I'd recommend."

You relinquished the bottle with a groan of frustration. "Being sober for eleven hours with you isn't a strategy I'd recommend either," you muttered, immediately regretting the honesty that the alcohol had loosened from your tongue.

Instead of taking offense, Hoshina laughed—a genuine sound of amusement that you realized you'd never heard before. It transformed his face, softening the sharp angles and making him look younger, more approachable. Something shifted in your perception of him, like a lens being adjusted to bring a blurry image into focus.

"If I'm such terrible company," he said, setting the nearly empty bottle on his desk, "perhaps you should find something to entertain yourself."

You stood, stretching arms above your head, feeling the slight buzz of the sake warming your veins. "Fine. There's got to be something interesting in this office."

You began to wander the room, examining the sparse decorations—a few medals in a frame, a certificate of commendation from the Defense Force High Command, a traditional sword mounted on the wall that you knew wasn't just for show. Hoshina watched your exploration with hooded eyes, his posture relaxed but attentive, like a predator at rest but still aware of every movement in its territory.

The bookshelf in the corner drew your attention. It was modest, containing various tactical manuals, reports bound in leather covers, and a few historical texts on swordsmanship and martial strategy. You ran your fingers along the spines, reading titles, getting a glimpse into the professional mind of Hoshina Soshiro.

And then you saw it, partially concealed behind a thick volume on ancient battlefield tactics. The spine was black with blood-red lettering, the title barely visible in the dim light. You slid it out carefully, curious what the Vice-Captain would be hiding.

Your eyes widened as you read the title. "Bound by Honor: A Warrior's Forbidden Desire." The cover featured a stylized illustration of a woman in traditional Japanese clothing, her kimono slipping from one shoulder as she gazed up at a shadowed male figure wielding a katana. It was unmistakably a romance novel—and judging by the suggestive pose and the tagline ("Her body surrendered what her lips denied"), not a particularly tame one.

You turned slowly, holding the book up with a growing smile of disbelief. "Vice-Captain Hoshina," you said, your voice lilting with barely contained laughter, "I had no idea you were interested in... forbidden desires."

Hoshina's eyes widened fully for the first time since you'd known him, his usual mask of calm indifference replaced by an expression of genuine alarm. He was across the room in three swift strides, reaching for the book with uncharacteristic haste.

"That's not—" he began, his voice tighter than you'd ever heard it. "It's not what it looks like."

You danced backward, keeping the book out of his reach, your earlier discomfort forgotten in the joy of having discovered something so unexpectedly human about the always-composed Vice-Captain. "Oh? Then please explain why you have a steamy romance novel hidden behind your tactical manuals, sir."

The honorific dripped with playful mockery, and for a moment, you thought you might have gone too far. Hoshina's face darkened, his jaw tightening in a way you'd only seen when he was preparing to face a particularly dangerous kaiju. But then, unexpectedly, his shoulders dropped, and he ran a hand through his purple hair in a gesture of surrender.

"It's was a goddamn gift," he muttered, his voice lower and rougher than his usual measured tone. "Okonogi thought it would be hilarious to give me that trash for my birthday. Said I needed to 'loosen up.'"

You blinked in surprise, both at the casual profanity and the revelation. The Vice-Captain never spoke about personal matters. "But you kept it," you pointed out, your finger still wedged in the book, marking a particularly explicit page you'd glimpsed while flipping through.

Hoshina's eyes narrowed. "I meant to throw it out."

"Sure you did," you said, unable to help the smirk spreading across your face. The sake was warming your blood now, making you bolder than you'd normally dare to be with your commanding officer. "That's why it's hidden like a dirty magazine instead of in the trash."

"I gave it a chance," he admitted with visible reluctance. "Absolutely hated it. The writing is atrocious, and the plot is—"

"Whoa, whoa," you cut him off, waving the book. "You actually read it? The great Hoshina Soshiro, master swordsman and terror of the Defense Force, read a smutty romance novel?"

His eyebrow twitched. "I didn't say I read the whole thing."

"But parts of it," you pressed, delighted by this unexpected discovery. The Vice-Captain who seemed above such human indulgences, caught red-handed with cheap erotica.

Hoshina snatched for the book again, but the sake had slowed his reflexes just enough for you to dance out of reach. You clutched the novel to your chest, backing toward his desk.

"I'll be the judge of whether it's garbage or not," you declared, settling into his chair with deliberate insolence. You opened the book to a random page, making a show of getting comfortable.

Hoshina looked genuinely appalled. "You're not seriously going to read that trash right now? When there are actual books worth reading on my shelf?"

You shot him a look over the top of the page. "What's wrong, Vice-Captain? Afraid I'll find out what gets you off?"

The words hung in the air between you, far more provocative than you'd intended. Hoshina's eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed to dangerous slits. For a heartbeat, you thought he might actually snatch the book from your hands, but instead, he circled the desk and dropped heavily into the chair opposite you.

"Fine," he said, reaching for the sake bottle. "Suit yourself."

You began to read, keenly aware of Hoshina's presence across from you. The story was exactly what you'd expected—overwrought prose describing the forbidden passion between a warrior and the daughter of a rival clan leader. The plot was thin, serving mainly as a vehicle to get the characters into increasingly compromising situations. But the writing wasn't actually terrible, and you found yourself getting pulled into the story despite your initial skepticism.

Hoshina took small sips of sake, his eyes occasionally drifting to the pages you were reading. You could feel his gaze tracking your progress, and it sent an unexpected thrill through you, knowing he was watching, perhaps remembering the scenes you were now discovering.

After about twenty minutes, you reached a particularly explicit section where the protagonist finally gave in to his desires for the heroine. The description was graphic and detailed, leaving little to the imagination as they tore at each other's clothes in a garden at midnight.

"That's not how it works," Hoshina said suddenly, breaking the charged silence. He was leaning forward now, pointing at a specific paragraph describing an impossibly athletic position against a cherry tree.

"Nobody's spine bends that way," he continued, his voice deadpan but his eyes glinting with challenge. "And the physics are all wrong. She'd fall on her ass."

You looked up, surprised both by his comment and the casual crudeness of his language—so different from his usual precise diction. "How would you know?" you countered, the sake making you bolder. "Have you tried it?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I don't need to try it to know it's physically impossible unless she's double-jointed and he has three hands."

You laughed, the sound bursting from you unexpectedly. "Maybe he does. Maybe he's a mutant. A sexy mutant with... extra appendages."

Hoshina's mouth quirked despite himself. "Is that what you look for in a man? Extra appendages?"

"Depends on which appendages we're talking about," you shot back, then immediately felt heat flood your face. The sake was definitely loosening your tongue.

Rather than being offended, Hoshina actually chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Continue," he said, gesturing toward the book with his sake bottle. "I'm fascinated to hear your scholarly analysis."

You returned to reading, hyperaware of his presence across from you. The novel grew increasingly explicit as you progressed, the forbidden nature of the relationship driving the characters to ever more desperate and passionate encounters. You found yourself reading certain passages twice, your body responding traitorously to the vivid descriptions despite the company you were keeping.

"Here's another one," Hoshina said after a while, leaning across the desk to tap a paragraph. His finger brushed against the page just as you were reading a particularly graphic description of the heroine's pleasure. "Complete fantasy. No woman comes five times in three minutes just from penetration."

You stared at him, momentarily speechless at hearing Vice-Captain Hoshina casually discussing female orgasms. The sake was definitely affecting both of you now.

"Maybe you're just not doing it right," you retorted, the alcohol bypassing your brain's usual filters.

His eyes locked with yours, and for the first time, you noticed that they weren't just dark, but a deep, midnight blue—the color only visible when you were this close. "Trust me," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "that's not the problem."

Something hot and liquid pooled in your lower belly at his words, at the absolute certainty in his tone. You forced yourself to look away, back down at the book, but the words swam before your eyes.

"It's fiction," you managed, your voice not quite steady. "It's supposed to be a fantasy. That's the point."

"A fantasy that perpetuates unrealistic expectations," Hoshina countered, leaning back in his chair. "Which leads to disappointment in reality."

You flipped forward a few pages, determined to prove him wrong. "Not all of it is unrealistic. This part, for instance—" you paused, realizing too late that you'd turned to one of the most intense scenes in the book. The protagonists, after a heated argument about clan loyalty, were tearing at each other's clothes, their anger transforming into raw passion.

Hoshina's eyes skimmed the page, his expression unreadable. "Hate sex," he said flatly. "Another tired trope."

"What's wrong with it?" you challenged, an unexpected defensiveness rising in you. "People who argue often have intense chemistry. All that tension has to go somewhere."

"Into a rational discussion," he replied, though his eyes remained fixed on the explicit passage. "Not... whatever that is." He gestured dismissively at the description of the warrior pinning the heroine against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they devoured each other.

"That's exactly what someone who's never experienced it would say," you scoffed, the sake making you reckless. "Sometimes arguing is foreplay."

Hoshina's eyes snapped up to yours, dark and suddenly intense. "You think people who want to strangle each other also want to fuck each other?"

The crude word in his refined voice sent a jolt through you. "Sometimes," you insisted. "The line between rage and passion can be thin. Haven't you ever been so frustrated with someone that you wanted to either shut them up or shut them up?" You made a vague gesture meant to distinguish between the two types of shutting up.

"That's not how it works in real life," Hoshina said, but there was a new tension in his voice.

"So you've never argued with someone and felt that... charge?" you pressed, leaning forward. "That electricity? That moment when you're in each other's faces and suddenly you realize how close you are? How you can feel their breath? How their eyes drop to your lips?"

Hoshina was very still now, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "That's just in books like this," he said, but his voice had roughened. "Written by people who've never been in an actual fight."

"I've been in plenty of fights," you countered. "And in training. With you, in fact. And there's definitely a physicality to it that isn't entirely different from what they're describing." You gestured toward the book, to the scene where the warrior had the heroine pressed against the wall, his hand in her hair.

"That's adrenaline," Hoshina argued, though his eyes had darkened. "Combat chemistry. It's biological, not sexual."

"Is it, though?" You felt like you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, but couldn't seem to stop yourself. "The racing heart, the heightened awareness of the other person's body, the rush when you make contact? Sounds pretty similar to me."

Hoshina's jaw tightened. "You're comparing life-or-death combat to... to fucking."

"I'm saying they tap into similar primal instincts," you insisted. "The fight-or-flight response isn't so different from arousal. The body doesn't always know the difference."

"Bullshit," Hoshina said, but there was less conviction in his voice now.

"So you've never, ever, been arguing with someone and had the thought cross your mind?" you challenged, the sake making you relentless. "Never wanted to shut someone up with your mouth instead of your words? Never looked at someone who was driving you fucking crazy and thought about grabbing them by the collar and just—"

"Yes."

The single word sliced through the air between you, stopping your tirade cold. Hoshina's eyes had gone from half-lidded indifference to something dark and focused, like the moment before he drew his sword in combat. His gaze pinned you to your seat.

"What?" you managed, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his stare.

"Yes," Hoshina repeated, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the desk between you. "I've thought about it."

Your mouth went dry. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to dismiss the idea, to maintain his perfect composure while you needled him. Instead, he was looking at you like he was considering devouring you whole.

"I was just making a point," you stammered, suddenly desperate to backtrack. "About the book. It's not—"

"Bullshit." Hoshina cut you off, rising from his chair with fluid grace. "You don't get to throw that out there and then pretend you were just making conversation."

He circled the desk with predatory slowness, each step deliberate. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were certain he could hear it.

"I didn't mean—" you tried again, but the words died in your throat as Hoshina reached you, bracing one hand on the arm of your chair and the other on the desk, effectively caging you in.

"Yes, you did," he said, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. This close, you could see the flecks of midnight blue in his dark eyes, smell the sake on his breath mingled with something essentially him—steel and sandalwood and danger. "You've been pushing since the moment we got locked in here. Testing boundaries. Seeing how far you could go."

Your breath caught in your throat. He was right. You had been pushing, needling, prodding at his perfect composure, curious what lay beneath. And now you were finding out.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.

"No, you're not," Hoshina said, his voice dropping even lower. "But you might be."

The threat—or promise—hung in the air between you, charging the space with electricity. Your eyes dropped involuntarily to his mouth, to the perfect curve of his lower lip, and you realized with startling clarity exactly what you'd been pushing for all along.

"Tell me to back off," Hoshina said, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me I'm misreading this, and I'll go back to my side of the desk, and we'll forget this happened."

But you couldn't. You didn't want to. Instead, driven by sake and adrenaline and the culmination of months of tension, you reached up and grabbed the front of his uniform, yanking him closer.

"Fuck you," you breathed, the words lacking any real heat. "You know exactly what I want."

Something flashed in Hoshina's eyes—triumph, desire, or maybe both. "Say it," he demanded, his face now so close that his breath feathered across your lips. "I want to hear you say it."

Pride warred with desperation in your chest. "I want you to kiss me," you finally admitted, the words barely audible.

Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile, all sharp edges and dark promise. "That's not what I heard," he said, his hand moving from the arm of the chair to your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His fingers were callused from years of swordplay, rough against your skin. "I heard you talking about shutting someone up. About grabbing them and—what was it you were about to say?"

Heat flooded your face, but there was no going back now. "And kissing them until they can't think straight," you finished, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice.

"Is that what you want?" Hoshina asked, his thumb dragging slowly across your lower lip, sending sparks skittering down your spine. "For me to kiss you until you can't think straight? Until you forget all about that fucking book and your smart mouth and everything except my name?"

Your breath hitched at his words, at the raw intent behind them. "Yes," you admitted, beyond caring about pride or rank or professionalism. "Please, yes."

Hoshina's eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide with desire. "Good," he murmured, his voice a rough caress. "Because I've been thinking about shutting you up since the day you walked into my office for your punishment."

And then his mouth was on yours, and thinking became impossible.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration, his hand sliding into your hair to hold you exactly where he wanted you. You gasped against his lips, and he took immediate advantage, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming, conquering.

You clutched at his uniform, at his shoulders, at anything you could reach, desperate to anchor yourself as sensation overwhelmed you. Hoshina kissed like he fought—with precision, intensity, and absolute focus, as if nothing else in the world existed but his target. Only now, that target was you.

