im so happy my atla hyperfixation is coming back full force because iâve met so many kind moots and discovered such amazing writing. i haven't been posting as much as i'd like due to my busy schedule, and my inbox is currently flooded with requests that i can't get to anymore. i'm sorry. but trust me, i will start writing more soon and finally start posting for sokka and katara! thank you for supporting me!
i'm a HUGE atla fic eater, so i would also love to share works and authors of whom i've enjoyed. check them out!!!
like animals â @lonelyfooryouonly
‷ its a gaang bang what more could you want? this fic left my panties soaked i had to cycle through at least 5 of em while reading this. also katara being the coordinator in all this means everything to me.
bimbo reader âžâž jealous toph âžâž mean toph âžâž autistic reader â @mikaelvr
‷ my first moot since making this account and guys the way she writes toph will literally make you clench. ESPECIALLY jealous and mean toph. her toph is an asshole but so freaked out and teasing oh my god i just love it. i could eat up her entire masterlist
toph masterlist â @ciinnabunny
‷ im pretty sure im caught up with this entire masterlist. guys her toph fics are so in character, her stuff is genuinely so fluffy and so adorable and my heart flutters every time i come across her writing
ruin me â @earth-kingdom-strap
‷ im shameless af wherever toph has a g!p i'll be there
all aang x reader â @singse
‷ guys HER AANG X READERS WILL GIVE YOU LIFE I SWEAR. a perfect mix of fluff and smut. she just writes aang so bald and beautiful i shed a tear every time i read it. her aang is so in character and just written so perfectly, you'll read it and be like "yeah aang would 100% do this". just perfect perfect perfect.
an eater âžâž breathtaking â @tophluvr
‷ another writer that just illustrates toph so beautifully. breathtaking made me roll around in bed clutching my phone because it was THAT sweet.
toph with a girlfriend who walks her like a dog â @midnightbandito
‷ its all in the title guys. toph is a bottom. this toph is perfect.
meeting and marrying toph â @hon3y0logy
‷ headcanons that are perfectly written and soooo in character. like i can picture this happening when marrying toph.
g!p toph â @c4sings6
‷ chat im singing this fic at the top of my lungs. this is so freaky and so perfect. when i first read this it immediately went straight to the spank bank tyvm
please show some love to these incredible writers who are keeping the atla fandom fed!!!
summary: the gaang admit they want you and decide to show you exactly how much.
warnings: sub!reader, fem!reader, orgy dynamics, multiple partners, oral sex, handjobs, throat fucking implied, oral receiving, praise kink, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, temperature play, ice play, sensory overload, rough kissing, gagging, degradation themes, punishment but no reward, consensual dominance, breast play, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, messy kissing, cum play, sexual tension, power dynamics, smut, MDNI;
wc: 2,5k
a/n: katara being both a top and the mastermind behind this was inevitable actually. thank you to my đ anon for suggesting this.
It started as a joke.
As a funny question about who was having crushes on who.
One thing led to another, and they all somehow told you it was you.
That was when silence fell over the entire room.
During your time together with the gaang, there had been awkward moments and silence before, yet nothing too out of the ordinary. But this one? It was different. More suffocating. More⊠intimate. You could feel the gazes on you now, watching you with focus and unreadable expressions.
Your heartbeat started increasing, your palms turning sweaty as your mind scrambled for something to say. You didnât know what to do or where to go from this.
Of course, the attraction was both ways.
From the moment you met them and started spending time together, you felt it growing stronger with every passing day. But you never dared to say or do anything about it, too scared it would ruin the vibe between all of you.
The close relationships you had built with each of them mattered too much. You couldnât throw everything away.
âWe didnât want you to feel weirded out, you know?â Katara finally broke the silence as she scooted closer, until her chest pressed against your arm.
âOh, no, I would neverââ
Your breath caught in your throat the moment her hand landed on your thigh.
âIs that okay?â Katara asked softly, fingers resting there carefully.
You could barely answer her.
You nodded quietly instead.
âI want to hear you talk,â she pushed gently, her hand slowly sliding higher up your thigh.
âItâs okay,â you breathed out shakily.
âYouâre blushing like crazy,â Sokka snickered as he leaned back on his palms, eyes never leaving your form.
You threw him a glare, but the second your eyes locked with his, you couldnât hold it for long.
Yeah.
For the first time, you actually felt intimidated by Sokka.
âAre you too hot right now?â Katara spoke again, making you look back at her. âYouâre burning up,â she continued while your breathing turned more uneven with every second. âShould I help you?â
She offered it so casually, like she wasnât making your entire body heat up with just a few touches.
You wouldâve liked not to answer so fast. But you did.
She barely even managed to finish speaking before a nervous âyesâ left your lips.
Toph and Sokka immediately giggled while Zuko and Aang sent you sympathetic looks, though neither of them looked much calmer themselves.
âCome here, then. Lay your back against my chest,â Katara instructed gently, though there was still firmness hidden beneath her soft tone.
You nodded quickly and shifted towards her, settling between her legs until your back rested against her chest comfortably.
âTell me if itâs too much, alright?â she whispered near your ear.
Then you felt her hands slide downwards until they rested over your breasts beneath the dark green robe you were wearing.
Your breath hitched.
Katara hooked her fingers into the fabric and slowly dragged the material aside, exposing your bare breasts to the entire room. Cool air brushed against your skin immediately, making your nipples harden from the sudden loss of warmth.
Sokka whistled at the sight before Zuko nudged him hard in the side.
Aang stayed quiet, but his eyes were completely focused on your chest now.
âNothing underneath?â Katara questioned with a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
âIâ you all appeared out of nowhereâ I didnât have timeââ you tried to explain quickly.
âSheâs lying,â Toph interrupted with a grin.
Your face burned hotter as you looked down at your lap.
Katara raised a brow at you expectantly.
You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes, avoiding their eyes.
âI wore nothing on purpose,â you finally admitted on a quiet tone.
A moan instantly slipped from your lips when Kataraâs hands squeezed your breasts, kneading the soft skin slowly.
âOh,â she whispered against your ear. âThen maybe weâll have to punish you for lying and for the other times you did things on purpose.â
Her fingers squeezed your nipples harder.
Then suddenly, you felt something freezing against your skin.
You jolted.
Looking down, you realized the tips of Kataraâs fingers had turned icy cold, frost slowly forming against your heated skin. The sharp contrast made your entire body squirm in her lap.
She kept rubbing your nipples between her fingers, making shaky cries leave your throat from both the sting and pleasure of it.
âMhmâ ah!â
Your head fell back against her shoulder.
âNeed some warmth?â she teased softly.
Before you could answer, you heard heavy footsteps approaching.
You lifted your head slightly and saw Zuko walking towards you before lowering himself onto his knees between your legs.
His large hands rested carefully against your knees first before slowly sliding upwards over your skin.
âThat okay?â he asked quietly, eyes fixed on yours while waiting patiently for your answer.
You nodded automatically.
Katara immediately pressed colder fingers against your nipple in punishment for your non-verbal reply, making you jolt with a whimper.
âYes! Yes, itâs okayâ Iâm sorry,â you gasped out quickly.
Zukoâs lips curled into a small teasing smirk before he slowly pushed aisde the material of your robes, completely revealing your legs along with your undergarments.
Then his palm slowly went between youe legs, pressing directly against your clothed core.
Your hips jerked forward instinctively at the warmth of his hand against your sensitive heat.
Kataraâs lips brushed against your ear at the same time, making another shiver run through your body.
You had Kataraâs cold hands on your breasts and Zukoâs warmth pressing down on you through the material, the contrast making your head spin.
You were so lost in the moment that you didnât even notice Aang and Sokka stepping closer until they settled beside you on either side.
âGonna help us out a little too, right?â Sokka asked with a grin.
âIf you want to, of course,â Aang added with a soft voice, offering a nervous smile.
How could you even refuse them?
âIâd loveâmhmâ love to,â you say, a lot breathier than intended.
Sokkaâs grin widened after hearing your reply. He then took your hand that rested on Kataraâs leg, while Aang carefully lifted your other hand, fumbling slightly with his trousers.
Normally, you probably wouldâve giggled at how awkward he looked for a second. But Zuko and Katara already had you dizzy from the overwhelming contrast of hot and cold sensations moving through your body.
You let both boys guide your hands where they wanted them, your eyes slightly widening when you saw them pulling out their half-hardened cocks.
Sokka was bigger than you expected, not overly thick but long enough to make your throat tighten. Aang was thicker, with more prominent veins running along his length, making you wonder how would it feel inside you.
Both of them were already leaking precum, feeling their wettnes the moment your fingers wrapped around them. Quiet hisses and groans filled the room as you started moving your hands slowly, thumbs spreading the slick fluid over their tips before stroking up and down carefully.
Sokkaâs hand quickly caught your wrist, encouraging you to pump him faster, while Aang seemed to enjoy slower movements more.
So you tried your best to give both of them what they wanted.
But it was hard to stay focused.
Katara was still kneading your breasts like they belonged to her, earning soft whimpers from you every few seconds before icy jolts shot through your body whenever her cold fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples too harshly.
At the same time, Zukoâs palm kept rubbing over your clothed core, thumb brushing your clit, pressing down and spreading his warmth all over, making your hips twitch forward helplessly.
When he finally stopped moving and pulled his hand away, you almost whimpered at the loss. But then your gaze dropped towards Toph, who was crawling towards you with a grin spread across her face.
âWhatââ
âShh,â Katara cooed softly into your ear, her warm breath brushing your skin and making your heart race even faster. âItâs okay.â
Toph reached you and immediately pushed your legs apart wider while Zukoâs hand suddenly caught your chin, forcing your attention back onto him instead.
You blinked in confusion at first, only for your breath to catch when you realized he was freeing his cock too.
Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip against your parted lips.
âJust a little?â he asked, voice low as the tip brushed against your lower lip.
âYes,â you breathed out quickly before Katara could punish you again for staying quiet.
That was all Zuko needed.
He pushed into your mouth too fast at first, making you gag immediately as tears burned at your eyes. He muttered a quick apology under his breath before pulling back slightly to let you breathe. Then he moved again, slower this time, more careful. Though you could still tell he wanted to go faster.
Your watery gaze dropped towards Toph, who was already pulling the rest of your clothes away completely. The second she exposed your cunt, her fingertips slid through your folds curiously before she chuckled softly at how wet you already were.
Your hips instinctively moved towards her touch, the sudden movement making you gag around Zuko again.
Toph only grinned wider at the sounds.
She lowered herself between your legs completely before hooking them over her shoulders.
Then her mouth was on you.
The first slow lick along your folds made your entire body shake. A second later, she sucked harshly at your clit, earning louder muffled cries from your throat around Zukoâs cock.
Katara kept whispering soft praises into your ear while stimulating your nipples relentlessly. They were probably swollen and red by now from how much attention she gave them, but the sting only turned you on more.
Your grip around Sokka and Aang loosened slightly as your focus completely shattered from all the sensations hitting you at once.
Zuko thrusting into your mouth.
Toph licking between your legs like she was starving.
Katara torturing your sensitive chest.
Sokka noticed immediately.
He firmly grabbed your wrist and guided your hand faster along his length, using your grip to help himself chase his release.
Aang stayed gentler instead.
He slowly rocked into your hand while one of his palms moved into your hair, carefully massaging your scalp and trying to comfort you despite how overwhelmed you already looked.
The room slowly filled with sounds.
Your muffled moans.
Sokkaâs groans.
Aangâs shaky breaths.
Zukoâs rough grunts.
And the wet slurping noises coming from between your legs every time Toph sucked harder at your clit.
Meanwhile, Katara stayed steady behind you through all of it, paying attention to every reaction your body gave her. Every twitch. Every gasp.
Every tear gathering at your eyes whenever Zuko pushed too deep into your throat or Toph sucked your clit too harshly.
At one point, your eyes fluttered shut completely.
There were too many sensations at once. Too many hands touching you everywhere â your breasts, your waist, your stomach, your thighs.
âIâm close,â Zuko suddenly grunted.
Your eyes opened halfway.
Steam curled faintly from his skin and through his nose, while veins stood out sharply along his neck as his thrusts became rougher and sloppier.
Then, with a sharp breath, he finally pulled out and spilled over his own palm instead.
You inhaled deeply the second your mouth was free, finally able to breathe properly againâ
âbut the relief barely lasted two seconds.
Kataraâs hand grabbed your chin firmly and turned your head towards her before she crashed her lips against yours.
The kiss instantly turned messy.
Teeth clashing. Lips biting.
Saliva slipping down your chin as she kissed you greedily, swallowing every shaky whimper that left your throat. At some point, her hand slid back down between your thighs, fingers pressing directly against your clit while Toph kept licking at your folds below.
Toph hummed against you, tightening her grip around your thighs.
You moaned louder, hips moving faster now until you were practically grinding your pussy against Tophâs face.
Your toes curled hard and a hot feeling started tightening inside your stomach, growing stronger with every touch, every movement, every hand on your body.
Then suddenly, another hand tilted your chin upwards.
Aang.
He lowered himself closer before pulling you into another kiss immediately after Katara let you go. You thought he would be a bit more composed, but with the way his tongue pushed into your mouth desperately⊠it was far from that.
Your hand still stroked him through the kiss, feeling him twitch harder and harder in your grip. He whimpered against your lips, both hands tangling into your hair as he pulled you closer.
The kiss quickly became sloppy and desperate. Then his whole body tensed suddenly.
You felt hot cum spill over your hand while his movements faltered completely. Small apologies left his lips between kisses, breathless and embarrassed.
You couldnât help smiling faintly against his mouth.
But before the moment could last, another strong hand wrapped gently around your throat, pulling you away from Aang.
Then Sokka kissed you next.
He no longer needed help to finish as he did the work by himself since you were so lost in the moment.
Your jaw hurt and your lips were completely swollen because of the kissing. You were still trying to focus on reaching that feeling that felt so close.
You let out a moan as you let Sokkaâs tongue leave your mouth, while your hips rose up to meet Toph faster. But before you can feel that sweet pressure finally snap, you heard Kataraâs voice behindyou.
âStop,â her voice came out strong and firm, making you shiver.
Tophâs movements slow down as she leans back, while Sokkaâs mouth leaves yours.
âButââ you try to complain.
âWhere would be the punishment if we let you get what you want?â she smiled at you, but her eyes gave you another message⊠one that stirred something in you. Something heavy and dark and⊠curious.
Youâve never thought youâd enjoy feeling so many hands on you, so many mouths, so many bodies⊠but you did, and you wanted to see how far this will go.
Katara patted your leg to get up, and you tried, but you almost fell due to your wobbly legs, yet Aang moved faster and caught you in his strong arms.
âEasy,â he whispered in your ear, making you look up at him, seeing how fond he was looking at you. He had that kind smile on his face.
Before you can even thank him, you heard Kataraâs voice behind you, sending shivers down your spine.
you reunite with AANG years later, only to be absolutely lovestruck by his new appearance. and unfortunately for katara, you decide you want him for yourself.
WHEN DID YOU GET HOT ?!
PLOT. years after the war, you reunite with aang in republic city only to realize the boy you once rejected has become impossible to ignore. completely smitten and regretting your decisions, you notice the tension between him and katara, turning you bitter. after overhearing a conversation you weren't supposed to, you decide that their story was never meant to be. so maybe you should stop pretending you do not want him.
WANRINGS. 18+, mdni, smut, angst, dark themes, slight coercion/dubcon, manipulative reader, slight lovesick reader, baby trapping, slightly naĂŻve aang, toxic relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, mentions of past kataang, alcohol consumption, submissive aang, reader is a horrible friend (don't be like her), fingering, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), unprotected sex, riding him, talking him through it, breeding themes, p in v, pregnancy, marriage, mentions of giving birth, fem reader, self indulgent, not proofread.
CHARACTERS. AVATAR AANG.
WC. 15.5k
masterlist
art creds :: cruxifixe_ on x
a/n: i didn't plan for it to become so dark, but i am not changing the title, idc.
i will probably return to edit it more, but i am so sick of coming across this fic in my drafts.
Oh spirits.
Why did it have to be like this?
The last thing you were expecting during your first visit to Republic City was to get smitten by the literal sight of Aang.
The same Aang who had come barging into the Northern Water Tribe, demanding to be trained in the ways of water.
The same Aang who acted like an idiot around you when you first met him, making you second-guess the universe's choice of the Avatar.
The same Aang who you ended up befriending before his leave, leading you to join him on his journey to master all the elements.
Back then, it had been easy to reject him. Taking his idiotic flirty comments as a joke, declaring that your friendship with him would never grow to be something else.
Hell, you had even gained a thing for Sokka for a while, and not once had you ever thought of Aang as a romantic interest, despite his many 'advances'.
You saw it then, in the way he would seek you out, always hanging around you, asking for your advice on waterbending, even though Katara was right there, the one person who actually knew combat waterbending, unlike you, who could only heal.
So you did your best to push him toward Katara, trying to free yourself from the burden of his feelings.
It had worked.
And how you regretted it.
Because the man who stood before you now, grinning ear to ear at the sight of your arrival, was someone you no longer recognized.
After the war had ended, you returned home to the Northern Water Tribe, where you were praised for your contributions in the war.
Which is why you had taken to teaching the younger female generations the beauty of water, passing down your learnings from Katara and Aang.
The elders had not been too pleased at your notion, but they didn't stop you either, reminding themselves of what Katara had changed within the misogynistic hierarchy of the tribe.
You spent those years teaching, learning, advising, not having much contact with your friends other than the letters you all exchanged.
Katara and Sokka would visit now and then, but the Southern Water Tribe girl stopped once her free time was redirected to developing Republic City. Sokka continued to visit with Suki, mostly to pay respect to a certain moon spirit.
You weren't in touch with Zuko, never having gotten too close with him. And Aang would send you letters more often than you had expected. But even those reduced over the years, only showing up on birthdays.
So now, nine years later, you finally decided to give a visit when you received an invitation from Aang, planning a reunion on the occasion that Republic City was an year old and flourishing.
You had agreed, because you wished to see your only actual friend you had made on your journey.
Toph.
The blind bandit had formed an unusual bond with you, mostly built around constant jokes and taunts towards the rest of the group.
So when you saw Toph upon arriving, you hadn't expected Aang to be standing there beside her with the others, towering over everyone else in his newly acquired form.
You couldn't even think straight as Aang and Katara led everyone to the inn all of you could stay in during your time there. After settling your stuff into your rooms, Aang had taken to showing all of you around.
You heard him for everything he had to say, paying more attention to him than you ever had. Your eyes hadn't left him once, watching him light up every time he spoke, waving his hands around animatedly towards all directions.
Fuck. His hands.
Asking what you would do with them was a stupid question, because what wouldn't you do?
You'd have them pressed to your tits all the time. Those warm hands that have mastered every element to the point of second nature, swirling wind, bending the earth, doing everything imaginable with ease.
How trained he would be with those hands. Maybe he would put his learnings to good use on your pussy, mimicking the elegant motion of his fingers over your clit as he kept you stuffed to the hilt, hopefully using his other hand to clamp your mouth shut.
Maybe he'd even let you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and drooling around them to divert your attention from the fullness of his cock.
Your thoughts didn't let up even as night fell, by which you had completely soaked through the fabric of your underwear. The group had split up to retire for the night, holding a proper get together party at Katara's home the next evening.
The time before the party had been given to everyone for sight seeing, but you could barely make it out of bed, the previous night spent restless as a certain airbender plagued your mind, making your reach for your pussy for most of it.
What's worse is that you had to keep your moans to the lowest, too scared that Toph might sense you out from wherever her room was in the inn.
You never truly understood the extent of her power, you didn't even know if something like this would even be possible for Toph to sense, but you sure as hell didn't want to take any chances.
Before the get together, you had sat in front of the mirror to gather your thoughts. You had chosen to wear a henley much like what Toph had worn the day before, while beneath it you had put on a rather bold choice.
You had first seen Suki wear a miniskirt during her visit with Sokka at the Northern Water Tribe. Her choice of clothing was something you had questioned, trying to understand why she would wear swimwear while visiting such a cold place.
She had only sighed, explaining to you the growing trends of fashion in the newly developing city.
On her next visit, she had brought you your own.
You never wore it before, given the weather, but you had packed it, figuring the warmer weather of the city would make the skirt more bearable.
Arriving at Katara's home was hell, because not only had Aang opened the door on your arrival, he was bare from the waist up as he did so.
The blood had rushed straight to your cunt, trying not to blatantly look at his abdomen, or the hard planes of his chest.
"Wow, did your clothes run away?" You joked, craning your neck to look him in the eyes, not daring to avert your gaze elsewhere.
"I spilled my drink on it." Aang huffs, pouting a little which only made things worse on your end, wanting to bite his cheeks that puffed out a little.
"You didn't think to Air bend and dry it?" You ask, trying to remain composed even as your breath hitched, walking through the door as you stood close to him.
"That doesn't remove wine stains. Katara threw it in the wash." He answered, walking beside you as he led you to the stairs.
"You're drinking?" Your voice came out shocked.
"I was going to, but then Sokka bumped into me." He sulks yet again.
"I thought...Air Nomads do not drink."
"Well...I don't. But everyone has been asking me to try it once, so I agreed to do it today."
"Looks like I came on time." You tease, trying to meets his eyes but failing when he gave you the cutest smile ever.
You both had made your way upstairs, and you were very aware of just how short your skirt was. You wondered if Aang had looked at your ass as you walked in front of him, or had he diverted his gaze out of respect.
Either option had you pressing your thighs together, not daring to turn your head to see where his eyes lingered.
"Hey! You wore it!" Suki's voice had greeted you the moment you entered the room beside Aang.
She was talking about your skirt.
"Yeah. I have no where else to wear this." You had answered with a smile, looking a the spacious room, a low table in the center with food already set on it.
"It looks great!" Katara compliments you, to which you smile.
"Thanks!"
"Yeah, cute outfit!" Aang chimed in from behind you, making you turn to face him.
"...Thanks Aang." You had tried to keep it in, but your heart had practically leapt out of your chest as his voice.
"You're late!" Toph greeted you in her own manner, making you turn back around and roll your eyes at her.
"Oh! I am so sorry, ma'am."
"You just rolled your eyes, didn't you?" She commented, taking a chug of whatever was in her cup.
"Yep. Proudly too." You retorted with a grin walking towards the group.
Toph had taken one of the shorter ends of the table, sprawling comfortably in her spot while Suki, Sokka, and Katara settled along one of the longer sides.Â
Across from them sat Zuko with an empty place beside him, which you claimed easily, folding your legs beneath you once you sat down.
And a part of you had hoped Aang would occupy the space that had been left empty on your other side, but you should have known better as you watched him take the opposing end of where Toph sat...right beside Katara.
Well, Zuko was technically also seated beside him, but it barely mattered when you watched Katara subtly close the distance between herself and Aang.
No one would have noticed it unless they had been observing closely.
Which you were.
You watched the two as the conversations picked up again around you, watching how Aang too scooched a little closer to Katara each time she said something.
It made you nauseous.
You had done this. You had practically thrown him into her arms all those years ago, and the karma of it had come to bite you in the ass.
It only made things worse that all you could think about in that situation was how gorgeous his abs were.
You could already imagine how nice they would feel against your cunt, rubbing mindlessly on them as those sinful hands of his would keep you pressed to him, grabbing the flesh of your hips to move you even faster, letting you cum on his skin.Â
You watched as Aang finally took his first sip of whatever alcohol Sokka had poured for him, observing as he gagged at the taste of it, leading him to have a coughing fit.
While the others chuckled at his antics, Katara reached over to rub slow circles against his back, trying to ease him through the coughing fit.
It made you sick.
The sight of her hands against his bare skin. The ease with which he leaned into her touch, comfortable enough to accept it without thought.
And it only got worse when he turned slightly toward her while thanking her softly.
"Are you alright, Aang?" you asked, hoping to interrupt whatever quiet little moment had begun forming between them.
Aang looked over at you immediately, a sheepish smile pulling onto his face.
"Y-yeah. Just need a m-minute," he managed, his voice still rough from coughing as he tried to steady his breathing.
You simply nodded, masking your satisfaction beneath a look of concern when Aang motioned for Katara to stop, quietly insisting he was alright now. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and settled back into her place beside him.
It was around 10 minutes later when the effects of whatever amount of alcohol had managed to bypass Aang's throat had started to take effect.
A warm flush spread slowly across his skin, staining not only his cheeks but trailing down the length of his neck and across his chest in soft patches of pink.
You tried not to stare at him.
Without the excuse of him talking animatedly or moving around the room, admiring him so openly would have been far too obvious.
But, the sight of his lightweight body unable to withstand a shot of alcohol had you squirming in your seat, knowing your pussy was actively soaking your panties as the conversations continued.Â
Aang had long since stopped participating in the conversation, now hunched over the table with his face buried into his folded arms while the others continued talking around him.Â
Every few minutes, Zuko would slide another glass of water toward him, insisting it would help flush the alcohol out of his system.
Aang only mumbled that he was fine, though his words slurred slightly when he complained that he had not expected to feel so "floosy" after a single sip.
You on the other hand, were burning. Your pussy was desperately clenching around nothing, dripping on the flimsy fabric, as you now regretted wearing the skirt.
Aang's drowsy posture had given you something entirely new to admire. The broad slope of his shoulders, the defined muscles shifting faintly beneath his skin whenever he adjusted against the table, the elegant curve of his back disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.
It took everything in you not to stare openly.
Your thoughts drifted embarrassingly fast, fixating on the sight of his back and imagining what it would feel like beneath your hands.
You fantasized how desperately your nails would claw at his back as he pushed his cock into you, fucking your fervently.
Or maybe he'd let you rest your legs over his shoulders as he ate you out, driving his tongue into you which will make your heels dig into his back, only pushing him closer.Â
Maybe he would even make you squirt? He was quiet talented at waterbeâ
Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt the moment Aang pushed himself upright, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom before slowly making his way out of the room.
You lifted your wine glass toward your lips, eyes instinctively following him until he disappeared down the hallway, turning left once he stepped out.
Only then did you take another sip, absentmindedly humming in agreement to whatever Toph had just said.
Your attention was divided between the room and Aang. And the heat between your thighs had become unbearable to the point you had to take care of it.Â
A few minutes later, you finished the last of your wine and set the empty glass aside before excusing yourself as well, adjusting your skirt once you rose to your feet.
You followed the same path Aang had taken earlier, slower with your steps this time, though upon reaching the hallway you quickly realized the restroom was empty.
You only shrugged to yourself before slipping inside anyway, locking the door behind you and closing the seat before sitting down, hiking your skirt up around your waist.
You spread your legs wide enough to let your hand slip inside, sliding your panties to the side to bury two fingers deep.
You were so slick and hot, it was almost pathetic.Â
Your fingers did absolutely nothing in comparison to the fantasies you'd built of Aang doing this to you.
Leaning back, you began pumping your fingers, but the ridiculous amount of wetness made it difficult to find any real friction against your pussy.Â
It was frustrating, yet amusing; you had drenched yourself to the extent that you could barely feel your own fingers rubbing against you.
Nonetheless, the need to have your cunt filled was somewhat satisfied, letting your fingers curl pathetically against the spot you probed for a quick, desperate orgasm.
The pressure built relentlessly, and with it, your voice. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the sounds, but the rising heat was too much; a few desperate whimpers slipped past your teeth despite your best efforts.
It was only when you heard two giggling whispers close by that you froze.Â
You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening in a flash of panic as you forced your body to go still.
Judging by the voice, one of them was definitely Suki.
Had she and Sokka slipped away for some privacy?
You sat up straighter immediately, halting every movement as you listened more carefully.
"Oh come on! Isn't it time already? You've liked each other longer than Sokka and I have even been together."
"That doesn't mean we're compatible! You've seen him...he's always busy being the Avatar..."
Katara.
You nearly stopped breathing.
Carefully, you stood up and adjusted your skirt, suddenly far more aware of every tiny sound you made while crossing the bathroom floor. Your hand remained clamped tightly over your mouth as you moved closer to the door, pressing your ear lightly against the wood to hear them better.
"So? He's never going to stop being the Avatar! Does that mean you'll wait until he's on his deathbed?"
"No...I just don't want to become a burden. He already has so many responsibilities, I don't want to add myself to them."
"Katara! You've kissed, for Spirits' sake! And...didn't you have that one night..."
"Shh! Suki, Aang is still out here..."
"Sorry," Suki whispered, lowering her voice even further. "But didn't you?"
You could hear Katara hesitate before she answered.
"Yes...we did do that..."
You froze.
Nausea twisted violently in your stomach at the thought of Katara and Aang together like that, tangled together somewhere inside this very house.
"Then why aren't you two together yet? Did he just use you? Because I can absolutely beat some sense into him."
"No! Spirits, no." Katara sounded horrified by the suggestion.Â
"It's my fault. I asked him not to talk about it again...to just put it behind us."
"Why?!"
"I panicked!" she admitted.Â
"I really do love Aang, but afterward I just...felt cheap. I couldn't believe we had done something like that before even talking about our feelings properly."
Slowly, you pulled away from the door.
Your hand slipped from your mouth while something sharp and terrible settled into place inside your mind all at once, so sudden it almost felt divine.
That was it.
Your chance.
"What did Aang say?" Suki asked after a moment.
"He agreed," Katara murmured. "Although...now that I think about it, he did seem a little hurt by it."
"Oh Katara, I am so mad at youâ"
"Shh!" Katara cut her off quickly. "We've already been gone too long, and we still need to pick up the food from the kitchen."Â
Katara quickly hushed her again, dragging Suki away before her voice could rise any further.
Their conversation had given you everything you needed to know.
It seemed you had been terribly wrong about whatever existed between them.
They did not belong to each other, and that meant you could still do something about it.
You waited another few minutes before leaving the bathroom, taking the time to clean yourself up while listening carefully for the sound of their footsteps returning from the kitchen.Â
Only once the hallway had gone quiet again did you finally unlock the door and slip outside.
You did not particularly care that your little trip to the bathroom had left you unsatisfied.
Because in the end, it had not been pointless.
As long as there was still a chance for you to have Aang, you could live with the ache between your thighs.
You quietly made your way back toward the room where everyone had gathered, relieved to find them distracted enough to not notice you lingering briefly behind the doorframe.
You only peeked inside long enough to check whether Aang had returned.
He hadn't.
The realization made a smile threaten at the corners of your mouth.
This was your only opportunity.
So you slipped away again, quieter this time, searching through the massive house floor by floor while the sounds of laughter and conversation faded further beneath you.
Only upon reaching the topmost level did you finally slow.
Just before stepping fully into the room, your attention caught on the open balcony doors inside it.
There he was.
Your expression brightened instantly at finally finding him, eyes fixed on the sight of Aang leaning against the railing alone, letting the cold night air wash over him while the city lights flickered below.
Just as you were about to take a step forwardâ
"Just what are you plotting?"Â
Toph's voice came through, although quiet, held her usual fierceness.
You whipped around immediately, barely stopping the startled noise threatening to leave you before finally spotting the blind girl standing further down the hallway.
"Toph!" You hissed under your breath, pressing a hand against your chest before realizing what she had actually asked.
"I...was just making sure Aang was alright..." you answered quickly, which technically was not a lie, hoping it was bypass Toph's instincts.
Toph snorted.
"Yeah. Sure you were. Because you've always cared about him so much."
"Of course I do. He's my friend."
"Exactly," she drawled. "Your friend. Come on, at least try sounding convincing."
"I am not lying."
"Please." Toph folded her arms.Â
"I may be blind, but even I can sense your desperation from across the house. 'Cute outfit!' 'Thanks, Aanggg.'"Â
She mockingly pitched her voice higher during the imitation. "You were practically squealing."
Heat rushed straight to your face despite your irritation.
"And following after him?" She continued mercilessly. "Could you make it any more obvious? You're lucky everyone else in this house is dense enough to miss it."
You lowered your head slightly, irritation and embarrassment mixing unpleasantly inside your chest while Toph continued talking without pause.
"But not me. Since I am obviously the greatest Earthbender to ever liâ"
Her voice rose noticeably toward the end of the sentence, forcing you to quickly slap a hand over her mouth before she could accidentally alert the entire floor.
"Fine, I get it," you whispered sharply. "Now can you please leave?"
Toph peeled your hand off her face with visible offense.
"Rude."
To your surprise, Toph's presence seemed to grow heavier beside you, the teasing tone disappearing entirely.
"You do know what you're doing is wrong, right?"
You paused, genuinely not expecting an actual lecture from her of all people.
"How is it wrong?"
Toph folded her arms.Â
"First you reject him. Then you throw him toward Katara. And now that those two finally have something going on, suddenly you want him back?"
"Toph, we were kids," you argued quietly.Â
"He's not still hung up over some rejection from when we were twelve. We're friends." You hesitated briefly before addingâ
"And those two barely even have anything happening between them. I literally heard Katara admit it herself."
"Doesn't matter. It is still wrong."
"You're acting like I'm breaking them apart. They were never together to begin with!"
Toph clicked her tongue.
"You're still meddling. Worse, you're trying to steal him from your own friend."
You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your composure intact.
"Toph," you said carefully, "you're supposed to be the sensible one here. Is it really my fault if, after all these years, Aang ends up choosing me?"
"What makes you so sure he will?"
"Because Katara already had her chance." The words left you more sharply than intended.Â
"They've spent years dancing around each other and still nothing came out of it. I disappeared from his life completely, and somehow even that wasn't enough to push them together." You glanced toward the balcony again.Â
"At some point, maybe you have to admit it's simply not meant to be."
"You can't be the judge of that."
"I'm not trying to be." You straightened slightly, smoothing your skirt back into place before lifting your chin.Â
"Aang will make his own choice. And if he chooses me...then just know I was right." A faint smile touched your mouth.
Toph let out a slow breath through her nose.
You glanced toward her once more before stepping back toward the doorway leading to the balcony.
"Now go, Toph. I'm sure you don't want to become someone who meddles."
She clicked her tongue at that, clearly unimpressed by your attempt at turning her own argument against her, though after another moment she finally sighed and began walking away down the hallway.
Yeah.
She really was a good friend.
Unlike you.
You stepped into the room slowly, making sure your footsteps were loud enough to announce your presence rather than startle him.
Still, you saw Aang's shoulders tense slightly at the first creak of the floorboards behind him.
He turned around quickly. "Katara?"
The name struck harder than you expected.
But the moment he realized it was you instead, surprise softened into a smile.
"Hey..." His voice quieter now, softened by the lingering haze the alcohol had left behind.
You approached carefully as you joined him near the railing, sliding the balcony doors shut behind you to block out the noise from downstairs.
You smile up at him, trying not to show your irritation at the name he had called out.
"Hi, Aang. Are you alright? You've been gone for a while." You kept your tone light, sweet enough to avoid making him cautious.
"Yeah," he answered with a small laugh beneath his breath. "I just needed some air. Clear my head a little."
"I see." You rested your arms lightly against the railing beside him.Â
"Feeling better now?"
"Much."
He smiled again before glancing back toward the streets below.
"I think we should've predicted you'd be a lightweight."
"Seriously. It felt like my head fell off after one sip."Â Aang laughed rubbing the back of his neck.
"You head seems to be on right at least." You muse, leaning your back against the railing, having your head turned towards him as you spoke.
"Yup! I feel like myself again! For the most part at least." He jokes, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
"You certainly look like you do." You tease, your eyes drifting over him once more before returning to his face.
"Come on. Let's go back! You did find me after all...everyone must be waiting." He says, before stepping away from the railing.
He had barely taken more than a couple of steps before your hand reached out instinctively, fingers wrapping around his forearm to stop him.
"Wait, Aang!"
He stopped the moment your hand touched him, turning back toward you almost immediately while you gently pulled him to a halt.
"Everything alright...?" He asked, remaining where he was instead of pulling away from your touch.
"Yeah, I just...I wanted to talk to you about something."Â You slowly let go of him once he stepped back beside you again.
"Oh." Aang settled against the railing once more, patient as ever.Â
"What's up?"
"Aang..."
Well fuck. You didn't actually think this through.
You had managed to get yourself up here alone with him, had spent the last twenty minutes convincing yourself this was your perfect opportunity, and now that he stood in front of you waiting so openly for whatever you wanted to say, you realized you had absolutely no idea how to make any of this work without sounding insane.
How exactly were you supposed to convince the boy you once rejected to choose you over the girl he had spent years being smitten with?
The girl he had apparently already shared a bed with.
Your teeth sank unconsciously into your bottom lip while nerves clawed their way through you, your throat tightening with the sudden realization of how pathetically desperate you must have looked tonight.
Toph had been right.
Spirits, she had been completely right.
You tried not to let any of it show on your face, but something must have slipped through regardless, because Aang picked up on it immediately.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Aang's voice softened immediately with concern as he stepped closer, one hand settling carefully against your shoulder in an attempt to pull you out of whatever spiral you had disappeared into.
The touch snapped you back to reality far too quickly, his touch sending a chill throughout your skin, his newly matured voice doing wonders for your already fuzzy mind.
It completely ruined your ability to think straight.
"Why didn't you ever visit me?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.
Aang blinked in confusion. "What...?"
Well.
You had already said it now.
There was no point trying to take it back.
"Everyone visited me. Or at least wrote to me often. You never did...and eventually your letters stopped showing up too."
Aang looked genuinely taken aback by that.
"Is that why you've been mad at me?"
You frowned slightly. "I've been mad at you?"
"You keep glaring at me, and you've barely talked to me since you got here." He admitted carefully.
Between obsessing over him and trying not to stare at him every five seconds, you may have completely forgotten to behave like a normal person around him.
In hindsight, perhaps openly glaring at Katara every time she touched him had not been particularly subtle either.
The realization made heat crawl straight up your neck, embarrassment settling uncomfortably in your chest at the thought of who else might have noticed your behavior tonight.
Though, considering Toph had described the others as "dense as rocks," perhaps you still had some dignity left intact.
But then again, you figured you could use that to your advantage.
"Yes. I am angry with you." You confirmed, averting your gaze, knowing damn well his absence in your life hadn't been significant either way.
Aang's expression fell almost immediately.
"I'm sorry. You never wrote back and I just thought..." He hesitated briefly before laughing awkwardly under his breath.
"I don't know. I thought maybe you hated me." Aang admits, trying to convince you he didn't do anything deliberately.
"Why would I hate you, Aang?"
Your voice softened deliberately around his name while you turned your face again, grateful for the lingering effects from the wine making your flushed appearance seem far more believable.
"I don't think my heart could ever hate you," you murmured. "No matter what you did."
"That means a lot to me. Really."
You nearly frowned when Aang completely missed the implication behind your words, smiling instead at what he clearly believed was simple affection.
"I know I annoyed you a lot back then," He continued with a sheepish laugh. "Following you around and all. I just thought you didn't like me."
You knew he did not mean 'like' in a romantic sense.
Though even if he had, he would not have been entirely wrong.
"I did like you, Aang," you admitted softly. "I think...I admired you more than I wanted to."
His looked taken aback at that.
"At first, I honestly couldn't stand any of you," you continued with a quiet laugh. "Watching you and Katara run around the North Pole disrespecting centuries of tradition nearly drove me insane."Â
You shook your head lightly.Â
"But I'm grateful for it now."
"I heard you started your own academy for women."
The pride in his voice made warmth bloom annoyingly in your chest.
"Yes. Alongside healing, I teach combat to anyone interested in learning." A faint smile crossed your face.Â
"For that, I only have you and Katara to thank. Which is why..."
You let your voice trail off after that, deliberately avoiding his eyes while your fingers traced absent patterns against the railing, hoping it would make him more curious.Â
And it does, almost predictably so.
"Which is why?" Aang prompted gently.
You hesitated just long enough.
"Which is why it hurt when you never showed up."
The apology appeared on his face instantly.
You could see it in the subtle stillness that overtook him, in the way his hands loosened against the railing as though guilt had slipped into his bones before he could defend himself.
"I thought you didn't want me there." He admitted quietly.Â
"You never answered any of my letters, and after a while I just..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head once.Â
"I didn't want to bother you."
A smile touched your mouth, carrying just enough sadness to make him regret the sentence before it had even finished leaving him.
"You could never bother me."
The night air drifted between you both, carrying distant sounds from the streets below, though they hardly reached the balcony anymore.Â
His attention had settled entirely onto you now, patient and open in the way only Aang could be, and you hated how easy it was to pull him in once he decided to listen.
"I kept thinking you'd visit eventually," You continued.
"Every few months someone would arrive at the tribe and for a moment I'd convince myself it would be you." A quiet laugh escaped you.Â
"Sokka and Suki came whenever they could. Katara visited enough that the children started asking when she would return. Even Toph showed up once and insulted half the tribe before she left."
That finally earned a laugh from him and you waited for it to fade before looking up again.
"But never you."
The amusement disappeared from his expression so quickly it almost made you feel cruel.
"I didn't know you wanted me to."
"I think I just expected you to know."
You softened the line the moment it landed, turning your head away before it could sound accusatory.
"Aang" and "knowing" had always belonged together.Â
He noticed every frightened child, every wounded stranger, every person trying too hard to pretend they were alright.Â
You were counting on that part of him now, feeding it carefully until he began searching your face for things you had not yet said.
"Spirits. This sounds embarrassing now." You say, covering your face with your hands.
"No, it doesn't."
The answer came too quickly, and so did his hands as they rested on yours, pulling them away from your face.
"Back then, you always pushed me away. You never really took me seriously whenever I..." A small laugh escaped him, awkward and fleeting.Â
"I thought it meant you didn't want me around."
You looked at him for a moment before smiling faintly.
"Aang, we were children."
The embarrassment on his face deepened instantly.
"You were running around the world flirting with every girl who smiled at you."
"That is not true."
"Suki told me you tried to impress the Kiyoshi Warriors by flexing your staff."
"That was one time. I had never been around people who admired me before."
"You asked me if I thought your tattoos made you look mysterious."
"Thatâ! That was Sokka's idea ofâ Ugh..." Aang groaned quietly into his hand while you laughed under your breath, watching the tension ease from him little by little.
"You were impossible, of course I didn't take you seriously." You chuckled.
"But...you do now?"
There it was.
Just a sliver of hope in his voice.
You waited, hesitating for a good anticipating moment before you spoke.
"I just...I think somewhere along the way...you stopped being a boy I simply found...amusing."
The honesty in that sentence unsettled him. His attention lingered on you, trying to read through your expression and failing each time you softened before giving too much away.
"You still could've written back to me." He muttered, though the guilt had not left him entirely.
"I know." You sighed lightly, searching your head for a believable excuse.
"But after the war ended, everything changed so quickly. You had a city to build. Katara stayed beside you. Sokka had Suki. Zuko was ruling an entire nation. Toph disappeared into whatever cave she crawled out of. " A smile tugged briefly at your mouth.Â
"I suppose I convinced myself there wasn't really a place left for me."
"That's not true."Â
"Isn't it?" You shot back instantly.
You did not say it bitterly. It was important not to do so. You couldn't show any anger or place blame.Â
"You all built something together here while I stayed behind in the North teaching children how to heal sprained wrists."
"You did more than that."
"I know," you answered gently. "But it's different hearing about someone's life through letters instead of being part of it. And every time your letters became shorter, I told myself it was normal. You were growing into someone important. But..."
You paused again, and you knew every time you did so was nipping at his curiosity.
"You were important to me, Aang."
His throat shifted around a swallow.
"You were important to me too."
"Were?"
The correction slipped out playfully, but it struck him all the same. You watched realization move through him at once, watched him stumble over himself trying to fix it.
"Are. I meant are."
You let him have the recovery, lowering your eyes with a quiet smile that rewarded him for it.
"I know everyone needs something from you now," you said after a moment. "The council needs the Avatar. Republic City needs its founder. Whole nations probably line up waiting for a piece of your time."Â
His attention was rooted to you.Â
"But I didn't miss the Avatar."
He had gone entirely still beneath your words, waiting for you to finish your sentence.Â
You slowly moved, catching him off guard as you softly took his hands in yours.
"I missed you."
You could practically feel him trying to make sense of it, trying to decide whether this ache blooming inside his chest had always been there or whether you had placed it there yourself.
"You...make it sound like I abandoned you..." He admitted, though there was no defensiveness in it.
You tilted your head slightly, watching him through your lashes.
"Didn't you?"
"Aang!" A voice echoed faintly somewhere inside the house, muffled by walls and distance.Â
Katara.
You felt the interruption scrape across your nerves, but you did not let it show.
Instead, your thumb brushed once against the inside of his wrist, subtle enough to feel accidental.
His attention remained on you.
Interesting.
"I know you had your reasons." You continued gently, lowering your voice until it almost blended into the wind around you.Â
"You've always done what everyone else needed first. I think that's why people expect you to wait forever for them."
Something unreadable passed through him then, because he understood exactly what you meant even without hearing her name.
"And what do you need?" He asked.
There it was.
Not the Avatar speaking.
Just Aang.
You let the silence play out for a while before finally moving your hand from his wrist and sliding it slowly into his palm instead, holding it facing up.
"I think, I wanted to know whether you would've chosen me if I had asked you to stay." You said softly,
"...Stay where?" His breath got heavier, very aware of your hand in his. You moved to use both your hands to hold one of his, bringing it closer to yourself with every word you spoke.
"With me? Continue to be a part of my life?" You say with a tilt of you head, brining his hand even closer till his fingers were barely grazed your stomach.
It was only when you slid his hand down, letting it slip under your skirt did he react. His breath hitched a sharp, stifled gasp and a deep flush crept across his face, catching him completely off guard.
"Waitâ"Â
Aang barely managed his protest before you smoothly cut him off with your own plea.
"I needed you, Aang. And I still do."
You really did.
He felt the heat of you, letting out an audible hiss at the touch. You weren't just warm; you were burning, so soaked that the fabric covering you had long since lost its purpose.
To test the waters, you removed your hands from the equation.
To your surprise, Aang does not pull his hand away, resting it right where it was, fingers pressed into the drench fabric.
You shifted, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep embrace that forced him to hunch over and rest against you.Â
As you pulled him close, his face instinctively tucked away, hiding the sheer embarrassment of having his hand still buried between your thighs.
He could have moved. He should have. Yet, he stayed.
And he only melted further into you when your voice addedâ
"I really need you...Aang."
Apparently it had been enough to set him off, as you felt his fingers slip past the fabric failing to hold your desire, and his touch began experimental movements across the length of your folds, testing just how wet you really were.
"Hahh...!"
A breathless huff escaped you. The sensation of his fingers was far better than any fantasy had led you to expect.
Aang still hid his face against the curve of your neck, but you could feel his warmth radiating against you.Â
The sweat that had beaded on his forehead, cutting through the arrow, now getting smeared onto you.
It didn't bother you not when you could feel his ragged, confused breaths fanning against your skin.
Dropping one arm from around him, you slid it between your thighs, pressing yourself against his hand to encourage him to dip inside.
He complied, though with a heavy hesitation, taking a few agonizing seconds to decide which finger would breach you first.
A moan escaped you, only to be stifled as you bit down hard on his shoulder. The memory of Katara looking for him just moments ago flashed through your mind.
You silently wished the fellow Water Tribe girl wouldn't ruin this moment for you.
Not when you were so close to having him.
Aang remained pressed against your shoulder, his mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. The frantic beating of his heart was uncontainable, and he knew you could surely feel the thud of it against your own skin.
His mind drifted to Katara. He remembered when they had finally seemed to have something, only for her to put a hold on it never speaking of it again, acting as if nothing had changed.
But you were right here, soaking his hand with a heat that was clearly a desperate need for him.
Sure, you had turned him down, but you were kids! And he was annoying and unserious back then.
And he had insulted your tribe's customs, likely offending you far more than he had ever intended.
He had spent so long thinking you hated him, never realizing that you had been caring for him all along.
And he had denied you that care, never once coming to visit.
He was torn.
He was caught between the woman who had shut him down when they were children, the one he held right here beneath his fingers, and the woman he had spent nearly a decade with, only to be turned away just as they had finally made progress.
Unable to decide, he forced himself to focus on the way you wrapped around his fingers, feeling the warmth of your honeyed walls clinging tightly to him.
"Have you...done this before?"
Your voice came in a breathless rasp, finally pulling away from his shoulder where you had been biting down to muffle your cries.
He couldn't be dishonest with you, but his voice failed him; instead, he answered with a silent nod.
You felt the small, hesitant shake of his head against your shoulder. You already knew his answer, after all you had overheard enough of Katara's words to lead you to this very moment.
"Would you like to...tell me who...it was?"
You pressed the question, struggling to keep your moans contained as your focus drifted from the slow pumping of his fingers.
Fuck...he was doing so good.
Aang still couldn't find his voice; worse, he felt too exposed, too shy to answer.Â
He found a strange comfort in the way you gave him an option. You hadn't demanded a name or forced him to relive the details; you had simply asked if he wanted to share.
He figured that since you cared for him so deeply, you would never hold his past against him. With that thought, he responded with a small shake of his head.
He disagreed.
If you hadn't already known about him and Katara, his disagreement to sharing the name would have bothered to no extent. But knowing the truth made his hesitation sting.Â
Still, in this moment, his reluctance only worked in your favor.
You shifted your weight, swapping your arms; you replaced the one draped over his shoulders with the one that had been aiding him, bringing it down to join his hand between your thighs.Â
Your now free hand reached up to his head, stroking softly against his skin as you whisperedâ
"Okay. You don't have to tell me."
You spoke softly, a gentle balm intended to soothe his nerves.
Minutes passed as his fingers continued their work, though in the lulls, he opened his eyes to gaze at the city sprawling below.
Even though they were on the topmost floor of Katara's home, they weren't entirely invisible. They weren't high enough to be truly hidden; while a passerby at this hour was rare, it wasn't far from impossible.Â
If anyone were to look up, they would find the Avatar in a very compromising position.
But he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when it felt like he was searching for the lost puzzle piece of his life inside your cunt.Â
You on the other hand were thoroughly enjoying yourself, completely dazed under Aang's tentative touch.
But of course, it was only a matter of time before someone had to ruin it.
You didn't see who it was; all you noticed was the sudden creak of the door as the corridor light spilled into the room, a sharp intrusion that made you instinctively push harder against Aang.
"Someone is here, Aang straighten up!" you ordered in a hurried whisper. He barely seemed to register the command, so you pushed against his shoulders with renewed urgency, forcing him to straighten up and take a frantic step back.
"Oh! There they are!" Sokka's voice cut through the silence, muffled and faint behind the balcony door. You knew you only had a few seconds before he made his way over.
Moving with desperate grace, you caught Aang's hand, guiding it out from inside you.Â
You brought his hand up to your face, and he watched, mesmerized, as you used both hands to direct him.
You pressed his slick fingers against your lips, observing his wide eyes as you slowly dragged the wetness down, your bottom lip bouncing back into place as the finger passed.
His first real reaction came when you took those same fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue before letting them fall.
His lips pressed together in a tight, pained line as you licked your own, wiping your tongue across your bottom lip while keeping his gaze locked onto yours.Â
It was only when Sokka finally swung the balcony door open that you used a free hand to casually wipe the remaining moisture from your mouth.
"Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"
Sokka's voice came first. You still could not properly see him with Aang standing between you and the entrance, though the annoyance in his tone painted the expression well enough.
"Why would you guys come all the way up here?"
Katara spoke next.
Instinctively, your attention flicked back toward Aang, searching immediately for some reaction at the sound of her voice.
There was none.
He remained entirely absorbed in the moment you had dragged him into, eyes fixed stubbornly on your mouth as though he still felt your lips around his fingers.Â
And because he was looking at you so devotedly, you knew you could not risk letting your satisfaction show.
So you put on a usual cheeky smile.
Leaning slightly to the side, you finally stepped into view of the Water Tribe siblings.
"Katara! Sorry for intruding around your house," you said easily. "I just needed some air and ended up finding Aang here."
You smiled sweetly while speaking to her.
"It's alriâ"
Katara barely managed half the sentence before Aang interrupted unexpectedly.
"Could you guys give us a moment?"
Even while speaking, he never looked away from you.
"What?" Sokka laughed. "You guys talking about something we're not allowed to hear?"
The joke landed far closer to the truth than he realized.
"We were discussing your birthday present," you answered smoothly before Aang could attempt it himself. "You don't want us ruining the surprise, do you?"
The lie came easily, effortless beneath your smile.
"Oh, sweet." Sokka grinned immediately. "Come on then, you two. Aang's still not off the hook for abandoning his drink after one sip."
You nodded along lightly at his teasing.
"Come on, Katara."
He motioned toward his sister, though Katara still had not taken her eyes off Aang.
"Your robes are clean now," she told him quietly. "You can dry them out and put them back on."
She was waiting for him to answer.
You truly expected him to.
But after several seconds passed in silence, with Aang still standing there looking entirely lost in you, you finally spoke for him instead.
"He'll be there in a minute," you said gently.
Katara's expression shifted almost imperceptibly at that, though all she gave in response was a small nod.
The siblings eventually turned away, disappearing back through the doorway.
You missed the way Sokka's smile slowly faded the moment they left the room, suspicion settling quietly beneath his expression.
The second they disappeared from sight, you turned back toward Aang and lifted your arms around his shoulders, slowly pulling his face closer to yours.
"Aang..."
He said nothing.
For one horrible second, you genuinely wondered whether you had pushed him too far, whether everything you had carefully built tonight had finally cracked beneath the weight of your own desperation.
Still, you forced yourself to continue.
"I have certain feelings for you, and..."
You let the sentence trail off deliberately, lowering your eyes for only a moment to see whether he would follow.
He did, meeting your eyes quickly.
"...If you feel the same," you continued softly, "or even if you don't...I would rather you tell me honestly instead of making me guess."
He still doesn't say anything, and suddenly you became painfully aware of the fact he still was not touching you back.Â
His hands remained tightly wrapped around the balcony railing while he stayed slightly hunched within your hold, breathing harder than before yet making no move toward you at all.
So you leaned in first.
Your lips barely brushed his, letting it rest against him softly, giving him every opportunity to close the distance himself if he wanted to.
You waited.
But when nothing came from him, you slowly pulled away again, forcing yourself to accept the rejection with whatever dignity you still had left.
You released him completely after that.
Without another word, you moved past him and made your way back toward the room alone, fixing your appearance along the way while trying not to think too hard about the humiliation burning through your chest.
By the time you reached the room again, Zuko was approaching from the opposite hallway carrying a rolled mattress beneath one arm.
"You're staying over?" You asked quietly, falling into step beside him.
"We all are," he answered simply while pushing the door open. "Sokka's idea."
"Let me help."
You moved beside him automatically, helping spread the mattress across the floor while the others continued setting up the rest nearby.
Several minutes later, Aang finally returned.
The moment he stepped back into the room, nearly everyone looked up toward him automatically while Katara quietly approached with his robes folded neatly in her arms, still slightly damp from washing.
"Thanks..." he says, accepting them with a small smile though noticeably avoiding her eyes.
With one absent motion of his hand, warm air rushed through the fabric until the remaining dampness vanished completely, pulling the robes back on quickly.
Aang let out a distracted hum first, clearly taking a second to even process the question.
"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'll stay." He answered.
Then he moved toward the others to help arrange the remaining mattresses across the floor.
You noticed immediately how carefully he avoided looking at you.
Humiliation crawled so violently through your chest that for one awful moment you genuinely thought you might burst into tears right there in front of everyone.
So, you decided to play your final card.
After finishing helping Toph Beifong with one of the mattresses, you slowly rose to your feet. The others remained distracted arranging blankets and arguing over sleeping spots, giving you the perfect moment to speak.
"I'm sorry, guys." You said quietly, right before the final mattress could be laid down properly.Â
"I think I'll head back to the inn for the night."
Almost immediately, Suki looked up in concern, her attention catching on your agitated expression.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah." You forced a faint smile.Â
"I don't think the wine sat right in my stomach, and I'd rather be alone before it gets worse."
The excuse sounded embarrassingly pathetic even to you, though thankfully nobody questioned it.
You had barely managed three steps toward the hallway when Aang's voice suddenly cut through the room behind you.
"Waitâ"
The word came out louder than he intended, pulling the attention of everyone gathered across the floor. Conversations halted almost immediately, Sokka halfway through unfolding another mattress while Suki looked up from where she sat beside him.Â
Even Katara paused mid movement, fingers still curled around the edge of folded blankets.
Aang looked momentarily caught off guard by the silence he had created, standing near the doorway with his robes hanging loosely from his shoulders.Â
His eyes found yours first before quickly shifting toward the others.
"I'll be back. I'll just walk her back. It's late." He said, clearing his throat once.
You stopped at the sound of him volunteering himself so quickly, though you made sure not to turn around immediately.Â
The smile threatening to betray you curled against your mouth before you forced it back down, lowering your head just enough to hide it beneath the curtain of your hair.
Behind you came the soft sound of approaching footsteps.
You finally glanced sideways once his presence settled near enough to feel, only to notice your shadow disappearing beneath his entirely, swallowed whole against the wooden floorboards.
"Let's go."
You nodded softly before leaning sideways toward the room, offering everyone one last smile.
"Goodnight."
A chorus of sleepy replies followed, though the atmosphere had shifted too strangely.
You stepped into the hallway first, Aang close behind you.
Perhaps Katara already understood he would not be returning tonight.Â
Perhaps all of them did.
Because right before Aang had pulled his robes back on, the mark you left behind had not gone unnoticed.
The bite pressed near his shoulder stood out plainly against his skin for one terrible second before fabric covered it again, though one second had been more than enough.
Enough for Sokka's expression to flatten beneath confusion.
Enough for Suki's eyes to widen before she quickly looked away.
Enough for Katara to go completely still.
No one spoke of it.
They simply resumed around the absence, voices awkwardly finding each other.Â
Toph remained the only one untouched by the shift in atmosphere, still arguing with Zuko over where she wanted to sleep while the rest of them waited quietly for the Avatar's return despite knowing, somewhere deep down, that he would not be coming back anytime soon.
The walk back to the inn passed beneath a suffocating silence, neither of you quite knowing what could possibly be said after what had happened on that balcony.
Aang stayed half a step ahead the entire way, shoulders tense beneath his robes, attention fixed stubbornly on the empty streets ahead rather than you.Â
You noticed it after the second block.
His hand.
The same hand that had been between your thighs less than half an hour ago kept flexing at his side every few moments, fingers curling tightly into his palm before releasing again, restless and agitated.
Once, he nearly lifted it toward his face before abruptly stopping midway, jaw tightening faintly as he forced it back down again.
You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.
Because despite the distance he was trying so desperately to create between himself and what happened, his body had already betrayed him entirely.
By the time you reached the inn, the silence between you had grown so dense it nearly felt tangible.
Aang stopped only once the two of you stood at the entrance, the lantern hanging beside gate casting a dim glow across the side of his face.Â
For the first time since leaving Katara's house, he finally looked at you properly.
"Okay. Goodnight." He said after a moment.
You watched him step past you.
And just before he could get too far, you finally spoke.
"Come to my room, Aang."
He stopped instantly.
For a second he did not move at all, standing there with his back turned toward you before slowly facing you again.Â
The flush across his face had not faded in the slightest, still spread stubbornly over his cheeks and ears while confusion sat plainly beneath it.
You tilted your head slightly.
"Did you really come all this way just to say nothing?"
Aang opened his mouth briefly, only for whatever response he meant to give to die somewhere before reaching his tongue.Â
His attention slipped away from you again, landing somewhere near the floor while his hand flexed once more at his side.
Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you.
You turned before he could second guess himself, walking down the hallway with measured steps while his followed close behind you.Â
Neither of you spoke as you unlocked the door, pushing it open before stepping aside to let him enter first.
Aang hesitated slightly before walking in.
You shut the door behind you and leaned against it for one brief moment, fingers still curled around the handle while your heartbeat thundered violently against your ribs.
Because all you could think now wasâ
It was now or never.
"Aang." You call out softly, just his name, testing the weight of it.
He flinches like you've struck him. His shoulders drop, his head bowing as if he's suddenly carrying the weight of the entire world again.Â
"I shouldn't be here," he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice cracking enough to show how close he is to snapping.Â
"I should go back. It's not right, andâ"
"It's not right," you interrupt, your voice dropping an octave. You take one step closer, watching him tense.Â
"But you want to stay. You want this so badly it's making you tremble, Aang."
He lets out a ragged, broken sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan as he finally looks up. His eyes are wide and desperate with of confusion.Â
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" You're in his space now, close enough to feel the heat coming off him.Â
You reach out, your fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his robes along his collarbone where you bit him earlier.Â
He shudders at the proximity, his breath hitching.Â
"You can go back to being the perfect Avatar, the perfect friend, the perfect everything. You can walk out that door right now and pretend this never happened."
You lean in closer, your lips brushing his ear, your voice a velvet promise.Â
"But you won't. Because for the first time in your entire life, you're going to choose what you want. Not what's right or expected of you. Just what you want."
You pull back enough to catch his gaze, your eyes dark with the truth of it.Â
"So tell me, Aang. Are you really going to walk out that door?"
He moves away from you, crossing to reach your bed.
Aang sinks onto the edge of your bed, burying his face in his hands as if he can squeeze the conflicting thoughts right out of his skull.Â
You move to sit beside him, your thigh brushing his, and the way he flinches even now makes your pulse thrum.
"Why is this bothering you so much?" You ask softly, your voice a gentle caress against his turmoil.
"It's not..." He chokes out the lie, his fingers digging into his scalp.Â
"It's just...everything changed. The way I look at you, the way you look at me it's like the world shifted and I don't know where my feet are supposed to land."
He turns his head, searching your face for something an explanation, a reason.
He finally asksâ
"What do you need from me?"
You paused, not having expected it but grateful for his question nonetheless.
"I just want you." You say simply.
He stares at you, eyes wide and searching, trying to untangle the knots you've tied in his mind.Â
You don't make him wait.Â
You stand, moving between his knees as you straddle him, settling yourself firmly in his lap.
His hands hesitate in the air, fingers twitching as if they want to catch you, to hold you and then they drop, fists clenching at his sides as he forces himself to stay still.
"I will give you everything you want, Aang," You promise him, leaning in until your breath fans over his lips.Â
"I will never disappoint you. I'll give you a home. Children. A safe place where you can just be Aang. No burdens."
The silence that follows is different, heavy with the weight of the life you've just offered him.Â
Finally, he finds his voice.Â
"Why...?"
"Because I want to." You say, the words sure and steady.Â
"I want to be your wife."
Aang's entire body stills.Â
His eyes widen, his breath hitching in his throat as if you've just knocked the wind out of him.Â
"Why...why would you want that?" He sounds genuinely lost, as if you've just spoken a language he doesn't understand.
"Because..." You hesitate, letting out a chuckle as you see him unconsciously lean closer in patience.
"I love you," you say, leaning forward to press your forehead against his, closing your eyes.Â
"And I want you to be free."
You stay there for a moment, letting the weight of your confession settle.Â
When you pull back, he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read.
It was something between awe and sheer terror.
For a long painful while, Aang said nothing at all.Â
His eyes slowly slipped shut, his head lowering slightly while his fingers tightened into fists.Â
You watched the conflict move across his face in, watching him sit there trying to untangle every thought pulling him apart from the inside.
And suddenly, fear crawled its way up your spine. It truly felt possible that he might pull away from you completely.
"You will have to come live in Republic City," He says quietly.
You were snapped out of your wallowing thoughts.Â
When you finally replayed the moment, his sentence barely registered.
You were still too focused on the fear twisting inside your chest, too busy preparing yourself for rejection to properly process what he had actually said.
Then the meaning finally settled into place.
Your head snapped up immediately, as you froze, pulling back to stare at him in shock.Â
"Are you...agreeing?"
He hesitates, his throat working as he swallows hard. Then, slowly, he nods.
You can't help it; a squeal of pure triumph escapes you.Â
"Thank you, Aang!"Â
You lunge forward to hug him again, the momentum sending you both backward onto the mattress.
When you sit back up, Aang's breath hitches.Â
His eyes go wide as you reach for the hem of your top and pull it over your head in one fluid motion.Â
The fabric slides off your shoulders, leaving you bare chested in the dim light, your nipples already peaked from the adrenaline.
"What are you doing?" He almost exclaims, his voice cracking. He wrenches his gaze away, jaw tight, shoulders hunching as if he's trying to make himself smaller.
"Isn't this why you came here?" You tilt your head, watching him through your lashes, your voice dropping into that sweet, manipulative purr.
"We still have things to talk about," He says, forcing himself to sit up straighter.Â
He stares at your face with desperate intensity, pointedly ignoring the way your breasts are inches from his chest.
"Do you...not want me?" You let the question hang, making your voice go small, making your eyes well with perfectly calculated tears.
"That's notâ!!" He cuts himself off, the confession dying in his throat.
"Then kiss me..." You whisper, the command soft but absolute.
Another moment passes in a thick and suffocating silence before he finally gives in.Â
He leans in, his movement hesitant as he presses his lips to yours.Â
It's not the confident kiss of a man who knows what he wants, it's the kiss of someone who's finally stopped fighting the inevitable.
You let the kiss linger, pressing into him enough to leave him breathless, then pull back with a shy, triumphant smile.Â
"There..." You whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.Â
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Before he can answer, you reach for the ties of his robes.Â
Your movements are swift as you undo the knots.Â
Aang freezes, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn't pull away.Â
You peel the heavy fabric from his shoulders, exposing the broad span of his back and the striking blue line that curves down his spine. His skin is hot beneath your palms, and you feel the way his muscles jump at your touch.
"You're so beautiful." You coo, your voice a velvet caress as you slide the robes down his arms, leaving him bare chested.Â
The arrowheads on his hands flex as he grips the mattress, knuckles white, his chest heaving.
You shift your weight, moving from his laps as you sink to your knees onto the ground between his legs, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.Â
"May I?" you ask, your hands already moving to the waistband of his pants.
Aang makes a sound like he's choking on it.Â
"I... yes," He manages, his voice barely a whisper.
When you finally free him, he's already past the point of no return.Â
You take him in your hands first, stroking him slowly, watching his head fall back as his hand tremble to hold his weight upright.Â
Then you lean in.
The first touch of your lips makes him gasp, his hips jerking up involuntarily.Â
You go slow, teasing him, swirling your tongue around the head, catching every drop of pre cum.Â
You want him to feel every sensation, to realize exactly what he's been missing. You take him in deep, inching slowly as your throat tightens around him, and the sound that leaves him is raw and broken.
"Spirits, please..."Â He moans, his fingers digging harshly into the sheets.
"Do you like this, Aang?"Â You murmur against him, pulling back enough to look up at him.Â
"Do you like how I take care of you?"
You let the question hang in the air, your tongue slowly tracing the length of him again, making him whine that sweet, broken sound that tells you exactly how close he is.Â
You can feel the way he's trembling beneath your touch, his breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches.
"Shh, I know,"Â You whisper against him, your lips barely brushing the sensitive skin.Â
"I've got you, Aang. Let me take care of you."
You keep your movements agonizingly slow.Â
You drag your tongue up and down, teasing the ridge with just enough pressure to make his hips twitch involuntarily before you pull back.Â
You want him suspended here right on the edge of conflict and emotion, hoping it might bring out some of his truth out with it.
His hand moves, finding the top of your head.
His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling you but holding you there, grounded by the contact.Â
"You're...you're making it so hard,"Â He chokes out, his eyes squeezed shut, his head lulling back and forth.
"Is it too much?"Â You murmur, your voice dripping with fake concern as you take him deeper.Â
You swirl your tongue around the tip, and the sound he makes, that wrecked, desperate whimper is better than any confession he could have given you.
You keep your pace steady, your eyes never leaving his face as you watch him whimper breathlessly.Â
You lean back to press a soft kiss to his inner thigh, your lips barely grazing him, and hear him catch his breath sharply.
"Please..." He pleads, his voice cracking. "I don't... I don't know how to "
"It's okay," You interrupt softly, your hands sliding up his thighs to feel the taut muscle there.Â
"Just feel it, Aang. Just feel how good this is."
You go back down, your tongue working in slow, deliberate circles, teasing the sensitive skin just below the head.Â
When his hips buck upward, nearly meeting you halfway, you pause, pulling back once again to look up at him through your lashes.Â
His chest is heaving, his skin flushed, those arrowhead on his hand flexing as he dug into the bedding.
"Do you want more?"Â You ask, your voice a velvet trap.
He can't even find words.Â
He just nods, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
You take him in deep, your throat tightening around him, letting out a soft, satisfied hum as you feel him shudder underneath you.Â
You keep it slow, tantalizingly close to the edge, making him feel every single second of it.
You pull away abruptly, the sudden absence of your warmth making him let out a pathetic, wounded hiss through his teeth.Â
You can't help the laugh that escapes you as you watch his hand leave your head and meet the mattress again, eyes glazed over and unfocused.
"You said earlier you've done this before," You state, moving your hand to resume that slow, torturous slide up and down his length.Â
"Did she not do this...?"
Aang shakes his head, his entire body betraying him as a fresh bead of pre cum wells at the tip.Â
He doesn't know you already know. He doesn't know you've already heard the truth, and you savor that.
"What did you do then?" You ask, your voice dripping with faux innocence.
"I...I used my fingers on her..."Â He trails off, his blush deepening to a feverish red that stains his cheeks and the tips of his ears.Â
"Then I tried to..."
"Go on..." You encourage, stopping your hand entirely.Â
You watch the way his breath hitches at the sudden lack of friction, his hips twitching upward instinctively.
"I used my mouth..." He chokes out, his voice barely audible. "But she didn't like it..."
"Not everyone enjoys it." You say with a gentle shrug.
"It difficult, being so exposed to the person you like..." Trailing off, you wait for a nuance, but his breathless gasps continue.
"Had she asked you to do it?"
"No..."Â He says immediately, the word tumbling out with a touch of guilt.Â
"I just...I didn't want it to hurt her when we..."
You pout.
"How sweet of you, Aang,"Â You coo, resuming the rhythmic movement of your hand.Â
His hips jerk in place, his breath hitching as he fights to keep it together.Â
"And then what happened?"