He tasted like sake and something darker, something essentially him, and you were instantly addicted. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, mussing the perfect purple strands, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.

Hoshina made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and suddenly you were being lifted. In one fluid motion, he picked you up and deposited you on the desk, scattering papers and knocking the empty sake bottle to the floor with a dull thud. He stepped between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the desk until you were pressed flush against him.

The hard length of his arousal pushed against the seam of your uniform pants, and you moaned into his mouth at the contact. Hoshina broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes nearly black with desire as he looked down at you.

"Still think it's just fiction?" he asked, his voice rough and strained. "Still think it's unrealistic?"

You couldn't form words, could only shake your head, your hands still tangled in his hair, your body burning with need.

Hoshina's mouth curved into a dangerous smile. "I haven't even started yet," he promised, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, then higher, tracing the curve of your ribs through your uniform. "By the time I'm done with you, that fucking book will look tame."

The threat—the promise—sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, your body responding to his words with embarrassing eagerness. You could feel yourself getting wet, your underwear already damp beneath your uniform pants. There was no hiding it, no pretending this wasn't exactly what you'd been angling for since the moment you realized you were trapped together.

"Prove it," you challenged, your voice breathy but defiant. You weren't going to submit easily, even now. Especially now.

Something flashed in Soshiro's eyes—approval mixed with savage hunger. His hands moved to the fastening of your uniform jacket, deftly undoing the clasps that ran down the front. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he said, his voice rough as he pushed the jacket off your shoulders. "I'm going to find out exactly what makes you scream my name."

Your breath caught as cool air hit your skin, the thin tank top you wore beneath the jacket offering little barrier between his gaze and your body. Your nipples hardened instantly, visible through the fabric, and Soshiro's eyes fixed on them with predatory focus.

"Already so responsive," he murmured, his thumb brushing over one hardened peak through the tank. Even that light touch sent sparks shooting through your body, and you couldn't suppress a gasp. "I wonder how you'll react when I really touch you."

He bent his head, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and bit down—not hard enough to break skin, but with enough pressure to make you cry out. The sharp sting was immediately soothed by his tongue, hot and wet against your pulse point.

"Fuck," you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access. "Soshiro—"

His name on your lips seemed to break something loose in him. One hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further, exposing more of your throat to his mouth. The other slid beneath your tank top, his callused palm rough against the soft skin of your stomach, then higher, until he was cupping your breast.

"Say it again," he commanded against your skin, his fangs grazing your collarbone.

"Soshiro," you repeated, the formal barriers between you crumbling with each touch. No longer Vice-Captain Hoshina, but Soshiro—the man who was currently thumbing your nipple with maddening precision, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He rewarded you by taking the hardened bud between his fingers and pinching, just hard enough to make you arch into his touch. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise sending an unexpected thrill through you.

You reached for him, desperate to feel his skin beneath your hands, to see if the body that moved with such deadly grace in combat was as hard and honed as you'd imagined. Your fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his uniform jacket, your coordination hampered by the sake and the overwhelming sensations he was creating with his mouth on your neck, his hand on your breast.

Soshiro stepped back just long enough to shrug out of his jacket, then pulled his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion. You'd seen him shirtless before—during training, during medical checks—but never like this, never with permission to look, to touch. His body was a weapon, honed through years of rigorous training and combat: broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles defined without being bulky, skin marked here and there with the scars of his profession. A particularly vicious scar curved around his left side, the legacy of a kaiju's claw that had nearly ended him two years ago.

You reached out, tracing the raised line of that scar with your fingertips. Soshiro went still under your touch, his eyes watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"I thought we'd lost you that day," you admitted, the words slipping out unbidden.

Something softened momentarily in his expression. "Takes more than that to kill me," he said, catching your hand and bringing it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to your palm, surprisingly gentle, before nipping at the sensitive skin of your wrist hard enough to make you gasp. The tenderness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that hungry focus. "Now, where were we?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed, his deft fingers making quick work of the clasp. And then you were bare from the waist up, exposed to his gaze in the dim light of the office.

Soshiro's eyes raked over you, hot and appreciative. "Fuck," he breathed, the crude word somehow more affecting in his refined voice. "Look at you."

Self-consciousness warred with arousal as he studied you, his gaze lingering on your breasts, your waist, the curve of your hips still partially hidden by your uniform pants. But any insecurity was banished when he moved forward again, his hands spanning your waist, his mouth descending to capture one nipple between his lips.

The wet heat of his mouth made you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, holding him against you as he sucked and licked and gently bit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit. Your hips rocked forward unconsciously, seeking friction, seeking relief from the building pressure between your thighs.

Soshiro responded by grabbing your ass, pulling you harder against him, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against your core through the layers of clothing that still separated you. He was huge, bigger than you'd imagined in your most private fantasies, and the thought of him inside you made you whimper with need.

"Please," you gasped, beyond pride now, beyond anything but the desperate need for more. "Soshiro, please—"

He lifted his head, his pupils blown wide with desire, his usually perfect hair mussed by your hands. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a rough growl. "Tell me exactly what you want. I want to hear you say it."

Heat flooded your face, but you were too far gone to care about embarrassment. "I want you inside me," you said, meeting his gaze defiantly despite the tremor in your voice. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Right here on this desk."

Soshiro's eyes darkened further, his hands tightening on your ass. "No protection," he pointed out, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. "We should stop."

The rational part of your brain knew he was right, but every other part of you screamed in protest at the thought of stopping now. "I'm on birth control," you heard yourself say. "And I'm clean. I get tested regularly." It was true—the Defense Force required medical checks every three months.

"Me too," Soshiro admitted, his eyes never leaving yours. "Clean, I mean. But are you sure? Because once we start, I'm not going to be able to stop. I'm not going to be gentle."

You grabbed his face between your hands, forcing him to look directly at you. "I don't want gentle," you said, emphasizing each word. "I want you to fuck me like you've been thinking about it for months. Because I have."

Something feral flashed in his eyes at your confession. "Months?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.

"Since the day you put me on my ass in combat training," you admitted, past caring about how pathetic it might sound. "You pinned me down, and all I could think about was how you'd feel on top of me in a very different context."

Soshiro cursed, the sound raw and heartfelt. "You have no idea how hard it was not to take you right there on the training mat," he growled, his hands moving to the fastening of your pants. "Every time you challenged me, every time you pushed back, I wanted to show you exactly who was in charge."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you. You lifted your hips, helping him as he yanked your pants and underwear down in one impatient motion. And then you were completely naked, perched on the edge of his desk, while he stood between your spread thighs, still half-clothed, his eyes devouring you.

"Fucking perfect," he murmured, one hand sliding up your inner thigh, his thumb brushing tantalizingly close to where you needed him most. "Spread wider for me."

You obeyed without hesitation, past shame, past everything but the desperate need for his touch. Soshiro's eyes darkened as he looked at you, at the glistening evidence of your arousal.

"So wet already," he said, his thumb finally, finally, brushing over your clit. Even that light touch was enough to make you buck against his hand, a broken sound escaping your throat. "And so sensitive. I've barely touched you."

"Then touch me properly," you demanded, frustration making you bold.

Soshiro's mouth curved into that dangerous smile again. "Still giving orders, even now?" he asked, his finger circling your entrance, teasing but not entering. "Still challenging me?"

You glared at him, even as your body trembled with need. "If you're not up to it—"

The taunt was cut off abruptly as he thrust two fingers inside you without warning, the sudden intrusion making you gasp. Your body clenched around him, adjusting to the stretch, to the delicious friction as he began to move his hand.

"What was that?" Soshiro asked, his voice deceptively mild even as his fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your vision blur. "I didn't quite catch it."

You couldn't answer, couldn't form words as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly, your thighs beginning to shake.

"That's it," Soshiro encouraged, his voice rough with desire. "Let go. Show me how good it feels."

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, washing over you with unexpected intensity. You cried out his name, your body arching off the desk, clenching rhythmically around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through you.

Before you could fully recover, Soshiro was undoing his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your body clenching in anticipation despite having just come.

Soshiro positioned himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your still-sensitive flesh. "Last chance to back out," he said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

In answer, you wrapped your legs around his waist, using your heels to pull him closer. "Fuck me," you demanded, past pride, past everything but the desperate need to feel him inside you. "Now, Soshiro."

He surged forward in one powerful thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch burned deliciously, your body struggling to accommodate his size. Soshiro groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"So tight," he muttered, his voice raw. "So fucking perfect around my cock."

He gave you a moment to adjust, his self-control evident in the trembling of his muscles, the tension in his jaw. But you didn't want control—you wanted him wild, unleashed, all that deadly precision focused entirely on your pleasure.

"Move," you urged, rolling your hips against him. "I won't break."

Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. "No," he agreed, pulling back slowly before slamming back in with enough force to make the desk creak beneath you. "You won’t."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, each thrust deep and hard, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force to hold you exactly where he wanted you. The desk shook beneath you, papers scattering to the floor, but neither of you cared.

Soshiro's control was slipping, his movements becoming more erratic, more primal. One hand left your hip to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat to his mouth. He bit down on the sensitive juncture of your neck and shoulder, marking you, claiming you.

"Mine," he growled against your skin, the possessiveness in his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasped, the word torn from you as he hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. "Fuck, Soshiro, I'm yours."

The admission seemed to break something loose in him. He redoubled his efforts, his pace punishing, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust. His free hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit with unerring accuracy, circling it in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me again," he commanded, his voice rough with exertion and need. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

The dual stimulation was too much. Your second orgasm crashed over you with even greater intensity than the first, your inner walls clamping down on his length, milking him as pleasure consumed you. You screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, leaving marks that would still be visible tomorrow.

Soshiro followed you over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside you, his release hot and pulsing. He collapsed forward, bracing his weight on his forearms to avoid crushing you, his forehead pressed against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.

For a long moment, the only sound in the office was your mingled breathing, harsh in the stillness. Reality began to seep back in slowly—the hard surface of the desk beneath you, the chill of the air on your sweat-dampened skin, the realization of what had just happened.

You'd just had sex with Vice-Captain Hoshina. On his desk. During punishment duty. After arguing about a romance novel.

Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but before it could take hold, Soshiro lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. To your surprise, there was no regret in his gaze, no coldness, just a satisfied gleam and something else, something almost tender.

"Don't," he said, correctly reading your expression. "Don't overthink it."

"But—" you began, uncertainty creeping in as the haze of lust receded.

Soshiro silenced you with a kiss, this one gentler than before but no less thorough. "We still have..." he glanced at the clock on the wall, "...about eight hours until someone comes to let us out." His mouth curved into a smile that was more genuine than his usual smirk. "Plenty of time to continue this debate about fiction versus reality."

[lamourfaun]

When Feelings Lie

featuring: Jo Togame x Studious Reader

wc: 1k

warnings: fem reader, reader is an over achiever, reader craves academic validation, comfort, not proofread, angst, reader has father issues

the paper crumpled just a little tighter in your hand as the number on it stared back at you like it was mocking you.

58%.

you'd read it at least twenty times since your teacher handed it back, hoping it'd somehow change if you looked away long enough– but it never did. what didn’t help was that around you, your classmates groaned.

"that exam was impossible."

"what were those questions even asking?"

"i swear half of them didn't make sense."

"i'm asking for a retake."

normally, hearing everyone else complain would've made you feel better. but today… it didn't.

because this wasn't just another bad grade, it was your first.

you'd always been one of the top students. teachers praised you, classmates asked to borrow your notes, and your report cards had always been spotless.

until now.

your teacher sighed from the front of the room. "i've already spoken with the department. because of how many students struggled with the wording of the exam, we're discussing the possibility of offering a retest."

the classroom erupted.

"seriously?!"

"thank god!"

"i knew it wasn't just me!"

"nothing's confirmed yet," the teacher warned. "you'll know by tomorrow."

you barely heard another word. your eyes stayed fixed on the red number.

58%.

your phone buzzed, snapping you back to reality. pulling it out of your pocket, you read the name.

jo ♡

school over?

you typed back after a few seconds. 

yeah.

he replied.

meet me?

–

togame found you exactly where he'd expected. the small park a few streets away from school, the one with the old vending machines.

you sat on the swings, slowly rocking back and forth. your school bag rested by your feet, and in your hand was your test paper that was folded. togame approached quietly.

"hey."

you didn't answer, neither looked up. but he smiled anyway. "mind if i join you?"

"it's a public swing."

"guess that's permission."

he sat beside you. the swings creaked softly in the breeze. and for a while… neither of you spoke.

togame had learned something early into your relationship. you talked when you were ready. trying to force it only made you shut down more.

so he waited. and thankfully, after nearly three minutes, you held the paper out. he took it as his eyes skimmed over the page, then landing on the score.

58%.

you laughed, except it wasn't really a laugh. more like one exhausted breath.

"i failed."

"yeah."

…

"...i've never failed before."

he looked over when you said that, and you were still staring at the ground. "everyone else hated the exam too,” you continued. "...doesn't matter, i guess."

"it does to you." he said, making you look back up at him.

you swallowed. "the questions were worded so weird. half the class didn't understand them– the teacher said there might be a retake. ..but in the end, i still failed."

your voice cracked on the last word, and you immediately looked away.

you hated crying. especially over something like this. "my dad's gonna lose it,” you creaked out. your boyfriend stayed quiet, you continued before he could speak. "he already thinks i'm wasting my future– h-he already hates that i'm dating you… he says i should be focusing on school instead."

the way your voice shook and cracked with every word– it made togame feel so upset. 

“if he sees this test…” your fingers curled tightly around the edge of your skirt. "...he'll think he was right."

…

the breeze gently pushed the swings. children laughed somewhere farther across the park– and you wished you were anywhere else.

"...y/n." togame's voice was soft.

you didn't look at him. instead, you felt something warm against your hand. his fingers, carefully threading between yours, holding your hand without squeezing, without forcing you to hold his back.

"...look at me, please."

you hesitated… then slowly turned your head.

he wasn't smiling, not this time. he looked at you with nothing but quiet sincerity. “one badly written exam doesn't erase every test you've ever passed."

you looked away again as he continued, his hand squeezing ever so softly on yours. 