"Then we did... it." He groans, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Is she still in your life?" You question, watching to see if he would finally admit it.
"We never spoke about it after..."
"Oh, you poor thing..."Â You murmur, letting go of him entirely as you move upward to wrap your arms around him.Â
You press your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart.Â
"I would never deny you like that, Aang. Never."
The silence stretches and the weight of your words fall thick around you.Â
Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you. His touch is almost reverent, his fingers curling into your back as he pulls you flush against him.Â
"Thank you..."Â He whispers into your hair, so quiet you almost miss it.
You pull back to look him in the eyes, your expression a mask of perfect, gentle understanding.Â
"Would you like to...try it with me?"
He doesn't hesitate this time. He nods, his grey eyes focused on yours with a look of surprising relief.
"Okay." You say, your smile widening just a fraction too far to be entirely innocent.Â
"I think we can skip a step, since you've already used your fingers earlier tonight. Not that I'm opposed." You give a gentle wink, making him shyly avert his gaze.
The air in the room feels like it might combust from the sheer, unadulterated tension as you slide off his lap, the movement agonizingly slow.Â
The sound of your skirt hitting the floor is the only thing breaking the silence, followed by the sight of your soaked underwear being peeled away.
Aang's breath hitches audibly as he watches you maneuver onto the bed.
His eyes drop to where you're sitting back against the pillows, legs spreading open to reveal everything to him, glistening and swollen in the dim light.Â
He looks completely undone.Â
He crawls forward on his knees, hovering over you like he's approaching something sacred, his hands trembling as they ghost over your thighs.
When his thumb finally makes contact, pressing against your already swollen folds, you can't help it that sharp hiss escapes your teeth.
"Hahh!"Â
You arch slightly, your fingers digging into the bedsheets.Â
You look down at him through your lashes, voice breathless and strained.Â
"Do you...know what to do?"
Aang shakes his head, his face flushed a deep, burning red.Â
He looks absolutely terrified to mess this up, yet the need in his eyes is undeniable.Â
Without waiting for another word, he leans forward, his tongue darting out to taste you.
The contact makes your hips jerk upward, and when he pulls back, a long, broken moan tears from your throat.Â
You can feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer desperation in his movements.
"That's okay..."Â You say, your voice dropping into as devastatingly sweet, encouraging tone.Â
You reach down, your palm cupping his cheek, forcing him to look up at you while his mouth is still wet from you.Â
The arrow on his head catches the light, his pupils dilated and hazy with need.Â
"I...I will help you..."
You slide your hand over his head, guiding him back down, pressing him closer until his lips meet you again.Â
Under your hand, you can feel the way he shudders, gasping against you as he finally lets himself lose control, his tongue working with a clumsy, earnest passion that makes your vision blur.
The way he's looking at you right now dazed and flushed, is better than any orgasm.Â
You reach down, your fingers spreading his lips apart just slightly so you can guide his face, your voice dropping into a low and instructional tone.
"No, not like that..."Â You mumble, your thumb grazing his bottom lip.Â
"Lower. Right...there."Â
You push him down, your hips tilting instinctively toward the contact. When his tongue finds the swollen nub of your clit, you let out a sharp, broken gasp that makes him jerk back.Â
"Slow down, Aang. Use the flat of your tongue. Don't...don't be so frantic."
He obeys instantly, his movements cautious and devout as if he's afraid he might get the same reaction he got last time.Â
But you can feel the desperation beneath his hesitation, the way his fingers curl into the flesh of your thighs, knuckles white.Â
You guide his head with your hands, showing him exactly how you want to be touched long, slow strokes that make your whole body tense, then quick, teasing laps that make your breath hitch.
"Yes...just like that,... You pant, your voice making the short hairs at the nape of his neck stand up.Â
"Oh Aang...! You're doing so good. So good for me..."
The praise is clearly working; you feel him adjust, his tongue finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl.
You can feel him watching you through his lashes, studying your face for every twitch of your lips and every stuttered breath.Â
You want him to see exactly what he's doing to you, to witness the way his tongue is pleasuring you unimaginably.
You tilt your head back and whisper his name like a mantra.Â
"That's it, Aang! Just like that...You're doing so well for me!"
You let your head fall back against the pillows, your breath coming in shallow, staggered gasps as you guide him. Your hand is gently pressing his face closer whenever he hesitates, whenever he pulls back to look at you with those wide, uncertain eyes.
"There...keep goingâ!" You moan, your hips tilting up of their own accord. "Right there!"
The ragged sound he makes when he's trying to be careful is more intoxicating than any physical sensation.Â
Every time your soft instructions pull a whimper from him, a spike of triumph shoots through you.
He's being so careful. So incredibly gentle with you, his tongue moving with a hesitant reverence that makes your stomach flip. He's trying to learn you, trying so hard to do this right, and the sheer vulnerability of it is what finally breaks you.
You did it.
You eyes flutter shut as another wave of pleasure rolls through you.Â
You actually did it.
The thought is more intoxicating than the sex itself.Â
The realization that you've dismantled the Avatar, stripped away the hero and the monk until all that's left is this raw, exposed boy who is so desperately trying to please you...it's better than anything you could have imagined when you started this a day ago.
"Y-you're doing so good..."Â You whisper the genuine praise that makes him shudder. His tongue sweeps again, longer this time, more confident, and you can't help the way your thighs tighten around his face, pulling him in.Â
"Just like that, Aang. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop...!"
You listen to the wet, slurping sounds of him working on you, the way he swallows every moan you let out, and you feel that possessive heat blooming in your chest.Â
He's not yours yet.
Not entirely.Â
But you can feel the shift in him.Â
The way he's clinging to you, the way he's listening to you.
When he finally presses his face harder against you, his breath hot against your damp skin, and you feel that first surge of your orgasm building.Â
You meet him halfway, your hips arching up, your fingers digging into his skin as you whisper his name like a prayer.
"That's it...oh spirits, Aang..."
You watch him through heavy eyelids, the way his jaw works, the way his eyes go unfocused as he feels you writhe under him.Â
And you realize that you're already planning how to make him do this again.Â
And again.Â
And again.Â
Until he doesn't even remember what it was like when you weren't the only thing he wanted to please.
"Aang, I'mâ!" The words catch in your throat as a wave of pleasure begins to build harshly.  "I'm going toâ!"
"I've got you..."Â He mumbles against your skin, his voice thick and unrecognizable.Â
He presses his face into you, his tongue working with a sudden, focused intensity that shatters your last thread of control.
Your orgasm hits like a physical blow, your entire body going rigid as you cry out his name, sinking your fingers into his scalp as you come apart beneath him.Â
You feel him catch every drop, his tongue sweeping over you with a greedy thoroughness that leaves you shaking and breathless.
When you finally slump back, your chest heaving, your skin slick with sweat, he pulls back to look up at you.Â
His face is feverish, his lips wet, and his eyes are completely glazed with something that looks terrifyingly close to worship.
"Was that..."Â He starts, his voice cracking.Â
"Was that okay?"
You can't even find the words to tell him it was better than perfect.Â
You just reach down, your fingers trembling as you cup his face, pulling him back up for a kiss that tastes of you and him.
You guide his back to the pillows with gentle pressure from your hands on his shoulders, watching the way he settles beneath you, all broad shoulders and lean muscles, his tattooed arms splayed out like he's surrendering to something inevitable.Â
He looks utterly wrecked, his breathing still coming in ragged puffs, his gaze following your every movement with a mix of curiosity and unadulterated terror.
"I've got you..."Â You assure, your voice like honey as you straddle his hips.Â
You do not rush it.Â
You don't even move to come down on him yet.Â
You just sit there, your knees on either side of his thighs, feeling the heat radiating off him.Â
"Just breathe, Aang. Look at me."
His gaze snaps up to yours, so wide and vulnerable.Â
You reach down, your thumb grazing over his lips to wipe the remnants of your pleasure, and he lets out a choked sound when you touch him.
"Shh..."Â You coo, leaning forward until your breasts brush his chest, your nipples grazing against his skin.Â
"I'm going to be so careful with you. I promise."
When you finally lower yourself down, the way he gasps a broken, shattered sound that rips straight through your chest is almost enough to make you stop.Â
But you don't.Â
You sink down slowly, agonizingly slow, taking him in inch by inch.Â
You watch his eyes pull open before screwing shut the next second, his head falling back into the pillows as you fill yourself completely. You can feel his hands hovering just above your waist, trembling, wanting to grab you but terrified to do so.
"That's it..."Â You moan, your voice thick with the pleasure he's giving you.Â
"Oh Aang...you feel so good."
You start to move, but it's not fast. No matter how desperate you were, you do not pick up your pace.Â
You move slow, grinding back and forth on him.Â
You're taking your time, riding him with a languid motion that forces him to feel every single corner of you. You lean forward and whisper in his ear.
"Tell me what you want me to do, Aang. Tell me how you want me."
"I..."Â He swallows hard, his hands finally coming to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a desperation that makes your smile.
"I want you to...just like that. Please." His sentence was incomplete, but you understood plenty.Â
You let out a throaty moan, arching your back as you grind down on him, your moans getting louder, more shameless.Â
You want him to hear it. You want him to hear exactly what he's doing to you. You press your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammering like a trapped bird beneath your touch.
"You're so beautiful..."Â You whisper, your voice trembling with genuine awe as your eyes brim with tears.Â
"My perfect, beautiful Aang."
The way he says your name after, in that broken, wrecked manner is when you know you've really done it.Â
You've broken him open.Â
And as you find your rhythm, as you ride him with the motive to give him that devastating pleasure, you know you're never letting him go.
You lean forward, as you press your chest against his, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your fingers find your own aching heat, working in a rhythmic counterpoint.
Aang is completely lost now, his head lolling back, his throat working around a broken moan as you guide him toward the edge.
"Aang..."Â You whisper against his skin, your breath hot making him shudder. You pull back, looking at him softly as you ghost your lips over his.
"I need you to...I need you to let go. Just like that. For me."
His fingers press into your waist with strength.Â
His eyes find yours, and for a moment, you finally see it.
The moment he decides to stop fighting.
When it happens, it's so beautiful.Â
You feel his entire body seize beneath you, his hips arching off the mattress as he finally breaks.Â
You don't even flinch when he gasps your name with a sob, pressing yourself down hard, grinding against him, ensuring every single drop of him is claimed.Â
You take it all, swallowing his release with a greedy, possessive whimper, your own orgasm crashing over you in that leaves you trembling.
You stay there for a long time, collapsed against his chest, listening to the frantic, uneven thudding of his heart.Â
You can feel the warmth of him still inside you, a thrumming weight that makes your stomach flip with triumph.
Slowly, you pull back. His eyes are still blown wide, staring at the ceiling with a look of complete, hollowed out shock.Â
He's breathing hard, his skin flushed, the arrow on his head a stark against his pale skin.Â
He looks utterly shattered, completely undone by you.
"Aang?" you whisper, your voice innocent.
He doesn't answer. He just lies there, staring, still taking long inhales through his nose.Â
You know exactly what you've done.Â
You've crossed a line he can never uncross.Â
You've claimed him in the most irreversible way, and you did it while making him think it was his choice.
"Oh, Aang..." You murmur, your hand coming up to stroke his cheek, your thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip.Â
"You were so good. So perfect."
His eyelashes flutter, and for a moment, you think he might cry. Then, his hand moves slow, hesitant and rests against your thigh. It's not a push away. It's still there.
âWerenât youâŠsupposed toâŠmove?â he managed to choke out eventually, his eyes searching yours while you stared back at him in confusion.
For a moment, you genuinely had no idea what he meant.
So you simply waited for him to explain himself.
Except he never actually said it.
Instead, his attention dropped lower, landing where your bodies were still pressed together intimately, and realization hit you almost instantly.
You giggle, lowering your chest to his, as you hold him.
"I wanted it." You confess softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his temple.Â
"I wanted you. All of you."
You stay there, wrapped around him, waiting.Â
Waiting for the moment he realizes he can't go back.Â
Waiting for the moment he accepts he's yours.
And as you feel him exhale, a long, shuddering breath that dissolves into that of relief, you know.
You've already won.
Months later, sometimes you still thought about the look on Katara's face when you and Aang announced not only that you were together, but that the wedding would follow two months later.
You had not enjoyed it.
That was perhaps the cruelest part of all this.Â
Beneath the jealousy, the selfishness, beneath the quiet satisfaction curling inside your chest, Katara had still been your friend.Â
The sight of her standing there so perfectly composed while grief leaked through the cracks of her face had filled you with immediate guilt.
But guilt did not undo anything.
She had her chance, and she let it pass her by with trembling hands and too much hesitation.Â
You had been offered the very same thing only once, and you had taken it without allowing yourself enough time to think twice.
That alone had decided everything.
It did not matter now anyway.Â
The damage had already settled itself between all of you.Â
You still saw them, of course.
Toph remained unchanged, thankfully immune to awkwardness, still insulting you with the same affection she always had.Â
Zuko treated everything with neutrality, though every now and then you would catch the faintest exhaustion in his eyes whenever tension filled the room for too long.
But Sokka had grown quieter around both of you, his easy laughter no longer arriving naturally, while Suki watched situations unfold with patience, refusing to interfere.Â
And Kataraâ
Katara tried.
Spirits, she really tried.
Yet there was only so much grace a person could carry before it started collapsing under its own weight.
The worst part was that none of them even lived in Republic City anymore except for her.
Despite it, you moved to the city.
You had promised Aang you would, and unlike everyone else, you never made promises to him you did not intend to keep.
The pregnancy had complicated things almost immediately.Â
Explaining why your stomach had already begun rounding before the wedding was difficult enough, though the true horror came when four months into your marriage you could no longer disguise it beneath layered robes and loose fabric.
People counted months cruelly.
Especially your own friends.
Still, none of them said anything directly.Â
Not even Katara.
Marriage itself settled around you strangely fast.Â
Domestic life came naturally, and it unexpected how easily your fell into it.
Slipping into place piece by piece until you could no longer imagine waking without Aang somewhere nearby.
Though 'nearby' often meant temporary.
He was gone more than he was home, forever chasing disasters across nations, disappearing on Appa before sunrise whenever the duties of the Avatar demanded him elsewhere.Â
Sometimes he would return exhausted enough to barely stay awake through dinner before collapsing beside you still half dressed.
Other nights he came home restless, carrying the weight of too many people needing too much from him all at once.
But whenever he was home, he loved you openly.
That was what mattered most.
By the seventh month of your pregnancy, Aang had developed the habit of kneeling in front of you every evening, pressing his ear against your stomach with complete seriousness while the twins shifted violently beneath your skin.
"They're arguing again." He would say thoughtfully.
You laughed every single time.
"They are not arguing."
"They definitely are. This one keeps kicking the other."
"They must have inherited your inability to sit still."
Aang only grinned before pressing another kiss against your stomach, completely unbothered by your jokes.
He was convinced both babies would be girls.
You remained certain one would be a boy.
Neither of you won.
The labor lasted nearly an entire night, leaving you exhausted beyond reason by the time the twins finally arrived screaming into the world shortly before dawn.
You gave birth to two boys.Â
Two impossibly tiny boys with lungs strong enough to wake half the district.
Aang cried harder than either of them did.
You would remember that forever.
The sight of him sitting beside you with one baby clutched awkwardly against his chest while the other rested in your arms, tears slipping down his face faster than he could wipe them away.
You knew he was overwhelmed by something too enormous to fit inside him.
They looked more like him than you from the very beginning.
Those very grey eyes. His nose. Their pale skin that scrunched impossibly whenever they cried too hard.
You could feel it already, that they would be very powerful.
He held those boys carefully, almost fearfully, as though he could not quite believe they were real.
Late at night when both children finally slept against his chest, you would catch him staring at them quietly with distant thoughts clouding his face.
"What's wrong?" You asked once.
Aang blinked before smiling faintly.
"Nothing."
But afterward, his hand drifted instinctively toward one of the babies, thumb brushing softly over the tiny arrow hidden beneath wisps of pale hair.
And suddenly you understood.
After all, you had not simply become his wife.
You had become the future of the Air Nomads.
The only future left.
Months later, late at night. you would often find yourself curled against Aangâs side in bed while the twins slept against his chest, tiny bodies rising and falling steadily.
Something deep in Aang seemed to settle whenever the twins were in his arms. The sight softened something deep inside him every single time.
âWhatâs wrong?â You asked once after catching him staring at them for far too long, distant thoughts clouding his face while one of the babies slept soundly beneath his chin.
Aang blinked before smiling faintly.
âNothing.â
You leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder before settling back into his side again, one hand moving instinctively to pat the back of the baby resting on his chest while Aang carefully adjusted the other higher against him.
Then, after a while, his hand drifted absentmindedly toward one of the twins, fingertips brushing softly through the wisps of hair on his head just as a tiny gust of air stirred weakly around the tiny blankets.
The movement was small, but it made you go completely still.
Because suddenly, you understood.
After all, you had not simply become his wife.
You had become the future of the Air Nomads.
The only future left.
a/n: i laughed OUT LOUD on many occasions as i was editing it. but i still like it very much. so, i will sit in my shame like the clown that i am.
âand she's on top of me, and it is hot, hot, hot.â
disclaimer; i dont fw mcafferty, at all. but the song is so him.
mdni. cw: mutual masturbation, theyâre practically edating, gooner x gooner, fingering, premature ejaculation, ummm, what else, unprotected sex, does that count as grown folk sex or not, riding for like five minutes, mommy kink (sorry i had to sneak it in there), whiney pathetic denki, so nothing new, bad language, recreational drug use, virgin denki, virgin reader. reader is thick fem coded.
wc: 3.9k
â» â || â· âș
starting trackâŠ.
you've never actually met denki kaminari.
which is weird.
because, at this point, he's basically integrated himself into your daily routine.
he's the first person you speak to when you wake up, the last person you message before you go to sleep. the first person you go to text when something happens, small things, big things, bullshit that no one else is going to understand, movie reviews, song recommendations.
you've followed each other for... god, maybe two years now? one of those internet mutual situations. it was either a tiktok comment, or an instagram comment he posted that had you snorting at your screen so hard, you had to follow the guy with the pikachu profile picture, immediately.
always the first person to like your stories, to slide up with stupid reaction gifs, or drooling emojis. and then following it with 5 minute rants about how "this jjk arc is actually about the burden of adolescence", completely serious.
sometimes youâll post something and before youâve even locked your phone againâ
LMAOOOOO
who pissed you off this time
or
okay but hear me out
followed by the worst take youâve ever read in your life.
but you reply every time. because his exact ratio of funny to horny is just so perfectly calibrated to your freakquency.
youâll post a selfie and get:
good lord.
then thirty seconds later:
WAIT WAIT WAIT
i need to rant
and suddenly heâs voice-noting you for four straight minutes about drama inside his friend group.
people you technically know. well. not know know. but know in the way internet mutuals know people. through usernames, blurry instagram stories, occasional re-posts, overheard names.
sero said this, jirou blocked someone, mina got too drunk at a house party, bakugou pushed him down the stairs, again.
and denki relays all of it to you like a disgraced court jester bringing gossip to the queen.
youâll be brushing your teeth at midnight listening to him say some shit like, âNO because tell me why this grown man started shadowboxing in the function because somebody drank his monster.â
and youâre laughing so hard toothpaste nearly goes down your shirt.
itâs easy with him. so easy. easy to reply, easy to keep talking, easy to accidentally spend three hours discussing whether eren yeager was doomed by narrative structure or just mentally ill.
and then youâll realise itâs four in the morning and your phoneâs on 2%.
and heâs still typing, still there. that little green dot beside his name.
because he's always online. chronically.
you don't think there has been a single moment recorded in history where denki hasn't been within five feet of his phone. he'll snap you back when he's on the toilet, mid shit, phone still clutched in his hands. he'll text when you when he's on the train, replies with typos so bad you can physically hear how fast he was typing. snaps while he's walking home.
so eventually, eventually, obviously, inevitably, the natural progression of things.
he starts sending you voice messages while he's jerking off.
your own personal whimper audio plug.
you can't really remember when that started. actually, no, you canâŠ
heâd just finished the third arc of this anime you recommended and absolutely had to call you at two in the morning to tell you exactly what he thought about it. and you were online anyways, active two minutes ago right there beside your profile picture.
only problem is, someone just happened to be mid goon sesh. vibrator pressed to your clit, toes clenched, sweating under your blankets, thighs drenched in your own slick, room dark except for the glow of your phone screen.
you're still not really sure what possessed you to press accept on his call, and you're even less sure why you continued to pleasure yourself with him rambling down the phone.
maybe it was the confidence that comes with anonymity, the fact that he doesn't know you in real life. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the fact he actually listened to you, watched the things you recommended, came back wanting your opinions like they matter, like you matter.
or maybe he's just⊠easy to listen to? warm, animated, endearing. the soothing tone of his voice, of him snickering at his own jokes.
ââŠright? like iâm not saying he was justified, but if that happened to me i probably wouldâve done worse.... what dâyou think?â
âiââ your voice catches, badly. you bite down hard on your lip, trying to stifle your moans, âummânghâsorry, what?â
thereâs immediate shuffling on his end.
âoh shit,â denki backtracks quickly. âsorry, were you asleep? fuck, my bad dude, just call me back in the morningââ
"no!" you reply, too fast, too desperate, you fuckingâ what the fuck is wrong with you, âno... sâfine. just⊠keep talking.â
there's a beat, a pause, and then, "oh, uhhh, okay...?" he continues on, rambling, but his voice is lower, slower, calmer, like heâs suddenly hyper-aware of every sound coming through the phone.
finally, he throws in the towel, bites the bullet.
ââŠsorryâ you can literally kill me if iâm wrong but⊠are youââ
he coughs, awkwardly.
âare you touching yourself?â
god.
you really should've lied.
should've hung up the phone, messaged him back in the morning, or something, literally anything else.
but, ohhh, you didn't even care at that point. your orgasm already building hot under your skin and there was something strangely intoxicating about the fact he could tell, that he was even listening close enough to notice.
âyeah,â you breathe out before you can stop yourself. âyeah⊠iâm playing with myself.â
your voice wrecked in a way denki had never heard before.
heâs quiet now, fuck, fuck, fuck, you blew it.
heâs probably cut the call, gonna tell all his friends what a weirdo you are, maybe post a story-time on his close friends about the pervy girl rubbing herself while on the phone to him.
but⊠the humiliation of him finding out doesnât derail you from the path of pleasure youâre already walking down, and although youâd never admit it, it probably makes it hotter. you might as well finish, you can wallow in your self-pity tomorrow.
the vibrations sound louder now that youâre not being a self conscious freak. youâre whimpering softly while the buzzing echoes against the slick running down your thighs, wet and muffled beneath the blankets.
you can hear it.
so can denki.
âis thatââ he swallows, and you flinch in surprise at his voice suddenly coming through the receiver again, but you donât bother slowing down. âis thatâŠis that your pussy? thatâthat noise?â
what noise, the bzzz-bzzz-squelch-squelch? is he serious, âwhat else would it be?â
âi donâtâ i dunno, it justâŠâ he stumbles over the words. âit just sounds so⊠so wet.â
âmhmmm,â yeah, yeah it really does sound so wet, doesnât it.
âdoes it always get like that?â
âmhmmm.â
a shaky breath crackles through the phone.
and then,
âw-wish i could see.â
what?
what?
oh.
you almost sigh in real time, what did you even have to worry about? did you forget this is denki, denki kaminari, the same freak who once said he would 'fuck your armpit' as a 'joke.'
the thought barely settles before you finally notice another sound leaking through the phone.
rhythmic. wet.
fap-fap-fap.
you still immediately, fingers curling around your little bullet vibe to switch it off. were you seriously so distracted you didnât notice? didnât hear this, didnât hear him?
the wet schilcks of his hand working his cock, "wish i could seeâno- wish i c-could-could touch itânngggh-oh fu-uckâwish i could-hck!- wish i could fuckinâ taste you."
worse than you, oh, he's waaaay worse than you.
âw-wish you were here,â his voice crackles through the receiver alongside another ruined, greedy, sound. âwish you could see how messy i gotââ
âdenkiââ
âfuuuck,â he whines softly. âsay my name again, please. please, iâmââ
âdenki, youâre so gross.â
âhahâ shiiit, yeah,â he sounds obscene, like he can barely get the words out, âthatâs the stuff.â
and seriously? already? because you've barely been on the phone for five minutes, there's no way he got this bad, that quickly. but you canât deny how much it makes your pussy throb.
âyeah i'm gross, but you're worse, you started it.â
and that was the start of it, and i wish i could say it ended there.
but it didnât.
because even freaks get tired of e-sex at some point.
â» â || â· âș
it took a while for you guys to get to this point.
months of voice messages and facetimes, of teleparty and shared playlists, of beefing each other in comment sections and thirsting in dms.
and for denki, it all led to this moment.
your bedroom feels too warm.
his trainers are abandoned messily by your door beside your tote bag. one of your hoodies hangs off the back of your desk chair. fairy lights glow dim amber against the walls, mixing with the bluish light of your laptop screensaver bouncing around the dark room.
everything smells faintly like vanilla, fabric softener, and the weed the two of you smoked an hour ago with your bedroom window cracked open.
his hands shake.
so inexperienced and yet, so eager to please, they gently grope every inch of your body.
you never really enjoyed having your chest played with all that much, but thereâs something about how denkiâs heavy palm massages the underside of your tit, like heâs trying to unlock something, or explore.
and then his thumb brushes over your nipple, a shock to your system, you arch forward into his touch, body moving on auto pilot.
god, he wants to see you do it again.
he's dreamt about this, about this exact moment, for weeks. every stray thought, every dirty dream, you've plagued him.
mmmmm, and your body is so warm, and soft. inviting. his hands grip the flesh of your thighs, the fat bulging around his fingertips, the softness of your skin, right here, right here in front of him, not through a screen or part of a picture.
holy shit.
he really canât take it.
because he's jerked off to the thought of you for so long, he's milked himself dry to the sound of your voice, he's wrung his cock to your smile, he's edged himself to the idea of what your hair would smell like, what your skin would feel like.
nutted all over his phone screen, humped his hand for hours.
he never thought he would even get the opportunity to meet you in real life, let alone be allowed into your bedroom, let alone have you underneath him, in nothing but panties and a fucking t-shirt.
he's literally trembling, his palms sweating as he grips you again, harder, firmer, like this is a dream, like if he blinks too much he might wake up, and he'll be back in his bed making a mess all over himself, another late-night fantasy while heâs half-delirious and horny, just like usual.
âdenki, hey, dude, are you⊠good?â
but he's not at home, he's not in his bed, this isn't a wet dream, he's not gonna wake up to bakugou breaking his door down and telling him to take out the trash.
he shakes his head with a smile, âyeah, yeah, i'm goodâ sorry, i'm out of it.â
youâre definitely hiding it better, but youâre equally nervous.
so fucking nervous. you nearly cancelled last night because of how badly your stomach had twisted itself up. was he even gonna like you? would he still think youâre hot, even in real life? you barely slept, up all night thinking about what he was expecting, and whether you would meet those expectations.
if he knew how you were feeling, he probably wouldâve slapped you or something. because this is better. this is so much better. so much better than dreaming or imagining, even now, the way youâre smiling up at him, glasses slipping down your nose, pretty eyes focused on him, and what heâs doing, and if heâs feeling okay.
youâre so perfect.
and he has to make you feel good, he needs to.
you spent the last two hours, half watching something on your laptop, and half making out.
andâŠ
that was life changing.
itâs so indescribable, he still feels dizzy from it. how you felt in his lap, the warm heat of your body consuming his very being. the feeling of your tongue down his throat, his hands around your neck, your lips against his, he almost came, just like that, just from a little kissing.
can you really blame him.
it was so good.
but this is about to be better.
it's so easy for you to melt into him. maybe it's the nervous energy radiating off of him that calms your own nerves. you've always been that kind of person, quick to accommodate to other peopleâs needs, in tune with their feelings.
and denki wears his heart on his sleeve. he's easy to read, an open book. also his face is flushed a beautiful pink, he's panting, breathing heavily into your mouth, pupils blown wide every time you touch him.
so you kiss him again, just to relax him of course, certainly not because you're craving the feeling of him against you, his shirtless torso pressed flush against your chest.
it works though, he defrosts, relaxes, nearly crumples against you, against the soft swell of your chest, his hands snaking down the sides of your body, fingers dipping underneath the fabric and fuck, are you reallyââthis soft everywhere?â
you hum at his question, then quickly realise he's talking to himself, hypnotised by the feeling of your flesh, he has to be dreaming because there is actually no way you're really, ââso fuckin' soft, oh my god.â
he's still stuck on that? you click your tongue, as much as you would love to explore each other bodies in this PG-13 way, you've soaked yourself through your panties. maybe you're the real pervert, he's having a wonderful time just touching your skin, and all you're thinking about is how badly you want him inside you.
you do it yourself.
slip a hand in the gap between your bodies, your nervous, virgin, freaked out, bodies, and slide your fingers below the hem of your underwear. you barely graze your outer lips before he's snatching your hand, a little too rough, a little too hungry. he loosens his grip almost immediately but holds your gaze, âplease, please let me do it, i promise it'll be good,â his thumb strokes nervously against the inside your wrist, âiâ i'll be careful, i'll be gentle with you, i swear.â
who are you to say no? how could you, not when his hands slide down your thighs with gentle reverence, not when he clutches the hem of your panties like he's afraid he'll hurt them.
never mind, he can't do it.
he has to close his eyes, he can't look, can't watch the way your pussy juice clings to the fabric. he peeks open an eyelid, then closes it again. his heart is beating so fast he might throw up.
âdenki, babe,â babe??? he nearly screeches, his eyes flutter open again, the faint smile that's painted on your face makes him spurt a tad, you really are perfect, âjust breathe, okay, it's fine, you're doing great.â
you really have a way with words, because that kicks him into overdrive, he slips the fabric down so it pools around your knees, and, and, and heâ
letâs out a strangled whimper when he sees your puffy pussy lips, drenched in your own slick.
âdid iââ he swallows, panting, âdid i do this tâyou?â eyes transfixed on your trembling cunt. he drags a single finger through the mess, through your slick, until the digit is coated. hisses out a curse when he retracts the finger and thereâs a string of your arousal that clings to it.
your arousal, your pussy, your fucking pussy, âg-god,â he slurs around the finger, licking up every last drop of you, and then inhaling deeply, the scent of your pussy making his eyes roll back into his head.
how has he come all this way, just to slurp your mess off of his finger and hump your mattress.
he has to pull it together.
but youâre making it so difficult.
âd'you know," a strangled groan cuts him off and he gulps, "d'you know, how often iâve dreamt about this, itââ
he's using you like a fidget toy, two fingers dragging through your slick, drawing patterns, somewhat, mostly assessing the area. what makes you flinch, what makes you gasp, what makes you grip his shoulders with both your hands and beg him to keep going.
you dig your nails into him, while he traces your pulsing labia, the calluses of his fingertips trailing a path across your pussy, there's no way his cock can go in there, inside you, inside your mushy gummy walls, that are clenching around his fingers, there's no way he can go in there and come out alive. you'll strangle him to death and he'll never want to leave.
"she's so pretty," as he stares, absolutely mesmerised at the wetness coating his palm as his fingers scissor open your pussy. âso, fucking, pretty.â
and youâre really not making it any better for him, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, his hands feel so much better than your own. you let him know, verbally, but also with how your eyes glaze over, how your breathing stutters, how you lift your legs to wrap around him, to keep him there.
the pressure of your thighs pushes him further into your mattress, and thereâs a spark of delicious, addicting, friction that catches him. causes him to twitch against you, crash his mouth into yours, sharing each otherâs whimpers.
you canât go on like this, you try to open your mouth, to speak, to tell him to hurry up and stick his fucking dick in you already. but he doesnât let you, heâs already lost, of course he is.
the weakest, most pathetic humps, his crotch positioned perfectly in between your legs but also resting on the bed below. so when he grinds his hips down thereâs a shock that travels up his spine, but your bodies are close enough that he if he closes his eyes, he can pretend heâs actually fucking you.
denkiâs such an idiot.
your pussy right there, heâs literally cupping your warmth with his palm, fingers prodding against your g-spot, and yet all he can do is imagine, slip off into a daydream where heâs fucking you for real.
and you have a feeling that if you donât do something to snap him out of it right now, heâd spend the whole night doing just that. pretending to fuck you in his head, while youâre right there, right here, squirming underneath him.
heâs lucky you think heâs cute.
âdenki, babyâŠâ
he inhales like heâs just been dunked into a tub of ice water, his eyes snap up from where theyâd spiralled over watching his fingers disappear inside you, the creamy slick coating the digits, the heat, theâ
âdenki?â
âhmm?â god heâs so hot, and still so fucking adorable, heâs pouting like youâve pulled him away from something important.
âdonât you wanna⊠put it in?â
put it in? put it in? put what inâ oh, oh right. of course, of course he does, but his eyebrows raise like he didnât realise that was an option.
he fumbles one handed, nearly knocks himself over in his haste to undo his belt, fucking stupid belt, the clasp gets stuck and he, fuck itâs fine, itâs all good, heâs so normal about this.
you motion like youâre about to offer assistance, then his cock springs out, slaps against his stomach andâŠ
oh, oh, the poor thing.
flushed, angry at being ignored, bright pink, and leaking. leaking all over his abs, all over his stomach, the inside of his jeans, the inside of his boxers.
fucking hell.
you nearly start laughing, not mocking, more like, when youâve been sat at a restaurant for so long, hungry, waiting, for ages, and then they finally bring the food out, and itâs so:
yummy.
thatâs it.
you pounce on him like heâs prey, practically manhandle him into laying flat on his back, and clamber over his thighs, your legs bracketing his hips.
and denki moans like a fucking whore.
âoh, holy shit,â his hands twitch like heâs not sure whether heâs allowed to touch you, but he really canât stop running his mouth like, âyouâre gonnaâgonna ride me- oh, pleasepleasepleaseââ
his voice cracks right down the middle when you finally, finally, sink down.
shit, it is a stretch, despite how long he spent playing with your cunt, but itâs so fucking delicious, mhmmm, you both feel it, the drag of his weeping veiny cock sweeping along the walls of your pussy.
and for the first time all night, heâs quiet.
dead silent.
you think his nose might start bleeding.
his lips, bitten, chapped, parted, rushed puffs of air leaving his body, eyes rolled back into his head, then fluttering, like his soul is being exorcised.
the dam breaks.
âis itâ is it supposed to feel like this?â heâs delirious, cloudy eyed and drunk, âholy shi-iiitâcan't believe it feels this good.â
he grips your thighs, tight enough to leave bruises, and whimpers when you grind down against him and your tits bounce, right in his fucking face.
âedged myself for th-three days,â he confesses as he drools into your skin, he can't look you in the eye, he presses his mouth against your chest and murmurs, âsaved up so much cum for you, all for you.â
âcan you feel me, all the way inside.â he presses down on your lower stomach, the pressure makes your toes curl, âc-canât believe iâm inside you, canât believe you let meâoh, oh, fuck, wait, donâtââ
donât what? donât clench around his cock. donât clamp down on him with your hot gummy walls. donât pull him back in when he tries to move. how are you supposed to do that?