“i know it feels like it might, but feelings lie sometimes." togame chuckled quietly. "they're convincing, but doesn't make them right." he lifted the paper again. "tell me, how many people failed?"

"a lot,” you quietly say, looking down at your lap.

"how many thought the wording was confusing?"

"almost everyone."

"and the teachers are considering a retest?"

"...yeah."

he handed the paper back to you, an easy smile on his face. "then this doesn't sound like you suddenly became stupid overnight, sweetheart.” his hand slowly squeezed yours again, and this time, you squeezed it back. 

"can i tell you something selfish?" he asked quietly, his gaze focused on you. "your dad, ..i know he doesn't like me."

you stayed quiet, a frown forming on your face.

“i–”

"that's okay."

…

"...it is?"

"yeah." he looked toward the sky. "because i'm not dating him."

"..."

"..."

"...jo."

he laughed. "i'm serious." finally, he looked back at you. "i'm dating you. and i know the person you are. you're hardworking, stubborn, way too hard on yourself– and somehow convinced that one mistake defines everything."

you opened your mouth, then closed it again. because jo wasn’t wrong at all.

"...if your dad decides this one grade proves something,” togame shrugged. "then he's looking at the wrong thing."

your eyes widened as he continued.

"because i know what you did after you got this."

"..."

"you worried,  looked for a solution– and already thought about the retest.” he paused, making sure you heard him fully. "that's not someone giving up,” his thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "that's someone trying again."

the lump in your throat became impossible to ignore. and togame smiled. small, soft– and before you realized what you were doing, you leaned sideways; resting your forehead against his shoulder. he didn't say anything; just simply wrapped an arm around you.

his hand rubbed slow circles against your back. they were steady and patient.

after a long while, your voice came out barely above a whisper. "...you're such an idiot."

he smiled into your hair. "good thing you picked me anyway."

this time… when you laughed– it sounded real.

a/n: to all my fellow academic and studious people out there, just remember that your grades don't define you!! take care of yourself and prioritize your health. i'm proud of all of you! ♪(^∇^*)

link to the request

@ lamourfaun

[okaga48]

⋆‧° ryusui and bf!stan fucking you together !

cw: m/m/f threesome, eiffel tower position, rough sex, degradation kink, hair pulling, praise kink, slapping, being caught, cunnilingus, fingering, pwnp

“stan…” you mewled, stanley’s cock ploughing in and out of you at a vigorous pace. your hands were pressed up against a wall, stanley pushing you up against it as he took you from behind.

you could feel stanley’s breath so close on your neck, the faint smell of lipstick mixed with cigarettes that you were oh so familiar with. “like that, doll?” he thrust into you particularly sharp, causing you to almost cry from the force and pleasure. “keep taking it, slut.”

at that point, you couldn’t even articulate your own words anymore. all that was capable of coming out of your mouth were the slutty whimpers that stanley loved so much, so that’s all you did. you knew it made him come harder. “don’t— stop…” your words came out as gasps mixed with moans, until you felt a sharp slap on your ass, making you whimper more.

both you and stanley must’ve been too lost in the pleasure to realise that someone had walked in on you. their eyes quickly widended when they saw you both, then changed to an expression of curiosity. and that person just so happened to be the king of greed himself.

stanley was balls deep inside of you, both of you nearing your climaxes when you noticed ryusui standing at the entrance. you couldn’t help that somehow him walking in on you getting absolutely destroyed by your boyfriend turned you on more.

“ah, am i interrupting something?” ryusui said teasingly, his eyes scanning the way stanley was thrusting inside you, while your own eyes were looking at ryusui with even more lust than you’d previously had before.

stanley groaned, slowly slightly inside you. “she’s being a damn brat is what’s happening. she needs some sense knocked into her.” he panted firmly. he was trying to tell ryusui that he had his claim on you and that you’re his.

“oh, being bratty are we?” ryusui walked to come close to your face, bringing himself lower to look at you directly in your eyes.

“you’re getting too close.” stanley was firm once again.

ryusui’s eyes went to stanley’s, then back to yours. “come on stan. look at her. she wants me too. just give the girl what she wants,” he smirked at you. “so greedy. stanley’s cock not enough for you?” ryusui was almost close enough to touch you, and you couldn’t hide that you might’ve just came from the way he was talking to you so belittlingly, and stanley was quick to catch on.

stanley groaned upon your release, and then pulled out of you, making you whimper at the emptiness you were now feeling. “please stan?” you pleaded, the idea of two men going down on you making you wet again.

he hesitated for a moment. “fine. if that’s what you really want.” stanley finally glanced over at ryusui, gesturing for him to come closer. without warning, you felt two strong arms picking you up, and then throwing you on the bed. both men were now looking down at you with such hunger that you could come from the sight alone.

ryusui was the first one to make a move. “spread your legs for me, love,” ryusui whispered, grinning at how easy you complied. “such a good girl.” stanley couldn’t help but smirk, appreciating the sight below him. ryusui was now in front of you legs, kissing your upper thighs slowly.

you whimpered when his lips reached your inner thighs, the sensitivity giving you goosebumps. you were already soaking, just how both stanley and ryusui liked it. a gasp ripped from your throat when ryusui’s tongue flicked against your clit, your hands instantly going to pull on his hair.

stanley smirked. “i know what she’d like.” he got between the other side of your thigh, his nimble fingers slowly tracing up your body. quickly enough, they found your wet entrance, before plunging two fingers in. you moaned from the combined feeling of ryusui eating you out and stanley fingering you, the overstimulation getting you closer to completion.

you threw your head back onto the pillows, feeling your own release happening. stanley couldn’t get enough of how wet you were, pulling out his fingers and putting them to his mouth. ryusui was also enamoured by your state, lapping up whatever was left. “look at her, already such a little mess and we’ve hardly done anything,” ryusui grinned in victory, proud of what a mess you were.

stanley grinned too. “such a fucking slut. one cock not enough for you?”

with a jingle, ryusui started to take off his belt in desperation, and you knew you were in for it now. you had no idea how he’d fuck you or how his cock would be, but you were too curious. “stay in this position, love,” ryusui clambered on top of you, slotting himself between your legs. and then you finally got a good look at his cock. it was a nice length, and the sight alone was turning you on more.

with no warning, ryusui slid inside you with ease, taking yet another whimper from you. your hands wrapped around him, desperately trying to grip onto him for dear mercy as he relentlessly pounded into you. stanley couldn’t help but feel himself getting hard at the sight of you getting your brains fucked out, and he moved closer towards you, so much so that you could feel his breath on you.

“you’re a fucking whore. getting fucked by someone else while looking at me like that.” stanley’s voice was rough, sending a shiver down your spine. you whimpered sharply when ryusui thrust into you particularly hard, your eyes closing. you felt a sharp sting on your scalp and realised stanley was pulling your hair, and both of their combined touches on you were making you go crazy.

just as you were about to reach your climax, ryusui suddenly pulled out. the both of them practically dragged you off the bed before you were bent over it. all of a sudden, you were now on your hands and knees, with ryusui in front of you and stanley behind you.

“you decided to act like a slut, so now you’re gonna be fucked like a slut.” stanley’s voice was condescending as both men began to undress you. you then felt stanley’s calloused hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

ryusui decided to chime in. “think you can take my cock, pretty girl?” his words were sweet, but his tone was teasing. he lightly tugged at your hair, but not enough for it to hurt.

“mhm…” you muttered, looking up at him. as you slowly began to take him in your mouth, you could almost feel stanley’s stare burning through you, his eyes watching keenly.

your tongue started off slowly, gently teasing the tip of ryusui’s cock. he pushed your head further down onto his cock as he let our pleasured groan.

but of course, stanley wanted some action too.

stanley suddenly thrust into you without warning, making a cry of pleasure rip out of you. he slapped your ass, causing you to moan once again. “take my dick. take it like the fucking whore you are. you’re so greedy, taking two at once.” stanley was rough as he usually was, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot. it was getting harder to take ryusui in your mouth and take stanley’s dick at the same time, and your mouth let out whimper after moan after moan.

“good girl. making me feel so good.” ryusui rasped out, throwing his head back. “so good at taking me.” ryusui’s grip on your hair tightened, reinforcing that he was near his to his orgasm. ryusui’s hips moved, forcing his cock deeper into your throat. you felt your eyes welling up from the pleasure from both ryusui and stanley, and as if you weren’t already in this state, stanley slapped your ass hard, leaving a harsh sting. it was only then that you felt a tear roll down your cheek

“fuck, need to come,” stanley groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. all that you could respond with was a choked whimper, as ryusui’s cock was deep inside your throat. the tears kept on rolling down your cheeks as you choked on ryusui’s cock, the overstimulation from both men really doing something to you.

ryusui was the first to come, a shameless whine escaping him when he finished. he looked at you proudly when you swallowed, a wide grin spreading across his face. “you’re good with your mouth. you did so well.” he looked down at you in your exhausted state, still being fucked by stanley.

stanley followed on quickly, his own release hitting him quickly. he finished inside of you, not bothering to pull out. you whimpered, the feeling of his come inside of you driving you insane.

all three of you were panting, recovering from your combined releases. you didn’t know how good the combined feeling of both of them going down on you would be, but you were happy to know it felt amazing.

ryusui grinned. “so… when should we do this again?”

a/n: kinda buns near the end bc i was giving up and didn’t know what to write 😔 kinda short but enjoy this lovely fic 🥹 there’s a severe lack of stanley fics in general and i though the world needed this, my 2 fav dr stone men heh

masterlist

[saintodo]

nirei is so cute, but i think he would look even cuter if you had a hand around his cock and we’re jerking him off, stopping just short of making him come over and over again until his eyes are all watery and his lips are wobbly. he blushes scarlet when you coo and call him my poor baby before resuming your movements once more. he almost sobs from the relief of you finally allowing him to come, but he quickly gets overwhelmed by the feeling of you steadily moving your hand up and down his shaft. he doesn’t know whether to try and wiggle away from you or to lean into the euphoric sensation. he chokes on a sob when you make him come again, so soon after his first orgasm. nirei knows there’s going to be no reprieve in sight when you giggle lightly and kiss the side of his head, your hand continuing to stroke his cock despite his cries of overwhelming pleasure.

[kajipops]

.°☆ MY KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR

or, alternatively, what do sakura, suo, umemiya, and kaji do when they find out you're being bullied by your classmates!

warnings: bullying, physical harassment, mentions of injuries

note: a long overdue request! thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

Sakura Haruka

“Tell me who did this.”

You flinched upon hearing the cold, hard edge in your partner’s voice. The school nurse gave you a worried look before applying the final layer of ointment to your wound. She firmly wrapped your bleeding elbow and knee with rolls of bandages and dusted off the dirt from your uniform.

“You’ll have to go home immediately, I’m afraid. The cuts on your arms aren’t very deep, but the one on your knee is. You won’t require stitches, but you should avoid moving around for the next couple of days. Can you—?” She turned to look at your partner, who was looking at you with a forlorn expression on his face. “You must be their partner. Can you take them home, Sakura-kun?”

“Not until they tell me who did this.”

You cowered even further under his intimidating stare. Standing in the dim lighting of the school infirmary, Sakura’s dark eyes glimmered menacingly as he walked over to you.

“I’m not leaving until I slam my foot down the asshole’s throat responsible for hurting my partner.”

“Haru, it’s alrigh—”

“Complete that sentence, I dare you. Complete that sentence, and I am calling Suo and Nieri right this instant and asking them to interrogate every single classmate of yours. Hell, I’ll call everyone in Furin for this.” His expression softened when he saw the guilty look on your face. Sighing, he knelt on one knee and ran his fingers over your bruised knuckles. Your shoulders relaxed instantly. His familiar touch calmed your frazzled nerves.

Sakura, however, was not reassured. Seeing the innumerable purple-and-black bruises blemishing your delicate arms seemed to snap something inside him. You were startled to see frustrated tears swimming in his eyes.

“Please tell me, (Y/N). Please tell me who did this. This is not how a relationship works, (Name). You have to tell me these things.” His voice slightly cracked. “Or I will fail to protect you again. Please.”

“Haru…”

“He’s right, child,” the school nurse added kindly. “I know you had your partner’s best interest at heart, but you do not keep such things from him. Being in a relationship means being honest with each other, despite the truth being bitter or painful. Lying never helps.”

You nodded, tears prickling the corners of your vision. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, Haru. I just—”

“Hey, it’s alright. I am sorry I wasn’t observant enough to notice this. Though I am glad you fought back. I know you must have kicked their asses.” He smiled when you laughed at his words. “Don’t worry any more. I've got your back now.”

“Nobody is ever hurting you again. I will make sure of it.”

Kaji Ren

“Don’t touch them. Don’t you fucking dare touch my partner.”

A strangled sob of relief escaped your lips, and you slid down the length of your locker, your trembling legs too weak to support the weight of your body. Behind the loose semi-circle of jerks who’d surrounded you during recess stood your partner, Kaji Ren, clad in his Furin uniform, his headphones dangling from his neck, a menacing aura surrounding his figure.

“What did you just call them, you asshole?” He growled, grabbing one of them by his collar. “How dare you even cast your filthy eyes on my partner?”

The boy whimpered in fear. The others looked at each other nervously. They hadn’t expected your partner to pop in unexpectedly during their “friendly teasing” session, as they called it, which, in reality, hovered dangerously near physical harassment. How he managed to enter your school was a mystery to you, but you were too tired to care. You hugged your knees tightly, watching through moist eyes as Kaji let go of the boy and ordered them to scram before he snapped their spines in half. The boys ran away with their tails between their legs. You had a feeling Ren wasn’t done with them, and you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey,” a voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Can I hug you?”

You glanced up and saw Ren looking at you with the tenderest expression on his face. Unsurprisingly, you burst out crying and pulled him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you without a word. You both stayed like that for a while: him holding your shaking form and you crying into his chest. When he felt your hiccups die down a little, he cupped your face with his hands and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. Asking you to forget this whole incident would be simply preposterous, but I promise you I won’t let you go through this alone. I will be here, right next to you. Don’t worry. Let’s head home for now. I’ll text Kusumi and Enomoto to deal with those scumbags.”