âgonnaâ gonna give you so much cum,â small, sloppy semi-upward thrusts, he can't even move properly, just humping up against you like a dog, âm'gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you upâ m-make you feel so fucking goodââ
he's slurring, drunk off your pussy, drunk off you, âi haftaâ hafta, m-m-makeâ good, gonna be goodâ gonna be a good boy."
and then he's spilling into you, ropes and ropes, of milky white nut, flooding your pussy, filling you to the brim.
but he doesn't stop moving.
in fact, you donât how he mustered up the strength after that pathetic display, but he flips you over, so youâre underneath him again, hisses when his cock slips out, still so fucking hard, still dribbling, one hand gripping your thigh, the other rubbing circles on your clit.
âi c-can keep goingâ can't stop, not 'till you cum too, i promise, i p-promise i'll keep going mommy.â
overstimulation tears through him, his nerves are fried, but still he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't give himself a minute to catch his breath. just his cock, hammering into you, drilling into your pussy, âkeepângh-keep going, gotta k-k-keep goingâŠâ
you didn't think he would do it. you thought he would laugh it off and call you some silly little nickname when you sent him the video of a girl saying 'life's too short. just ask him to send an audio saying your name as he does push-ups'.
your entire 'relationship' with caleb was built around the constant back and forth, tug-of-war you'd been having when it came down to what you really were. the line between friends or more blurred for as long as you could remember. you would flirt with one another, banter like a couple, cuddle, even occasionally kiss, but you never thought what was supposed to be a joke would end up like this.
yet, there you sat, with an audio message from caleb on your phone right under the video you had sent.
you hadn't played it yet, hadn't dared to touch that button, but your phone had already detected what he was saying and transcribed it for you. and there in black text, clear as day, was your name written over and over again.
the pace at which your heart was thumping in your chest was like nothing else. you could already feel your face going warm at just the thought of what he sounded like. your finger was hovering over the button, but you were⊠nervous?
you shake your head as if ridding yourself of everything and just text him instead.
you : there's no way you actually did it.
you wait patiently, watching as the little text bubble appears, disappears for a moment, and then reappears.
caleb : listen to it.
he responds. it wasn't a question, not a suggestion. it was a demand.
you : how do you know i haven't already?
the response from him comes almost immediately this time.
caleb : because i know you too well.
your stomach twists and turns. god, you hated when he used that line on you. you hated how true it was. you hated how he used your little mannerisms to his own advantage.
you : i hate you.
caleb : you love me.
you don't take the time to reply before scrolling back up to the audio message, your finger hovering over the play button once more. you don't know why you were freaking out so much - you wanted this. whether it was a joke or not, you asked for it.
you inhale, and exhale, deeply before bracing yourself as you press play. your heart races as you bring it up to your ear, waiting to hear his voice.
at first, it's just silence, but you know he's there, you can hear his subtle breaths as he gets closer to the speaker. there's some shuffling, the sound of his necklace hitting the floor before he pushes up - as you suspect - and your name leaves his mouth in a raspy groan.
your breath hitches as the sound of his voice wraps around you - low, strained, inevitably yours. it's not just a push-up, he drags your name out like it's something he's been holding in for years.
your name leaves him again and again as he pushes his body up and down in sync. the sound is almost hypnotizing. his soft grunts and heavy breathing have you biting down on your bottom lip to hold back a quiet moan that threatens to escape.
with each repetition, his voice becomes more strained. the effort he's exerting is evident from the way he draws it out, and it's doing something to you. heat begins to pool in your belly as you imagine his muscles flexing with each push-up, sweat glistening on his skin and his cheeks beginning to flush. you loved it when he flushed.
you're biting down so hard on your lip now that you can feel the taste of copper on your tongue. you can't help but squirm, the sound of your name coming from him and the image of him working out, all because of you, it's almost too much.
you want to hear him say it again. you need to hear him say it again.
opening up the text box, you begin typing a message before stopping yourself and erasing it. you didn't know what to say to him now. would a 'that was nice' suffice? no. how about a 'can you send me more?' no.
then as if on cue, a message from him comes through.
caleb : that good, huh?
there he was, knowing you so well again. it was both a curse and a damn blessing. that, and the fact that he was probably watching your typing bubble appear and disappear continuously.
you can hear the smugness in his words, can imagine the way he was probably sitting back right now, waiting for your reply, knowing that he had this much of an effect on you without even being in the same room.
you hated how he got under your skin the way he did.
and you hated how much you liked it.
before you can begin typing again, your phone starts ringing and a photo of him pops up - it was one you had taken when you were out with friends. the two of you had decided to hang back while the others went into a store, it was late and he was admiring the stars. you couldn't not take a photo.
with a deep sigh, you swipe to answer.
"enjoy the audio, i'm guessing?" he sounds too damn cocky for his own good.
"you're such an asshole," you almost whine.
he has the audacity to laugh. the low, deep sound that makes your belly flutter.
for a moment there's only silence - nothing uncomfortable, just the two of you stuck in your own thoughts. and then he says it⊠your name. except this time it's so much lower, rougher than before, and suddenly your name doesn't feel like just your name anymore.
you're taken aback by it for a second, the sudden change in his voice so different to anything you've ever heard from him. it's huskier, and more⊠sensual. his breathing is heavy, the sound making heat pool in your lower belly once again.
"say my name," he demands.
and you don't know if it's the tone of his voice or the fact that you would do anything he asked of you, but you obey.
"caleb."
you can tell that the sound of your voice saying his name is doing something to him. he groans, the noise so deep and rough that you have to bite back a whimper. he sounds just as affected as you are, perhaps even more.
"again."
you have to swallow before speaking again. your words coming out a little shaky, a little breathless and a lot more needy than you would care to admit.
"âŠ.caleb."
he practically hisses, the sound almost animalistic. there's a pause and you feel like your heart is going to thump right out of your chest. but then the words that leave his lips are so unexpected, so blunt⊠yet so him that somehow you're still taken off guard.
"say it again⊠please."
the begging tone of his voice, the desperate edge that you've never heard before, it's driving you insane.
your hand moves on its own, and you're gripping the phone in your other so tightly it feels like it could break. you have to close your eyes for a moment, have to take a breath, and his name spills from your mouth once more before you can stop it.
your hand roams further down, pushing beneath the fabric of your pants to where you were already soaked with arousal.
he groans as he hears the change in your breathing. his own heart was pounding and skin boiling to the touch. he knew damn well what he was doing to you, it was the whole reason he sent the audio to begin with.
"fuckk⊠are you touching yourself, baby?" he whispers.
you're too far gone to be embarrassed by it now. "mhm... are you?"
he lets out a sharp, breathy laugh - like the idea of him not being affected is absurd.
"you have to ask?" he rasps, then lowers his voice. "listen."
the unmistakable sound of fabric shifting and being pulled down has you breathing out shaky exhales, as if you're trying to catch up on oxygen you're no longer getting enough of. you can see him in your mind, in your head: that cocky, smug grin, those sharp, dark eyes, that jawline, the veins in his forearms as he-
"can you hear it?" he asks, and his voice breaks you out of your mental image, sending a shiver down your spine. "⊠how badly you're affecting me right now?"
your fingers move in slow, smooth, circular motions, "âŠ.yeah."
the sound of his ragged breathing through the phone goes straight to your core, adding fuel to the already blazing fire. and the way he rasps out the question that follows only makes it worse. "does it feel good?"
"yesâŠ." the word is breathy and shaky, cracking away at his resolve. "tell me w-what you're doing to yourself."
he can't help the way he lets out a low moan. he was desperate, so desperate to hear more - to be more.
he groans at the request, his voice low and gruff. he'll never get over how wrecked he was by your voice alone. "you want the dirty details, baby?"
"uh huh" you sigh softly.
"you want to hear what i'm doing to myself, hmm? so you can picture it all in that pretty little head of yours?"
"âŠ.yes." you unashamedly admit.
that simple response has him moaning your name. god, he loved how open and unashamed you were being with him right now. loved knowing he was the one doing this to you.
his voice is still that low, deep tone that makes your toes curl, "can you imagine me right now? with my hand wrapped-" he pauses, letting out a huff that has you holding in a groan as he tries to steady his breathing. "..wrapped around myself?"
his words send jolts through you, your cunt fully soaked and panties along with it, and he can hear it in how your breathing pattern changes. he loved how he can tell how worked up you are even without being with you. you could hear how fast he was pumping himself, hear the stickiness of his fingers running over his cock, and your own begin to move faster around your clit, the slickness just loud enough for him to hear.
"ffuck⊠calebâŠ" you practically moan.
he groans at the sound, his hips jerking into his own grip. this was what he wanted, what he was aiming for - you falling apart for him on the other end, and he was falling apart for you in the same way.
god, you were both a mess, and all because you asked for a silly audio file as a joke.
"fuck, baby⊠you sound so good for me," he growls, the words rough with need. "gonna make you come just like this? just hearing my voice?"
the thought alone - of you, trembling and coming undone while he listened - has his hand moving faster over himself too.
"don't stop⊠don't stop talking," you're begging now, lost in a hazy, pleasure-filled daze as his words and the sound of your own pleasure consume your mind.
he was getting there too, his low moans and desperate groans echoing through your head and making your whole body tingle. you were close. so damn close.
"i can hear you," he murmurs, and you shiver at his words. "i can hear how hard you're working yourself⊠how bad you want to come for me. fuck-" he growls, and the way your name spills from his lips once more is enough to push you over the edge.
you can't stop the cry that rips out of you as your back arches off your bed, body trembling through the waves of pleasure.
he doesn't let up either, following right after you.
he's left breathless and shuddering - as are you - your name the only word echoing through his mind as he comes down from his own high. your fingers are still buried in your cunt, easing yourself down from your orgasm.
it takes a few seconds for either of you to say anything, your breathing heavy and erratic. but then, once it's finally steadied and the ringing in your ears has subsided⊠you hear him whisper one last thing but you can't make it out.
"âŠso," he starts casually, like the two of you hadn't just been tearing each other apart over the phone. "still claiming that sending that video was a joke?"
"i don't know... i might need some more convincing."
he laughs in disbelief. of course you weren't going to back down so easily.
caleb is a mix of amused and surprised and still completely captivated by you when he replies with an almost cocky hum, "is that so?"
his voice drops low, that teasing, seductive tone he knows drives you crazy making a comeback, "then i guess i'll just have to convince you tomorrow when i see you."
âź getting stuck in an elevator with two hot bosses who want you cannot be that bad, right? *pwp
"shit, we're gonna be here a while," nanami breathed out annoyed and loosened his tie after the dispatcher didn't answer again and the call button totally stopped working. your shift ended like three hours ago, but you were still there, typical you, obsessing over some report. the office was totally empty.
well, except for two department heads you were lucky enough to get stuck with in one cramped elevator.
the elevator felt way too small for three adults. you were basically squeezed between them and could feel the heat coming off their bodies. behind you was nanami's tall figure, and right in front of you â higuruma. both were a head taller than you, wider in the shoulders, and fucking hot.
i mean, it wasn't for nothing that you always wore short skirts even though the dress code said no, that you accidentally spilled coffee on higuruma's pants so you could apologize with bambi eyes and wipe a napkin near his cock. for months you played a dangerous game: you leaned over a little more than you should, showed off your chest when you sat across from him, brushed your shoulder against nanami's in the narrow hallway, and left documents on hiromi's desk that were soaked in your boldest perfume. you teased both of them at the same time, gave them hope, but always slipped away the second their stares got too heavy. a little flirting is fun, alright?
but right now you weren't having fun at all.
nanami slowly leaned in. his hot breath hit your ear, making you shiver. "you look spooked, sweetheart. you okay?" he said, and he sounded dangerously protective. "y-yeah, i'm fine," you gulped, trying not to look at him. "it's just super hot in here."
you noticed nanami lookedup at higuruma. for a while they just stared at each other in silence, and then this slow, knowing grin spread across both their faces. that look made your knees go weak. higuruma took his time taking off his jacket. he did it slow, eyes locked on yours, and tossed the expensive thing right on the dirty floor.
"what a shame," he said, rolling up his sleeves and showing off those strong forearms. "maybe we should talk about your behavior."
before you could get a single word out, nanami's heavy hands landed on your waist. he pulled you back, pressing you into his hard chest. "you've been waiting for this the whole time, haven't you?" he whispered into your hair. "teasing us so much."
"i... i have no idea what you're talking about," your voice shook, and your heart was thumping so loud they both definitely heard it. hiromi stepped even closer. his hands hit your thighs, bunching up your skirt. "oh, trust me, you know exactly what we're talking about."
they literally crushed you between them, and you felt the burning heat of their bodies. nanami grabbed your chin and pulled it up, forcing you to look at him. "i think it's time to teach you a lesson."
he didn't let you scream â his mouth covered yours in a demanding kiss. he kissed you deep, filling you up with himself, while hiromi went for your neck at the same time, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. your head started spinning and reality started to blur.
nanami pulled back from your lips for a second and then with one sharp, confident move he grabbed you by the waist. before you could even gasp, you were up in the air. he held you there, making your legs spread wide and hooking your knees over his arms. now you were basically hanging on him â your back pressed against his chest, and you were completely open in front of both of them.
your short skirt rode up to your waist, leaving you in just thin panties. nanami went back to your ear, nibbling on your lobe and cheek before sliding down to your neck. meanwhile, higuruma slowly unbuttoned your blouse, button by button, and as the fabric parted, he started biting your chest, making you arch in kentoâs arms.
"waitâ mmnh! hiromi..." you gasped, "there're cameras in the elevator... maybe we should go..."
"don't worry 'bout that, darling," nanami laughed low and soft, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "don't you worry your pretty little head."
hiromi finally threw your shirt open and slowly moved down with kisses toward your stomach. "just enjoy what we're gonna do now, okay?"
he got down on his knees, and you felt his hot breath scorch your delicate skin. he didn't rush. first, his lips barely brushed the inside of your thighs, leaving light, almost weightless kisses that sent an electric charge through your body. you felt nanami tighten his grip on your knees from behind, locking you in the air; you literally couldn't move.
"look how wet she is. perfect," hiromi rasped, looking at how the slick glistened on your already damp pussy. "you wanted this, didn't you? for us to see how much this little pussy leaks when it's needy?"
"n-nngh!... hiromiâŠ" your moan drowned in the quiet hum of the elevator as he lifted two fingers and unceremoniously stretched your folds apart to fully expose you. at first, he just teased you with the tip of his tongue, short and wet strokes. you felt him lick away the drops, smacking his lips, savoring your taste.
"mmngh! haah! pleaseâŠ" you jerked in nanamiâs arms, but he just held you tighter against his chest. "hold on, sweetie, we're just gettin' started," he whispered in your ear, and at that moment, he started to slowly rotate your hips in circular motions.
those circles made you literally rub against hiromiâs face. you felt the stubble on his chin, his nose pressing into your already swollen clit, and his tongue going right into your soaking pussy. wet, obscene sounds echoed in the cramped elevator.
"haah! more⊠nngh!" you weren't in control of your sounds anymore, gasping with pleasure. "oh yeah," hiromi growled, not pulling away for a second, "you're so sweet. i'm gonna lick you dry 'til you start beggin' us to stop."
his pace picked up. he went rougher now. hiromi didn't tease anymore. he took your clit between his lips and started sucking on it hungrily like heâd fuckin' die if he didn't.
"a-ah! hiromi! nngh-aa!" you screamed, throwing your head back on nanamiâs shoulder while he kissed your cheek, holding you in place, and your cry echoed through the tight cabin.
hiromiâs tongue went deep between your stretched folds, licking everything inside, while the two fingers heâd managed to shove in kept roughly stretching you, opening every millimeter of your tender flesh for his mouth. loud, squelching sounds of your pussy and the wet sounds of his mouth filled the elevator.
"mmm, look what you're doin' to us," nanami kept rotating your pelvis, forcing you to grind even harder onto hiromiâs tongue. "you wanted this, didn't you? walkin' 'round in front of us in those skirts that show off your ass?"
"haah! mmngh⊠ahh! more⊠more!" you didn't even know what you were saying anymore. the man behind you didn't give you a second's break â his palm covered your mouth, muffling your next moan. "hiromi, please⊠mmmngh-ah!" you broke free from nanamiâs hand, and your moans got louder. "yes! right there! ahh-h!"
nanami pulled his hand away from your face only to sink into your lips, catching your next whimper. "stick out your tongue, baby," he whispered, and you obeyed before you could even think. "come on."
as soon as you parted your mouth and the tip of your tongue peeked out, nanami let out a low growl and bit into your lips. he captured your tongue with his lips and started sucking on it, slow and greedy. "mmmmmfff!.. kento!... " you moaned right into his mouth, feeling your whole body tighten like a string.
nanami sucked your tongue rhythmically, like he owned it, making you gasp for air. meanwhile, higuruma, feeling your reaction, stretched your folds even wider and sucked on your clit with twice the force. "mmmngh... most perfect sweet pussy. gonna eat this little swollen clit up."
your sounds turned totally incoherent, becoming a solid stream of moans and ragged breaths mixed with whimpers. nanami pulled away from your tongue for a second, his whisper brushing right against your lips. "good girl. hear how loud you're bein' for us?"
your body was stretched to the limit, like a wire about to snap. nanami kept dominantly sucking your tongue, cutting off your oxygen and making you choke on your own moans while his hips rhythmically rotated your pelvis, grinding you into hiromiâs face. you thrashed convulsively in kentoâs arms, feeling everything inside tighten into an unbearably hard, hot knot.
higuruma, feeling your orgasm coming, stretched your already swollen folds with his fingers until it almost hurt, and for the last time, sucked your clit in as deep as possible, licking it frantically. a loud, dominant squelching filled the cramped elevator.
"a-a-ah! kentâ oh god, i'm gonna... mmmngh-a-a-a!" your scream broke into a rasp as the first wave of orgasm literally ripped through you.
you felt your muscles inside start to contract uncontrollably, pulsing hot wetness right onto hiromiâs face. you shuddered all over, your legs on nanamiâs shoulders shaking with a fine tremor. kento pulled away from your tongue at that moment just to catch your wide-open mouth in a silent scream and greedily breathe in your orgasmic moan.
you gasped, your head falling onto nanamiâs shoulder as white spots swam before your eyes. hiromi didn't stop even when you started twitching in convulsions. he kept greedily licking and sucking up your slick, which was now dripping down his chin and lips.
"hiromi, stop... ah... i can't anymore..." you went limp in kentoâs arms, feelin' a heavy, leaden weakness spread through your body. you barely breathed, pressing your forehead against nanamiâs shoulder. your body still shook with small, lingerin' tremors, and your head was a total vacuum. you were literally floating in the clouds after such a crushing orgasm, feeling like soft, pliable clay in their hands.
but the blissful silence didn't last long. nanami pulled back a bit to look at your face and took you by the chin, forcing your blurred gaze to focus on him.
"you think thatâs it, darling?" his voice sounded scary calm and low. "you really think we're gonna let you come just once?"
your eyes widened. you tried to say something, but only a weak, ragged exhale escaped your throat. "what're you..."
hiromi slowly pulled away and got up from his knees. his lips glistened wetly, and there was a streak of your juices on his chin that he didn't even think about wipin' off. he looked down at you, fixing his shirt cuffs.
"that was just the start," he tossed out, and his voice vibrated in the tight cabin. you were still hangin' in nanamiâs arms, legs shaking, and your mind was fading. "n-no... wait..." you tried to pull your thoughts together, "someone could walk in right now... the dispatcher... he might hear through the intercom..."
nanami just laughed low against your neck, and that sound made you shrink. he didn't let you go. instead, he shifted his grip to get comfortable and started to slowly, intentionally rub your aching, oversensitive cunt against his huge, rock-hard cock through the fabric of his pants.
"ah!" you sobbed, whimpering from the unbearable pleasure that bordered on torture. "nanami..." "we could just call the dispatcher again so help comes right now," kento whispered, keepin' up the methodical grind against you, squeezin' out new portions of wetness that now fell in heavy drops and dripped onto the elevator floor. your heels had been lyin' in the corner for a while now. "is that what you want? you want us to get pulled out of here right now?"
he didn't stop, and you felt his hardness throb, promisin' somethin' way bigger. at that moment, hiromi stepped in close. he cupped your face in his palms and sank into your lips with a deep, greedy kiss. you tasted yourself mixed with his hot spit â intimate, and crazy turning you on.
"m-m-m," he hummed into your mouth, pulling back only a millimeter. "is this what you want?" you should've said "yes." you should've screamed 'bout how they broke all the rules, how hierarchy was trashed, and how you're all gonna get fired in disgrace. you should've stopped this.
but you didn't. your first orgasm was so mind-blowing that all you could think about was the throbbing weight you felt with your ass through nanamiâs clothes. you couldn't even dream of just one of them in your wildest fantasies, but getting both at once? that was the kind of extreme greed they write about in books.
ân-noâŠâ you aggressively shook your head, completely forgetting you were in the damn elevator of an office building. your hands dug into higurumaâs shoulders on their own, and you started desperately, almost insanely grinding against the man behind you in every way possible, begging for more with your body alone.
hiromi gave a faint, barely noticeable smile without taking his eyes off you, watching the way you writhed in kentoâs hands. âthatâs what we thought. dirty girl⊠you spent months tempting your bosses just so theyâd fuck you at the same time?â
you barely heard him. his words drowned in the rush of blood pounding in your ears, and you only nodded quickly, feverishly, agreeing with every word he said. âcâmon, baby,â nanami caught you with one hand, giving you more space, âuse your hands. take my pants off.â
with trembling fingers, you reached behind you as much as the cramped space allowed and touched his cock through the fabric for the first time. nanami let out a low, rough groan and pushed himself into your palm, rolling his hips forward. you tried to feel more of him, but kento only tightened his grip on your waist.
âbaby, i just had to sit there without getting to taste you. youâd better hurry up.â you frantically searched for his belt buckle, but your fingers wouldnât cooperate. you couldnât see what you were doing behind your back, and helpless little whines started slipping out of you.
âi-i canât do it⊠kento, i canâtâŠâ you sobbed, tears blurring your vision. nanami laughed quietly, enjoying your desperation. âwhat an impatient girl, huh?â
he jerked his hips sharply to help you, and finally you managed to undo the belt. then the button and zipper gave in too. his pants slipped down, and immediately, without waiting, you covered his cock with your hand over his boxers. nanami threw his head back, sucking in air through his teeth with a hiss. you moaned too â just the thought of him being inside you turned you into a melted, shapeless mess.
by then, hiromi already pulled his pants down slightly. you froze as you looked at him. his cock looked intimidating: long, heavy, veins standing out clearly along it, the tip already wet. exactly the one you imagined whenever you touched yourself.
you breathed heavily, your pussy still pulsing after your orgasm while your hands already pulled down the blond manâs boxers behind you. the second his cock came free, it pressed against your ass with a dull thud. you felt the heat of it against your skin.
nanami wrapped a hand around himself and slowly dragged the tip over your untouched back hole first. panic shot through you instantly, your voice turning high and almost frightened. âkento!.. please, kentoâŠâ
he immediately buried himself against your neck, kissing you greedily with his mouth open, leaving your skin wet and burning. ârelax,â he whispered, his voice vibrating through your body. âweâre not going there⊠for now.â
you relaxed a little, but the realization crashed over you in another wave: that meant they were both going to fuck you. at the same time.
your thoughts didnât even have time to form into words before higuruma stepped closer. he cupped your face, gently but firmly sucking on your lower lip before pulling away and looking directly into your eyes.
âif it hurts, just tell us, okay?â his voice sounded serious, almost gentle. âwe wonât do anything thatâll hurt you. weâre here to give you what youâve been begging for all this time. tell me you understand.â
you only nodded shakily, unable to force out a single word. âuse your words, sweetheart,â nanami insisted, pressing his cock against your lower back. you swallowed hard, your voice rough from all the screaming and moaning. âi⊠i understand. yeah. pleaseâŠâ
nanami adjusted his grip on you more comfortably, one arm still holding your weight while the other slowly, carefully guided his cock. at first, he only teased you with it, dragging the tip through your folds, coating himself in all your slickness, practically soaking himself in your juices before finally giving one decisive thrust.
he pushed in slowly, giving you time to feel every inch of his impossible thickness. you cried out instantly and grabbed onto higurumaâs shoulders with a death grip. meanwhile, hiromi pressed himself flush against you, holding your hips steady and helping you keep your balance while his eyes tracked every shaky breath you took.
he really was huge. you felt him literally forcing your insides apart, pushing so deep that every experience youâd ever had before suddenly felt like some pathetic joke. your head fell back, your moans breaking apart into weak little whines.
âmmmngh! kento⊠haa-ah⊠hurts⊠no, feels good⊠godâ!â you choked on the words as he filled you completely. âthatâs it, sweetheart, take all of me,â nanami rasped, his voice vibrating through your body.
âyouâre too big⊠kento, youâre too bigâŠâ âi know, baby,â he started moving inside you slowly, deeply, âitâll feel better soon. just relax for me.â
while that happened, higuruma kissed his way down your neck to your chest, which already spilled out of your bra cups. he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking greedily while nanami kept thrusting into you from behind.
âfuckâŠâ kento growled, picking up the pace. âknew youâd have a fucking heavenly pussy⊠sheâs squeezing me so tight.â all you could do was whine and sob. âah! mmngh!! feels so good⊠more⊠haaah!â
âyeah?â higuruma pulled away from your chest, his gaze turning sharp and hungry. âitâs about to feel even better.â nanami cupped your face with both hands, turned you toward him, and crashed his mouth against yours in a deep kiss. âtake a breath,â he ordered right against your lips.
you were already completely fucked stupid from his cock and the heat of their bodies. the second you gasped for air, you felt another huge, hard shape starting to push into you. hiromi entered you from the front, and you practically whimpered into nanamiâs kiss while your fingers dug into higurumaâs shirt hard enough to make the fabric strain.
the moment he fully pushed inside, stretching you beyond anything imaginable, you screamed so loudly it felt like your voice tore through the entire building. âoh god! god! fuck⊠fuck! a-ah-ahh!â
tears spilled from your eyes automatically from the shock and overwhelming fullness. nanami laughed low against your lips, licking away the salty wetness. âno god here, sweetheart. weâre the ones making you scream like that.â
both of them stayed still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the unbearable stretch. hiromiâs hand squeezed your breast possessively while nanami bit at your shoulder and every patch of exposed skin he could reach.
it felt like forever or maybe only a few seconds â you had no idea anymore. the only thing you knew was that you needed them. âmore⊠want more⊠pleaseâŠâ
âour girlâs getting greedy, huh?â higuruma smirked while looking at your flushed face. âone cock isnât enough anymore? now you always want two?â then they started moving. together. hard. rhythmic.
it felt like your pussy was about to split apart, your whole body turning into one shaking, dripping mess. you moaned and whimpered while they kept taking turns kissing you, your chin already soaked with spit, your face damp with sweat and their touches. saliva and slick ran down your neck and chest, and you were pretty sure there was already a puddle forming on the elevator floor beneath you.
their movements turned sharp and perfectly synchronized, and you felt them practically pounding you into the narrow space between them. nanami set a deep, animalistic pace from behind while hiromi matched every thrust from the front, forcing your body to stretch to its absolute limit. the cramped elevator filled with unbearable wet sounds: skin slapping against skin, heavy male growls, and your endless, choking moans mixed with the smell of all your arousal.
âah! haaah⊠nngh! fuck, kento⊠romi⊠a-ahh!â you cried out when they bumped against each other inside you, trapping your womb between them.
âlook at this fucking mess,â hiromi rasped without taking his eyes off the place where your bodies merged together. âyouâre sucking us in so greedily. such a needy little hole for your bosses.â
nanami grabbed your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could see your face twisted with pleasure. âhear those sounds, baby?â he slammed into you hard, and the elevator filled with a loud, filthy squelch. âthatâs all you. youâre so fucking wet weâre practically drowning in you.â
âmmmngh! yes⊠more⊠â you couldnât even control the saliva dripping down your chin anymore, mixing with their sweat. your face stayed damp, your hair stuck to your forehead, and your eyes rolled back.
higuruma leaned forward and crashed his mouth against yours, swallowing your moan with his lips. his tongue moved just as aggressively as his cock while his hand kept squeezing your breast hard enough to hurt. when he finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva stretched between you before breaking against your neck.
hiromi tightened his grip on your thighs even more, lifting your hips so you stayed completely open for both of them. the elevator smelled heavy with sweat, bodies, and slick, and the only thing breaking the silence were the filthy sounds of their bodies slamming against your ass.
nanami slowly moved his hand down the front of your body. his fingers, soaked with your slick, found your clit. âlook at this little thing,â he rasped, his voice vibrating through your spine. âlook how swollen it is. youâre pulsing so much, sweetheart.â
he started playing with you, and the elevator filled with another wet, messy sound from his fingers moving against you. every touch sent a shock through your body.
âmmmngh! kento⊠ah!â you sobbed shakily as your thighs started trembling uncontrollably. âplease⊠i wanna come⊠iâm gonna⊠mmhnm!!" âno,â he cut you off. he gave one deep, crushing thrust. âdonât even think about coming without permission.â
their pace grew even faster, turning into something raw and primal. nanamiâs heavy thrusts from behind crashed against hiromiâs from the front. the mirror in the elevator completely fogged over now, thick drops of condensation sliding down it just like the sweat running along your back. you could barely breathe anymore, your moans dissolving into broken little whimpers.
âtell me,â nanami suddenly pinched your clit hard between his fingers, making your back arch violently as you screamed. âwho does this sweet, greedy pussy belong to?â
âa-ahh! yours! only yours! always only yours!â you practically sobbed the words out, losing the last of your sanity from the overwhelming pleasure. âgood girl,â hiromi whispered smoothly against your damp shoulder before kissing it. âsuch a good girl. keep taking us, baby.â
your pussy pulsed violently, burning from the friction and impossible fullness. every thrust from nanami and hiromi forced more slick out of you, thick drops falling onto the floor and adding to the puddle already spreading beneath your feet. you felt completely used, ruined, and unbelievably happy in exactly that role.
the tension inside you coiled into a tight, unbearable knot that was about to snap. from behind, nanami made one last, crushing thrust, driving into you to the very hilt with a loud, wet sound, while hiromi made a powerful lunge forward at the same time, pinning your uterus in a vise between the two of them.
at that moment, nanami pressed hard against your pulsing clit, and that was the final straw. you literally buckled in their arms. the elevator walls started to swim before your eyes, and a series of choking, ragged sobs ripped from your throat.
"mmmngh-a-a-a! god! god! iâ aah!" you gasped, feeling the first wave of orgasm paralyze your legs. your pussy started to contract convulsively and rhythmically around them, trying to squeeze every last drop out. you felt every vein on their members, every movement that now felt a hundred times sharper. a frantic, wet squelching filled the tight cabin â it was your juices, forced out by their pressure, literally splashing onto the floor and mixing with sweat.
you felt everything inside flip. your stomach muscles cramped, you threw your head back aggressively, pressing the back of your skull into nanamiâs shoulder, and you just stopped breathing for several long seconds. you were shaking so hard that hiromi had to grip your thighs in a death lock to keep you from sliding to the floor.
"yes, just like that," nanami growled, feeling your pussy literally suck him in. "cum on our cocks, our pretty girl." you could not answer. you only whimpered and shuddered in a long, agonizingly beautiful ecstasy. tears of happiness and shock rolled down your wet cheeks.
you were still shaking from the lingering waves when you felt the blondeâs breath grow heavy, turning into a muffled growl. "fuck, you are so tight...so perfect baby..." he rasped, driving into you one last time with such force that you felt his pulse at your very center.
hiromi, feeling your tremors and kentoâs frantic rhythm, also stopped holding back. his movements became sharp, almost rough; he literally slammed you into nanami, wringing the last moans out of you.
for a moment, everything froze. you felt nanami shudder through his whole body, his fingers digging into your thighs until it hurt, and he poured into you in a hot, pulsing stream. almost at the same time, hiromi let out a low, guttural sound and also went still, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, giving all his tension to you.
"so good mmm..." you went totally limp in their arms, feeling the scalding heat of their seed spread inside you. a sharp, mechanical sound and a sudden jolt of the elevator under your feet made you all freeze.
"hello, elevator number four? we have recorded a stop; we are restarting the system now. is everything alright with you?"
more of freaky shit ? fanart cr â @ yunonoai on X
âź đČÖŒđą âyour a dutiful princess sent to marry the barbarian dragon king of the scarlet region for the sake of an alliance, only to find yourself caught between your terrifying new husband and the fiercely loyal dragon hybrid who slowly becomes just as possessive of you as the king himself.
ê° star speaks ê± âź this idea was originally supposed to be just katsuki x reader but considering kiri is katsukiâs dragon companion in the fantasy au made me want to add him. . . and a lot of you thought the same because kiribaku x reader won the poll ( thank you to everyone who voted btw ) đ also, this is my version of the fantasy au considering there is not that much lore behind it. this took forever so here it is, ya nasties, hope you enjoy! âčđč
ïčm.listïč ïčnavïč
you were a princess, born with noble and royal blood that carried the weight of generations before you. it was a quiet certainty that had never once been questioned as it settled into every part of your life from the moment you first opened your eyes.
as the youngest princess of the emerald empire, your place in the world had been decided long before you were old enough to understand what it meant, long before you could even speak your own name.
your older brother was raised to be the heir, the future king who would rule with authority and knowledge, taught to lead and command and carry the legacy of your family forward, while you were something else entirely. you were softer in appearance but just as important. a princess who would one day be placed where she was most useful, a piece in the quiet and constant game that was the monarchy.
you were loved, there was never a doubt about that.
it showed in the way your parents looked at you, in way your brother indulged you, in the way the entire palace seemed to soften around your presence. you were the only princess, the youngest child, and you were treated as something precious, something to be protected and cherished, and they spoiled you in ways that made your life comfortable and warm, but even in that warmth there were rules that never changed.
your family was traditional, deeply so, and their love never wavered from the expectations they held for you.
from a young age, you were taught what it meant to be a woman in your position, and those lessons were repeated so often that they became second nature, something you accepted without hesitation.
a womanâs first duty was to be a wife, to stand beside her husband and give him children, however many he desired, without complaint, without question, because that was her purpose. the second duty followed naturally, to be a mother, to raise those children, to nurture them while the husband worked and ruled and carried on the responsibilities outside the home.
it was a cycle that had existed long before you and would continue long after, and you saw it in the women who came before you, in your mother who carried herself with quiet grace as she fulfilled her role, in your grandmother, in your great grandmother, and every woman in your lineage who had done the same without hesitation.
you never questioned it, not once, because it was all you had ever known, and there was a kind of comfort in that certainty.
this is what you are meant to be.
the thought came easily and without resistance, and you accepted it as truth.
while your father spent his time guiding your older brother through the complexities of ruling, teaching him about politics, the history of their land, the alliances and conflicts with foreign nations, you were guided down a different path entirely.
your mother oversaw your upbringing with careful attention, shaping you into what she believed a proper royal woman should be. she taught you discipline, how to hold yourself, how to move, how to speak with intention and restraint, and she taught you grace, the kind that made every action appear effortless even when it was practiced a thousand times before.
you spent countless hours learning what was expected of you, your days filled with lessons in etiquette where every gesture mattered, where the way you held a teacup or greeted a noble could reflect not just on you but on your entire family. you learned to dance, not simply for enjoyment but as a skill, something that would be required of you in court and gatherings, your steps precise and controlled under the watchful eyes of your instructors. you studied cultures beyond your own, memorizing traditions, customs, and expectations of other lands so that one day you would not embarrass your future husbandâs court.
and above all else, you were taught obedience. it was a necessity. it would allow you to become the perfect wife you were meant to be.
you listened, you learned, and you never resisted, because there was nothing in you that wanted to. you were good, you were proper, you were everything they needed you to be.
so when the time finally came, when you reached the age where marriage was no longer a distant idea but an immediate reality, you did not protest when the arrangements were made, you did not question the decision when your future was decided for you.
you were told where you would go, who you would marry, and what it would mean for your kingdom, and you accepted it with the same quiet understanding you had always carried.
that was how you found yourself leaving the emerald empire, the only home you had ever known, and being sent to the scarlet region.
the difference between the two lands was impossible to ignore, it settled into your senses the moment you crossed the borders, the shift so stark that it almost felt unreal.
the emerald empire lived up to its name in every sense, a land rich with deep green forests that stretched endlessly, fields of flowers that bloomed in colors that softened the eye, rivers that reflected the sky like glass as they wound through the kingdom. the air there had always felt light, fresh, filled with the scent of earth and life, and the palace itself stood tall and elegant among it all, a place that felt open and welcoming even in its grandeur.
the scarlet region was something else entirely.
it rose from the land like something carved from the bones of the earth itself, a kingdom built atop a massive dark mountain that seemed to loom over everything around it. the stone was not polished or soft in appearance, it was jagged in places, heavy as if it had been shaped by fire and force rather than careful hands. the ground beneath it was uneven, darkened by ash and heat, and the closer you came, the more you could feel the difference in the air. it was thicker, warmer, carrying the faint scent of smoke that never fully disappeared.
the mountain itself stretched high, its peak often hidden behind dark clouds that clung to it as if they belonged there, and somewhere deeper within. there was the constant reminder of the volcano that gave the region its name, a presence that could not be seen fully but was always felt. it was not a place of soft beauty, it was a place that demanded attention. it felt alive in a harsher, more dangerous way, and yet there was something undeniably powerful about it.
the fortress that stood upon it was just as imposing, built from the same dark stone, rising high with sharp edges and heavy walls that spoke more of strength than elegance. it was not delicate, not meant to impress with grace, but with dominance, with the kind of presence that made it clear this was a kingdom that did not bend easily.
this was where you were meant to belong now, far from the green and gentle lands of your home, in a place that burned in scarlet and shadow, where everything far less forgiving.
and yet you stepped forward without hesitation, because this was your duty, and you had always known that one day you would be sent away to fulfill it.
you knew since you were ten.
the memory had settled into you quietly, it wasnât a shock to you, it was inevitable. it had always been waiting for you even before you were old enough to understand what it meant.
it had been a warm afternoon in the emerald empire.
you had been seated beside your mother, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you were taught to do, your back straight even then because discipline had already rooted itself deep into your bones.
your father and your older brother had been speaking across the long table, their voices calm but firm, their words carrying weight even if you did not fully grasp them at the time. you remembered the way your motherâs hand rested lightly over yours, a silent instruction to listen, to pay attention, to understand that what was being discussed was important.
it was then that you first heard of the treaty.
not just a simple agreement, not just a passing arrangement between two lands, but something far more binding, something that would shape the future of both nations and, though you did not know it yet, your own life.
the emerald empire, prosperous and abundant, a land overflowing with natural wealth, had long held resources that other nations sought after. among them, the most prized were the emeralds themselves, stones that were not only symbols of status and power but also held practical value in trade, crafting, and even in certain forms of energy use that had been developed over time.
the scarlet region, in contrast, was not a land of abundance in that sense, but it held something far more dangerous and far more valuable in times of unrest.
power.
military strength that few could rival.
the treaty, as it had been explained in terms that would later become clearer to you as you grew older, was both an agreement of peace and a formal alliance. it was structured with precision, written in language that left little room for misinterpretation, signed under the authority of both ruling powers to ensure its permanence.
the emerald empire shall supply the scarlet region with an agreed upon and consistent quantity of emerald resources, the amount determined through mutual negotiation and subject to periodic reassessment under stable conditions.
in return, the scarlet region shall provide military support to the emerald empire, offering protection, reinforcement, and armed assistance in times of conflict, threat, or war, under the obligations defined within the alliance.
it was balanced and it made sense, even to those who were not directly involved in politics.
one land provided wealth, the other provided strength. together, they ensured stability, or at the very least, the illusion of it.
but treaties like that were rarely sealed by ink alone.
they required something more binding, something that ensured loyalty beyond written words.
and that was where you came in.
the alliance was finalized not only through the signatures of two rulers but through a betrothal.
between you, the youngest and only princess of the emerald empire and the sole heir of the scarlet region, katsuki bakugo.
you did not know his name at ten in the way you would come to know it later.
back then, it had just been a name spoken among many others, one that held importance but did not yet carry weight in your mind. you had simply listened, your gaze lowered as expected, your fingers resting against your motherâs as she gently squeezed your hand once, a quiet reassurance or perhaps a reminder.
this is your duty.
as you grew older, the details became clearer.
the scarlet region did not follow the same traditions as your homeland. where the emerald empire upheld strict customs, where succession was determined by lineage and only passed on upon death to the oldest son, the scarlet region operated under a different set of rules, ones that were far less rigid and far more dangerous.
there, a ruler could step down whenever they deemed it appropriate. there was no obligation to rule until death. there was no enforced waiting.
at first, it sounded almost freeing, almost progressive in a way that contrasted your own structured upbringing. but as you learned more, as history lessons became more detailed and less softened for your ears, you began to understand what that truly meant.
power did not remain in the hands of those who were unwilling to give it up.
not for long.
stories, whispered at first and then later taught more directly, spoke of rulers who had been found lifeless in their chambers, their bodies still and cold before any official declaration of abdication had been made. others were said to have fallen ill suddenly, their decline too quick, too convenient, leaving the throne open for the next in line.
poison.
assassination.
betrayal.
these were not rare occurrence, they were part of the system.
the scarlet region thrived on strength, and strength was proven not just in battle but in the ability to take and to hold power by any means necessary. it was a land where weakness was not tolerated, where hesitation could mean death, and where loyalty was often conditional.
they were barbaric in nature, as many in your homeland described them, though never in official statements. it was a quiet understanding, one that lingered beneath formal diplomacy.
and yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they were powerful.
that power was what your kingdom needed.
that power was what secured your fate.
katsuki bakugo had ascended the throne in his early twenties, far earlier than most rulers in your own land would have ever been allowed to. but his case had been different.
his father had never wanted the crown. that much had been made clear in every account you had heard.
he had ruled because he had to, because the position had been his responsibility, but there had never been any true desire behind it. and so, the moment he believed his son was capable, the moment he was certain that the boy had grown into someone strong enough to take over, he stepped down.
willingly.
a rare occurrence in a land where most rulers had power taken from them rather than surrendered.
that was how katsuki became king.
young, powerful, and already carrying a reputation that spread far beyond the scarlet region itself.
they called him the dragon king.
the title alone was enough to spark curiosity when you first heard it, but the explanation behind it made it something else entirely.
he rode a dragon.
not just any beast, not just some distant creature tamed through force, but one bound to him in a way that was deeper, more personal, more dangerous.
eijiro kirishima is a dragon hybrid and katsukiâs right hand, his closest companion, his weapon, and his ally.
the stories described them as inseparable, two forces that moved as one, their presence on the battlefield enough to turn the tide of war before it had even fully begun. it was said that when the dragon king took flight, when the skies burned with the presence of that creature beneath him, there was no room left for doubt.
fear followed then victory followed short after⊠always.
and now, that same man was the one you were meant to marry.
though the pair interested you more than anything.
hybrids were rare.
even in lands filled with strange creatures, old bloodlines, and ancient magic that had existed long before kingdoms were ever built, hybrids remained uncommon enough to be spoken about with curiosity and caution. stories about them traveled across nations in whispers and rumors, changing slightly depending on who told them, but one thing always remained the same.
once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.
it was said they did not serve the way ordinary soldiers served a king. it went deeper than duty and far beyond simple obedience. the bond between a hybrid and their chosen master was something fierce, instinctive, almost animalistic in nature. once formed, it lasted for life.
they protected, obeyed, and stayed.
even death itself was said to struggle separating a hybrid from the one they devoted themselves to.
you had heard stories growing up in the emerald empire. servants whispered about dragon shifters in hushed voices while preparing your baths or brushing your hair. noble women spoke of them with fascination during gatherings while men discussed them as weapons that could change the outcome of wars. some stories painted hybrids as dangerous beasts pretending to be human while others claimed they were more loyal than any knight sworn by oath.
you had never seen one before.
not until now.
the realization settled into you the moment the large doors of the throne room opened.
the room was massive, carved from dark stone that stretched high above your head into towering ceilings supported by enormous pillars etched with old markings and scars from time. fire burned from iron braziers mounted against the walls, their flames casting flickering orange light across the gloomy chamber. unlike the bright halls of the emerald empire filled with sunlight and polished marble, this place felt heavy.
ancient.
the air itself carried the faint scent of smoke and iron.
your footsteps echoed softly as you walked forward.
the kingâs council and court lined both sides of the long walkway leading toward the throne, their eyes fixed entirely on you. warriors stood among nobles instead of guards standing separately from politicians like in your homeland. here they seemed to blend together into one brutal court where strength mattered just as much as status.
you could feel their stares. some were curious. some judgmental. some openly assessing you as though trying to determine whether the foreign princess walking toward their king was worthy enough to stand beside him.
still, your posture never faltered. not once.
your head remained high, your expression calm and serene exactly as you had been taught since childhood. every movement was graceful and measured as you walked across the dark stone floor.
your dress stood out immediately against the dullness of the castle.
soft lilac silk flowed around your body with every step, the fabric delicate and elegant beneath the firelight. silver embroidery climbed along the sleeves and bodice in intricate patterns resembling vines and blooming flowers from your homeland. sheer layers of fabric draped from your arms and trailed lightly behind you across the floor.
in this dark place of stone and ash and smoke, the dress almost looked unreal.
the only other strong color in the room came from the red-haired hybrid standing beside the throne.
his hair was bright like burning crimson beneath the firelight, wild and striking against skin. large dragon wings rested folded behind him, the scales along them dark red and gleaming faintly. even from where you stood, you could see sharp scales trailing along parts of his neck and arms while red horns stuck on his forehead.
and his eyes never left the king.
you understood the stories then.
slowly, you reached the foot of the stairs leading toward the throne.
without hesitation, you lowered yourself into a proper curtsy, bowing your head respectfully. though you were royalty yourself, you stood in a foreign kingdom before another ruler. your mother had drilled that lesson into you countless times growing up.
respect the customs of the land you stand in.
your voice was soft and composed when you spoke. âmy king.âthen you lifted your gaze and finally saw him properly.
katsuki bakugo sat sprawled across the throne like he had been born for it⊠like the throne itself belonged beneath him.
his vermillion eyes locked onto yours immediately, sharp and intense enough to make your breath still for a moment. his ash blond hair looked messy and untamed as though no one would dare attempt controlling it.
he looked dangerous, beautifully dangerous.
his entire torso was bare, leaving every inch of hard muscle exposed beneath the firelight. scars littered parts of his skin, old marks that only made him appear even rougher, even more intimidating. his body looked carved from stone itself, broad shoulders leading down to a powerful chest and strong arms wrapped with strips of orange fabric around his forearms and hands.
a dark red cape lined with thick fur rested across his shoulders, the heavy material falling behind him while the fur framed his neck. black tattered pants hung low on his hips tucked into worn brown boots that looked made for battle instead of ceremony. and around his neck hung layered necklaces made from stone, jade, teeth, and rough beads that clicked softly whenever he moved.
beside his throne rested a massive broadsword. the blade alone looked large enough to split a man in half.
the room had gone silent.
completely silent.
your eyes remained locked with his as he slowly stood from his throne. the movement alone shifted the atmosphere in the room. he descended the stairs with slow swaggering steps, each one heavy against the stone floor. he did not rush. he looked like a predator approaching something that had caught his attention.
his eyes never left yours.
not once.
when he finally stopped in front of you, his body towered over yours easily.
you suddenly understood why stories about him spread across kingdoms because there was something overwhelming about him, something that demanded attention.
your breath caught quietly in your throat when he suddenly lifted a hand and pinched your chin between his fingers. his touch was rough as it was warm. he tilted your head upward slightly so he could look at you better.
the entire room seemed to hold its breath.
you could feel his gaze dragging across your face slowly, studying every detail in silence for several long seconds⊠then his lip curled.
âtch. at least they had the decency to send me a pretty little princess.â his voice was rough and deep, carrying easily through the silent throne room.
heat crept beneath your skin instantly.
before you could even react, he scoffed and released your chin before turning away slightly. âi might actually kill them then myself if they had given me one that looked like a mountain troll.â
a few people in the court laughed nervously.
you stayed perfectly still.
then katsuki waved a hand dismissively. âeijiro, send the woman to her quarters.â
the command was directed toward the red-haired hybrid beside the throne.
unlike katsukiâs permanent snarl and sharp gaze, the hybrid smiled warmly at you the moment his name was called.
and somehow, in this cold dark throne room filled with warriors and strangers, that smile was the first thing that felt welcoming.
you walked through the dark halls of the castle in silence, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly against the stone beneath your shoes as the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind you.
in the corridor, the walls were made from dark stone carved rough in some places and smooth in others as though parts of the castle had been built directly into the mountain itself. large torches lined the hallways every few feet, their flames flickering wildly and casting shifting shadows across the walls and floors. the firelight painted everything in deep shades of orange and gold, but it did little to soften the gloom surrounding the place.
there were no large windows letting sunlight spill through the halls. no fresh scent of flowers drifting through open corridors. instead the air carried traces of smoke, leather, iron, and something faintly earthy that reminded you of ash after rain.
in front of you, eijiro walked at an easy pace as he guided you through the winding halls just as the king had ordered.
your eyes drifted toward him quietly.
back in the throne room, nearly all of your attention had been trapped on katsuki bakugo himself. it had been impossible not to stare at him when he looked the way he did sitting upon that throne like some wild king from ancient stories.
now, with the two of you alone in the halls, this was the first time you truly got a proper look at the dragon hybrid.
your gaze slowly scanned over him.
like katsuki, his torso was completely bare beneath the warm firelight, exposing toned muscle across his back and shoulders that shifted with every step he took. his body looked strong in a different way than the kingâs. where katsuki carried sharpness and intimidation, eijiro looked sturdy and grounded⊠protective.
metal pauldrons rested over his shoulders, dark and jagged in shape almost resembling broken pieces of rock layered over one another. leather bracers wrapped around his forearms while fitted leather pants and armored boots completed the rest of his attire. several knives rested securely along the belt around his waist.
but none of that held your attention for long. your eyes kept returning to the scales.
patches of deep red scales spread across parts of his arms and shoulders, blending into his tan skin naturally. more scales traced along the sides of his face near his jaw and temples, catching the firelight whenever he moved.
his hair was a vivid red that matched the horns protruding from his forehead. large leathery wings remained tucked behind him neatly despite their size, the dark red membranes shifting slightly every now and then as he walked.
you had never seen anything like him before.
your staring lasted just a second too long.
eijiro glanced over his shoulder before a grin spread across his face. âyâknow, princess, if you keep staring at me like that iâm gonna start thinkinâ you like what you see.â
heat rushed to your face instantly. your eyes widened before you quickly looked away. âiâm so sorry,â you said softly, your voice embarrassed. âi did not mean to stare.â you hesitated for a moment before glancing back at him carefully. âit is just... this is my first time seeing a hybrid in person. let alone a dragon hybrid.â
eijiro let out a warm chuckle. âhey, donât worry about it,â he said easily, waving a hand dismissively. âseriously. thereâs no need to apologize. i get that a lot.â
his relaxed tone eased some of your embarrassment almost immediately.
you looked at him again, more carefully this time. âdoes it bother you?â
ânah.â he shrugged. âpeople get curious. especially people from other kingdoms. honestly, iâd probably stare too if i saw somebody with giant wings for the first time.â
you found yourself smiling faintly at that. the sight seemed to encourage him further.
âplus,â he continued with a grin, âyouâve been pretty respectful about it. some people act weird.â
âweird?â
âyeah.â he snorted. âeither theyâre terrified or they ask if i breathe fire.â
your brows lifted slightly. âcan you?â
eijiro barked out a laugh so suddenly that it echoed through the hallway. âokay, see? that oneâs fair.â
you lowered your gaze quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. âi apologize. that was inappropriate.â
âhey, no.â he shook his head immediately. âiâm messing with you. i do breathe fire. only on my dragon form though.â
his easygoing nature made conversation strangely comfortable despite how unfamiliar everything around you was. for a moment, the tightness sitting in your chest since arriving at the scarlet region loosened slightly.
âso,â eijiro said after a moment, glancing at you curiously. âwhatâs the emerald empire really like?â
your expression softened. âIt is beautiful,â you answered quietly. âvery different from here.â
you looked around the dim hallway before continuing.l âthere are gardens everywhere. flowers grow along most parts of the palace grounds and the walls are covered with vines and roses during warmer seasons.â
eijiro listened closely. âsounds nice.â
âIt is peaceful,â you admitted. âthe air smells sweet during spring.â
âhuh.â he smiled. âguess this place probably feels kinda⊠intense compared to that.â
you hesitated before nodding slightly. âa little.â
he laughed softly. âyeah, sounds about right.â
for a few moments the two of you continued walking while talking quietly.
you asked him questions about the castle, about the scarlet region, about dragons and hybrids. he answered all of them openly, seeming almost excited by your curiosity rather than annoyed by it.
in return, he asked about your home, what kind of things you liked, whether all nobility in the emerald empire were taught so formally.
âpretty much,â you admitted softly.
âthat sounds exhausting.â eijiro said.
âit can be.â you let out the faintest laugh.
eijiro glanced at you again before speaking carefully.âyou nervous?â
you knew immediately what he meant. your fingers tightened lightly together.
âabout the king?â
he nodded.
you were quiet for a moment before speaking honestly. âi do not think he likes me.â
eijiro suddenly laughed. not cruelly, almost fondly. âtrust me,â he said, shaking his head. âyouâd know if katsuki doesnât like you.â
âI would?â your brows furrowed slightly.
âoh, definitely.â he grinned. âheâs not exactly subtle.â
you thought back to the throne room. to the way katsuki had looked at you, the roughness in his voice, and to the way his fingers had held your chin.
your face warmed slightly at the memory.
eijiro noticed immediately and grinned wider. âsee?â
you quickly looked away. âi simply assumed he was displeased by this arrangement.â
âwell,â eijiro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, âhe definitely wasnât happy about being forced into marriage at first.â
your chest tightened slightly, but before you could speak, he continued.
âkatsukiâs just bad with people sometimes. especially women.â
you blinked. âwomen?â
âpretty women,â he corrected with a teasing grin.
you looked down immediately, embarrassed at his constant compliments towards you.
eijiro laughed softly again before continuing more gently. âseriously though, donât overthink him too much. heâs rough around the edges but heâs a good person. youâll see pretty soon how he actually is when he dislikes somebody.â
the conversation slowly drifted again before you asked quietly, âhow long have you known him?â
eijiroâs expression softened immediately. âsince we were kids.â
you looked up at him curiously while he smiled faintly down at you.
âhunters caught me when i was eight,â he explained. âdragon hybrids sell for a lot depending on where you are.â
your eyes widened slightly. you remembered learning about how hybrids treated in some parts. some were either killed and butchered to be sold for their parts, or they were sold for entertainment. hybrids were rare as it is, but dragon hybrids were even more rare making them more valuable.
âthey kept me trapped for a while.â his tone remained casual but you still felt sadness curl in your chest. âkatsuki found me,â he continued. âhe was around eight too. little psycho fought grown men with a knife.â
you stared at him as you listened, trying to take it all in.
âseriously. kid was terrifying⊠and i was a kid!â eijiro laughed.
you could strangely imagine it. after seeing katsuki earlier, just from that brief interaction, you can already tell he was much of a menace at eight as he is now.
âhe saved you.â you said.
âyeah.â his voice softened. âand i stayed with him after that.â
âyou are loyal to him. iâm not surprised.â your gaze drifted toward his wings.
eijiro looked at you for a moment before nodding once. âalways.â
something about the way he said it made the old stories about hybrids echo through your mind again.
once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.
eventually, the two of you stopped in front of a massive pair of doors at the end of a quieter hallway.
âwelcome to your new quarters, princess.â eijiro pushed them open.
you stepped inside slowly and was met with an enormous room.
dark stone walls surrounded the space but heavy curtains in deep crimson softened parts of it while large fur rugs covered portions of the floor. a massive fireplace burned along one side of the room, filling it with warmth. shelves carved from black wood lined the walls while candles flickered across various surfaces. the bed itself was enormous, layered with thick dark fabrics and furs.
despite the roughness of the castleâs aesthetic, the room still felt strangely luxurious.
eijiro watched your reaction carefully. âi know itâs probably completely different from your home,â he said, rubbing the back of his neck. âbut the king made sure your quarters were comfortable for you.â
your eyes widened slightly. âhe did? really?â
eijiro smiled sheepishly. âwell... not really.â
your brows lifted in confusion at that.
âbut he approved of all the things brought to your room! so thatâs something!â
you could not help the soft laugh that escaped you. he reminded you strangely of a large puppy, earnest and friendly.
âthank you, eijiro. truly.â you nodded politely.
his grin returned immediately. âno problem. you are the future queen of the dragon lord. i live to serve you for you are his.â
his.
he stepped back toward the doorway. âiâll send your new servants in to help with your bath before you retire for the night.â
âthank you.â you nodded again.
âget some rest, princess.â with that, he stepped outside and slowly closed the large doors behind him.
silence settled over the room.
you stood there for a long moment before slowly walking deeper inside, taking every little thing in. finally, you sat down carefully on the edge of the massive bed. your fingers brushed against the heavy sheets beneath your hands.
it was soft, warm⊠and foreign.
your gaze drifted slowly around the unfamiliar room.
this is my home now.
and for the first time since arriving in the scarlet region, the reality of it truly settled into your chest.
the last couple of weeks quickly fell into a repetitive pattern that slowly wore away at your patience no matter how hard you tried to remain understanding about the situation.
every morning you would wake up inside your chambers high within the dark stone walls of the scarlet fortress and ask one of the servants or guards whether the king was available, only to receive the same carefully rehearsed answers in return.
the king was occupied. the king was handling important matters. the king had already left the castle grounds before sunrise.
after hearing those excuses day after day, you eventually stopped asking as often because humiliation started creeping beneath your skin each time another servant avoided your eyes while informing you that your own betrothed apparently had no time for you.
most of your days were spent alone inside your chambers afterward. you ended up reading nearly every single one of the books on your shelves out of sheer boredom.
the books inside the scarlet region were nothing like the gentle romances and elegant poetry collections kept inside the libraries of the emerald empire. these stories were brutal and excessive and strangely honest about the people who lived within this kingdom.
there were tales about ancient wars fought between dragon riders that ended with entire mountainsides collapsing beneath fire and bloodshed. there were stories about barbarian kings who conquered lands with their bare hands and queens who poisoned enemies during feasts. some books were so violent that you occasionally found yourself staring blankly at the pages afterward trying to understand how someone even thought to write such horrifying details.
others were scandalously inappropriate.
one evening you accidentally spent an entire hour reading a story about a warrior taking a noblewoman against a castle wall. one of your handmaidens nearly dropped a tray in shock after realizing what you were reading. afterward she refused to look you directly in the eyes for the rest of the night while you quietly closed the book and pretended not to understand why her face had turned bright red.
still, despite the strange books and lonely silence surrounding most of your days, there was one part of your routine that you genuinely began looking forward to.
eijiro.
the dragon hybrid visited you almost every single day without fail.
sometimes he would arrive during breakfast and keep you company while the two of you ate together inside your chambers. other times he would take you through different sections of the castle while explaining the history behind certain halls and statues carved into the stone walls.
he told stories easily and enthusiastically, often speaking with his hands while his large red wings shifted behind him whenever he became excited.
unlike katsuki, who felt sharp and difficult to approach, eijiro was warm in a way that made conversation come naturally.
he answered your endless questions without irritation.
he explained the volcanoes surrounding the scarlet region and the old traditions involving dragon riders. he told you about battles fought generations ago and pointed out ancient carvings etched into the fortress walls. sometimes he made you laugh without meaning to. sometimes you caught yourself smiling more around him than you had since arriving here.
over time, your nervousness around the hybrid slowly faded.
and if you were being honest with yourself, there were moments where you quietly wondered who exactly you were supposed to be marrying. because while katsuki bakugo remained nothing more than a distant shadow constantly avoiding your presence, eijiro kirishima was the one actually beside you every day.
by the time three weeks had passed since your arrival in the scarlet region, you realized with growing disbelief that your wedding was only a week away.
a single week and yet you still had not properly spoken to katsuki since the first day you arrived. the realization irritated you more than you cared to admit.
that evening you sat in front of the vanity mirror inside your chambers while slowly brushing through your hair with careful strokes. soft firelight flickered across the room while one of your handmaidens prepared fresh oils nearby. you were waiting for eijiro again because he promised earlier that morning he would visit after finishing training with the soldiers.
you had begun expecting him.
which was exactly why surprise shot through you when the chamber doors suddenly burst open hard enough to slam against the stone walls.
your head snapped upward immediately.
katsuki bakugo stood in the doorway.
for a second, the entire room felt painfully still.
his broad figure nearly filled the entrance as firelight danced across his exposed skin and the heavy fur draped around his shoulders. his ash blonde hair looked slightly messy like he had run his hands through it repeatedly and those sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours instantly with an intensity that made your breath catch inside your throat.
it had been weeks since you last saw him.
weeks.
slowly, you stood from your seat before lowering your head respectfully. âmy king,â you greeted softly. âwhat an honor it is to finally be graced by your presence.â
katsuki stared at you for a moment before clicking his tongue. âquit talking like that,â he muttered as he stepped further inside the room. âyou sound like one of those damn council fossils.â
you lifted your gaze carefully toward him. âforgive me. i was simply trying to greet my future husband properly.â
âyeah, well, stop it.â he said, and despite his harsh tone, his eyes remained fixed on you far too intensely for comfort.
you slowly set the brush down against the vanity table. âto what do i owe this sudden visit?â you asked calmly. âi assumed you were occupied with your duties⊠as usual.â
something unreadable flashed across his expression at that.
then you continued before he could answer.
âit has been difficult, i must say. when the king is always occupied with âstate affairsâ and his right hand is the only one willing to provide a tour of the grounds.â
katsukiâs jaw immediately tightened. âhair-for-brains has been babysitting you?â he asked sharply.
you frowned slightly at the insult. âeijiro has been kind,â you corrected as you stepped away from the vanity. âhe told me about the volcanoes, the dragon-kin, the hybrids, and the history of this region. he has been a better guide than my own betrothed.â
a rough laugh escaped katsuki though there was no real amusement behind it. he moved closer until the warmth rolling off his body surrounded you completely. âkirishimaâs an idiot who gives away secrets for free,â he scoffed. âif you wanted to know about this kingdom, you shouldâve come to the source, not the help.â
your eyebrows lifted slightly. âi tried,â you answered, your voice firmer than expected. âevery time i approached your chambers, your guards informed me you were busy breathing fire at your generals. eventually i began wondering if you were hiding something.â
for the briefest second, something shifted across his face. his stare softened just enough to notice before the scowl returned again. âi wasnât hiding,â he said roughly. âi was preparing. do you have any idea what it takes to merge an emerald seat with a scarlet throne? despite the treaty, the court is looking for a reason to tear you apart the moment you step onto the altar.â
the words struck harder than you expected. your breath caught quietly in your throat and for a moment, you simply stared at him.
you had known this marriage was political from the very beginning. kingdoms did not bind themselves together through royal blood for romance. this union meant trade routes, military alliances, security, power, stability between two lands that could strengthen each other greatly. you understood that. you had been taught that since childhood.
but despite understanding all of that, despite knowing nobles could be cruel and proud and difficult, a part of you still had not expected that there were truly people within this castle who looked at you and saw someone unworthy.
you had crossed an entire continent for this marriage, you had left your home behind, your family, your kingdom, everything familiar, and somewhere within these dark stone halls, there were people waiting for you to fail.
they were watching and judging you, hoping youâd slip and fall and break you neck on the way down.
katsuki reached toward you suddenly, his gloved hand hovered near your chin. for a brief second, it looked as though he intended to touch you. then his jaw tightened sharply and he pulled his hand back with visible irritation, almost seeming angry at himself for the impulse.
âi didn't have time for royal pleasantries,â he growled. âbut since you and shitty hair seem to have hit it off so well, i suppose youâve learned enough to hold your own.â
despite yourself, your lips twitched faintly. âiâve learned that the king is temperamental, guarded, and apparently very jealous of his second-in-command,â you said softly, tilting your head.
katsuki froze, his eyes widened for the briefest moment before narrowing into dangerous slits, a low sound rumbled from deep in his chest.
it sent a chill crawling down your spine.
âjealous?â he repeated sharply. âdon't flatter yourself. i just don't like whatâs mine being lectured by a soft-hearted mutt.â
his words made something uncomfortable twist in your chest.
your his property.
slowly, you stepped closer toward him until barely any space remained between your bodies. you could feel the heat radiating from him like fire against your skin.
âis that all i am to you?â you asked quietly. âproperty?â
katsuki stared down at you, his pupils shifted strangely. the sharp crimson of his eyes darkened until the color looked molten beneath the torchlight.
when he leaned closer, your breath caught, his forehead nearly brushed yours. âyouâre a week away from being the queen of the scarlet region,â he said in a low gravelly rasp. âyouâre not property, princess.â his gaze dragged across your face slowly, too slowly. âyouâre the only thing in this godforsaken fortress that isn't made of ash.â
your heart stumbled painfully inside your chest. before you could respond, he continued.
âand if you think iâve been busy playing soldier, youâre wrong.â he leaned even closer, close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. âiâve been making sure that when you finally walk down that aisle, no one is left alive who thinks they can challenge us.â
us.
âeijiro kept you distracted,â he muttered. âi kept you safe.â
silence filled the room after that.
your mind struggled to keep pace with everything he was saying.
you had thought he hated this arrangement. thought he was avoiding you because he wanted nothing to do with you. yet now he stood before you speaking about protecting you as though it had become his responsibility long before you ever wore his name.
âthere are truly people here who oppose me that much?â you asked quietly.
katsuki scoffed. âthere are people here whoâd oppose the sky if it changed color for too long.â he stepped back slightly before dragging a rough hand through his ash blonde hair.
âthe scarlet court is full of old bastards obsessed with bloodlines and strength. youâre foreign, soft, and refined. they think emerald nobles spend more time playing music than surviving winters. despite the benefits this wedding can give our kingdom, they donât think youâre fit to be queen.â
âthat is not true.â your brows furrowed faintly.
âi know that,â he snapped immediately. âthey don't.â his jaw clenched again. âthey think youâll break.â
something stubborn rose inside your chest at that. you lifted your chin slightly. âand what do you think?â
his eyes locked onto yours instantly, intensely burning. âi think,â he said slowly, âthat anybody who crossed kingdoms to marry into this hellhole without crying halfway through has more spine than half the idiots sitting in my council chamber.â
heat rushed unexpectedly into your face.
before you could answer, katsuki abruptly turned away. âcome with me.â
âwhat?â you blinked.
âyou heard me.â he strode toward the door.
confusion crossed your face immediately. âyour majesty, where are we going?â
âtch. just move.â
you hesitated only a second before following after him and the moment you reached him, his hand suddenly grabbed yours. your breath caught sharply. his grip was large and rough and overwhelmingly warm around your hand.
before you could react properly, he yanked you forward behind him. âquit dragging me,â you gasped softly.
âquit dragging your feet.â
the chamber doors burst open as he pulled you into the corridor.
the dark halls stretched endlessly ahead, lit by fire torches burning against black stone walls. shadows flickered across the floors as servants quickly moved aside at the sight of the king storming through the castle with his future queen in tow.
you struggled slightly to keep pace with his long strides. âwhere are we going?â you asked again.
âyou ask too many questions.â
âthat usually happens when someone drags another person through a castle without explanation.â
he shot you an irritated glance over his shoulder. âyou wanted to know why iâve been busy so badly, right?â
you blinked. âyesâŠâ
âthen shut up and keep walking.â
despite his harsh tone, he never let go of your hand, not once. and somehow that fact lingered in your mind more than anything else.
katsuki continued dragging you through the castle halls with long aggressive strides that forced you to keep close behind him if you did not want to stumble over the hem of your dress. his hand remained wrapped tightly around yours, rough and calloused from years of swordsmanship and battle, his warmth almost startling against your softer skin.
you tried not to stare too openly at everything around you, but it was difficult. the scarlet region fascinated you. even after weeks of exploring with eijiro it still felt foreign to you.
your eyes drifted upward as you noticed enormous carvings etched into the high ceilings.
âthose are incredible,â you murmured softly.
katsuki glanced upward briefly before grunting. âhm.â
you looked back at him. âwhat do they mean?â
âtheyâre old carvings.â
âi can see that.â
his eyes flickered toward you and for a second, you thought you caught amusement there, almost hidden. âsmart mouth,â he muttered.
âi was simply asking.â you blinked innocently at him.
he clicked his tongue before finally answering. âthey tell the story of the first kings. every ruler in the scarlet region traces their bloodline back to them.â
you looked back toward the carvings again with interest. the dragons were enormous in the stone art, wings spread wide across the ceiling while warriors stood beneath them holding weapons toward the sky.
âso the real dragons did come first?â
âobviously.â
âyou do realize not everyone grew up here, yes?â
âannoying.â he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. despite the insult, he still answered. âbefore the kingdoms were built, dragon ruled these mountains. then people started worshipping them. eventually the strongest warriors bonded with them.â
âbonded?â your eyes widened slightly.
âdragon pacts.â his grip tightened faintly around your hand as he continued leading you down another hallway. âsome humans formed bonds with dragon-kind. loyalty for loyalty. strength for strength.â
your thoughts immediately drifted toward eijiro. âis that why hybrids exist?â
âpartly.â
âyou sound reluctant to explain.â you looked at him curiously.
âbecause you ask too many damn questions.â
âand yet you keep answering them.â
he shot you another look over his shoulder. this time you definitely saw it, the corner of his mouth twitched. gone almost immediately.
heâs enjoying this.
you followed him down a massive staircase leading deeper into another section of the castle. the air grew warmer the lower you went, enough that you could feel heat brushing against your skin.
âwhy is it hotter here?â you asked.