You nodded as you stood up, Ren’s hand wrapped reassuringly around your waist. The tightness in your chest slowly dissipated, and you breathed more freely. He flashed you a small smile and handed you a strawberry lollipop.

“Let’s go. I’ll buy you boba tea.”

Umemiya Hajime

“Is there a problem?”

The laughing ceased. A few people shifted nervously, eyes darting around as they realised who was standing in front of them. You, on the other hand, didn’t dare raise your head, afraid it might all prove to be a dream. But then, instead of the rough hands that had been shoving you around, gentle hands enveloped your trembling frame as a ragged sob escaped your lips and you leaned into the warmth of him.

“Holy fuck, that’s Bofurin’s Umemiya. Shit, they weren’t lying,” someone from the crowd murmured. “What is he doing here at our school?”

“A few days ago, my sweet partner suddenly came home with bruises littering their body,” Umemiya answered, his voice low and dark, his eyes completely devoid of life. “When I asked, they said they fell and refused to talk about it. At first, I didn’t want to press too hard, but something kept nagging at me, and so I came today to pick them up so we could talk. But—” and a shiver went down everyone’s spine as they heard the rage in his voice “—imagine my surprise when I see them surrounded by a group of lowlife thugs who’re harassing them. Makes me wonder, I suppose, how you people could have been so stupid.”

He pressed you closer to himself. If not for his arms supporting your weight, you were sure you would’ve crumpled to the ground in relief.

“I’m gonna give you fools exactly ten seconds to run. If I see you in front of me after ten seconds, I’m going to pummel you to the ground. I will start now. One, t—”

And they were gone.

For all the harassment and bullying you had endured the last couple of days, you could not help but let out a small laugh at the way they had dashed off, tails tucked between their legs.

“I am going to call a meeting,” Hajime suddenly said. You craned your neck and your heart broke a little when you saw the crushed look on his face. “I am going to call a meeting of the Four Kings, and we’re going to patrol this year until we catch all those bastards and teach them a lesson. And I am going to walk you to and from school every day. And next time someone threatens you, I want you to tell me. Because when I saw you today, (Name), injured and surrounded by those assholes, I—” He took in a deep breath to mask his rising anger. “Please, you have to tell me, okay? Please, let me protect you. There’s no point in being the saviour of the town if I can’t even protect my partner.”

“I am sorry, Haji,” you said softly. “I was scared.”

He smiled and ruffled your hair affectionately. “Then I will make sure you have no more reasons to be scared.”

Suo Hayato

You were confused.

Entering your classroom, you were confused to see a clean desk and chair waiting for you. No scribbled insults. No broken chair legs. No drink spilled over your books. Yes, you were very confused.

Your eyes hesitantly drifted to the group of girls who sat behind you and were usually responsible for making your life miserable. To your surprise, today they sat meekly in their seats, avoiding eye contact. No jeers or taunts greeted you as you slowly sat down in your seat.

Okay, you were beyond confused now.

A sudden tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts. You sighed internally. Of course, the peace was too good to be true. Any moment now, you would be pelted with erasers and pencils.

Another tap on your shoulder, this time more hesitant and soft. You furrowed your brows. This was not like them at all. Usually, they would’ve dumped water all over you by now.

“Um-m, (Last Name)-san!”

Last Name-san?

You whipped your head around in surprise.

They never called you that.

What the hell was going on?

“Wha—” Before you could even verbalise your thoughts, a gasp escaped your mouth as the entire group of bullies, your classmates, the people who made your life a living hell, knelt on the floor, their heads bowed, their frames quivering in fear.

“We are very sorry to have bullied you, (Name)-san! We are utter trash of human beings, and we were absolutely wrong to treat you like that. We’re very ashamed of our behaviour. Please, accept our sincere apologies,” they said in unison, as if they had been made to learn and recite this.

Your jaw hung open as you continued to stare in silence.

A quick glance around the room made you realise all your classmates were tactfully avoiding eye contact with you.

Usually, they were quick to join in on your bullying. But today, they seemed nervous and on edge.

Just what happened to them?

Your questions were answered when your classroom door slid open and you heard a familiar voice call out to you:

“Morning, my dear (Name).”

“Hayato?” you asked, surprised. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have class right now?” Furin was on the other end of town!

He hummed noncommittally and strolled in, looking every bit the master of the place, as if this was a garden he visited daily.

Strangely, with every step he took, you saw your classmates' postures go stiff, fists clenched tightly as if expecting a blow to their faces.

Come to think of it...

A few of your male classmates were wearing bandages.

“I just came to check on my darling partner,” he replied smoothly, coming to a halt in front of your desk and gently tucking a flyaway strand of your hair behind your ear. “Is it a crime for a man to miss their sweet partner?”

You blushed slightly, the warmth of his touch still lingering.

However, for all his flirting and easy smiles, his eyes were cold and hard.

He turned to face your classmates, and you heard a few frightened gasps as he trained his steely eyes on them.

“And, of course, I came to say hello to your dear old classmates. You see, because you were absent yesterday due to the fever you caught from the bucket of cold water balanced precariously on the classroom door, I thought I would pay them a nice little social visit. They were most gracious to receive me, and we had quite a fun chat yesterday. We even played a few games after school in the abandoned park nearby.”

He smiled at the boys adorned in bandages and plasters.

“Things got a little rough, but we all had fun, didn’t we?”

The boys immediately nodded so hard you were half-convinced they were about to give themselves whiplash.

Suo’s smile widened.

“Huh,” you murmured.

That explains a lot.

requests + taglist are open!

[lynsquared]

going stupid on captain levi's cock! ₊˚⊹♡ ⇾ might be ooc (soz), lowk captain kink, p in v, etc

“no one said stop. so keep going.” 

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and onto levi’s bare skin. your thighs were shaking, your pussy aching from the overstimulation as a result of the past two rounds. 

you knew levi had inhuman stamina when it came to everything else, so you weren’t sure what led you to believe that wouldn’t translate to sex. 

his hands were cold and tight where they held your hips, doing nothing but providing an anchor between you and unconsciousness. he wasn’t helping you move at all, simply just digging his nails into your skin to get you going again. 

“i-i can’t,” you whimpered, clenching your muscles to try and obey. “i’m sorry, captain." 

levi scoffed at the use of his official title, a single rut of his hips forcing a cry out of you, the tip of cock hitting places you could never dream of reaching with just your fingers. you’d braced yourself for more, but he stilled– one hand released your hip, going up to grip your jaw and making you look at him through bleary eyes. 

“you can,” his encouragement was strained, his own composure slowly starting to slip the longer he stayed inside of you without moving. “if you can keep up with me out there, you can keep up with me here.” 

he let himself fall back to lean on the wall, watching you expectantly as you panted, thighs shaking as you strained. your legs felt unstable and your brain was practically mush so the second you attempted to start riding him again you only managed to push yourself up not even halfway before you collapsed on his chest. 

you whimpered at the sound of him scoffing, your fingertips digging into the skin of his shoulders while you apologized profusely into his skin. “m’sorry, cap–” 

before you could finish, his hips were rutting up into you, the length piercing through you again and making your stomach bulge out slightly with his movements. you screamed, thanking whatever gods existed that the stone walls did a relatively decent job at containing the noise inside. 

“mmph! shit, captain!” you cried out, gasping as he tugged you closer by your jaw, his composed breath warming your face. your eyes were wide as you stared into his– the slightest bit of desperation masked behind his equanimity.

“stop callin’ me that.”

levi’s grunts blended perfectly with your moans, neither of you breaking eye contact despite the desperate need you had to let them roll to the back of your head. you blinked at him through damp lashes, seeing the slight furrow in his eyebrows whenever you tightened around him.

you could feel his tip just barely graze your soft spot, more tears falling down your cheeks due to the anticipation that he was nearly there. however, when he pulled you into him further, kissing your lips in a confusing rough yet gentle manner, his hips shifted ever so slightly, thrusting into it with such precision that you felt you might pass out. 

your jaw fell slack, forehead pressing into his as a small string drool slipped out the corner of your mouth. “levi! fuck, right there, please don’t stop!”

his hand dropped to slap the plush skin of your ass, letting it rest there while he sped up– his shorter stature irrelevant to his strength. he finally let his restraint slip, head falling back onto the wall while he kept his eyes on you, watching the way your eyes had fallen shut, mind completely gone and solely focused on the pleasure only he could provide you. 

levi couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face– watching one of his strongest members fall apart on him again was truly the sight. 

the slightest ache began to bloom in his legs, the tightening of his muscles not going unnoticed despite the state you were in. your hand came down to his abs, pushing him flush to the mattress while simultaneously using it as support to ride him again. 

he moaned out at the pressure on his stomach, letting himself relax as you retook the reins.

“atta girl, just like that, hm?” he praised, starting to lose himself in you. “gonna cum on me again?”

you nodded rapidly, face warm and words no longer an option. levi scoffed, that lazy smile resting on his face knowing your tells. 

“keep going. you’re doin’ so well.”

note: OMFG I ACTUALLY START TWEAKING EVERY TIME I SEE THIS MAN LIKE MMMMPGHHG anyway... i'm back! academic probation was NAWT fun but i locked in and everything is fine now :) focus rn is clearing out my requests, but i hope this holds everyone over for now <3, lynn

[raesspring]

RIN AUDIO PLEASE PEAS EPLEAS EPELADE OLEADE PLEASE OLEADE

RIN AUDIO

MDNI | smut audio

[draculiette]

rin gets so pathetic when he's overstimulated ♡

rin wasn't willing to let anyone dominate him, period. he's never really understood the appeal of sex toys either, because what was the point of having them? he had you right in front of him. each time you brought it up, he'd confidently disagree and say, "tch. we don't need that shit." surely there's no way they actually felt good.

but now you were straddling his thighs as he lay pliantly on the bed, letting you do whatever you wanted to him. "cocky much? you're trembling, rinnie." you sneer, gently pumping his cock as the silicone buzzed away against his slit. you mercilessly circle the vibrator around his tip, just enough to keep him on edge, but not enough to make him cum. rin didn't dare show his face. "wait—hnn, stop! please.. haah."

you immediately pull the vibrator away, and his body truly betrayed him this time. fuck. this was a complete humiliation ritual. "n-noo—d-don't stop! 's just so much." he whimpers, weakly reaching his hand out to grasp yours. he shyly guides the toy back towards his aching cock. "c-come back, aah.." you swat his hand away, clicking your tongue in dissaproval. "think it's that easy?"

you hid the device behind your back, and rin was utterly broken. "n-no, 'm sorry." he pouts, finally deciding to swallow his pride and face you. god did he look fucking pathetic. "noo! please, 'm begging you, please don't stop." he mewls, looking up with teary-eyes as spit dribbles down his chin. you dangle the toy above his head and watch in amusement as he reaches out to grab it, whining every time it'd slip from his grasp whenever you'd bring it higher.

"use your words and tell me what you want or i'll stop."

it was clear that rin's brain had turned into pure mush with the way he chased after his beloved toy like a dog. "want'chu to make me cum—haah!" he squirms, gripping onto your waist—utterly overstimulated. "speak up. with what?"

"w-with the vibrator—please, please, please, please.. hnnn!" he chants. rin's leaking cock twitches relentlessly, tainted in a shade of angry red. "my poor rinnie." you sigh, finally giving in. you grab his cock, pushing the vibrator against the red tip. his entire body convulsed, the sensations being too much to bare as he bucks his hips for more. "still think you don't need this shit?" you cruelly squeezed the base of his shaft, halting his release.

"i do, i do, p-please 'm begging!" he cried. a series of pitiful whimpers left rin's throat as he inched closer and closer towards release. "shh, it's okay, rinnie." you hush, silicone buzzing away against his tip as precum leaks out profusely. "show me your pretty face and i'll let you cum." his glassy eyes met yours in a fleeting moment of desperation. "m'kay.. a-aah!"

"eyes on me now." you loosened your grip on his cock and started stroking it with no warning. rin looked so beautiful maintaining eye contact with the bit of drool leaking out of his mouth. he looked like he'd lost his mind. you grind the device against his cock again, and rin is screaming now. "haah.. 'm cumming, fuck! ah, ah!"

an ungodly amount of filthy cum sputters out of his slit non-stop, staining everything around you. "shh, that's it.. let it allll out." you coo, admiring the way he kept his eyes on you the entire time he came. rin's balls must've been empty by now with the amount of semen that shot out of his poor, overstimulated cock.

he gasps for air once more before collapsing into your arms. "whatever. you win."

a/n for this request !! hopefully i did this prompt some justice

© draculiette ✧ do not copy or repost any of my work

lovely dividers by @leilakittya + @hyuneskkami

[chericos]

the night air was cold—biting, seeping through the layers of your clothing. if not for the fire burning steadily before you, crackling and spitting embers into the dark, you were sure you’d have long perished to the frigid temperatures. of course, you were just being dramatic, but who could blame you? the chill was relentless, clinging to your skin, creeping its way into your bones despite the flickering warmth just a few feet away. what you would give to be peacefully resting in your bed back at the base. (you’d give anything).

yet, nothing ever seemed to go your way. not when xeno had casually informed you of your impromptu trip to collect data on the group—boat? colony? whatever they were—that had decided to take refuge on your lands.

with a quiet sigh, you tore your gaze away from the dancing flames, their golden glow casting fleeting shadows across the ground, and instead, let your eyes settle on something—or rather, someone—far more captivating.

stanley.

the glow of the fire painted him in hues of amber and burnt orange, accentuating the sharp cut of his jaw, emphasizing the intensity of his amber eyes, the way they seemed to gaze into your very soul. you peer down to his lips, the faintest smirk seemed to permanently linger at their edge. a cigarette burned between his fingers, the glowing ember pulsing each time he took a slow, measured drag. the smoke curled around him like a specter, twisting into the cold air before vanishing into the dark.

there was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved—deliberate, calculated, never a motion wasted. even in something as simple as smoking, there was precision, an ease that came with routine. his golden eyes, always sharp, flicked toward you, catching you in the act of watching him.

the smirk on his face deepened. “see something you like?” he drawled, voice low, almost seductive.

you groan, rolling your eyes, feigning disinterest. you tear your gaze away to look at the vast forest where you both have set up camp, trying to distract yourself. his amusement was palpable, something knowing glinting in his gaze as he took another slow inhale of his cigarette, the ember burning hot against the dark.

with a lazy exhale, he let the smoke slip past his lips in a slow, curling stream. you caught it out of the corner of your eye, doing your best not to make it obvious that you were staring again.

“wanna try something?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

you quirked a brow. “depends.”

“breathe in,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hesitated for a second, your eyes locking with his. you wanted to say something, to dignify his question with a response, but your brain was so scattered, your thoughts clouded by the warmth of his touch, that you couldn’t seem to think straight. so with no other choice, you nod wordlessly.

then, without warning, he exhaled—warm, slow, the smoke slipping past his lips and into yours, invading your lungs with the intoxicating mix of nicotine and something unmistakably him. your heart stuttered, the heat of his breath chasing away the biting cold you were feeling just minutes prior as you inhaled, letting the sensation settle deep before slowly releasing it into the space between you.

stanley leaned back just slightly, his amber eyes studying you through half-lidded lashes, smirking. “not bad,” he muttered, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. the ember flared again as he took another drag, watching you over the rim of his fingers. “think you can handle another?”

you swallowed, trying to steady your racing heartbeat. it was a challenge. a tease.

and damn it, you were tempted to say yes.

but before you could respond, stanley moved in again, his hand still beneath your chin, pulling you closer, just enough that your lips brushed against his—soft and fleeting. the taste of smoke clung to him, the heat of his kiss stealing the air from your lungs. the world around you seemed to vanish for a moment, and you knew that you were completely, irrevocably consumed by him. when he finally pulled back, there was no teasing glint in his eyes—only an intense, searching look.

he didn’t say anything. and neither did you.

the night stretched on in a haze, the fire still flickering, the smoke drifting lazily into the air, and you both left in that unspoken tension, uncertain where the evening would go, but knowing that whatever happened next... neither of you were in a hurry to leave.

fuck my stupid baka life (reference for bae[ @lo1itado11 ], aka the one who got me to write this)

cooked this up QUICK, on nothing but a random "hey, i've never seen a stanley shotgunning fic" and a dream.

is this my formal introduction to the dr stone fandom? i like it here!

@ CHERICOS 2025 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[kaiser1ns]

It wasn’t every day when the atmosphere on Furin’s rooftop was rather intense with Togame Jo and Endo Yamato locking arms, their muscles straining against each other. You didn’t know why they were arm wrestling, but the energy between the two boys felt too personal for a casual competition. Umemiya, Tomiyama, and Takiishi stood behind you watching this unexpected brawl against Shishitoren and Noroshi’s mad dogs.

Their eyes were locked, each determined to prove their strength. Endo gritted his teeth, pulling Togame’s arm closer to the table. Victory was within his grasp the way something had distracted Shishitoren’s second in command. He glanced at you, and how you smiled at something Umemiya had said to make you laugh. Ah, that pretty smile of yours. 

“Eyes here, not on the prize,” Endo muttered, smirking at Togame who seemed unfocused. But it wasn’t the arm wrestling he wanted to win. He was aiming for something more, something that involved only you. Green eyes narrowed and a sly smile appeared. “No need for that,” he replied, and with a sudden burst of strength, he slammed the tattooed hand down to the table. The veins in his arms bulged, and his victory was clear. He smiled sweetly at Endo, behind that expression was hiding the mockery and it was impossible to miss.

“Looks like I’ll be taking the prize,” he added and you blinked in confusion, not understanding what he meant, but before you could ask, Tomiyama leaped into the air with excitement. “Kame-chan won!” he shouted, back to his usual cheerful self as he started to jump around you. Then, suddenly, Togame grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the exit. Your eyes widened in surprise as he led you away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Endo, who rolled his eyes in defeat.

Silence fell as the two of you left the group. Umemiya scratched his head, sensing the awkward tension. “Well then…BBQ party for the effort?” he suggested and the other nodded, but Endo’s gaze lingered where you had disappeared. One day, he promised himself, he’d take you out too—far away from arm wrestling, and far away from someone named Togame Jo.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[tata-is-the-name]

YES, TOGAME AND ENDO---😩😩😩 This shii would get me giggling so hard if they fought for me too---😩😩😩

[sweetpeachisms]

pro-hero! shoto todoroki who's the epitome of a young girl's dream, until he's behind closed doors with you. ↳ 0.7k (edited to fix errors) ↳ cw: established relationship (marriage), fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, implied marking, multiple positions & rounds, cum stuffing if you squint, implied quirk use

🍑 masterlist | 🍒 ꒰ cross-posted on @/springismss ꒱

Pro-hero Shoto, who’s the epitome of a man you’d be honoured to introduce your parents to. Someone who’s not only cool and collected, but the definition of a gentleman in everything he does.

If only the rest of society knew what he was really like behind closed doors when alone with you.

“Hah, Sho, please”. Your fingers threaded through his dual-coloured hair as you tried to anchor yourself to something, the feeling in your gut slowly starting to creep through your body, like electric sparks crackling from the tips of your fingers.

The long fingers that stretch your already wet cunt make your eyes roll. His tongue and lips tend to your swollen and overly sensitive clit like a man deprived of the sweetest substance known to man.

Heterochromia eyes that watch the way you squirm with a glint of pride as he feels your walls pulsate, your euphoria only moments away. “That’s it, princess, shit, Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my fingers like they’re my cock”.

Those same fingers tap at the spongy spot deep inside as your back arches, a broken cry of his name falling from your lips as you shake, your nth orgasm of the night crashing through you.

Whose strong arms manoeuvre you with ease as he pulls you into position once he’s climbed on the bed beside you. Who helps lift you up before bringing you down, sheathing his cock in your still fluttering cunt. “Fuck, princess, you’re squeezing my cock like you’re never going to see me again”.

Who wastes no time wrapping his arms around your waist, snapping his hips up into you at inhumane speed as wet sloshing noises gain volume. “Listen to that baby, your pussy's so wet, just for me”.

Bated breaths and drawn-out moans, marks of red that litter milky, glowing skin. He looked handsome to you at the best of times, but he looked ethereal during moments like this. “My pretty little wife, going to fill you so full”. “Fuck, Sho, need to feel so full”.

Who pulls you in every position imaginable with such ease, it should scare you. Who suckles in your tits, nipples rolled between teeth and tongue as you push your chest out further, folding into the pleasure you can feel. Who likes to bite, suck and mark inches of your skin until all he can see is him.

Who, when all is said and done, pulls you into the lotus position as he holds you close, tilting your head as he gazes into your eyes. Who kisses you passionately as he helps guide your hips, rutting up into you as he feels the walls of your pussy pulsate. Breaking the kiss to smile softly. “Shit, baby, squeezing my cock so good. Fuck, gonna fill you so full of me”. “Please, hah, need to be dripping your cum for days, Sho”.

Strong thrusts that come to a sudden halt as you feel the cock deep within you twitch, heat flooding through your pussy and into your very being. Whimpers of need sounding as you grip onto him, arms wrapped around his neck as you both pant.

Who uses the endurance training he had to his advantage, needing very little downtime between rounds, making sure to plug your cunt to stop any of his seed from slipping out. Who loves the feeling of being the only one to have ever claimed you in such a way, no other man will ever stuff you like he does.

Shoto Todoroki, the number two hero, who’s the epitome of every young girl's dream man, the one who they’d want to take back home with them.

Shoto Todoroki, who’s also insatiable when it comes to you. Who loves to draw out whimpers and moans, broken cries of his name as he pumps you full of his seed until you think you’re going to burst. Who likes to grin wickedly as you squirm but soothes you with his deep voice when he’s taking care of you after pound town.

Who not only uses his quirk to save people, to help those in need, but also uses it when he’s dicking you down in bed. Who proves that you can look like he does, and be a completely different person behind closed doors.

© sweetpeachisms - do not steal, copy, plagiarise, repost, or translate ❀˖°

[rosesforshoto]

everything you need

todoroki shoto x reader ᢉ𐭩 length: 10.3k ᢉ𐭩 AO3

It happened to be today when it truly hit Shoto: this undeniable greed for your love and attention, to need you by his side. The feeling was insatiable. He wanted you to rely on him—to need him, for him to show you how he could give you everything you deserved and more.

content/warnings ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, softdom!shoto, yandere-adjacent!shoto, newly established relationship, smut, pwp, switches pov, obsessive & possessive behavior, fingering, slight thigh humping, vaginal sex, oral sex both m & f receiving, dirty talk, praising/praise kink, size kink if you squint, voice kink, overstimulation, missionary, mating press, creampie, multiple orgasms, very slight undertones of manipulation, pet names

a/n ᢉ𐭩 birthday fic for sho even tho his birthday passed and the birthday theme isn’t really prevalent here LOL i felt depraved writing this and need him bad

Shuddering breaths leave your lips, soundlessly, teeth gnashing onto the poor flesh as you struggle to muffle your pants. Clouds fill your hazy mind as you throw your head back against his sturdy chest, desire burning low in your gut, shaky palms gripping onto strong forearms that spread you open. Wide open, as you teeter on the edge of control that threatens to slip.

It’s an extremely fragile edge. But one that takes two to nudge—one that tests you, more so than him.

And perhaps that’s why it’s unfair, because he knows you. He’s quietly observant and unsuspectingly relentless. Knows just how much to give and how much to take. Knows how much to corner you so that you’ll hold on to him, reveling when it works.

How unfair.

A voice filters in from your phone speaker, layering static on top of drunken slurs that you can’t bother to decipher—that you are unable to decipher. Especially not with Shoto’s large hand palming your clit, grinding firm and slow circles against it. Heat met with heat.

“Are you going to answer him?” Shoto murmurs lowly into your ear. Words that wave off the clouds in your brain for one second before they muddle again when he teases a finger against your slit. 

It’s a featherlight breach in comparison to the rest of him, and it wrecks you that this is only the beginning. That, despite him having barely done anything, your arousal already gathers heavily onto the pad of his finger. Undeniably wet. Sticky.

You remember he asked a question, and your whispers come out choked. Tight. “I- I don’t know what he’s saying—” Shoto pushes one thick finger in, smooth, sliding steadily along your walls that clench tight around the single digit. A whimper nearly breaks out before you clamp your mouth shut, the feeling of his knuckle cool stone against your entrance. 

This feels wrong. Wildly inappropriate as Kaminari mumbles to himself across the line. But it seems to barely affect Shoto as his only response is to tighten his arm around your squirming waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as he pries you open on his lap.

Two forgotten wine glasses sit on the table, barely touched. The aftermath of the party was strewn around the house: cups and stray chairs littering everywhere, a half-eaten cake on the kitchen counter, the space worn with the familiar echo of friends. 

All background to what’s playing out obscenely on the living room couch.

“Would you like my help?” he asks. A little too sweetly, as if he weren’t the reason for your fog-filled mind.

You hurriedly nod, though not entirely comprehending what he’s saying, teeth biting harsher into your lip when he slips another finger inside.

Shoto rests the side of his head against yours, red strands of hair peeking into your vision. He speaks—a low sound. A deep rumble that reverberates through your limbs, and you’re scared that you might cum from his voice alone.

You probably can. His effect on you is just that powerful.

“Tell him to go home,” he whispers into your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. Less of a suggestion and more like a command.

It comes out immediately, strained. Straight to the point. “Kaminari. Go home.”

“You’ll give it to him tomorrow,” Shoto murmurs, pumping in and out of you. Steady, strong strokes that leave you breathless, that have you wondering how he can make you feel so full with two mere fingers. Until he stills, reminding you generously, “His jacket.”

You gasp out, fighting to keep your composure, if only through your stuttering voice. “I’ll- I’ll come by tomorrow. I’ll stop by. To give you your- your jacket.”

Kaminari whines, high-pitched and noisy and clearly intoxicated. “But ‘m still nearby. We all turned back already and ‘ts cold.”

“Try again, sweetheart,” Shoto urges you.

Which makes you breathe out hotly, heart racing in your chest, words tumbling out fast. “Just go home, Kaminari. It’s late, a-and dark, and I’m tired. Sho’s tired. We’re practically—”

Shoto suddenly curls his fingers upwards, grazing a sensitive spot inside. You jerk against his hold, pinching your eyes shut, trying to dull the warmth webbing from your core.

The rest out comes weakly. “—practically in b-bed already…”

Practically.

Past the squelching of his fingers leaving and entering you, rustling can be heard from over the phone. You hear voices—people who are completely oblivious as to what’s transpiring on the other end of the line. Worried mumbles, loud complaints, whines, arguing and yelling over who knows what.

You feel Shoto smile against your temple.

Then finally, you hear your friend’s voice again, crackling like electricity in the already charged air. “Alrigh ‘right. We’ll sswing by t’morrow then. Hey, kiss ‘Roki g’night for me, won’t cha?”

An I will means to come out. It really does. But Shoto relentlessly starts his pace again, thrusting in with more force, pressing the heel of his palm onto your clit, and his other hand makes it just in time to wrap around your mouth as a moan helplessly erupts from you.

The span of his hand easily covers half your face, hushing the delicate sounds meant for his ears only.

You squeeze your eyes tight as he works you. Aloof, careful, serious; all words people would describe him. If only they also knew how shameless he could be, shamelessly unworried as he finger-fucks his lover whilst on the phone with his dear friends.

“—oh!” Mina’s voice. At least, you think it is. “And tell him happy birthday for us again! We hope he had a lot of fun tonight!”

Shoto doesn’t move from his position, though he raises his head just slightly. His thrusts are rapid now, but his voice is steady, unassuming. Dare you say it, amused. “Thank you, Mina. I will.”

Three consecutive beeps ring out, signaling the end of the phone call. By the third chime, Shoto’s hold on you releases immediately, hand unwinding from your face, digits quickly pulling out stickily. Almost too fast for you to process, if not for the instant cold washing over you.

You whip around on his lap, glaring up at him with flushed need, pants leaving your lips erratically. Your eyes ask him what you can’t seem to say. Anger and embarrassment masking plead.