âlava tunnels under the mountain.â
your eyes widened. âthere is lava beneath the castle?â
âweâre built into a volcanic mountain, princess. what did you think was under us?â
you stared at him. ârocks?â
he barked out a laugh suddenly, a real one. rough and sharp but genuine enough that it echoed through the corridor. âunbelievable.â
heat crept into your cheeks at the sound. you had not expected him to laugh, especially not because of you.
the two of you continued walking until the hallway opened into a massive chamber lined with weapons mounted against the walls. swords. axes. spears. shields. some looked old enough to belong in museums while others appeared freshly sharpened.
you slowed immediately. âthis is beautiful.â
âitâs an armory.â katsuki snorted.
you stepped closer toward one of the blades hanging on the wall. the sword was massive, far larger than anything you had ever seen used back home.
âpeople actually fight with these?â you asked.
âwhat the hell do you think theyâre for?â he spat, his eyebrows furrowing as he spoke.
you glanced at him carefully. âyou truly speak as though every question pains you.â
âbecause half your questions have obvious answers.â
âfor you, perhaps.â
he stared at you for a moment before crossing his arms over his bare chest. âyou really know nothing about this place.â
there was no mockery in his voice this time. only observation.
you looked down briefly. âi was taught about diplomacy between kingdoms and trade agreements and court etiquette. not weapons and volcanoes and dragon pacts.â
silence settled between you for a brief moment.
then katsuki spoke again, quieter this time. âthat explains a lot.â
âwhat does that mean?â you looked back at him.
he shrugged. âyou walk around this place looking at everything like you got dropped into another world.â
âperhaps i did.â
his gaze lingered on your face longer than necessary. you felt suddenly aware of how close he stood, how large he was compared to you, and how intense his eyes became whenever he looked directly at you.
your fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of your dress, trying to steady yourself before you cleared your throat softly. âwhat are scarlet region weddings like?â
âbecause iâm marrying you in a week.â you said with an obvious tone of sarcasm.
âunfortunate for you.â
you ignored that as you asked again. âi would like to know what to expect.â
he sighed dramatically before leaning against one of the stone pillars nearby. âthereâs a ceremony.â
you waited for more, but he stared back blankly.
ââŠthat tells me nothing.â
âthereâs fire. vows. drinking. fighting.â
your eyes widened. âfighting?â
âfriendly fighting.â
âthose are two words that should not belong together.â
âdepends who you ask.â he shrugged.
you could not help the quiet laugh that escaped you.
katsukiâs eyes flickered toward your mouth immediately at the sound. you noticed it again and suddenly forgot how to breathe correctly for a second.
âwhat about emerald empire weddings?â he asked abruptly.
you blinked at the sudden question. âours are more formal.â
âsounds boring already.â katsuki rolled his eyes as if he regrets asking.
âthere is music and dancing.â
âboring.â
âpoetry readings.â
he looked at you, horrified.
you smiled despite yourself. âdecorated gardens.â
âif anybody forced me into a garden for my own wedding iâd burn it down.â he said, his expression tight as if he was already picturing it in his head.
you laughed at the look on his face while katsuki stared at you like he had never heard that sound before, like he wanted to keep hearing it. the realization made warmth spread slowly across your chest.
maybe he truly was avoiding me because he did not know what to do with me.
and somehow that thought felt far more dangerous than hatred ever could have been.
a week passed after your walk through the castle with katsuki, and somewhere within those seven days, something between the two of you shifted. it was not a dramatic shift. there had been no grand confession or sudden tenderness that transformed him into a different man overnight.
katsuki bakugo remained exactly who he was. he was still rough around the edges, still aggressive in the way he spoke, still impatient whenever somebody irritated him which happened often enough that you were beginning to think irritation was simply his natural state of being.
but despite that, things changed.
he was still busy constantly buried beneath matters of court and military discussions and whatever else dragged the dragon king away for hours at a time, but now he made space for you within those busy days.
sometimes he would appear at your chambers without warning only to stay for a few moments.
you would be seated near the fire reading one of the strange books from the scarlet region shelves when the door would suddenly swing open, revealing katsuki standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.
âwhat are you reading?â
you had looked up in surprise the first time it happened. âa history book.â
he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. âwhy?â
âbecause i enjoy learning.â
âsounds miserable.â
yet he still walked over and glanced down at the pages resting in your lap before grunting.
another time, he had appeared during your evening meal and simply sat down across from you without invitation. you remembered staring at him while servants awkwardly scrambled to bring another plate.
âyour majesty?â
âwhat?â
âyou are in my chambers.â
âobviously.â
then he started eating your food as though he had always belonged there.
sometimes he barely spoke during those visits. he would simply sit nearby while you read or embroidered or drank tea. strangely enough, the silence never felt uncomfortable.
other times, he joined you and eijiro during your walks through the castle grounds.
those were perhaps your favorite moments.
eijiro would be speaking enthusiastically about some story from his childhood only for katsuki to suddenly appear beside the two of you with an irritated scowl already on his face.
âwhy the hell are you telling her that story again?â katsuki would ask.
âbecause she likes hearing it,â eijiro would laugh.
âyour stories are stupid.â
âyou listened to all of them too.â
âshut up.â
yet he would stay, always.
and slowly, without realizing it, you started learning him in pieces.
you learned that he hated overly sweet wine but liked stronger drinks that burned your throat. you learned that he became quieter whenever he was exhausted instead of louder. you learned that although he complained constantly, he still noticed everything around him with sharp frightening precision. you learned that whenever he was thinking deeply, his fingers tapped against whatever surface was nearest. you learned that he looked at you intensely even during moments when he thought you were not paying attention.
and before you fully realized it, the day of your wedding arrived.
you stood outside the massive doors leading toward the throne hall with your heart pounding heavily inside your chest. the halls around you glowed with torchlight while distant music echoed through the stone corridors.
your wedding dress felt heavier than anything you had ever worn before.
scarlet region wedding attire differed greatly from the soft flowing gowns worn in the emerald empire. instead of delicate fabrics and flowers, your gown was designed like something worthy of a queen standing beside a warrior king.
the dress clung tightly around your torso with dark crimson fabric embroidered with thin golden threads shaped like dragon scales. the sleeves draped long around your arms while black sheer fabric layered beneath the heavier crimson silk. gold chains decorated your waist and hips, hanging against the fabric with tiny ruby stones attached to them that caught the firelight whenever you moved.
the neckline dipped lower than dresses from your homeland normally allowed, exposing the tops of your collarbones where matching gold jewelry rested against your skin. even your veil was different. instead of white lace, dark red fabric trailed behind you like smoke.
you barely recognized yourself.
then, the massive doors slowly opened and heat rushed into the hall immediately.
inside, the throne room had transformed completely. huge fires burned from enormous iron braziers positioned throughout the chamber while crimson banners hung from the towering walls. drums echoed loudly through the room in a deep steady rhythm that vibrated through your chest. warriors stood lining the aisle holding torches while musicians played harsh beautiful melodies from instruments unfamiliar to you.
this was nothing like emerald empire weddings filled with soft music and flower petals.
before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle and all eyes turned toward you immediately. the eyes of court katsukiâs councilmen, foreign guests from distant lands, warriors dressed in heavy armor, and nobles covered in jewels and furs.
you spotted katsukiâs parents seated near the front. the former king looked relaxed despite the importance of the ceremony while his wife sat beside him watching everything sharply. you had met them during your first week in the scarlet region and quickly realized katsuki had inherited more from his mother than his father. mitsuki bakugo possessed the same fierce presence as her son though hers carried far more control.
your gaze shifted toward the opposite side where your own family sat. your mother already looked emotional, clearly trying not to cry. your father sat tall with pride written across his face. your older brother, however, looked like he was considering starting a war simply to drag you back home.
you almost smiled. when your eyes met his, you gave him a reassuring look.
iâm alright.
slowly, your attention moved again, then you spotted eijiro.
the dragon hybrid stood near the front dressed in dark ceremonial armor lined with crimson detailing. the moment he saw you looking toward him, his entire face lit up with the biggest grin.
it was so warm and genuine that you nearly laughed. you quickly hid the smile threatening your lips before finally looking ahead.
and there he was.
katsuki.
your future husband stood waiting near the throne platform.
for once, his chest was not bare. instead, he wore ceremonial battle robes made from black and deep crimson fabric layered with pieces of dark armor over his shoulders and forearms. fur lined the heavy cape hanging behind him while gold clasps shaped like dragon claws held it together across his chest. thick leather belts wrapped around his waist where a dagger rested beside an ornate sword.
he looked terrifying, beautifully terrifying.
his vermillion eyes locked onto yours instantly and as you approached him, you noticed his gaze slowly travel over your body, from your face, to your dress, to the jewelry against your skin, then back to your eyes again.
the look in his expression made heat crawl into your cheeks.
the ceremony began shortly after.
instead of gentle vows spoken softly between lovers, scarlet region traditions felt almost ritualistic.
the officiant stood before a massive fire while chanting ancient words in the old tongue of the region. wine was poured into ceremonial goblets. your hands and katsukiâs were bound together briefly with crimson cloth symbolizing unity through blood and kingdom.
through most of it, you barely listened because katsuki kept staring at you, and somehow, you realized you were staring back just as much.
the rest of the room blurred around you. time itself felt strange and distant. until finally the officiant spoke again.
âseal this union beneath fire and blood.â
eyes widened slightly and before you could even fully process the words, katsuki suddenly grabbed the back of your neck. a sharp breath escaped you then he pulled you toward him.
his lips crashed against yours.
the kiss stole every coherent thought from your mind instantly.
he kissed you firmly without hesitation, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other settled against your waist. heat flooded through your entire body as his mouth moved against yours with rough confidence that left your knees weak beneath the heavy layers of your gown.
oh gods.
your fingers instinctively grabbed the front of his ceremonial robes. you could hear distant cheering erupting around the throne room, but it sounded muffled beneath the pounding of your heartbeat.
when he finally pulled away, your lips tingled painfully, you stared at him completely stunned. katsukiâs eyes looked darker somehow, his thumb brushed briefly against your waist before he stepped back.
the celebration afterward became a blur of noise and firelight and endless drinking.
true to scarlet region tradition, there were fights just like katsuki mentioned.
warriors and duelists stepped into the center arena one after another while crowds roared around them.
sero hanta from katsukiâs inner circle defeated one soldier after a brutal sword fight that ended with both men bleeding and laughing. denki kaminari won his own match shortly afterward while shouting obnoxiously toward cheering spectators.
eijiro fought next.
you found yourself watching in amazement as the dragon hybrid moved with terrifying strength and speed before ultimately defeating his opponent.
then came katsuki.
the entire room seemed to erupt when the king stepped forward. his opponent looked almost honored to stand across from him.
the fight started with swords.
metal clashed violently beneath roaring cheers while sparks flew from each impact. katsuki fought like something feral unleashed into battle. he was aggressive, brutal, and overwhelming.
eventually the swords were discarded. then they were on the ground beating each other bloody.
you sat perfectly composed at the royal table, but beneath it, your hands gripped tightly against your dress. stress twisted painfully in your chest.
suddenly, warmth covered one of your hands.
you looked beside yourself and found eijiro smiled reassuringly at you. âdonât worry,â he said gently. âkatsukiâll be fine. iâve seen him survive worse.â
you swallowed slightly. âthat is not comforting.â
he laughed softly. âwhen we were sixteen he fought three mountain raiders at once after getting stabbed in the shoulder.â
âwhat?â your eyes widened in horror.
âhe won.â
âthat really does not make it better.â
eijiro grinned at your expression of worry.
your eyes shifted back toward the fight where katsuki slammed the other man hard into the ground making you winced. âbesides⊠itâs not him iâm worried about,â you admitted quietly.
eijiro blinked before immediately understanding, then he chuckled. âah.â
you looked at him helplessly. âthat poor soldier.â
âtrust me, heâs honored.â
you stared at him incredulously, not entirely sure what to reply to his reassurance.
eijiro leaned closer slightly before explaining. âin the scarlet region, itâs tradition to fight for the person you love.â
your brows furrowed.
he nodded toward the arena. âme and the others fought earlier because weâre unwedded. itâs meant to show strength, protection, and devotion for our future partners.â then he looked toward katsuki. âbut katsukiâs fight is different.â
âdifferent how?â your stomach tightened.
eijiroâs smile softened. âthe longer the fight goes and the more blood he draws from his opponent, the deeper the devotion is believed to be.â
you froze completely.
eijiro continued quietly. âheâs fighting for you, my queen.â
shock rushed through you instantly. you had never heard of this tradition before, never read about it, never learned it during your lessons back home. yet suddenly everything felt different watching katsuki fight down there beneath roaring firelight.
every brutal strike, every drop of blood, every second that continued was for you.
eventually the soldier finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss.
the room erupted into cheers.
breathing heavily, katsuki straightened before immediately turning his head toward you, his eyes locked onto yours across the hall then slowly, a smirk twitched against the corner of his mouth. he walked directly toward you afterward. you noticed the blood that stained his knuckles, his lip was split slightly, yet he looked almost pleased with himself.
once he reached the table, he dropped into the seat beside you and threw one arm casually across the back of your chair. âyou look pale,â he said.
you stared at him. âyou nearly killed that man.â
âheâll live.â
âwhy does everything think thatâs comforting?â you replied back.
he snorted then his eyes dragged slowly across your face. âyou watched the whole thing?â
you swallowed softly. ââŠyes.â
âgood.â his smirk deepened slightly.
the grand hall roared with celebration, the air thick with smoke from roasted meats, the bitter tang of ale, and the deafening clash of warriors re-enacting battles for entertainment.
you sat at the high table, your new husband beside you, a solid, immovable presence. katsuki downed the last bit of his wine, a deep, dark scarlet that matched the banners of his kingdom. he swallowed it like it was water, not savoring it, just consuming it. the heavy goblet clunked onto the wooden table.
then his arm, which had been draped loosely around the back of your chair, moved. his hand landed on your shoulder, a firm, heavy pat. once. twice. a third time, each impact a little heavier, a little more deliberate.
your shoulder tingled under the weight.
he stood up. the noise in the hall seemed to dip for a moment, the crowdâs attention shifting to their king. he held his hand out for you, palm open, fingers curled slightly while you looked at his hand, confused.
the festivities were still raging. it was relatively still early. then you turned your head to meet his eyes. dark red, like cooled lava, intense and utterly focused on you. in that instant, the confusion evaporated, replaced by a cold, clear understanding that rushed from your head down to your toes.
it was time. your duty. the consummation.
your fingers, trembling slightly, reached out and grabbed his hand. his grip was instantaneous, tight, almost crushing as he pulled you to stand. you rose, your wedding gown suddenly felt like a ridiculous, fragile costume.
as you stood, you noticed katsukiâs eyes flick to eijiro who sat on your other side, giving him a quick knowing look.
eijiroâs smile faded into a serious nod, his own crimson eyes understanding. they seemed to speak without words, a silent communication that made your eyebrows furrow.
what did that mean? what had they planned?
but before you could dwell, katsuki was pulling you away from the table, his stride long and purposeful. he didnât walk with you; he dragged you.
your hand was captive in his, and he led you through the archway out of the hall, into the colder, darker corridors of the castle. the warmth and noise of the feast died behind you, swallowed by the silence of the passageways.
katsuki looked intense, his profile sharp in the torchlight. his jaw was set, his brows slightly lowered. he didnât look at you as he walked, his focus was on the path ahead, on getting to where he needed to be.
silence filled the space between you, thick and heavy. it wasnât peaceful. it was a tension that crawled over your skin, a prickling awareness of where you were headed, of what was about to happen in the dark, private heart of his domain.
he didnât lead you to the wing where your chambers had been for the past few weeks. he turned down a different corridor, one guarded by two massive stone dragons carved into the archway. he stopped before a door of dark, aged oak reinforced with iron bands.
âthis is my chambers,â he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet hall. ânow itâs ours. i had the servants move your things here this afternoon.â his tone was matter-of-fact, final. there was no discussion. this was where you would live⊠with him.
katsuki opened the door. it swung inward without a sound.
you were met with a room similar in structure to your old one but vastly different in spirit. it was bigger, dominated by a massive bed with a dark wood frame and black linens. the air smelled like himâlike smoke, leather, and something wild. weapons lay around not as decoration, but as tools temporarily set aside: a sword on a table, its edge gleaming; a pair of axes leaning against a chest; pieces of armor on a stand. scrolls and maps were piled haphazardly.
it was chaotic, masculine, and utterly his.
âitâs very⊠you,â you said softly, stepping inside after him.
âitâs a fucking room,â he grunted, closing the door behind you. the click of the latch was loud in the silence. âit serves its purpose.â
you turned to face him, now alone in the intimate space. the tension from the corridors condensed here, in the few feet of space between you. he finally looked at you directly, his sharp eyes sweeping over your body in the elaborate dress.
âyou wore this shit all day,â he stated, not a question. âmust be heavy.â
âthey told me it is the traditional gown of the scarlet region for a royal wedding,â you replied, your voice gentle. âthey told me it represents power and prosperity.â
âit represents a lot of fucking fabric,â he said, a slight, sharp smirk touching his lips. âyou look⊠good in it. but iâll prefer you without it.â
your cheeks warmed at his blunt words. you didnât know how to respond to such directness.
he stepped closer, until you were face to face. his warmth radiated against you. one of his calloused hands came up to gently play with a strand of your hair that had escaped its intricate styling.
the contrast was startling, the brute king touching you with such deliberate softness.
âdo you know whatâs about to happen now, hm?â he asked, his voice lower, gravelly.
you swallowed, your eyes wide. âi-i know my duty to my husband,â you whispered. âto⊠consummate the marriage. to bond both our kingdoms.â
his fingers continued their slow movement through your hair. âduty. bond.â he snorted softly. âi may be a brute, princess. i may be have a temper and called a barbarian. but i wonât do anything to you if youâre not ready.â the words were gruff, but the meaning underneath was startlingly clear.
he was giving you a choice, within the cage of this marriage.
your body reacted to his soft touches. a shiver went down your spine that wasnât entirely fear. your eyes closed for a moment, feeling the rough texture of his fingers against the sensitive skin of your neck, behind your ear.
it was soothing and terrifying all at once.
you opened your eyes to find him watching your face intently, studying every flicker of reaction.
âi⊠i want to,â you promised him, your voice timid but clear. âi am ready.â
a low sound, like a grumble of satisfaction, emanated from his chest. his eyes darkened, shifting from assessing to predatory. his fingers left your hair and traced down your shoulder to the back of your gown, finding the complex laces of the corset.
âyou love learning, right? reading those historical books,â he said, his voice now a seductive murmur as his fingers began to work the first lace. âso learn this. in the scarlet region, we donât consummate marriages like they do in other kingdoms. itâs not clinical. itâs not prude.â
another lace loosened.
your breath hitched as the structure of the dress began to give way.
âthey call us brutes. barbarians.â another lace. âand theyâre right.â the final lace came free with a soft pull. âwe fuck like animals. and tonight, i will make sure every single morsel and peasant in this kingdom knows what weâre doing. i wonât hold back.â
you shivered as his words washed over you, crude and thrilling.
the last of the fabric, freed from its bindings, pooled around your legs and slid to the floor with a whisper of silk. you stood before him, bare except for the delicate necklaces on your neck.
his eyes raked over your body, no longer obscured. his gaze was hot, possessive, and utterly focused. his warm, calloused hands followed his eyes, roaming everywhereâyour shoulders, the curve of your waist, the outside of your thighs. his touch was firm, mapping you.
your breathing became uneven, shallow as you watched him.
âfuck,â he breathed out, the word almost reverent in its roughness. âlook at you.â
then he grabbed you, not gently. his hands hauled you into his arms, your bare body pressing against the warm fabric of his attire. you felt the hard planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms. for a second, you were enveloped in his scent and strength before he threw you onto the bed. you landed on the black linens with a soft gasp, the cool fabric against your skin.
he hovered over you, still fully clothed, a giant silhouetted against the torchlight.
his eyes grew darker, hungrier. he didnât bother with ceremony. his own clothes were removed with swift, efficient movements, the ornate jacket torn off, the shirt pulled over his head and discarded carelessly on the ground, the trousers shoved down and kicked away until he was bare like you.
you shyly eyed his body from where you lay on the bed. he was⊠gorgeous. carved from muscle, scars mapping old battles across his skin.
âsee something you like, huh?â he growled, noticing your wide-eyed look.
âyouâre⊠very b-big,â you whispered, your politeness clinging to you even in this raw moment.
âha! damn right i am,â he said as he moved onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart, making you shyly whine at the sudden exposure.
your palms came up to push against his chest lightly, a reflexive gesture of modesty. âi⊠i havenât done anything like this before,â you confessed softly, your eyes pleading for understanding.
katsukiâs eyes softened for a fleeting moment. he leaned down, not entering you, but lifting himself up to kiss you.
it wasnât a gentle kiss.
his lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding. his tongue invaded your mouth, a battle you couldnât hope to win but were compelled to join. there were bites; sharp nips on your lower lip that made you gasp, and shared spit, and breaths that grew ragged. you whined into his mouth, small sounds of overwhelm that only spurred him on. he groaned, a deep sound from his chest, and the wrestling of tongues was wet, messy, and utterly intoxicating.
âgonna taste every part of you, wife,â he muttered against your lips before breaking away.
he moved down your body, his hands holding your hips firmly. his mouth found your core, and he didnât hesitate. he ate you out with the same aggressive dedication he did everything else. his tongue was relentless, exploring, licking, pushing inside you while grunted against your skin.
âso fucking sweet⊠like a prize⊠all mineâŠâ
âs-shitâoh! katsuki⊠so g-goodâŠâ you moaned, a high, shaky sound.
katsuki groaned in between your thighs, his mouth moving messily on your mound, swishing vibrations through you that amplified the pleasure he was already giving you.
your body writhed on the bed from the shocking, unprecedented sensations crashing through you. your hands gripped the black sheets. you were confused by what you were feeling; this building, tightening coil of pleasure deep inside you, something you had no name for.
âi⊠f-feelânghhâŠâ you gasped.
âlet go,â katsuki commanded, his voice thick. âjust let go for me.â
and you did.
the coil snapped, and a wave of intense pleasure broke over you, making you arch off the bed with a sharp cry. he kept working you through it until you collapsed back onto the linens, trembling.
he moved back up, his body aligning with yours. his cock, heavy and hard, pressed against your slit.
âi canât fucking wait any longer. i need to be inside you⊠been wanting you since i laid eyes on you,â he said, his voice dark with promise. âiâm gonna enter you now and youâre gonna take all of me like a good wife, hm?â
you were delirious in pleasure. just from that one orgasm, you felt indescribable pleasure from your husband. slowly but surely, you wanted everything and anything he was willing to give you. âp-please.â you begged.
katsuki glided his cock into you slowly, an inch at a time. you moaned at the intrusion, a mix of pleasure from before and the new, stretching feeling. he grunted, his own control evident in the slow pace.
âso f-fuuucking tight⊠wrapping around me like a damn viceâŠâ he breathed.
you held onto him, your arms around his shoulders as he slowly inched deeper until he was fully seated inside you. it was a fullness that stole your breath, gasping as you clutched onto him. âhaââ
âpainful?â he asked, his eyes searching yours.
âa little⊠but⊠itâs fading,â you whined softly. âp-please⊠move.â
âhow can i deny such an honest plea?â katsuki teased, chuckling at your expression before he began to move.
his thrusts started slow but quickly gained speed and force. he fucked you on your back with a driving rhythm that shook the bed frame. each thrust punched a moan or a whine from your lips.
âoh! ahângh⊠sâgood.â you threw your head back.
âsuch a good little wife⊠taking her king so perfectlyâŠâ he growled, his praise landing on you like a brand, making you cling to him tighter.
he paused for a moment, looking down at where your bodies joined. âfuck⊠youâre so small⊠made for meâŠâ his thrusts became deeper, more harder. âgonna fill you up⊠gonna put my heirs right in here.â his desire was raw in his words, each slam of his hips a promise of possession beyond tonight.
âkatsuki⊠please!â you begged, your nails clawing down his back.
âplease what? need more, huh? you gonna cum again fro me?â katsuki groaned as he continued to plow into you.
âi⊠i donât knowâf-fuck!â you bit down on his shoulder as you ground up at him, meeting his thrusts.
âyou do know, baby. feel it. come undone for me again.â katsuki nipped at your ear.
and you did, another peak crashing over you as he drove into you relentlessly, his own release following with a roar that echoed in the dark chamber, filling you with his cum as he collapsed atop you, breathing heavily into your neck.
but he didnât stop.
the moment your second orgasm faded into tremors, katsuki kept driving into you, his hips setting a brutal, possessive rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each thrust was a deep, claiming slam that made the bedposts creak in protest.
âk-katsukiâŠâ you moaned, the name a broken sound on your lips. your hands scrambled against his sweat-slicked back, fingers digging into the hard muscle.
âthatâs it, weâre not done yet. just like that, babyâoh, fuck,â he grunted, his voice rough with strain and pleasure. âmoan for me. let the whole fucking castle know who you belong to.â his own moans were guttural that vibrated through his chest into yours. âso fucking good. taking me like you were made for itâŠâ
katsukiâs hands, which had been braced on either side of your head, slid down to grasp your thighs. his calloused palms caressed the soft skin of your legs as he held them open, his grip firm, almost bruising in its intensity. he used that leverage to pound into you harder, deeper.
you arched off the bed, a sharp whine tearing from your throat as he hit a spot inside you that sparked white behind your eyelids. âright there⊠oh, gods, right there!â you sobbed.
âi know. found your sweet spot, huh? that feel good?â he growled, a smirk in his tone. âi feel you clenching around me, princess. greedy little thing.â
the sound of your bodies meeting was obscenely wet, a rhythmic slap of skin on skin that underscored every groan and whimper.
then, with a sudden, powerful shift, he manhandled you. his hands left your thighs to grip your waist, and in one fluid, dominant motion, he flipped the two of you around. you gasped as the world spun, finding yourself straddling him, his cock still buried impossibly deep inside you. the new position made you feel him even more profoundly, every inch of him stretching you.
âah! fuck!â you moaned, eyes wide, hands flying to his chest to steady yourself.
âlook at you,â he rasped, his vermillion eyes blazing up at you. âriding your king as if youâre riding a dragon yourself. so fucking perfect for me.â his hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking the bone. âcâmon. show me what my good little wife can do.â
you were obedient, eager to please. tentatively, you lifted yourself up, a slow, trembling movement that made you both moan as he slid partially out. then you lowered yourself back down, sheathing him fully, a grunt punched from his lips.
âfuck yes. thatâs it⊠just like that,â he praised, his eyes watching your face with a dark, satisfied smirk. your expression was one of overwhelmed bliss, mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. he cooed at you, the sound strangely tender coming from him. âsuch a pretty queen. taking her king so well. now⊠set the pace fâme.â
your confidence grew with his constant praise. you started to bounce on him, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm. each descent made your breath hitch, each rise brought a needy whine. your arched your back, your hair spilling over your shoulders.
âkatsuki⊠itâs so⊠i feel so fullâŠâ you whimpered.
âyou are full,â he agreed, his voice thick. âfull of me. and you look so fucking small wrapped around me⊠perfect fit.â his lust for you bled into the words, the awe in his gaze as he looked at where your bodies joined.
but the heat from the friction on your inner thighs began to burn, making you slow your movements with a pout and a soft whine of discomfort.
katsuki chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. âtired already? my delicate little flower.â he cooed at you, his thumbs still caressing your hips. âitâs okay. let me help, hm?â
instead of bouncing, you began to grind on him out of desperation. circular motion drew a deep groan from him. then you leaned forward, collapsing against his chest, tucking your face into the hot skin of his neck. you were surrounded by his scent, his heat, and it was intoxicating.
âplease⊠please, katsuki,â you begged, your voice muffled against him. âi needâfuck⊠i donât know what i need anymore⊠need more.â
âshhh,â he cooed, one hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. the other stayed on your hip, possessive. âi know what you need.â
katsuki planted his feet firmly on the bed, gaining leverage. and then, with a single, powerful beat of his hips, he started ramming up into you. he was fucking up into you from below, each upward thrust spearing you deeply, knocking the air from your lungs.
âahângh⊠yes! right there!â you shrieked, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. your moans and whines became a continuous stream against his neck.
âjust let me do all the work,â he grunted, his own breathing becoming ragged. âa king serves his queen⊠especially in bed.â his thrusts were relentless, powerful pistons driving you up and down on his cock even as you lay pliant against him. you were putty in his hands, letting him use your body exactly as he wanted, your face hidden in the safety of his neck.
the sounds filled the room; his guttural grunts, your high-pitched whimpers, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours, the creak of the bed, the filth coming out of your husbandâs mouth. it was sinful.
âgonna breed you so deepâfuckâfill this perfect cunt with my heirs⊠mark you inside and outâŠâ
your only replies were broken syllables, your desire for his praise making you sing with every rough compliment.
katsukiâs thrusts started becoming erratic, sloppy, losing their military precision as his own peak approached.
âiâm close⊠fuck, Iâm so close,â you whined, your body tightening around him.
âi am too,â he gasped, his voice strained. he pulled back just enough to look at your face.
your expression was one of utterly ruined bliss. your eyebrows were drawn together, lips swollen and parted, eyes half-lidded and hazy. you looked so pretty to him, so perfectly claimed.
katsuki leaned up and placed a sudden, soft kiss on your forehead, a shocking gesture of tenderness amidst the carnal frenzy.
you clutched at his biceps, your nails biting into his skin. âk-katsuki⊠iâm gonnaâŠâ
he grunted, and with effort, he stopped thrusting.
before you could even whine in complaint at the denied release, his arms were scooping you up. katsuki stood from the bed in one powerful motion, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you clung to him, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you.
âwh-whatâŠ?â you gasped, startled.
âtch. patience,â he growled, his own need evident in the tension of his body.
he gripped your thighs firmly, his hands huge and warm. and then he began to move you himself, bouncing you on his cock as he stood there, using the strength of his arms and the leverage of his stance to fuck you onto him.
the thought of it⊠of him manhandling you so easily, picking you up and using your body like this, made you physically shiver. that shiver traveled inward, making your inner walls clench tightly around him, which drew a ragged groan from his throat.
âfuck⊠you just got tighter,â he breathed, his pace increasing. âyou like that? like when i just take whatâs mine and use you?â
âyes⊠yes, i do like it. please⊠iâm close again, katsuki, pleaseâhaâŠâ you begged, your head falling back.
katsuki hummed, coaxing you over the edge. âgive me another one, my good girl. cum again for your king and iâll give you a reward.â
that promise, coupled with the overwhelming sensation of being fucked in mid-air by your powerful husband, was too much. a coil tightened deep in your belly, winding to its breaking point.
âshit! iâmâfuck, iâmâŠ!â
âthatâs it. let go,â he commanded.
âk-katsukiâŠâ you whine, the sound muffled, as another wave of sensitivity makes you clench around him, where heâs still buried deep inside you.
a low, guttural groan vibrates through his chest and into yours. âfuck,â he rasps, his voice wrecked. one large, calloused hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your disheveled hair.
âgonna make you cum again. come on, baby. come undone for me again. you want to, donât you?â
you nod frantically, a desperate little mewl escaping you as you moved desperately up and down on him.
âsay it.â
âyesâcum⊠gonna cum fâyou. only you.â
he smirks, that feral, triumphant curl of his lips while his free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in, helping you find a rolling rhythm even as he holds you locked to him. the sound of your slick skin meeting his, the wet slap of each movement, fills the heavy air of the chamber, mingling with his grunts and your broken cries.
âso good for me.â thrust. âso fuckinâ tight.â thrust. âall mine.â thrust. âgonna keep you full of me.â thrust. âalways.â thrust. âbreed you so deep youâll feel it for days.â thrust.
when the next orgasm rips through you, itâs slower, deeper, a molten unspooling that has you sobbing into his mouth, your body seizing around him in rhythmic pulses. he follows you over with a sharp, choked-off roar, his hips jerking up to bury himself to the hilt as he spills hot inside you, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully.
before you can even form a coherent thought, heâs capturing your mouth again. this kiss is messy, sloppy, all hungry tongue and possessive pressure. itâs wet and it steals the air from your lungs. you can taste yourself on him, salty and sweet.
he pulls his head back just a few inches, his eyes blazing down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. his lips are swollen, his breathing harsh. âlook at you,â he growls, the words rough with awe. âmy perfect little wife. took me so damn well. fuckinâ gorgeous fâme.â
katsuki nuzzles into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. his voice is a low, satiated rumble. âsince youâve been so good⊠so obedient⊠you get your prize.â
prize? oh yeah, he said something about a prize. your hazy mind struggles to comprehend.
you feel him shift beneath you, still intimately connected, as he lifts his gaze from the top of your head to the chamber door.
âei. get in here.â
your entire body goes rigid. confusion floods you, cutting through the blissful fog. your eyes fly open, wide and bewildered, staring at the carved wood of the door.
eijiro? as in kirishima? now? why? while weâre⊠weâre like thisâŠ!
âkatsuki?â your voice is small, trembling. âwhat are you talking about?â
the door swings open silently. and there he is.
eijiro kirishima fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching the frame, his chest bare, the hard planes of his abdomen and the dark trail of hair leading downward on full display. his crimson eyes, usually so warm and friendly, are dark, intense, and they lock onto the two of you immediately⊠onto you, specifically.
was he outside this entire time?
you feel the burn of his gaze like a physical touch, sweeping over katsukiâs hands on your bare skin, over the curve of your spine, over the intimate join of your bodies.
a hot, shameful flush explodes across your face and chest. you try to shrink further into katsuki, but heâs already moving, walking with you still impaled on him, one arm hooked under your thighs. he walks you both towards eijiro, and the casual display of his strength makes your head spin.
âiâm not stupid,â katsuki says, nonchalant as if he wasnât still buried inside you. he stops a few feet from eijiro. âsaw the way he looked at you for weeks. like you were water in a desert. and youâŠâ he glances down at you, his smirk deepening. âyou greedy little thing got attached to your friendly dragon babysitter, didnât you? spoiled princess.â
your heart hammers against your ribs. âi didnâtâi didnât mean to make you feelââ
katsuki cuts you off with a low chuckle, his free hand stroking a soothing line down your sweat-damp back. âshh-shh. you didnât do a damn thing wrong, princess. you just⊠showed me something.â his eyes slide back to eijiro, hungry and possessive. âshowed me what turns my blood to fuckinâ fire. the depravity of it. the idea of him,â he thrusts up shallowly, making you gasp, âwanting whatâs mine. touching whatâs mine.â
he shifts his gaze fully to eijiro. âiâm right, arenât i?â
eijiroâs eyes havenât left you. a slow, deep hum resonates in his chest, a sound more beast than man. âi am bound to you, my king,â he says, his voice thicker, rougher than youâve ever heard it. âmy life is yours. my loyalty.â his tongue darts out to wet his lips. âand what is yours⊠is yours to command.â
katsukiâs grin is all sharp edges and dark promise. he looks down at you again, his expression turning curious. âso? is it okay with you, my greedy baby? if i share you? if he gets to have a taste of what belongs to me?â
the question is so blunt, so shockingly crude, that your mind blanks. but your body betrays you instantly. a violent, involuntary clench around katsukiâs still hard length, a fresh trickle of wetness that has nothing to do with fear.
katsuki grunts, his head throwing back with a sharp hiss. âfuck! see that, shitty hair?â he says, talking about you as if you werenât clinging to him. âgot even tighter just hearing it. her pretty little cuntâs begging for it.â
âseems eager to please,â eijiro murmurs, taking a step closer. the heat radiating from his body rivals katsukiâs.
âsheâs a good girl,â katsuki agrees, his voice dropping to a coaxing rumble directly in your ear. âarenât you? can you be good for me, hm? for us?â
the choice is no choice at all. not with katsukiâs seed still leaking from you, not with eijiroâs hungry eyes devouring you.
âyes, please. iâll do anything for you.â you nod, eagerly, desperately, a whine caught in your throat.
âgood,â katsuki purrs. he gives a single nod to eijiro.
in one smooth motion, katsuki pulls himself from your sensitive flesh, a gasp ripped from your lips at the sudden emptiness and the cool air on your wet skin. then his hands are on your waist, and heâs transferring your weight.
eijiroâs arms come up to catch you, and he is just as hot, just as solid as katsuki. youâre cradled against a chest that feels like carved stone, your bare skin flush against his, and you bury your flaming face in his neck, breathing in his scent of smoke, spice, and something wild.
katsuki strides over to a large ornate chair near the bed and sinks into it, sprawling with kingly indolence. heâs still gloriously naked, his cock hard on his belly. âalright,â he says, his voice a command. âi wanna watch. kirishima⊠eat her out. clean up my mess. then get her ready for you.â
eijiro lets out another one of those low, rumbling hums. âas my king commands.â he carries you to the bed as if you weigh nothing and lays you down gently on the rumpled silk. your eyes are glued to him as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pushes them down.
your breath hitches at the sight.
heâs⊠huge. thick and long, already fully erect, the tip flushed and leaking. the sight sends a jolt of pure, dizzying arousal straight to your already throbbing core.
âlike what you see, princess?â katsuki asks from his chair, a dark amusement in his tone. heâs lazily stroking himself, his eyes glued to the scene.
âsheâs blushing all over,â eijiro notes, his voice softening as he kneels on the bed between your spread legs. his gaze is a physical weight, traveling over every inch of your exposed body; your peaked nipples, the flutter of your stomach, the glistening, well-used flesh between your thighs, dripping with katsukiâs release. he leans over you, caging you with his arms, his face inches from yours. his eyes search yours. âcan i kiss you, sweetheart?â
you nod, wordless.
eijiro no longer waits. his mouth immediately captures yours.
itâs nothing like katsukiâs kiss. where katsuki is fire and possessive, eijiro is deep, lingering warmth. itâs sweet, almost reverent at first. a soft press of lips that quickly deepens into something more devouring. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you slowly, thoroughly. itâs no less possessive, but itâs a different kind of claim.
âgood girl,â katsuki grunts from the side. âlet him taste you.â
eijiro breaks the kiss with a soft sound, trailing his lips along your jaw, down the column of your neck. âso sweet,â he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath making you shiver. âso perfect.â he moves lower, taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently before swirling it with his tongue. he pays equal attention to the other, his hands skimming down your sides as he kisses a path over your trembling stomach.
he doesnât stop until his face is level with your aching core. the scent of sex and katsuki is thick in the air. eijiroâs eyes lock with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that pins you to the bed.
âlick her clean, ei,â katsuki orders, his hand moving faster on his own length.
eijiro doesnât look away from you. âwith pleasure,â he rumbles.
his tongue was broad, hot, and surprisingly soft. it drags through your soaked folds in one long, deliberate stripe. he gathers katsukiâs cum and your own on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as he savors it. a low groan vibrates from his throat into your flesh.
âfuck yes,â katsuki breathes. âdoesnât she taste so good?â
eijiro opens his eyes again as he hummed in agreement, watching your face as he does it again. and again. each slow, languid lap makes your back arch off the bed, a broken moan tumbling from your lips.
heâs cleaning you with a thoroughness that is obscene, worshipful, and unbearably erotic.
then he zeroes in on your clit.
his mouth closes over the swollen bud and he eats you like a man starved. his tongue flicks and circles, then presses hard and flat against you before spearing deep inside your entrance, fucking you with it, tasting both of you mixed together.
âoh godsâeijiro!â you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets above your head, the other tangling in his red hair.
the sounds he was making were filthy. wet, sucking noises, his low growls of appreciation, your escalating whines and sobs.
âso good,â eijiro mumbles against your flesh, his words muffled. âtaste like heaven. so fucking perfect.â he shifts, his hands sliding under your thighs to hike them over his shoulders, spreading you wider, opening you up for his devouring mouth.
âthatâs it,â katsuki praises from his throne, his grunts joining the symphony. âmake her cum on your tongue. show me how good my wife tastes.â
you tear your eyes from the ecstasy on eijiroâs face to look at your husband. katsuki is stroking himself in earnest now, his gaze locked on where eijiroâs head is buried between your legs. he looks utterly captivated, a smirk of pure male satisfaction on his lips.
âk-katsuki! eijiâughângh,â you wail, feeling the coil within you wind impossibly tight.
âcum for him,â katsuki commands, his voice rough. âgive him your reward for being so patient.â
eijiro redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while thrusting two thick fingers inside you, curling them to stroke that perfect spot.
the dual assault shatters you. you scream, your body bowing off the bed as a brutal orgasm tears through you, your vision whiting out at the edges as you clamp down around his fingers.
eijiro rides it out with you, drinking every drop, until you collapse back onto the sheets, boneless and trembling. and when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening.
âthatâs it, baby,â katsukiâs voice is a low, approving rumble as you tremble through the last waves of your climax under eijiroâs mouth. âso good for us. but weâre not done.â he stood up from his seat before standing in front of you, his fingers, still tangled in your hair, give a gentle but firm tug, guiding your face up to look at him. his eyes are molten, dark with a possessive heat that makes your insides flutter anew. âup. on your hands and knees for me. show me how well my queen can listen.â
your body, still humming with pleasure, obeys before your mind fully catches up.
you push yourself up, limbs shaky, and maneuver onto your hands and knees in the center of the massive bed. the silk is cool against your flushed skin. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly wanton.
katsuki moves with a predatorâs grace. he moved to sit on the bed, positioning himself right in front of you. he shifts to sit up against the carved headboard, his back supported, his legs spread.
heâs the picture of royalty, a king surveying his spoils. and you are on display before him.
a moment later, the bed dips behind you. eijiroâs large, warm hands settle on your waist, his thumbs stroking the dip of your spine. he leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back, then another higher up, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.
a desperate, hungry sound escapes you, a whine thatâs almost a sob. you push your hips back instinctively, seeking more of his touch, more of anything.
the refined manners of the emerald kingdom, the years of etiquette lessons, the poised grace of a princessâitâs all gone, incinerated in the scarlet heat of this room, of these men.
you are need and hunger given form.
katsuki watches you, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest as he thought of the same thing. âlook at you,â he muses, his voice thick with dark amusement. âwhereâs my polite little princess now? huh? all those pretty curtsies and soft-spoken words⊠fucked right out of you.â he leans forward slightly, his gaze searing into you. âgood. that girl belonged to them. this?â he gestures at you, trembling and eager on your knees. âthis is mine. youâre my wife. my queen. and youâre in the scarlet region now. i could fuck you raw in front of my entire war council and not a single bastard would bat a fucking eye.â the sheer, brutal ownership in his words makes you clench around nothing, a fresh trickle of wetness slicking your inner thighs.
katsuki sees it, his smirk widening. âbut i wonât do that. âcause this⊠this filthy, desperate, perfect look on your face⊠thatâs for me. and for him.â he nods toward eijiro behind you. âno one else.â
his attention sharpens, focusing solely on you. his voice drops, softening into a coaxing, dominant croon thatâs somehow more overwhelming than his shouts. âcâmere, pretty. closer to me.â you shuffle forward on your knees until youâre between his spread legs, his hard, thick cock standing proudly just inches from your face. the musky, masculine scent of him is overwhelming.
âi know you havenât done this before,â he says, his tone surprisingly gentle, like heâs instructing you in a sacred rite. âthatâs okay. iâm gonna tell you exactly what to do. just be my good girl and follow my words, yeah?â
âi will. mâgood girl,â you nod, your eyes wide and fixed on him, on the ruddy tip already beading with pre-cum.
âyes you are,â he praises you. âfirst⊠just taste me. use that pretty little tongue.â
leaning forward, you tentatively extend your tongue and lick a slow, careful stripe over the broad head. the taste is salty, uniquely him, and it sends a jolt of pure lust straight to your core.
âfuck,â katsuki hisses, his hips giving a tiny jerk. âjust like that. perfect. so fuckinâ obedient for me.â his hand comes to rest on the top of your head, not pushing, just holding. ânow⊠wrap your hand around me. show me how big i am for my queen.â
you reach out, your fingers seeming so small as you wrap them around his girth. you canât quite close your thumb and forefinger. a soft, awed sound leaves your lips. â⊠so big.â
katsukiâs chuckle is ragged. âsee? you need both hands. go on.â
you bring your other hand up, stacking it over the first, and finally manage to form a loose ring around him. the heat of him is incredible, the skin like velvet over steel. you begin to stroke, up and down, watching in fascination as his expression tightens with pleasure.
âyes⊠just like that⊠f-fuck, your hands are so soft,â he groans, his head falling back against the headboard for a moment before he forces it up to watch you. âdoing so good. such a fast learner for me.â
meanwhile, eijiro is worshiping your back. his mouth is everywhere, sucking dark marks onto your shoulders, licking a hot path down your spine, biting gently at the swell of your ass. each touch, each possessive mark, makes you whimper and push back into him, your strokes on katsuki becoming less coordinated.
âso eager,â eijiro murmurs against your skin, his voice a gravelly vibration. âso perfect for him. for us.â
emboldened by their praise, by the fire coursing through your veins, you lean in again. this time, you drag your tongue from the very base of katsukiâs shaft all the way to the tip in one long, slow, wet lick.
katsukiâs reaction is instantaneous. a sharp, guttural âhnng!â rips from his throat, and his hand fists in your hair. âshit! whereâd that come from, you greedy little thing?â but heâs grinning, all fierce pride.
you donât answer with words, instead you open your mouth and take the head of his cock inside, sucking gently as you had seen done in erotic book and illustrations.
âoh, fuck yes,â he moans, his fingers tightening on your hair. âjust like that⊠take me deeper now. slowâjust like that. good girlâŠâ
you obey, sinking down inch by agonizing inch. heâs so big, stretching your lips wide, filling your mouth until you feel him nudge the back of your throat. your eyes water, but you hold there, breathing harshly through your nose.
âlook at that,â katsuki breathes, awe in his tone. he glances over your head, his eyes meeting eijiroâs. âsheâs taking me so well⊠now itâs your turn, ei. fuck her. fill her up while she sucks me off.â
eijiroâs answering growl is pure hunger. you feel the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your dripping entrance, still stretched and sensitive from before. âgonna put it in now, sweetheart,â he coos, his voice a rough contrast to his gentle warning. âgonna fill you up just like your husband wants.â
you moan around katsukiâs length, the vibration making him curse and thrust his hips up minutely.
the sensation is overwhelming. the stretch and burn as eijiro slowly pushes inside you from behind, and the heavy fullness in your mouth.
âthatâs it⊠take him,â katsuki groans, his hand guiding your head down a little further, helping you take more of him. âffuuuck, your mouth⊠so hot and tight.â
eijiro bottoms out with a deep, satisfied sigh, his hips flush against your ass. âgods⊠sheâs s-so tight,â he rasps.
then he begins to move. slow and deep thrusts that have you seeing stars. each forward drive pushes you further onto katsukiâs cock, making you gag softly. each withdrawal pulls a desperate whine from your throat.
âlisten to her,â katsuki pants, his own hips beginning to move in tiny counter-thrusts to eijiroâs rhythm. âlisten to those pretty little sounds she makes for us. fuck her harder, shitty hair. make her fucking feel good.â
eijiro obeys, his grip on your hips turning vice-like. his thrusts become harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room accompanied by his guttural grunts and your muffled cries. âso good⊠taking us both⊠our perfect queen.â
katsukiâs control is fraying. his thrusts into your mouth become less measured, more urgent. âgonna cum⊠fuck, youâre gonna make me cum down your pretty little throat,â he snarls, his voice strained. he fists your hair tightly, holding you in place as his pace turns erratic. âyou want that? want me to cum in your mouth?â
youâre eyes stayed on his as you hummed in agreement.
âthen earn it, baby. cum for eijiro while you suck me like the good girl you are.â katsuki says.
the challenge, the sheer depravity of it, ignites something frantic in you.
determined to feel that shattering pleasure again, to please him, you bob your head faster, taking him as deep as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head on each upstroke.
katsuki throws his head back with a ragged roar, his entire body tensing. âyes! just like that! fuck, baby! iâm gonnaâ!â
the first hot, salty pulse hits the back of your throat. he holds you there firmly as he empties himself with sharp, jerking thrusts, groaning your name mixed with filth and praise. âtake it all. swallow it⊠be a good girl for your husbandâŠâ
as you struggle to swallow, tears streaming down your cheeks, katsuki cups your jaw with his other hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. his eyes are blazing, demanding. âlook at me,â he commands, his voice raw. âgive me your eyes while you swallow my cum.â
you force your watery gaze up to meet his. the connection is electric, intimate and degrading all at once. you see the raw possession, the awe, the unadulterated lust as you gulp him down.
âso fucking good⊠perfect girl,â he whispers, his thumb wiping a stray tear. he glances at eijiro over your shoulder. ânow make my wife cum.â
with a look from katsuki, eijiro changes his angle, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes aimed directly at that spot inside you that makes you see white.
you fall forward, your arms giving out, but katsuki is there. you collapse against his chest, your face buried in his neck as eijiro pounds into you from behind. âah! hnghâf-fuuuck. mâclose. so close.â
âthatâs it⊠let go⊠cum on my cock,â eijiro grunts, his rhythm becoming brutal, relentless. âgonna fill you up⊠breed youâŠâ
katsuki holds you to him, one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand stroking your hair. his mouth is at your ear, a constant stream of filth and praise. âfeel him? feel how deep heâs fucking my cum deeper into you? youâre gonna be dripping with us for days⊠our perfect, shared little wife⊠come on⊠let me see you fall apart.â
âkatsuki, eiji!â you scream into katsukiâs skin as an orgasm more intense than any before tears through you, a convulsing, mind-breaking wave that has you clamping down on eijiro so hard he shouts.
âfuck! sheâsâ!â eijiroâs thrusts become erratic, then he slams home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he roars his release.
you feel the hot rush of his seed joining katsukiâs inside you, the overwhelming fullness making you sob through the last tremors of your own climax. ângh⊠fuâno more. ahâŠâ
katsuki holds you through all of it, whispering praises into your hair. âi got you. just ride it out⊠thatâs my girl, took us both so wellâŠâ
slowly, gently, eijiro slips out of you, leaning forward to press a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. âyouâre incredible,â he murmurs, his voice reverent.
you are utterly spent, a boneless, trembling mess between them.
katsuki shifts, lying back and pulling you with him so youâre sprawled half on his chest. eijiro settles behind you, his big body curling around yours, one heavy arm draping over your waist to splay possessively on katsukiâs stomach. you are sandwiched in their heat, in their scent, filled with their essence.
the last thing you feel is katsukiâs lips brushing your forehead and his final, drowsy murmur. âours.â the last thing you hear is eijiroâs low, content hum of agreement against the back of your neck.
then the world dissolves into warm, dark, satiated nothing.
PU$$Y GOT MORE Mâ§RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.á
đâ§đđđđ#đ â đđąđ đźđ«đźđŠđ, đđąđ«đšđŠđą
â§ đđąđŠđ đšđ đđđđđĄ: nov 30th, 10:37pm
â§ đđđźđŹđ đšđ đđđđđĄ: garters + assistant manager! reader + pleasure dom! higuruma+ cunnalingus + fingering + office sex + overworked!higuruma + creampie + shower sex + squirting + use of squirt as coffee creamer + public sex + standing sex + fluff + higuruma courts you like an old man jdfbhsdb + higuruma folds you like a pancake + reader is a bit delulu and spirals lol.
â§ đđšđźđ§đđŹ: 6390 (~4.5K of it is pure smut lol)
đđ§: sorry this took so long! i ended up changing the theme a bit on this one cause using the same got so boring to me after a while, ya know? i dont think ill do that again for a series if its not the same story. art creds: both @/reaperpie
đ§đ§đ§ đŠ.đ„đąđŹđ
If this goes on any longer, you're going to have to apply for flood insurance.
For your panties.
And for what? Simply standing beside Higuruma?
Yup, that'll do it.
Mere proximity to the man who once had you bent over the very desk he's chained to now.
You busy yourself at the file cabinet, fighting to keep your breathing even. But it doesn't stop your eyes from drifting to himâhis pen moving and brow furrowed while fully consumed in drafting a judgment entry.
He won. Well, the case got dismissed.
Same difference.
You're just relieved it's finally over.
It's been over a month since this case consumed him and consequently also over a month since you last had his fingers buried inside you.
Shit.
You can still feel the phantom strokes of them curling deep enough to rearrange your guts and dragging out moans you didn't know could be made in pleasure. "There. Right there, babydoll. Let it all go for me."
And you didâskirt bunched, stockings torn and your slick dripping down his hand onto cuffs he hadn't bothered to roll backâ
"Grab me the folder with the October 3rd case files, please, dear."
Higuruma's request snaps you out of your daydreamsâbody jerking as heat burns your cheeks.
"O-Of course!"
You know exactly where to go, at least. Every misplaced document, every obscure referenceâyou've long since mapped the chaos of Higuruma Hiromi's filing system.
Locating the folder within seconds, the brief contact of his fingers grazing yours as you hand it over makes you clench.
"Thank you, doll."
Higuruma doesn't look up, his eyes are already scanning the document. Clearly your touch doesn't stir anything in him.
Right.
You get it. You do.Â
It's not crueltyâjust a single-minded determination from a habitually overworked and underfucked attorney moonlighting as a sorcerer.Â
Higuruma is well practiced in putting his own needs to the side for others, his entire life has been dedicated to itâyou can't bear to fault him for that.
So you retreat. Back to the sofa in the corner of his office, the sting tucked behind a tired smile. Higuruma isn't the only one who knows how to compartmentalize.
Still, the thought lingersâis there even a point in staying?
He doesn't need you. Not really.
Higuruma managed for years as a public defender before the Culling Games. He's more than capable of grabbing his own files.
Besides, it's not like the jujutsu higher-ups assigned you here for your legal expertise. The "Executive Legal Assistant" line is just civilian window dressingâ a polite way of saying leash.
Your real title? Assistant Manager of Jujutsu Tech.
A handler for a newly ranked special-grade sorcerer too stubborn to give up his day job entirely.
Higuruma compromised just enough to move to private practice, but still takes most cases pro bono after a reduced retainer.
He knows exactly why you're hereâand he's never once made you feel lesser for it.
Which makes the guilt so much worse. He's buried in this case: a scholarship kid bullied into a false confession, parents who scraped together everything for his retainer.
Meanwhile, you're sulking because he won't touch you.
God, his noble to a fault principles make you damn near feral though.
Pouting from your spot on the sofa, you steal another glance at Higuruma.
You decided long ago it's enormously unfair for a man to wear exhaustion as well as he does. The warm glow of the desk lamp traces his profileâhis sharp nose, strong jaw, the thick column of his throat and the strain visibly knotted across his broad shoulders.Â
The same coiled tension he'd carried that night a month ago that obliterated all lines of professionalism.
Itâd been straight off a mission. Higuruma dealt with dual first-grade curses, nasty workâand then went right back to his desk. But he was wound too tight and although determined to finish his work, could not keep his fingers from digging into the crook of his neck.
When you offered to help him, you were only being considerate.
A friendly massage. Honestly, that's all it was.Â
Higuruma even tried to refuse you but one firm press into his stiff muscles and he groaned. The sound was purely guttural, vibrating through your palms and straight to your cunt.
Immediately all protests silenced as his head drooped forward, breath going ragged. His grunts continued and by the time you fully worked out the second knot, you were dripping.
It took everything in you to steady your hands, to hide how much his pleasure was affecting you. But then you slippedâand a soft, needy sound fumbled out of you, impossible to swallow back. Your breath fanned warm across his neck, scattering goosebumps along his nape.
Everything after that blurred together.
His hands hauling you into his lap.
His mouth devouring yours.
The expensive oak desk slamming against the wall as he drove into you like a man possessed, your name caught between his teeth like a prayer.
You don't remember how it endedâonly that eventually, Higuruma untangled himself from you and led you wordlessly to the private shower attached to his office.
One of the few perks of private practice he'd actually come to appreciate.
He washed you with reverenceâslow, thorough, like you were something precious. And then he ruined that image entirely by dropping to his knees and lewdly slurping his cum out of your cunt like it was his last meal. Nose buried in your clit, tongue pushing deep, water pouring down his face. He was half-drowningâbetween the shower and your squirtâand couldn't have cared less.
Legs like goo, you still don't know how you remained standing through it all.
You were still catching your breath as you toweled off when he murmured something about feeding you, fingers tracing your hip.
Twenty minutes later: you were at an all-night izakaya, just the two of you.
Your first date, technically. Confirmed by the way he slid into the booth beside you instead of acrossâhis hand finding your thigh like it belonged there. It never left. Only crept higher, fingertips ghosting over your clit through thin silk while you pretended to study the menu.
The owner lingered too long taking your order, teasing you for something as plain as eggs and furikake rice, his tone edging toward flirtation as he challenged if your date was too cheap to buy you a real meal. You stumbled over your defense of Higuruma as Higuruma's knuckle replaced his fingertips, grinding against your clit.
That's when you learned how possessive Higuruma Hiromi could be.
"That man is testing my patience," Higuruma murmured the second the owner turned away. His mouth barely moved against your ear, voice terrifyingly calm, knuckle still working slow circles through your folds. "Should I sit you right here in my lap? Let him watch you come undone, doll, hm?"
You were already plenty undone thoughâyour slick leaking onto beat-up vinyl seat. âDonât worry, I wonât. This noisy girl attracts too much unnecessary attentionââ Higuruma leans forward to shield you from view as more patrons walk in ââwe donât need a public indecency charge, hm?â Â
He wasn't wrong. The slick click-click of your pussy squelches were already obsceneâa few patrons' eyes flickered around, searching for the sourceâand it only got louder as he nudged past the lace, stroking you wider, fingertip dipping teasingly into your core.
âH-HiroâŠâ
With a sly quirk of his lip, he pulls back, reaching casually for his coffee before slipping the mug under the table.
âAlright, alright. At least allow me some of your cream for my coffee as a consolation, dear.â
He paid, of course. You tried to protest, but it's hard to argue when you can barely standâlegs still trembling from an hour of relentless teasing.
He'd ordered three cups of coffee total. Every single one required a fresh dollop of your cream.
By the time you reached his condo, you needed him desperately again. Engine off, keys still in the ignitionâyou climbed into the backseat and sank onto his cock. You rode him until dawn crept through the fogged glass and your legs gave out.Â
He invited you to stay but you were possibly in enough trouble already if your family noticed you hadnât returned. Working late was understandableâbut thereâd be hell if you missed breakfast without prior notice.
That was a Saturday.
Come Monday, this case landed on his desk, and he hadn't touched you since.
Instead?
Fresh flowers rotating through the vase on your desk.
The occasional delivery of white strawberries.
Macarons from the French bakery Higuruma pretended to overbuy when you knew he only bought them for you.
The closest to real intimacy you got all month were stolen moments where heâd sweep your hand into his, lips brushing your knuckles when he was certain no one else could see.
Sure these breadcrumbs were enough to keep you hoping but not nearly enough to keep you sane.Â
Who the hell courts you like a Regency novel heroineâafter youâve already spent a night all over each other fucking like rabbits?!Â
You don't think even Elizabeth Bennet suffered this kind of agonizing tensionâshe certainly didn't have the memory of Mr. Darcy's tongue swirling in her cunt to keep her up at night.
But what could you do? You couldn't seem needy or immatureânot to a man a decade your senior. Not if you wanted this to mean something.
You were doing fine. Keeping it together. Right up until last week.
Junior lawyers crowded the watercooler, loud and willfully oblivious to the fact that women also use the break roomâbraying about No Nut November like overgrown frat boys comparing notes. You kept your back to them, cursing the espresso machine to hurry the hell up.
Relief flooded you when Higuruma appeared in the doorway.
Finally, an escape.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Some of us don't find distractions quite so difficult to set aside when the work matters." His gaze swept over them. "I'd recommend you develop the same discipline, gentlemen."
Distractions.
You'd previously told yourself this case had forced you both into accidental celibacy. No Nut November participants by circumstance, not choice. But the way he'd said itâdistractionsâso cool, so clinical, like sexual urges were just clutter to tidy away.
You'd think a man who fucked you that desperately would be crawling back for more?!
But he hadn't.
And that distance made you wonder if you'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe the gifts weren't courtshipâjust consideration. The polite gestures of a man who'd used you and wanted to keep things friendly on the rare occasion he needed an indulgence.
Like a work wife with benefits.
The fact the office cleared out hours ago and heâs hardly looked at you for more than a few seconds convinces you of this more and more, the thoughts spiraling asâ
"You know I hate to keep you late." The words yank you out of your head. Right. You're still here. He's still here. "If you need to leave, dove, I can manage."
Your stomach drops. Higuruma asked you to stay tonight, so you thought maybeâ
"No, I'm fine. Really." Unconvincing, even to yourself.
"Mm." He nodsâeyes already back on his files.
Dismissed in a syllable.
Trying to push aside the hurt, the files in your lap blur as you pretend to read them, legs crossing and uncrossing, the leather groaning beneath your restless shifting. Now on top of everything else, your feet are screamingânew stilettos, three inches higher than normal.
You'd dressed to kill all month hoping a part of him would be superficial enough notice.
Wincing, your arches are aching from your red-bottoms. You're starting to suspect it's less about the lacquer and more about the crime scene your heels will leave behind if your arches just so happen to split in two. Still, they make your legs look sinfulâand you'll plead guilty to first-degree pick me-ism if it gets Higuruma to look up from his goddamn papers for more than a minute.
"Take them off.â
Flustered, your eyes snap up to see Higuruma appraising you over the document in his hands.Â
When did he start watching you again?
"Your shoes, dove."
Higuruma follows up when you donât respond, faint amusement lingering on his words.
"It's fine, reallyâ" You wave off his concern, gesturing vaguely at your feet. "They're still new. Haven't broken them in quite yet."
"You've been wincing for the last twenty minutes." Higurumaâs voice is firm but not unkind as he regards you. His eyes linger on your legs long enough for you to notice this time.Â
"Take them off."
"I don't want to be unprofessionalâ"Â
"It's nearly midnight." The corner of his mouth twitches a sly smile. "AndâŠI think we're well past professional civilities, don't you?"
Are we?
You swallow the retort as Higuruma examines another folder on his desk. Part of you wants to be a big brat about itâto punish him for ignoring you. You want to crawl onto his desk force his eyes onto you.
But the thought alone makes you shy away. You're much too proud for that.
So you ease the shoe off slowly, quietly, propping your stockinged foot on the sofa's edge to reach the second strap. Your wool skirt rides up your thighs in the processâbut you're almost certain he's not watching anyway.
Except you hear papers fluttering and when you glance up, Higuruma's pen is frozen mid-stroke.
His gaze isn't on your feet.
It's fixed on your thighs, more specifically, the black lace of your garters clipped to stockings that have your soft flesh swelling over them.
His throat bobs as he white-knuckles the pen in his grasp.
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just looks at you as his eyes trail lower and the proof of how needy you've been for him all night is evident in the way your panties clinging to every fold.
Higuruma resembles a man who's been presented a ten-course meal after a strict fast.
Yet his next words still surprise you.
"You've been punishing yourself."
"What?"
"For my attention. You've been wearing new heels, every night this week." Higurumaâs tone is stripped of its usual composure although he's still clinical in his assessment. "You usually wear the round-toed black pair. Two inches, cushioned sole. Theseâ" His gaze flicks to the discarded shoes, then back to you. "Your legs don't need the extra height, doll. Never did."
Heat floods your cheeks. He'd noticed?!Â
This whole time, drowning in case files, barely sparing you a glanceâ
"The blouse is new too." Higuruma notes, almost to himself, like heâs reading off the facts in a case file. "Tuesday it was the silk one. Wednesday, the black skirt with the small slit at the back."
Your heart slams against your ribs as he continues to recall your outfits.
"I-I thought you weren't paying attention."
"I wasn't giving you any." Higurumaâs mouth twistsâbitter and self-directed in his ire. "That's not the same thing."
"It's okay. You've been busyâ"
"Don't."Â
The word is soft but final as he rises from his desk walking over to you on the sofa.
"Don't make excuses for meâor I'll hate myself even more than I already do..."
Higuruma drags a hand down his face as he deflates with a tired exhale. "Watching you walk in every morning looking like that. Knowing exactly what sounds you make when Iâ"
He stops. You watch him swallow it downâwhatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do. His eyes have gone nearly black, looking like he may pounce on you at any moment.
"I couldn't only give you ten minutes between depositions. Couldn't touch you the way you deserve and then casually ask you to hand me a file or drive me to the next mission like nothing happened."Â
Your head is spinning at the revelations, wanting to say something but you are at an utter loss.Â
"So I kept my distance." He confesses. "Thought if I could just finish this caseâI could give you a night where I could take my time with you. Take you apart properly, then put you back together after."
Higuruma is standing over you now, his presence like a physical weight. "Like a fool, I was so consumed with self-martyrdom I never stopped to consider if I was forcing yours."
You move to stand, to reach for himâ
âStay.â
It's less command than it is a contrite supplication.
"Stay right there, doll," Higuruma repeatsâand the crack in his voice betrays himâas does the tent in his slacks.
The sound he makes when he catches you staring is barely humanâa low, rumbling growl. You watch his cock twitch harder against his slacks.
You search for his eyes, but his focus is locked on your tongue sweeping across your lips.
Higuruma loosens his tie, slowly as his eyes begin their descentâdown your throat, your breasts, your stomachâuntil it lands between your thighs and stays there. Fixed on the wet patch darkening your lace.Â
He crouches before you, hands finding your calf. His thumb strokes the curve of the stocking covered muscle with reverence, he's memorizing the shape of you not only by sight but touch as well.
"Bring the other up." You've never heard him sound like thisâbarely holding on. "Y-Yes, just like that. Now lay backâhips forward."
Pulse hammering, you sink deeper into the cushions, propping your leg up as his hands find your hips, guiding them forward, bunching your skirt around your waist.
"Good girl."
Your pussy is fully on display now and Higuruma makes a wounded noise as his eyes rake over the panties that have given up pretending to hold in your swollen folds long ago.
"Christ."Â
The word punches out of him. His fingers skim the lace edgeâbarely grazingâand still come back glistening with your slick.
Higuruma swallows hard. "It's criminal the way my girl's been hiding all this under those prim little suits."
His girl.
Higuruma lifts one of your legs, extending it slowly until your stockinged foot rests flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your arch, the beat syncing with the pulsating ache of your clit.
His hands work down your leg, firm and thorough, pressing into sore muscles until pleasure bleeds through the ache. Your head tilts back as you stifle a moan and his grip tightens in response.
"I know I don't deserve it, dove, but at least allow me to hear you while I worship you, my dear."
Simultaneously, his thumbs dig into the ball of your foot, and the tension you've been carrying all night unspools in a single, embarrassingly loud whimper.
From the devious look on his face, it's exactly what he wanted.
Higuruma presses a kiss to your Achillesâanother apologyâand you shiver. He sets your foot down gently, repeats the ritual on the other side. Just as slow. Just as thorough.
A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he guides your legs up, stockinged feet sliding over his shoulders until you're spread open before him. He leans forward, nuzzling into the fold of your kneeâand the scrape of his stubble makes your hips jerk.
âYou know, at times I swore I could smell how badly she missed me.â He murmurs into your stockings. âRight through your pretty little skirts."Â
Higurumaâs actions follow his words, tracing a slow path with his aquiline nose from your knee to your pussy. "Mmm. I was right. She's been weeping so sweetly through your panties like a needy little thing for weeks, hasn't she?"
Your whines answer for you.
"What about No Nut November?" you whisper, breathless, raising your hips to push his nose in deeper. "I wouldn't want to be a distraction..."
Higuruma inhales deeply, savoring your raw scent. "Never." He exhales breathlessly.
"Everything else has been a distraction from you." His voice drops to gravel, vibrating through you.
You havenât even savored the admission properly before there's a sharp snap and his teeth bite through one of your garters, tugging the ruined elastic away with a growl before repeating the action.
"Please, Hiroâ" You mewl, thighs trembling.
He looks up at you with those dark, knowing eyes. Exhausted and hungry in equal measure.
"This is part of my sentence, doll." His thumb strokes the crease of your thigh, maddeningly gentle. "Trust meâit's far more agonizing for me."
You doubt that.
But you don't dare contradict himânot when there's something sadistic lurking behind all that apology. Something that tells you a part of him would get off on deny you just a tiny bit longer.
His tongue drags flat over your panties, pressing wet fabric into your slit, sucking your slick through the lace like he's trying to wring every drop out.
"These are in my way." He doesn't bother with his teeth this timeâjust hooks his fingers in the lace and tears.
Riiiip.
You squeal as cool air hits your bare cunt for half a second before his mouth replaces it. The second his tongue splits your folds, every other thought dissolves.
Your head falls back against the cushions as his tongue drags through your folds with long, broad strokes. Like he's been dreaming about this exact taste for a month and finally, finally gets to indulge.
His lips seal over your clit and suck, hard enough that your hips buck off the sofa. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, pinning you open, holding you still as they quake in his grasp.
"Told you to stay."
The command growled against your cunt, but your body isnât listening, still squirming as he dips into your entrance, gathering your slick before dragging it back up to your clitâthen he spits, letting your own arousal drip onto your swollen nub before his mouth descends again.
"H-Hiro!"
Higuruma doesn't answer.
He's much too occupied with his repentance. Tongue extended, his face is pulled back just enough so you can see the exact pattern being cruelly branded on your sensitive bud as he roughly flicks under your clitoral hood, pushing it back. It's methodical and devastatingly thoroughâlike he's building a case with his mouth and your orgasm is the verdict.
Though for a defense attorney, the way he's attacking your cunt feels suspiciously prosecutorial.
Your hips tilt up, desperate to ride his face, and he lets youâlips releasing your clit only to plunge his tongue straight into your core, rimming your entrance before fucking into you rapidly. Every thrust grinds his nose further into your clit. His hands find your ass, gripping soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he lifts your hips to help you rock against his mouth.
This man would happily perish between your thighs.
You're certain of it now.
His own broken groans echo inside your cunt, high off the fact of simply giving you pleasureâand that's what sends you over. You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the sofa as the orgasm tears through you in waves, ecstasy coursing in your veins.