What’s wrong with you? Why did you do that?

And why did you stop? 

Shoto tilts his head to the side, and you know, you just know he understands.

“You were going to come.” He states it as a fact because it is.

So, why did you stop? The words were on the tip of your tongue but unescaping. Instead, your fist lifts to thump weakly against his broad chest. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He never does because it’s not an action meant to push.

“We have a long night ahead of us,” is all he says, eyes patient, but darkening by the second.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

You don’t nod, nor shake your head, but prickling anticipation boils in the pit of your gut. He says this as if he knows what’s best for you. And you can’t deny the flutter in your stomach at his unwavering confidence, at his own self-trust that he knows exactly what you need and how to give it.

At your silence, Shoto grabs your frozen fist against him, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. Reverent and appreciative, how one treats something they love. Desire scorches into your bones at the sight, heart beating wildly in your chest.

And his voice clings to you, sticks to you like honey:

“Here. Why don’t I show you?”

Shoto would never deny how smitten he is with you. In fact, he knows it hit him very early on in the relationship: this all-consuming love he felt for you, this desire to be by your side, this greed to be the recipient of your attention at all times. 

You came into his life like a flurry of flames—became the center of his world, and if there’s one thing he can ever be confident of, it's that he could provide you with everything you needed and more.

If only you’d let him.

Perhaps it’s because you two have been dating for only half a year now, or maybe it's because he was high-profile in the hero world, but you still had this air of courtesy surrounding you. A distance that kept him from veering too close, a wall that shot up in favor of “taking the relationship slow.”

Shoto was desperate to break it down.

And the truth is, he wanted you to rely on him. To need him. Because while he admired your strength and independence, you didn’t need to be when he’s around. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger or ever deny yourself anything, because he’d do it for you. You only had to say the words.

But Shoto knew you were too headstrong for that, too cautious. And so, he was careful. Careful to scatter his love in ways that you’d accept it, careful not to be too forceful. He should’ve known it’d backfire on him—his patience, on his birthday of all days.

January 11th, the day was spent walking around the winter-chilled city. A date meticulously planned and led by none other than you. He thought it was cute, adorable really, with how insistent you were to celebrate his special day, perhaps even more excited than he was.

It was going great. You were attentive—practically doting on him, ensuring he was having a fun time. Giddy by his side. But more importantly, you were open: lenient when he talked about future birthdays as if he was certain you were going to be there, willing when he prodded about bits of your life that you’ve always been hesitant to share. Perhaps it was the birthday luck everyone spoke so highly of.

Perfect—it was going perfectly. That is, until an unwelcoming encounter with an old friend stopped you in your tracks. Shoto had narrowed his eyes at the sight: your childhood neighbor who graciously interrupted him on the streets with a loud yell and a too-familiar call of your name, your eyes lighting up in response to the unexpected reunion.

Shoto was silent throughout the entire interaction, save for when he introduced himself stiffly behind you. It displeased him further when the man barely acknowledged him, when he excitedly babbled about how things were going well back at home, and that everyone missed you. And his heart stopped when he heard the conversation unfold before his very eyes:

“It was nice seeing you. I was actually curious about how everyone was doing back home. It does make me miss it.”

It did?

Your friend smiled, an action that had Shoto seething inside, even more so at the faint blush reddening the man’s cheeks. It made his blood boil.  “You should move back home. Like I said, everyone misses you.”

“Ah. Yeah… maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Shoto reeled then. Not physically, but inside, his mind was racing. Were you just being polite? Or did you actually mean your words? Were you actually thinking of moving back home?

Were you going to leave him?

Shoto felt his world nearly crumble then and there.

But after your friend left, you looked at him with such a warm and beautiful smile on your face. A sight that never fails to make him want to keep you all to himself, a sacred treasure. He was deathly quiet when you pulled him along to the next planned destination, thinking—reflecting, unable to help himself when he asked:

“You’re moving back home?”

Your head whipped up to him, eyes wide, a little shocked. “Huh? Oh… No… I was just saying what I think he wanted to hear.” You didn’t offer any other explanation, but Shoto saw it, that crack of hesitation in your expression. After all, he studied you well, seared every emotion and reaction you exhibited safely away in his mind. He could tell, in a heartbeat, that you had some reservations, though he didn’t know exactly what.

Then again, it was undeniable: Shoto is smitten with you—he loves you. So, in that split second, he decided he wouldn’t be upset or angry with you. He couldn’t be.

He just had to make you see it, what he could give you.

The day continued with that notion solely on his mind, through all the birthday festivities you had planned and the warmth you basked him in. It didn’t stop when you two made it back to his place, for a chorus of Surprise! welcomed him at the threshold of his door—the presence of all his loved ones there, courtesy of you.

He was indeed surprised. Not so much because of you, that you would think to plan something like this; it was telling of your character, of how much care you put into things. It thrills him, to be the one you think so methodically of. It almost makes him forget that you hesitated.

Shoto was more surprised at seeing his family whom he couldn’t visit often due to work, and at his friends who embarked on paths different from his. It was pleasant to catch up with them, since he hadn’t seen them for a while. And that should’ve been the first sign.

If they haven’t seen him all that much, then they haven’t seen you. And for most, it was their first time officially meeting you. So, as much as everybody wanted to be with the birthday boy, they just as much wanted to be with and get to know his new beloved. 

You are easily lovable, and loved by many; it’s one of your charms. He sees that. He understands why, even if all he was itching for was you to be by his side. The timing couldn’t have been worse, the culmination of everything built up today that made this wretched spear of possessiveness stab him at the throat. That dug with each passing second.

At first, it was five minutes. Iida had pulled you away briefly, leaving him to chat with Fuyumi and Natsuo. Shoto was admittedly confused, on edge and alarmed. He counted down the minutes, listening aimlessly to their rambling, until you came back, waving off how Iida was fussing over proper first introductions.

The sense of relief that hit him was immense, a hefty arm gently wrapping around your hip that tugged you back to his side. He ignored the mildly interested looks of his siblings, just focusing on the fact that you were near him again.

Then, it was twenty-four minutes, give or take thirty seconds. Uraraka came up to you, cheeks redder than usual from the alcohol, and promptly tugged you to the other side of the room. Girl time, she said. It was frustrating because you were still in sight. So close but out of reach, laughing and spreading your love to those around you.

Shining like the bright star you were, giving undivided attention to those who craved it. 

Oh, how he longed to take you back. He would’ve, if not for Kaminari holding him hostage.

Shoto can blame it on his birthday all he wants, perhaps use the idea that your world should revolve around him on his special day. But he would be lying to himself. It just happened to be on his birthday when it truly hit him: the insatiable need to swallow you up whole. To be the center of your universe and simultaneously lead you through it at the same time.

He knew he was greedy, but he couldn’t care less.

Eventually, you came back, only to be whisked away again. And this time, it was an hour, two minutes, and thirteen seconds.

By then, Shoto was undoubtedly irritated.

Because this time. This time, you don’t make your way back to him. Mina excitedly decides to ask for your life story. Midoriya catches you in the midst of his tangents. Bakugo, for some reason, was insistent on hearing your thoughts on the birthday cake he so graciously made. And pulls you into a debate on the right amount of sweetness in pastries.

It’s not your fault.

That is, until he managed to grab you for forty-two seconds, before someone snagged you again. His hand latched onto your hip firmly, messily, a little roughly, and that’s when he felt it. Slipped underneath your shirt, the texture of familiar lace he’s seen paired with your supple skin in the heat of the night.

His eyes widened just slightly; he could even feel the blood pumping through his body.

Because you understand him well, if the knowing smile you gave him was anything. Then there you were, ushered away again like Cinderella at midnight, throwing a gaze with twinkling eyes behind your shoulder. Mouthing the words: your gift.

He barely saw you for the rest of the night. (Three hours and thirty-six minutes)

No. He was just able to get his hands on you when the last person trickled out. Yellow-haired and with one less jacket than he came with. Shoto was already by your side before the door shut with a resounding click.

“Did you have fun?” you had asked him, sweetly.

His response was instant, “Thank you for planning this for me. It was nice seeing everybody.”

Then you chuckled lightly, sighing when his hands molded to your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I had fun,” Shoto affirmed. Then looked down with honest affection, tinged with something dark. “I admit, it’s more fun now that I have your attention again.”

You laughed, raising your arms to rest on his shoulders, wrists crossing behind his neck. “What do you mean? I’ve been paying attention.”

“No.”

His simple statement made you laugh harder, vibrating against his body. The corner of his lips lifted at the sound, as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

The words came out breathlessly, a forever-standing devotion. Then,

“It slips my mind at times. The reminder that other people will want to love what I love.”

You smiled cheesily, knowingly. But he can’t imagine that you can truly fathom how he really feels. “Are you jealous, Shoto?”

“It’s my birthday,” he stated back, half-heartedly, childishly. You gazed into his eyes, crinkles forming around your own.

“I want you,” he said lowly.

Not just on my birthday, but forever. I want your eyes only on me. I wish to be the center of your world, like how you are in mine.

Shoto didn’t say any of this. Instead, he lets you grasp his hands. Lets you lead them underneath your shirt, and feel the lace that’s been tempting him all night. His gift for him, or so you said.

I want to see how I affect you. I want to see you fall apart for me. I want you to rely on me. To want me. To need me. I want to show you how I can give you everything you deserve and more, that there will never be a reason for you to leave.

Shoto still didn’t say any of this, but his hands roamed. At the back of his mind, he didn’t want to scare you with his obsession. So he starts with this:

“Let me take care of you.”

Without a doubt, these were odd words to be coming from the birthday boy. But if birthdays were to revolve around his world, and you were his world, it made sense. And there is no other gift in the universe that would be greater than you.

A call vibrated from the couch when he crashed his lips onto yours, sealing the deal.

Shoto’s lips chase after you. It’s invigorating, the way they melt into yours, over and over and over again. He cradles your cheeks, trapping your head still as he moves you backwards. One step after another until the back of your knees hit the bed, and your hands instinctively clutch onto his chest.

But he keeps moving forward, his tongue dancing with yours in fervor. You pull back to take a breath, deprived of oxygen, but he keeps pushing, swallowing your yelp as you fall backwards. Big hands that help your body move upwards on the mattress, his lips never disconnecting from yours.

When you finally settle on the cushy mattress, you push against his chest again, breaking away from the kiss. “Sho– I can’t breathe–”

Shoto’s head darts underneath your chin, sucking on the spot he knows sends you into a frenzy. You whimper at the sensation, heart jumping when you feel the harsh latch of his lips. He sucks, licks, bites, devours.

Your body arches into him, squirming. Tingling with want, with need. He’s relentless, marking your neck feverishly while his hands come up to play with your nipples, brushing the pad of his thumbs against the peaks.

You jolt, sensitive from his touch everywhere. He wastes no part of him: tongue licking all over your skin, fingers tweaking the hard buds over your shirt, meaty thigh grinding into your clothed core. You bite your lip, trying to contain the moans from rolling out, but a harsh bite makes you gasp.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against your neck, in between licks. “Don’t hold back. Not right now.”

Hands make their way into his hair, tugging at the red and white strands. Pushing and pulling because you can’t decide if it’s too much or not enough.

Shoto doesn’t give you a choice. 

Warmth wells in your belly again. Familiar and telling. He must know, with the way you yank on his hair, and the tender smile you feel against your skin sends you into a high.

(He loves how compliant your body is with him. How reactive you are. How you never fail to respond to his touch.

He wonders how many he can coax out of you tonight.)

“Sho. Please, please—”

“Yes?” His thigh presses harder against you, firm and unyielding. You grind your hips up, moving in rhythm with him. He helps your movements, grabbing a handful of your ass as it rolls up.

The friction is delicious. Muscles trained with years of hero work so strong and hard against your core.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

He’s shameless because he knows you can, and you do, with a drawn-out moan, head buzzing, chasing after the high denied from you on the couch. Not a second later, he peels your clothes off, taking his time. It’s almost embarrassing, just how easy your body succumbs to him. Clothes on and all. Bare thighs sticking to the wet fabric in between your legs.

When you’re left in the lingerie you wore for him, his breath hitches. Marveled under his gaze.

What you would give to know what’s running through his head right now. 

Shoto kisses your forehead, breaths hot against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers while his hands roam your shoulders. Leaving a trail of fire as he goes down to the swell of your breasts, fondling, before tracing your hips and thighs. 

As if he can’t get enough of you. 

You tremble underneath his caresses.

And slowly, he pulls the lace off, running over the sliver he felt earlier just to lift it off your body. He kisses your naked breasts—one by one, as he pulls your panties, wrecked from your orgasm, down your legs. 

Then, he shifts, rising up before settling in between your legs, hooking the backs of your knees over his shoulders. Your eyes widen as he stares at your glistening folds, his gaze of wet stone and sea glass purposeful.

He looks up, and you nearly flinch at the raw intensity in them.

It makes you almost laugh. With the way he’s treating you, doting on you. You question whose birthday it is, really.

And without warning, without so much as a word, he dives into your heat like a starved man. One long strike of a lick that has your hips bucking up, hands immediately flying to his shoulders. 

“Wait!” you gasp. “It’s too much, just wait—”

Shoto doesn’t wait, tongue heavy against your folds, lapping at everything you have to offer and more. Your toes curl at the sensation, chest rising with deep breaths as he explores the bundle of nerves the way a lover does.

He knows what you like, what you prefer. Practiced precision of using the plane of his whole tongue on your slit before dipping shallowly inside. Alternating between licks and deep sucks that make you reel in return.

It’s obscene, hearing him gulp from between your legs. Eyes closed in focus, savoring your taste. 

Your thighs clamp around his head, unable to handle it all. But strong arms wrap around them, under and over, effectively holding them apart and giving you something to ground yourself with. To be able to push and squirm freely without losing the feeling of his tongue, his mouth that lets you both hear and feel his love.

It’s euphoria.

(Shoto couldn’t feel more delighted. He doesn’t think it can get better than this. The feel of your hands tugging at his hair. Pulling just to push his head down again when he purposefully slows down. Your moans that carry into the air, echoing his name.

This is good. Perfect. He wants you to want him, to never get enough.

It makes a smile stretch across his face. And he feels like a madman when he breathlessly chuckles into your warmth.)

You twitch at the sensation, feeling the curl of his lips and a stuttering breath against your heat.

“Are you l-laughing…?” you breathlessly ask,  shocked. He answers with another deep suck, effectively distracting you with ease as you keen.

(Because to him, he’s not trying to mock you, or be condescending. He simply just loves to see you in pleasure, to see you feel good. Loved. Because of him. Because he knows you; mind, body, and soul.)

Moonlight swimming with city lights filter in from the window, bathing you in an angelic glow, contouring all your dips and curves. You look beautiful. Other worldly with your eyes screwed tight, body shaking in intervals, chanting his name with your head thrown back.

Shoto grinds his bulge into the mattress, unable to help himself. Oh, how he can’t wait to sink inside you, to feel your warm and welcoming heat around his cock—

“S-Sho..!”

Your eyes shoot open when he pulls back just slightly, whipping your head down. For a second, you’re taken aback at the sight: your slick glistening on his mouth and chin, his tousled hair, eyes that burn and freeze you at the same time.

He captivates you in his gaze. A devastatingly handsome face that speaks in an equally as devastatingly low voice.

“Do you want to come?”

His voice sends butterflies into your stomach and you nod, shyly, hands tugging on his hair to urge him back. But he doesn’t move.

“Tell me. What would you like me to do?”

Your heart stutters at the question, lips forming into a pout. Because he knows. He knows what you want. He always does. So why—

“I want to hear you say it.”

Again, less of a suggestion and more like a command. He’s good at that, phrasing his words simply, with his tone making you question yourself. It implies something completely different; leading—guiding you the way he wants.

You huff out a shaky breath, stunned at what he’s trying to play at, with your slick covering his face so filthily.

“Shoto…” you whine, nudging him with the heel of your foot. But he is nothing if not unyielding in his desires. He only offers kitten licks to your entrance, teasing, but far from enough.

“Say it for me. Let me hear you.”

With eyebrows furrowed, you stomp down the feeling of embarrassment threatening to take over. You’re not used to saying what you want out loud, at least not explicitly. But he looks at you with private earnestness, an emotion you can’t quite understand.

“I want you to keep going…”

Shoto’s eyes saturate with desire, darkening by the second. 

You hesitate again, so incredibly shy under his heated gaze. Hard stone and freezing waters. You almost don’t want to say it, don’t want to admit how much you want him.

“I- I want you to make me cum,” you whisper, cheeks burning hot. “Please make me cum.”

And with that, Shoto wordlessly continues, neither approving nor disapproving. One hand unfurls from your thigh before stuffing you full with three fingers at once. A moan rips from your throat, hips lifting high but a big hand effectively presses you down by your stomach. His digits stretch you, preparing you for what’s to come so deliciously.

You feel the warmth in your belly rising again. Strong. His fingers don’t pump, don’t thrust. Only the pressure of them deep inside and the pads of his fingers pressing firmly into that same sensitive spot. That, paired with his hot tongue attacking your clit, swirling and flicking, sends you into orbit.

Your body thrashes, your orgasm hitting stronger than the last. He easily keeps your body pinned to the mattress, curling his fingers just slightly more to make you gush. A sob releases from your chest when his fingers leave you, right before his mouth fully covers your opening and he sucks sloppily, as if he couldn’t waste a single drop. 

Gradually, the tension in your limbs eases, chest rising and falling heavily. Shoto gives you one last lick—a gentle one, before he pulls off of you, breathing just as deeply as he licks his lips, eyes pinned on your spent figure.

He’s never eaten you out like that before. As if you were water in a desert, his last meal on earth. It both confuses and rouses you beyond belief.

And he’s still clothed.

As if Shoto read your mind, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, panting—steam billowing out the corners of his lips. And you can’t stop staring: him on his knees, one princely hand working his way through the buttons, staring down at you as if you’re the only thing that ever mattered.

It drives you crazy. He drives you crazy. Since when did your brain think of just him, him, and him?

With shaky limbs, you heave yourself up, mirroring his position: on your knees in front of him, looking up as he looks down. Shoto doesn’t say anything, barely moves a muscle. Simply watching you as he lets you pull his shirt open, sliding the sturdy fabric off his body.

His bare torso greets you. Muscular, pale, and scarred with battles. You’ve seen pictures of him when he was younger, and he’s grown larger—bigger over the years. Still with his princely charm, but more fit, a fullness to him that makes your mouth water. 

You marvel at him, roaming your hands across the plane of his chest. Delighted at him twitching underneath your palms, the slight intake of his breath.

So handsome, big, strong. And all yours.

Your hands travel: up and down his arms, his shoulders, his waist, and to his stomach. Obsessed with the way hard muscles and scars span across his body. They show years of discipline and hard work; they tell stories. Stories of the man in front of you who looks at you with so much devotion, it should scare you.

It doesn’t. Because you’re quickly seeing that same devotion reflecting back at you in his glassy eyes. 

Slowly, you pull at his waistband, the air shifting its intimacy and tenderness to include lust again. Something raw and scarily intense. You unbutton his pants, unzip his zipper, and look up at him, with thumbs that skim his skin just above his trousers. Goosebumps rise after its trail.

You wonder exactly what type of look you give him—what he sees in his eyes, because he gives in immediately. Wordlessly strips himself out of his pants before kneeling in front of you again, tender hands that snake up your arms.

Shoto gently pushes your shoulders, signalling for you to lie down, but you try not to budge, shaking your head. He tilts his own quizzically. 

Because instead, you pull him, and he lets you. Lets you move him how you like. Lets you maneuver his body until his back rests against the headboard, and you make space in between his legs.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

His eyebrows immediately furrow, already rising to get up. “This is not a favor you need to—”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I just…”

Shoto waits, eyes boring heavily into yours. You know that he knows what you want to do, and he’s neither stopping nor urging you.

“I want to make you feel good.”

It’s true.

Shoto pauses for a second, and you question why he’s thinking so astoundingly hard about this. Yes, your relationship was still a little new, but the sex was familiar, even if you had to admit that tonight surprised you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t nod, doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t really give you any decipherable emotion. But your heart skips when he raises a hand to stroke your hair, slow and soft strokes. He then palms the back of your head, drawing you in for a deep kiss. All before releasing you and relaxing against the headboard. 

Liquid gold courses through your veins when his eyes roam up and down your figure, heavy-lidded. His cock stands upright, flushed and swollen and hard. Precum dribbling from the tip and down his length.

You sit on your knees, tucking your legs underneath as you take in the sheer size of him.

He’s so goddamn big. You could never get used to it.

Usually, he would frequently check in on you when you gave him head, during sex in general. Asking if you’re alright, if you want him to take over, that you don’t have to. But he doesn’t say anything now, and it makes you wonder why again. Why, despite being patient and quiet, is there this particular intensity to him? Why was there this unfamiliar push and pull with him tonight?

You find that you chase after him without hesitation, the desperate feeling of wanting to please him coming in full force. It’s addictive, having him look at you with such passion.

Wrapping a hand around his length, you observe him closely, hoping for any reaction while dragging your palm up and down. Starting off with slow, full, firm strokes, just the way he likes it. The only tell he gives is a tick in his jaw, as he watches you with his mouth shut.

Leaning forward, you gather spit in your mouth, dribbling and using it to aid your strokes. Your hand pushes all the up, then all the way down, meeting trimmed red and white hair at the base. You feel his legs tense when you lick the tip, swipes of your tongue that allow you to taste the salt of his precum. Then finally, the whole of his swollen head.

Shoto’s fists clench at his sides, the sheets peeking in between his taut fingers. 

(He wanted to keep going—to keep tasting you with his mouth or fill you with his aching cock. Wanted to bring you to another orgasm. But the look you carelessly threw his way stumped him.

In between the desire-saturated eyes and the pleading pout on your lips, he found elation. And he guessed this worked too. Another way to fill your mind with just him, to be the center of your world. Because if wanting to please him showed you needed him, he’d let you.)

You stretch your mouth around him. He’s girthy, and big. What you can’t fit in your mouth, you cover with your hands, the mix of his spit and precum enabling the twists of your wrists. You move up, then down; hollowing out your cheeks, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds are obscene: the slurps of his cock entering and leaving your mouth, the gulps that follow when you reach the top, the near gag when he hits the back of your throat.

Shoto doesn’t rush you.

So you become more desperate. Because how is it that he barely has any reaction? Usually, he’d be helping you, wiping away your tears when they leak out, telling you to take breaks. But he does none of it. And it’s only when you notice his iron-grip on the sheets that it shows just how much he’s holding back.

Why is that?

Your hands venture on their own, finding his—grabbing them with his cock still in your mouth and pushing them into your hair. Letting him know that it’s okay to do so. Telling him wordlessly, I want to please you.

Let me.

And Shoto watches. Observes. Hopes that you don’t look up with your tear-rimmed eyes. For if you did, you would’ve seen the smallest flick of a smirk gracing his face. His hands tangle into the tresses of your hair, firm, but gentle in a way that he ensures it’s a clean hold.

And he pushes down.

His eyes had widened when you took his hands to place them on your head, how hard you gripped them into your hair in hopes that he’d do the same. It filled him with exhilaration: seeing you try so hard, seeing you perk up with the pressure of his hands on your head. The rise of emotions rivaled the sensation of your mouth taking him whole.

Shoto loves to see you indulge yourself, even if it is in this way.

So, he pushes more. And not in hopes of making you gag, but because he can see the way you rub your thighs together when his grip tightens, desperate for relief. It surprises him for a second, right before a thought forms in his mind, one that makes his chest swell with curiosity and molten lava heat.

“You’re so good for me,” he praises you lowly, cock twitching when you stutter around his length. He watches your eyes promptly fly up to his. Shocked, but eager.

Shoto’s throat is so dry that it hurts to swallow, but he fights through the desert in his mouth.

“It’s what you wanted, right? To make me feel good?” he rasps out, jaw aching from how hard he clenches it. “You’re doing so well for me, so pretty when you suck my cock.”

The words feel foreign on his tongue; he was never one to be talkative during sex. But his mind buzzes when he sees the effect it has on you. You squirm, thighs pressing impossibly close together. So tightly that he nearly wants to wrench you off of him, just so you can get that relief you so desperately need. For him to be the one to give it.

Shoto leans down closer to your ear, holding back a groan when your pace wavers and your hands either grip him too tightly or too loosely. Then, it all tumbles from his lips, honey velvet:

Keep going. Good girl.

Yeah, just like that. There you go. I know it’s big.

You make me feel so good. So, so good.

There, that’s it. God, I could just—

Shoto barely recognizes what he’s saying, only spewing whatever comes to mind. It’s intoxicating, finding that it encourages you. Bobbing your head up and down faster, slurps that become louder, deeper, messier. 

And it feels incredible, truly. It always does. But he can’t help but marvel more at the way your legs twitch from underneath you, jolting when the friction grazes closer to where you need it to. An odd thrill mixed with fascination swirls inside him when he realizes the effect his words have on you. Or rather—

“You like my voice,” he states it as a fact. He knows it is now. Your face turns bashful, twisting in embarrassment as your lips leave the tip of his cock with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting you to it before it snaps. It’s adorable the way you shy away, unable to meet his eyes but clearly so aroused. 

And you’re still stroking him like the good girl you are. The sight makes him unbelievably harder, makes him want to give you everything you deserve and more.

He can’t help but ask, “Have you always liked it?” Rough and strained.

You nod again, slowly, eyes flitting up to meet his and then back down to your hands. In a small voice, you say, “From the day I met you.”

“In that way?”

“Yes.” You fidget underneath his stare. He doesn’t know what prompts this—what urges you to reveal this special piece of information, but his cock jumps when the words roll off your tongue:

“I-I’ve used it to get off before. Those voice memos you send me.”

And that carefully woven thread inside him, the one he’s been delicately weaving, the one that’s been wringing taut the entire night—threatening to break, finally snaps. Breaks with a sharp crack, its fibers ruined in the aftermath.

Shoto rises, up on his knees with swift movement as your hand releases from his member in shock. He grabs the back of your head again, palms it with urgency, and meets you halfway into a kiss that consumes. 

To think that his voice would have such a powerful effect on you, to think that the sound of him would be enough to get you off. For a split second, he imagines the perfect picture of you lying in bed, home alone and needy, listening to his voice while thrusting your pretty little digits in and out of your wet folds. With fingers that would never be as good as his. 

He groans into your mouth, pushing you back with such force that you two fall and thump onto the bed. Lips breaking apart for a needle of a second before crashing into each other again.

Shoto wants you, so badly. Just as badly as he wants you to want him. It’s all he can think of as he nudges your legs apart, settling in between them. The sound he makes is carnal, roused deep from his gut as the length of his cock meets your bare, warm, wet folds for the first time tonight.

He can’t help but move, sliding his length along your folds, your warm pools of slick easily allowing him to grind back and forth. Back and forth. Broken moans fall, echoing in the bedroom. A symphony of you two. 

And it all happens so suddenly for you: his mouth practically swallowing yours whole, his hands traveling everywhere from your cheeks to your breasts, his feverish grinding that pulls a needy whine straight from your head. He’s so thick, so impossibly hard, but you can’t help but feel despairingly empty as your walls clench around nothing.

Then comes Shoto’s voice again, gravelly, right into your ear. It sends an electric bolt to your stomach, the vibrations running straight to your core. 

“What do you think of when you listen to them?” he rasps out.

“Y-you. Inside of m-me,” you manage to get out, bucking up to meet his rocking rhythm, already wound up when he’s not even inside of you yet. The head of his cock grazes your stomach, his balls—hot and heavy—meeting you flush before drawing stickily away again.

It takes all that you can to not do it yourself, to reach down and angle him where you want. To have it finally sink into the place that’s been aching for him all this time.

Shoto doesn’t let up, not quite yet. “What? What inside of you?”

God, he’s being so infuriating tonight. Can’t he already see how wrecked you are from him? Can’t he tell just how much you want him? 

You relent, still finding the words hard to say through the slicked grinds. “You. Y-your….” 

“You’re hesitating,” he states, to which you quickly shake your head, heart plummeting to your feet as his torso rises off of you. Your hands hastily grab his arms, legs immediately wrapping around his waist, and words tumble from your lips faster than your mind can catch up.

“No, please,” you nearly sob out, and you feel embarrassed. So incredibly embarrassed, but you still try. “Please, I want it. I want you now, Shoto.”

Your eyebrows furrow—distraught, and you think he’s never been so unfair as his movements abruptly halt, hips lifting up despite you saying what you think he wants to hear. 

Why does he keep pushing just to pull back?

(Shoto can only feel so bad when you’re so, so close to where he wants you to be.)

“Don’t be embarrassed.” A hand strokes down the side of your hair. Patient. Too frustratingly patient. “I’ll give it to you.”

Shoto braces a forearm beside your head, the other snaking its way down to grab his length, heavy in his own sturdy hands.

And he whispers, calm and low. “You know I’ll always give you what you want. Won’t you do the same for me?”

Your face scrunches as he shifts the head of cock to your slit, biting your lip when he shallowly sinks it in before pulling away. Then he does it again, and again, and again. Teasing you before greedily taking it away, even tapping your clit with it, watching as you jolt from the contact.

You squirm, raising your hips because you want more. More. But he moves in sync, away from you, and you have half a mind to think he’s being hypocritical. It all becomes too much to bear. 

“I want you. Your cock.” you desperately say, small as ever. “Please, I want it so bad.”

Shoto plunges in only slightly deeper. Unmoving as an iron wall to your legs that fail to pull him closer despite using all your might. He holds the base of his cock tight, stopping himself from sinking more of it in before pulling back again.

“No, please,” you sputter helplessly. “I want you to fuck me. W-Want you deep inside me. Want you. Shoto—”

And finally—finally, he pushes in again. Slow, shushing you when you cry out as he doesn’t stop, when he stretches your pulsing walls apart, making way for his thickness. Your mouth drops open, hands clawing against his back—no doubt leaving marks as he fills you, sliding each throbbing ache away inch by inch.

His words are faraway, barely reaching your ears as he murmurs into your ear again, in between rough groans:

Need to take it slow. Don’t want to hurt you.

You take me so well, you always do.

Do you feel it? My cock inside you? It’s what you wanted, right?

(Shoto watches your expression as hard as he can, forces his eyes to stay open, and watches your own roll to the back of your head. He’s not even sure if you recognize yourself speaking: “you feel so good inside me”, “you’re so big”, “yesyesyes” spilling from your lips.

And when he finally bottoms out after what felt like eons, he drops his forehead onto yours, panting out thick puffs of steam. Not thrusting nor moving, just feeling each addictive pulse and clench of your warm walls around him. It’s sporadic, absolutely telling to him.

You’re about to cum again.)

He’s so deep that you can feel him in your stomach, throbbing thick and heavy. Can feel him pulsing as if his cock had its own heartbeat. And you know it's coming. The buildup of his praise, of his coaxing voice, of him finally stuffing you deep, leading to a steady high again.

It’s a done deal when Shoto grinds up once. One firm motion that hits deep inside your walls. One hard hump that shakes the bed.

And you cum for the third time tonight. 

You thrash underneath him, the wave of your orgasm making your body arch into his, moans breaking prettily from your lips. Shoto’s eyelashes flutter against yours, feeling you squeeze his cock like a vice. Muscles taut when he humps into your warm and wet heat again, and that's all it takes as you suddenly feel him spilling deep inside, moaning low, his cum releasing in hot spurts.

You breathe in each other’s pants. And only seconds had passed, did it hit you:

You both just came. And that’s all it took. Just like that.

It’s a short revelation because before you can fully comprehend it, Shoto shifts, and you whimper at the sensitivity blossoming from your core. And through it all, somehow, you can still feel him. His hard cock, even after cumming, pulsating in your walls that seem to have molded themselves around him.

“S-Sho– I don’t know if I–”

You whimper when he moves again, pulling just barely the tip out before filling you up. Going all the way out, then all the way back in. Slowly, with purpose. And it fucking wrecks you. That, despite the overstimulation and sensitivity jolting your insides, another heat crawls its way back into your stomach, catching the last embers before igniting again.

He burns his way into you, sears himself on your mind—on your body. And you want to let him, want to wrap yourself around his flames that devour.

So you do. You fall into him hopelessly.

Shoto’s voice comes out hoarse, and you can’t completely tell if he’s talking to you or to himself. He thrusts. “You feel incredible.” Another thrust and a groan. “My love. You’re so perfect.”

He knows you. Body, mind, and soul.

“We were made for each other. I know it,” Shoto lowly says, this time with half-lidded, trance-like eyes boring into yours. It enraptures you: the tiny scrunch in between his eyes as he bottoms out again and again, the low and quiet moan that seeps through gritted teeth.

If the entire night was spent coaxing you—pushing you just to pull you back in, then this was unrelenting. Unyielding. Fully swarming your senses that you can’t think of anything else besides him. Besides what he’s pounding into your body and purring into your ear. And you find yourself letting go instead of trying to hold on, because despite falling apart at the seams, you can trust that he’ll always carry you to the end.

You truly don’t know—don’t know what he sees in you that you can’t seem to see yourself. But you bask in it. Embrace in his all-consuming love that scorches.

It’s a raw feeling. Both inside and out. Both inside your heart and out your core as he drives into you with vigor.

And it keeps building up, that coil he’s been springing all night, pulling you this way and that. It feels good, too damn good because you love the sensation of him overwhelming your entire being. It causes tears to start rimming your waterline, the overstimulation breaking you.

“Shoto–! S-Sho–!”

Shoto pulls away for a fraction of a second, and you’re almost about to protest—about to fire out how unfair he’s being despite how sensitive you are, before his hands slink down and around your thighs. Big hands palm the underside of it, and your heart nearly lurches out of your throat when he pushes your legs up, folding you into a brutal mating press.

You’d throw your head back if you could, if not for his warm hands cradling it to his. Your mind blanks as he sinks into you deep, the lines between pleasure and pain blurring so wickedly sweet. All you can do is hold onto him as you soundlessly scream, barely able to catch a breath.

“One more,” he coos against your face. Not a suggestion, and not so much as a command either. It’s as if he’s simply stating a fact, a path that he knows will run its course.

Shoto pounds into you, the bed creaking under all the weight—under all his vigorous effort to bring you to your climax again. Sweat-soaked skin slapping against each other as he rams his cock into you as if his life depended on it. 

You can feel your tears trickle out of your eyes, a wobbly path down as your body shakes from his thrusts. Shoto gently licks them away with his tongue, leaving a lingering kiss on your temple so tender that it tugs at your heart despite him fucking you deep into the mattress, his weighty body nearly suffocating you under him.

Hot. Your belly feels hot, core tight and exhausted but still craving him. Still craving more with each powerful split of his cock and each dampening kiss to your temple. 

(Shoto feels his body burning with so much desire that he fears flames might erupt from his skin. The line between pleasure and pain blurs for him as well. A murky river that borders on the high of seeing your blissed out face paired with your wrung out body, and the prickling sensation of needing you so badly. In every way possible.

It almost hurts, the extent of his hunger for you. 

He needs you. And he also needs you to need him.)

“I–” you gasp through stuttered breaths, “I-I’m going to—”

“What do you want, my love?” Shoto pistons in and out of your contracting walls, his voice thick and rough. “What do you need?”

“I want you,” you squeeze your eyes tight, legs shaking in the air, but Shoto makes sure to hold them tight against his body, leveraging them. “I need you.”

“Need?” he asks. A voice that becomes hazier in your mind. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” It comes out slurred and reliant. “I need you. I need you, please, please—”

“Yeah?” Shoto spreads his legs outwards—further apart, allowing him to drive into you deeper. Harsher. Rougher.

“You’re going to let me give you everything you need?”

You nod, though you don’t know if he can tell, don’t even know if your nods even come out as nods. But his name leaves your mouth over and over again, the only thing grounding you as you feel yourself peaking. Right at the edge of toppling over.

“Say it, my love. Let me hear it,” Shoto coaxes, with finality.

Your voice shakes, desperate and longing. Desperate to cum and longing for him.

“I need you,” you wail. “Give it to me, p-please. Everything.”

And Shoto rejoices. Heart flying to the crown of his head, heat burning in his being, rejoices. Voice so low that it comes out as a near growl.

“I can give you that. I’ll give you everything you want, anything you’ll ever need. What you deserve. I’m the only one who can.” Shoto keeps thrusting, erratic but anchored. Tinged with a profound urgency that aims to crumble. 

“You sound so pretty when you say my name. You deserve this—deserve to cum. You deserve everything.”

He knows your body like the back of his hand. Knows where to angle and that the storm is at its peak when your walls start convulsing around him and choked sobs leave your lips. It tells him to find that spot again—that sensitive spot he has to curve into that would make you writhe wildly. A knowing smile graces his lips when you do, with smug pride he’ll never admit to your face.

You feel the pressure of him everywhere. On you. In you. His mouth that crashes onto yours, muffling your cries and kissing you hard. You feel him inhale deeply, taking even the breath that escapes your nose.

Shoto drives into you, grinding harshly when his cock stuffs you to the hilt. Then does it twice. Three times. And with one final grind, you fall apart for the fourth time tonight, a dark sea full of stars behind your eyes.

Chanting: I want you. I need you. I love you.

You tell him to cum inside. You tell him you want it and need it. You tell him you need him. And it all goes straight to Shoto’s head, then his cock. Drives him to insanity as he buries himself inside, shuddering, balls tensing as he spills rope after rope of cum into you. He milks you of your orgasm as you squeeze him through his, tremors wrecking you both. 

Shoto fills you to the brim, both heart and body, its essence spilling at the edges.

Your chest heaves under his, exhausted as you fall dead weight into the mattress. Minutes pass, and only then do you finally take in your surroundings, bleary eyes blinking their way through the moonlit bedroom. The air is thick—humid with the smell of sweat and sex. But it hardly bothers you, fatigue quickly taking over your mind.

You vaguely note how the white wash of the moonlight shines onto Shoto, sweat glistening on his skin from the aftermath. Beautiful in every light.

You want him. You need him.

You love him.

Your lover slowly rolls your legs down, kissing the inside of your ankle softly as it passes him, massaging aching limbs as you wince from the released pressure. A small whimper vibrates from your throat when he pulls out his softened cock, limp as you both watch the mess that oozes from your hole.

“Stay here,” Shoto says gently, stroking a tender hand through your hair. You nod wordlessly, still panting, throwing your head back against the damp pillow as he rises from the mattress. The bed dips then bounces back when he gets off, heading towards the bathroom with a certain grace in his stride.

Your gaze falls to the ceiling, eyelids getting heavier with each passing second.

In the quiet of the bedroom, your hand drifts to your neck, pressing on the tender love bites created by him. You tap lightly on your skin, feeling a slight sting that brings a bashful smile to your face, not needing a mirror to know the many marks blossoming across your body.

Then your fingers travel: to his stomach that he pressed down, to the hips that he gripped, to the thighs that he held onto. Each graze across your skin reminds you of Shoto, reminds you of the devotion he speaks and shows with his heart. It makes you giddy—makes your chest swell and thrum with such warmth that you physically have to put your hands over yourself to quell it.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want. Won’t you do the same for me?”

“You’re going to let me give you everything you need?”

“I can give you that. I’ll give you everything you want, anything you’ll ever need. What you deserve. I’m the only one who can.”

“You deserve everything.”

Your vision blurs with those words on your mind, promises that wrangled its way into you so deeply that you would remember them even in your dreams.

When Shoto returns, he finds you on the edge of slumber, drowsiness and vulnerability cradling you softly. It’s with this in mind that he treats you carefully, satisfaction and ache warring in his heart. 

He brings a warm, damp towel to the bed. Gentle strokes that clean his spent and sweat off of you, loving hands that knead at parts of your body that he knows will be sore in the morning. You grumble at the tenderness in your limbs, and he soothes them without hesitation, laying kisses across your skin.

Shoto changes the sheets, the blankets, even the pillows. Soft silk, the ones he knows you like best; doing anything to make you more comfortable. All before sitting on the edge of the mattress, with fingers running through your hair tenderly, diligently working out the knots.

“Should I head home soon?” you lazily mumble, though you don’t move a muscle.

Shoto’s heart ascends, his motions pausing before continuing. 

Because normally, you’d announce you were going home—claiming it’s late, refusing his offer to stay over time and time again. And he’d let you go, a dip in his eyebrows as he watched you pack your things and drove you home, all because he thought it best to ease you slowly.

But things are different now. You were asking him if you should leave. Almost as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No,” he murmurs lowly, trying to keep his tone steady, his excitement at bay.

“Stay here,” he declares. “With me.”

“Yeah?” you say softly, a noise of contentment leaving you as his hand cards through your hair.

“Yes,” he responds. “Move in.” You should.

You giggle, and the sound makes him restless. Shoto watches as you slowly shift yourself, moving your head from the pillow to his lap, looking up at him with shimmering eyes. Wordlessly, he drapes the sheets back over your bare body, admiring the way you tuck into his embrace.

“Jumping the gun, don’t you think? You’d get tired of me.”

His palm cradles your face, thumb swiping across your cheek delicately. “Never.”

Your face softens, a worried glint in your eye. It’s astounding, he thinks to himself, how you can still doubt his feelings. “Never?”

“No. Never,” he affirms, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

You look at him—look at the way he’s gazing down at you with enamored eyes, a hint of something private lurking underneath them. It causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, but it only makes you huddle closer to him—aching for his warmth.

Then willingly, you place your heart in the palms of his hands that cradle you, whispering without an ounce of hesitation,

“Yeah. I do.”

And a smile stretches across Shoto’s face, a quiet, pleased curve that spoke of a million words. Words that he wouldn’t dare say out loud as he thinks:

The greatest gift in the world just fell right into his hands.

[gremlinghost]

Suo: you have to learn to ask for help and to be vulnerable and trust those around you.

Suo: not me tho, I'm different.

[mackenziedaartist]

people think Levi core is being sum kind of badass but in reality it’s just saying the most unhinged thing before reverting back to your cinnamon roll ways.