But he doesn't stop.
His tongue keeps working, lapping up your release, his face slick and shining with you. When you try to squirm awayâoversensitive and tremblingâhis grip tightens on your thighs, dragging you back to his mouth.
"I'm not done with you yet, doll."
The words come out ragged, muffled against your puffy cunny as Higuruma's cheek rests against your inner thigh, lips swollen and spit-slick, still connected to your pussy by a thin string of your arousal. He's pantingâactually pantingâlooking genuinely pained by the fact that he has to stop to breathe oxygen instead of burying himself deeper in your folds.
You don't think you could deny Higuruma anything like this.
"One more, Hiro." His breathing quickens at your permission. "T-Then fuck me. Please."
Higuruma doesn't bother with words. Just actionâdiving back into your depths like a man possessed.
One of his hands releases your thigh, finds your wrist and drags your fingers into his hair.
"Pull." The command is muffled but unmistakable.
You obligeâor rather, you're forced to when his teeth graze your clit and your nails dig into his scalp on instinct. Higuruma growls in pleasure, the sound rumbling through your core.
He has to be aching. Hard enough to hurt, trapped in those slacks. You can't see him from this angle, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's leaking through his slacks from the way he's moaning into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. A pool of your creamy juices has already gathered on the leather beneath you, obscene and growing in size by the second.
Delirious words spill from his lips between licksâpraise and filth whispered directly into your cunt like prayers.
"So sweetâ"
A broad lick from entrance to clit.
"So prettyâ"
His tongue fucks into you, curling.
"âmy divine atonementâ"
Your slick coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his jaw, and he only gets hungrier. More desperate. More crazed. Every gush of arousal you give him is an aphrodisiacâhe laps it up like a man dying of thirst, shows no signs of stopping, no signs this will be your last orgasm, only growing more feral as you unravel beneath him.
"P-Pleaseeeee ohhâ!"
The second climax builds faster than the firstâsharper, meaner, your whole body wound tight as a wire. His tongue relentlessly assaults your clit while two fingers sink into your cunt without warning, crooking against that spot inside you, and your vision whites out.
"That's my pretty girl."
Higuruma pulls back just enough to let you ride out the aftershocks, fingers still drawing merciless circles on your oversensitive clit.
Somewhere behind the roar of blood in your ears, you hear a belt click as fabric shifts. You force your eyes to focusâwatching his slacks fall as he stands, his cock springing freeâflushed and heavy, bobbing as his cockhead smeared with pre drips down the length of him.
Fuck. Somehow Higuruma looks even bigger than you remember, thick enough to make your whole body clench with want and fear in equal measure.
He kneels, dragging your hips to the edge. His hand wraps around himself, stroking, and you hold your breathâfinally, finallyâ
But he just slaps his cock against your clit. Tap, tap, tap. Precum and spit and slick mixing obscenely
You squirm, clearly overstimmed which draws a smug chuckle from him.
"Is it terrible that I enjoy teasing you?"
"Hiroâ" You whine, hips jerking toward him. You pout up at him sweetlyâand watch his cock twitch in response. His resolve visibly cracking.
"Yes, doll. Say it again." Higuruma's cock notches at your entrance, pressing but not pushing. "Scream it this time, for me yes?"
You expect more teasing, more torture.
Instead, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrustâsplitting you open until he's buried to the hilt.
You scream his name so loud you don't even hear it leave your throat.
You might have cum againâyou only know because of the string of expletives spilling from Higuruma's mouth, his composure finally shattered.
"F-Fuck, doveâ" He's panting, forehead pressed to yours. "She's choking me. You need to relax." A strained laugh escapes him. "She feels like a nooseâand I'd prefer to avoid capital punishment tonight, if it's all the same to you."
You can't answer, tears streaming as you gasp from him filling you so completely. Higuruma leans down and licks them up too, tongue tracing the salt tracks on your skin. You're starting to think he's genuinely obsessed with your bodily fluids.
Higuruma pecks your lips gently, letting you adjust.
"Have you not been touching yourself?" His voice is softer now, curiously teasing as he admires the state simply sticking his cock in has reduced you to. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?"
"I w-wasn't g-gonna" You swallow, cunt fluttering around him. "B-But it wasn't enough. It wasn't y-you."
"'Wasn't gonna', huh?" He mocks you, his rich baritone tickling your senses as his thumb returns to your clit to flick over her languidly.
"Naughty girl." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "But I suppose I'll argue a plea deal in your defense this once. It was my fault after all for neglecting you."
Your thighs burn from being spread around his broad hips, the sheer weight of him pressing you into the sofa, his knees braced on the floor. When you finally loosen around himâwalls relaxing, body surrendering to himâhe slips his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to move.
Small thrusts at first. Micro-movements. Like he can't bear to have even an inch of himself outside the warm embrace of your slick walls.
Then his hand presses down on your lower belly, and your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll back.
"There it is." He groans, grinding deeper. "Can you feel how she makes room for me?"
Higuruma doesn't give you the chance to answer before he picks up the pace, hand staying pressed to your stomach, savoring every twitch of your muscles. The exact movement of your guts shifting around himâhow your body so lovingly allows him to ruin her from the inside out.
His teeth find your bottom lip, biting down as his other hand slides up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the column of your neck. He squeezes lightly, rhythmically, matching the desperate clench of your pretty pussy around him.
Higuruma wants to cum with you. But he can feel you're already thereâalready tipping over the edgeâ
"Hiro... 'm gonnaâ"
"Oh?" He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder. "Without me, dear? How inconsiderate." His thumb presses into the side of your throat. "Go ahead. But I won't be granting leniency. You cum now and then you're going to keep coming until I say stop."
"P-Pleaseeee, m-mercyyyâ" You're babbling, desperate. The word slips out before you can stop it: "âJudge."
Higuruma almost cums right then and there, hips stuttering.
"Oh, you're pushing it now, princess."
Your doe eyes blink up at him, and somewhere beneath the desperation, you find the brat in you after all.
"What's wrong, your honor?" The words drip from your lips like honey, saccharine and deliberately provocative. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
Higuruma's grip tightens on your throatânot enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who's in control here. His hips still, cock buried deep, twitching inside you.
"Careful, dove."
You clench around him deliberately.
Something in him snaps. No more warnings.
Higuruma pulls out and you're immediately feeling the loss of himâbut before you can protest, his hands are hooking under your thighs and hauling your ass up off the sofa.
Drenched in your combined mess, and his grip slips once before he adjusts, hoisting you higher. Your legs end up over his shoulders, folded nearly in half, and you have nothingâno wall behind you, no leverage, nothing to hold onto but the thick column of his neck.
Completely at Higuruma's mercy.
Your nails dig into his skin on instinctâthe only anchor you have.
"There we go." He groans at the bite of pain, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Hold on tight, princess."
He slams you down onto him in one brutal drop.
You scream.
The angle is devastatingâdeeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock splitting you open while gravity does the rest. You have no control here. Can't set the pace, can't shift positionsâcan't do anything but cling to him and take it. Every thrust jolts through your entire body, punching the air from your lungs.
Your nails rake down his neck and he hisses, but his eyes roll back in pleasure, not pain.
"Harder." He commands. "Mark me up. I want to feel you for days."
You're too fucked-out to process it fullyâis he sadistic or masochistic? Both? Does it matter when he's bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing, arms flexing as he lifts and drops you with terrifying ease? You're nothing but a vessel now, suspended and speared utterly for his pleasure.
"I'm going to take care of you, princess. Take care of this pretty pussy." His palms grip your ass, fingers digging in white-knuckled, desperate for leverage as he fucks up into you. "Going to make sure she never goes hungry again. Every morning. Every night. Whenever she asks for it."
"Hiroâ" You're sobbing, pleasure cresting unbearably high, just gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust. "Please, I need toâI can'tâ"
"Not yet." Higuruma's jaw clenches, fighting his own release. "Hold it."
"I-I c-c-can'tâ" Your walls are fluttering around him, clenching involuntarily, and you see stars at the edges of your vision. "P-Please, please, J-Judge, I'll do anythingggggâ"
"Anything?" His hips stutter at the title, cock kicking inside you. "Dangerous words, doll. I'll hold you to them."
His grip on your ass tightens, nails biting into the soft flesh nowâmirroring what you're doing to his neck. The wet slap of skin echoes obscenely through the office, your slick dripping down his thighs, pooling on the hardwood beneath you.
"From now onâ" He's losing rhythm, thrusts turning erratic. "âthis pussy gets what she needs... you'll come to me? You'll tell me exactly what she needs?"
"Y-Yesây-yes!!! Jusss p-pleaseeeeâ"
"Every acheâ" A brutal thrust. "âevery needâ" Another. "âyou bring it to me. Understood?"
You're babbling incoherent confirmations, head lolling back, eyes rolling into your skull.
"Cum, then. Give it to me, babydollâ"
The orgasm tears through you like a live wireâblinding, violent, your pussy clamping down so hard he chokes on a moan. Your nails draw blood on his neck and he growls, burying himself to the hiltâ
And then you feel it.
The first hot pulse of him flooding your insides. His cock kicking against your walls, swelling impossibly thicker as he empties himself into you. Rope after rope of cum painting your clenching cunt, so deep you swear you feel the warmth in your throat.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. The noises of your breathing filling the space.
His cock is still buried inside you, softening but not quite soft, and you can feel his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodiesâdripping down your thighs, onto the floor, adding to the mess you've already made of his office.
Higuruma's forehead drops to yours, hips grinding through the aftershocks, working every last drop into you. "You feel that? How much I saved for you, dove?"
You can only whimper in response. You do feel itâthe obscene heat spreading through your core, the way his cum has nowhere to go with his cock still plugging you full. When he shifts his hips, grinding deeper, some of it squelches out around the seal of your bodies.
"Taking it so wellâ" His voice is shot, barely above a rasp. "Milking every dropâgood girlâ"
Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.
"Hiro..." You're slurring, drunk on him. "Can't... can't feel my legs..."
A breathless laugh rumbles through his chest. "Mm." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear tracks still drying on your skin. Unbearably tender after everything he just did to you. "That's what happens when you taunt a man who's been starving for a month, doll."Â
"Worth it," you giggle.
"Brat." But there's only fondness in his voice.
Slowly, carefully, he shifts his gripâone arm hooked under your ass, the other cradling your back as he finally lets your legs slide off his shoulders. You wince at the change in angle, cunt clenching involuntarily around him, and he groans.
"Easy." His voice is strained. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the shower."
You're tempted to test him. But exhaustion wins out, your body going limp against his chest as he carries you toward the bathroom.
"Let's get you cleaned up." His lips brush your temple. "Then I'll take you home, hm?"
You pout. After everythingâafter a month of waiting, of longing, of convincing yourself you were nothing but a convenient releaseâyou're not ready for this to end.
Not ready to go back to your empty apartment and pretend tonight didn't change everything.
Higuruma catches the look on your face and chuckles softly.
"I mean my home," he clarifies, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "We can clean up properly there. I'll cook you breakfast." He sets you down on the counter, and you shiver at the cold marble against your bare skinâbut he doesn't pull out, not yet, his half-hard cock still nestled inside you like he can't bear the separation either. "Then I can worship you the way you deserve. Properly. Without a deadline or a case file waiting on my desk."
Your heart stutters. "You don't have toâ"
"I want to." His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and his eyesâgod, his eyes are so soft now. Tired and tender and looking at you like you're something precious. "I should have done this a month ago. Should have made time. Should have told you what you are to me instead of assuming you'd wait."
"I would have." The admission slips out before you can stop it. "Waited, I mean. For you. I would have."
Something fractures in his expression. He doesn't say anythingâjust pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead like he's trying to seal a promise there.
"You shouldn't have had to. No more waiting. No more silence. From now on, you tell me what you needâand I'll give it to you. Understood?"
"Understood, counselor."
His lips twitch. "Careful. You keep using titles and we'll never leave this bathroom."
You grin, exhausted and fucked-out and deliriously happy. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." He kisses you thenâtongue gliding against yours, your taste still lingering. When he pulls back, his cock twitches inside you, thickening again.
"Definitely both."
"Mm." You pull back, pretending to consider. "I don't know. A month is a looooong time. I might need extensive compensation."
"Is that so?" Higuruma quirks a brow.
"Yup! Emotional damages. Pain and suffering." You tick them off on your fingers. "Loss of consortiumâ"
"You don't know what half those terms mean."
"I know what I want them to mean." you say slyly, clenching around him once more.
Realistically, you don't think either of you are leaving this office tonight.
đđ§: ahhh i love writing higuruma as an EATERRRRRRRR. this one was a lil bit more angsty, well not really angsty, reader is just super horny and it's making her a delulu pick me cjksdbfkjvhsb. i mean the way he dicked her down tho, who could blame her? lol this one was a bit more cute endings than im used to writing. i feel like its a bit cheesy but w/e, we ball. im tired of editing it hfdjkvhbf. so also sorry for any errors or duplicate sentences as i reworked alot of this fbsdhbsd.
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i'm sorry but if an ancient dragon wanted to be my mate then i would simply ignore the imbalanced power dynamic and problematic age gap because it would be really hot
About: The day of the Pittfest shooting, you found out about Frankâs addiction to benzos, leading to a separation. Ten months later, Frank is standing inside your house, the one you two used to share together, ready to talk about everything.Â
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, angsty, psychiatrist reader, separated!wife reader, heavily talks of addiction, mentions of pittfest, serious conversations, guilt, rehab mentions, getting back together, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), porn with a lot of plot, love confessions, etc.
AO3
Word Count: 7.1k
Notes: This came from a simple request asking for a one shot between Frank and ex wife!reader and this is where my brain went lol. I hope you all enjoy and please like, comment, and reblog to support your creators! Also I am not a doctor in any way, shape, or form so donât get on my ass about any inaccuracies lol. Iâm just a girl with a psych degree. If you see any typos, no you donât
It happened the day of the Pittfest shooting, the day that had changed your life in different ways.
Being a psychiatrist at PTMC, your hours were different from your husband's. You mainly worked from nine in the morning to five in the evening while Frank worked seven in the morning to seven in the evening. And so, you had gotten home a little after five after a long day. Your day consisted of dealing with a variety of patients, all going through different things. Whether it's to refill someone's prescription for antidepressants or dealing with a patient who's suffering from a major addiction, you've seen it all.
The moment you got home, you had received a phone call from Frank who informed you he wouldn't be home until late due to a mass casualty event. You had been concerned, of course, wishing Frank the best of luck and that you'll be at the house waiting for him. The call had ended once you both told one another you loved each other. You weren't emergency personnel and so there had been no reason for you to go back to the hospital. So, you decided to try and make it a relaxing evening for yourself and for Frank whenever he did have the ability to come home.
You had taken a shower, gotten changed into one of his shirts and a pair of your own sweatpants, and were fully prepared to make dinner. You were about to turn the TV on to put Spotify on when you realized the remote needed new batteries. Frank had told you once in passing that he kept batteries in his nightstand, just in case either of you needed them. You never really cared enough to change the batteries in items since Frank was the one who handled all of that.
You had made your way to the master bedroom of the house and to Frank's nightstand. The brown mahogany nightstand held only a few items on it; a lampshade, a picture from yours and Frank's wedding where the two of you were smiling at each other with frosting on your noses, and his emotional support black water bottle. You opened the top drawer and began looking. The only items in the top drawer were condoms, papers, and a bottle of lube the two of you only used on occasions when Frank let you peg him.
You were about to close the drawer when you heard something rattle underneath all of the papers. Curiously, you began searching around while you furrowed your eyebrows. It wasn't as though you and Frank had any secrets between the two of you. You prided yourself on the fact that you always met Frank in the middle and any conflicts were met with a mature discussion. Any time you had something to tell him, he tried his best to listen and understand just as you would do for him.
What you hadn't expected to find in the drawer was a bottle of pills. You frowned as you lifted the orange bottle, reading the script. The medicine bottle was made out to a Louie Cloverfield, a prescription for Librium, a benzodiazepine used for alcohol withdrawal, insomnia, and severe anxiety. You prescribed this often to your patients, especially those suffering from severe anxiety.
And suddenly, it clicked. The painkillers after his back injury last year when the two of you had helped his parents move to Pittsburgh. He had relied heavily on them and on muscle relaxers to get through the pain. You remembered going to the pharmacy to pick up his prescription until one day, he had informed you he no longer needed them. And now, there were benzos, a controlled substance with someone else's name on the bottle, in Frank's nightstand.
After that, you dug through the entirety of the house, looking for more pills. You went through every nook and cranny for the next few hours, trying to find what you could. And by the time you heard Frank's car pulling into the driveway, you were sat on the couch, arms crossed as you stared at the four different bottles of pills on the coffee table. Librium, lorazepam, two different benzos and you had found them.
Keys jingled outside the door and the sound of the lock coming undone hit your ears. You remained on the couch, frozen as you kept your gaze on the pills in front of you. A deep and loud sigh was heard from the foyer as Frank kicked off his shoes and placed his bag on the ground next to them. "Hey," He greeted as he saw your form sitting on the couch. "What are you-" He paused as his eyes landed on the pills on the table. A quiet "fuck" left his lips.
You took a deep breath and then exhaled before standing up. You turned around to glance at Frank, taking in his appearance. He was disheveled, his hair in disarray, with his shoulders tense. The expression on his face was the equivalent to a dear in headlights. "Benzos, huh?" Was the first thing that left your mouth as you looked at him.
Frank looked at you, quiet as the gears turned in his head. "Baby, I-" He began before stopping himself. He swallowed harshly, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "It's not what you think," He said calmly as he opened his eyes.
You clenched your jaw and glanced away. There was a heaviness in your chest as you thought about the situation. "Then what is it, Frank?" You asked, your voice rough with emotion as you turned your attention back to your husband. "Librium? Lorazepam? Louie Cloverfield? Not only are you consuming a highly addictive substance but you're stealing them too?"
"I-when I hurt my back," He took a step closer to you but you shook your head, causing him to stop in his tracks. He looked at you with a hurt expression. "I became reliant on pain killers that the doctor had prescribed to me and the muscle relaxers. I didn't want to be reliant on them so I started treating my own withdrawal symptoms." He explained as calmly as he could.
"By stealing drugs from our place of work?" You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at Frank. "Not even from some drug dealer from the street, no. You stole them from the hospital."
"Baby, I fucked up, I know I fucked up," Frank started pleading as he looked at you, his expression turning desperate. "I-I'm not an addict, I promise. I only take them at night to help fall asleep."
The first sign of addiction was denial. You knew this, of course you knew this. You had found four different pill bottles, only one with Louie's name on it while the others were old pill bottles from Frank's pain killers. If it wasn't an addiction, why would he need that many pills? Not to mention what he likely had at work as well.
Tears welled in your eyes as the reality of the situation truly set in. Your husband was an addict and you had absolutely no idea. Now that you thought of it, the symptoms were obvious. The sweating during the day, the irritability at random moments, mornings when Frank would wake up too nauseous to even fathom the idea of eating, they were all the symptoms of withdrawal. But nightfall would come and suddenly he was calm and smiley, blissed out.
You should've known. Of course you should've known. Not only was Frank your husband, you dealt with these sorts of patients everyday in psych. Many cases of patients coming in to deal with their withdrawal symptoms and addiction. You knew the signs, you knew the resources, you were an advocate for accessibility to addiction intervention services. And yet, here your husband was, an addict himself.
"Please say something, baby," Frank pleaded, looking at you. He tried to read your emotions but was unable to as you held yourself quite stoically. The only indicator of any inner turmoil were the tears in your eyes and the slight shake of your shoulders.
And suddenly, you burst into tears.
Frank moved into action, trying to come over to you. But you stopped him before he could touch you. You didn't want to be hugged or touched, you didn't know what you truly wanted. "Please, I'll do anything, baby, please tell me what I need to do," Frank sounded desperate, his voice cracking at the end. "I-I hate to see you like this, please."
A sob left your lips as you brought your hands to your face. You wiped your eyes with your hands. You tried to take a deep breath. "Y-you need help, Frank," You said as you ran your hands down your face. "You need to go to rehab."
"No I don't-"
"You either go to rehab or we're going to get a divorce."
That had been the finale of the conversation, the sentence that made Frank realize the error of his ways. You were his sunshine, his light, the only person who truly understood him for him. And he couldn't bear the thought of ever losing you.
Except in a way he did.
That night he had left the house, after your insistence, with a few bags of his clothes and went to his parents house. And the next morning, you had received a call from his mother that Frank had been admitted into rehab for thirty days without access to his phone.
Thirty days became sixty which then became ninety. It had been strange living in the house without Frank. The small two story house that you and Frank had bought a year after the two of you had gotten married. It was small but it had a back yard and it was both of yours. It was decorated in knick knacks and decor that was aesthetic but at the same time radiated grandma energy. Pictures of you and Frank were scattered on different walls along with artwork that had been bought at different thrift shops.
The house was so you and Frank.
Without him sleeping beside you, it had been rough. Every night, you tossed and turned, wishing desperately that you could snuggle into your husband's arms. In the mornings, you no longer get to hear Frank singing horribly in the shower to "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence. And on days when you both had off, you didn't get to see Frank in the kitchen, shirtless, as he cooked for the both of you. Or the moments when you'd both dance in the living room, laughing as Frank would spin you around.
A house without Frank did not feel like home. It felt empty and lonely. But you also knew deep down in your heart that you weren't ready to face him. And after the ninety days, Frank's mother had called you once more to let you know he was getting out of rehab. You told her that you needed more time and she understood perfectly.
The phone calls began a week after Frank had gotten out of rehab. The first one was the hardest. It had been awkward and difficult as Frank spoke to you about the ins and outs of his time in rehab. He had spoken about how he understood what he did was wrong and that he found himself a therapist.
By week two, Frank had explained that he was going to be involved in the physicians help physicians program at PTMC. Since he already completed his ninety days, it made the paperwork much easier. He had also found a therapist and began going to NA meetings.
You were proud of him, of course. But you were still not ready to see him.
And by week five of being out of rehab, Frank had asked when he'd be able to come home.
"I know you may not want to see me," Frank spoke into the receiver. "But I'd like to come home at some point. I-I miss you," His voice broke off as he said those last few words.
Your heart sank as you listened to your husband. "I-I know," You replied, your voice rough with emotion. "But I just-"
"You need more time."
"Yeah," You whispered.
"It's okay," Frank inhaled sharply. "I-I understand."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, baby," Frank reassured. "You weren't the one who fucked up."
And after that, the phone calls stopped.
Seven months after you found out about Frank's addiction, the two of you were considered officially separated. No one knew, of course, other than Frank's parents and your own. But it wasn't really anyone else's business. It was strictly between you and Frank.
It wasn't like you were angry with him anymore. In fact, you weren't really angry with him to begin with. You had felt inadequate, as though you were a terrible wife and person for not knowing your husband was suffering from a disease. You failed him, you failed to see the obvious and instead of helping him, you sent him away.
That was the reason why you couldn't bear the thought to see him. You loved him more than anything in the world, more than you could truly understand and you let Frank down. The unfortunate truth was that drug usage among physicians was more common than people would expect and stealing said drugs was also part of that. You had the resources to help Frank, you knew the resources and yet, you had absolutely no clue.
Being separated from Frank had been weird since it simply just happened. There wasn't a fight, it wasn't overly dramatic, it just was. Over the course of a few months after Frank had left rehab, he had stopped by when you weren't home to grab a few things, but never enough for the house to feel completely empty. He really only had his necessities, almost as though he were hopeful to come back home.
And perhaps you were hopeful too.
By the time July 4th hit, it had officially been ten months since Pittfest and ten months since you had found out about Frank's addiction.
The day had started as normal as any other. You woke up, went to the bathroom, brushed your teeth, put on your wedding ring, and went through the motions of getting yourself ready for the day. The absence of the man you loved always weighed heavily on you, as if you were carrying the weight of the world on top of your shoulders. You found yourself often more sluggish than you were before all of this had happened. And maybe part of it was because you hadn't given yourself a chance to truly feel.
But that didn't matter.
When you had arrived at PTMC, your shift started as it always did. You checked with your fellow psychiatrist who you were switching off with before you checked in with the nurses. And after that, it was about checking in with the patients. Surprisingly enough, there weren't many patients in the psychiatric unit today.
Your day was quite slow until you were called down to the emergency department for a psych evaluation. It wasn't often that you were called to the E.D., mostly because cases involving substance abuse or mental health crises happened at night, so a call during the day was a rarity.
By the time you arrived at the E.D., everyone was flying around. You knew only a few doctors, such as Doctor Robby. But prior to your separation from Frank, you tried your best to avoid being around in the E.R as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship at work. You weren't sure as to when Frank would be coming back but after he had been on leave, you didn't hesitate to come down when asked, simply because you knew he wouldn't be there.
"Dr. L/N," Dr. Robby greeted as you arrived into the busy chaos that was the E.R. "Hope you're not having as crazy of a day as we are."
You looked around at everything happening around you. "Surprisingly it's quiet upstairs," You had responded.
"Wish we could say the same," Robby clicked his tongue before he shook his head. "I have a patient in North 15 who came in with sudden hallucinations. The patient is male, twenty-three, and we ran a few labs but are waiting on results. We thought a psych consult would be a good start."
You nodded your head as Robby showed you the tablet with the patient's information. You glanced at it before moving to walk with him through the E.R. You glanced back up from the tablet and glanced into one of the trauma rooms. It was like the world stopped as your gaze fell upon that familiar head of hair and gorgeous blue eyes who was working on a patient with an open chest cavity. For a second, your gaze locked with his before it was quickly torn away when he looked back at what he was doing.
"Dr. L/N?" Robby raised an eyebrow as he realized you had stopped for a moment. "Everything alright?"
You looked at Robby and nodded your head before clearing your throat. "Yes, sorry," You replied. "I did not think I'd see an open chest cavity today," You lied smoothly, not willing to admit that it had been Frank that threw you off, not the view of an open chest.
Dr. Robby laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, after this you can go back to your safe haven," he said before the two of you made it to the room where the patient was.
The psych eval had gone pretty smoothly. It hadnât taken too long and you didnât allow your abilities to be thrown off from Frankâs sudden appearance. And after about an hour or so, you bid farewell to the patient and went to go find Dr. Robby to inform him of your findings. You made your way to go find him when you collided into someone.
âOh shit,â Frankâs voice came as his hands landed on your hips to stabilize you.
You looked up, looking at him for the first time since the last time you saw him. âOh,â You breathed out.
He looked healthier but his eyes seemed a bit dull. He gave you an almost-smile, one that didnât quite meet the eyes. You cleared your throat and stepped out of his touch. âSorry about that,â He apologized. âIt gets so chaotic here that we donât always see whoâs in our way.â
âItâs okay,â You reassured with a press of your lips. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a few moments. âI didnât know you started working again,â You said while looking Frank up and down, noticing the wedding band on his hand. Your heart began racing ever-so-slightly as you brought your eyes back to his.
âI didnât want to bother you,â He murmured, eyes softening as he focused solely on you. âI started back today.â
You have Frank a sad smile before shaking your head. âYou could never bother me,â You murmured back.
Frankâs breath hitched before he took a deep breath. âWe-uh-we should talk,â He pointed out.
âI know,â You replied.
And just like that, the moment was over as another trauma came into the E.R., turning Frankâs attention from you. He whispered out an apology before running off, leaving you with your thoughts. You inhaled shakily and made your way to the charge station. Robby had gone to the trauma so you spoke to the new attending, Dr. Al-Hashimi, instead before heading back to the psychiatric unit.
Later that day, or night rather, you had finally gotten out of work. After the systems had gone down and everything went to paper, it made your job slightly harder in the psych unit and you had to stay for far longer than usual. It wasnât too big of a deal, you truly didnât mind. But you had gotten quite a few other patients admitted, almost overwhelming the psych ward, and it wasnât the greatest situation having to write everything by hand.
You made your way out of the building with your bag on your shoulder and your car keys in your hand. The parking garage was busier as all of the day shift staff seemed to have gotten out at a similar time. When you had arrived this morning, it had been so busy that you had to park at the top of the garage.
âY/N,â Someone called out, causing you to look towards the voice.
Frank stood near your car, a subaru crosstrek that he had gotten you a few years ago, with his things with him. You walked over to him. âDid you search for my car or something?â You asked Frank while raising your eyebrows.
âIâm parked a few cars down,â Frank clarified.
You hummed in response as you looked up at him. Silence fell between the two of you. You were unsure of what to say to him. So much had happened between the two of you. There was so much to be said and yet you hardly could think of anything. Your guilt was so deep rooted inside of you, threatening to spill out, but all you wanted to do was bury yourself in Frankâs arms and breathe him in. You really had missed him terribly.
âIâm really sorry,â Frank broke the silence as he looked at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. âI-I fucked up really bad and Iâm really sorry. I shouldnât have kept my addiction from you, nor should I have stolen any of the drugs.â He took a deep breath as he averted his gaze for just a moment. âI wish I could take it all back because then Iâd still have you.â
âThank you,â You nodded your head, knowing it was good to acknowledge Frankâs apology. âIâm really proud of you for getting the help you need.â
Frank gave you a small smile as a sigh of relief left his lips. âIt wasnât easy,â he replied.
âIt never is,â You agreed. âDid you make a bunch of apologies today?â You asked, tilting your head slightly.
Frank let out a chuckle of disbelief. âA lot,â He breathed out. His expression became more serious as he cleared his throat. âI apologized to Louie,â He swallowed before continuing. âFor stealing his meds. He died a few hours later.â
You frowned at the news, knowing that couldnât have been easy. âIâm sorry.â
Frank opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a loud popping noise. The two of you glanced at the sky, watching as the fireworks began from across the way. The two of you stood side by side, watching the fireworks together. A year ago, on the Fourth, you and Frank had driven to the lake after spending the day with Frankâs parents. It had been a rare day that Frank took off and the two of you watched the fireworks while cuddling on a blanket. It had been romantic and happy, just two months before it all went to shit.
The fireworks were wonderful and extremely loud as they usually were. Your moved your hands to cover your ears and Frank, almost acting on instinct, covered your hands with his to help reduce the loudness of the sound. And in that moment all you could do was look up at him, just as he was looking down at you. Just like that, butterflies blossomed inside of you, just as they always had before. You averted your eyes from him to the sky, watching the wondrous pops of color illuminating the night sky.
After the fireworks, Frank let go of your hands and you dropped yours to your sides. The two of you remained close to one another as neither of you bothered to take a step back. You looked at Frank once again, the words leaving your mouth before you could truly think of what you were saying. "Come home tonight?"
Frank's eyes widened, not expecting you to invite him back to the house. "I-I'd like that," He cleared his throat as he nodded his head. "I'll follow right behind you," He said. And just like that, you were both on your way, in your separate vehicles, to the house that had felt far too empty the last ten months.
By the time you both reached the house, it felt weird to have you pull in and Frank pull in right behind you. The whole drive home, you had tried to think of what you could say to him. The gnawing anxiety festered inside of you as you thought about the different possibilities on how the conversation could go.
The two of you stood in the living room, having taken your shoes off and left your bags near the door. It was weird standing here with Frank, simply staring at one another. The last time you both stood in this room was the day everything had changed. Suddenly both of you opened your mouths to speak.
"I just-"
"I-"
"Sorry," You both apologized at the same time and a small laugh escaped Frank's lips.
"You go," You offered as you bit your bottom lip, waiting in anticipation for what Frank needed to say.
Frank took a deep breath and breathed out an "okay." He licked his lips. "I fucked up really bad, I know I did," He began, his blue eyes looking at you earnestly. "You had every right to leave me and if you want to file divorce, I'd completely understand," His voice cracked just a bit as he spoke, as though it pained him to say it. It pained you to hear it.
You took a moment to think about your words. "I didn't leave you because I was angry with you," You spoke carefully. "I had left you because I felt like I failed you."
"Failed me?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. "How could you ever fail me, baby? I'm the one who stole and took drugs."
"I-I should've known. With the way you'd conk out at night, I had assumed it was due to exhaustion," You started to explain. "And when you were jittery throughout the day, I equated it to your ADHD and caffeine addiction, not an addiction to benzos." You let out a breathless laugh of disbelief, almost a bitter sound. Â âI failed you, Frank. I-â You paused as your eyes welled up with tears, the emotions of the situation finally coming out. You swallowed harshly, trying to gain control of yourself before continuing. âI couldnât bear to face you after finding out because it was a reminder of how I failed you not only as a psychiatrist but also as your wife and Iâm sorry. Iâm so so sorry,â Your voice broke off as the tears rolled down your cheek.Â
âNo, baby, please,â Frankâs voice was soft as it cracked. He made his way over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders. âPlease donât cry, baby,â He said as he began to cry as well. âYou could never fail me. You never failed me at all. In fact, I am the one that failed you."
And with that, Frank pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You let out a sob of relief, immediately wrapping your arms around him as you buried your head in his neck. The two of you cried in each otherâs arms, holding one another. The weight of the last ten months was finally beginning to lift from your shoulders. After what felt like hours, the two of you lifted your heads without pulling away.Â
Staring into Frankâs eyes always made you feel at home. And with the way he looked at you, you assumed it was much the same for him. âCan I kiss you?â He whispered, not trusting his voice at the very moment.Â
âPlease,â You whispered back.
Frank didnât hesitate as he gently pressed his lips against yours, kissing you softly. You responded by kissing Frank back, a small breath leaving your nose at the feeling. Frankâs hands moved from your shoulders to your face, cupping your cheeks, and deepened the kiss.Â
All of your emotions were poured into the kiss. Tongues moved against one another as the kiss grew more desperate. After months of not being with Frank, it was like your body was trying to make up for it. Your hands slid underneath Frankâs scrub top, cool against his warm skin. Frankâs breath hitched against your lips. He pulled away from the kiss just enough to allow you to take off his shirt.Â
The two of you undressed one another throughout the house while you made your way to the bedroom, kissing one another hot and desperately. Frankâs hands, the moment your shirt and bra came off, had been everywhere. Frank gently kicked open the bedroom door, his hands were firmly placed on your waist, and he guided you over to the bed, his lips still firmly pressed against yours. The two of you were mostly naked other than your underwear and his boxers.Â
Frank laid you down on the bed, your head hitting the pillows as he crawled on top of you. His lips moved from yours to your jaw and to your neck. Your arms were wrapped around Frankâs shoulders, your fingers resting on the back of his neck. âGod, I missed you,â He murmured against your skin, his tongue lapping at your pulse point before he began sucking on it.
You gasped and moaned softly. You tilted your head to give him more access. The feeling of Frankâs lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine and blood rushing to your cunt. You were unbelievably needy, wanting nothing more than to be pleasured.Â
His lips moved all over your skin, kissing you wherever he could. He moved to your chest, pressing kisses onto each of your tits before lapping his tongue around your nipple. You let out another gasp and arched your back, more sensitive than you usually were. âFrank,â you breathed out, holding his head to your chest. He began sucking, his eyes completely on you as he did so. He did the same to the other, watching you in the process.
After a few moments, Frank went back to kissing down your sternum and to your naval. âCan I taste you?â He asked as he rested his head against your stomach, looking up at you with a pleading look.
âYes, please,â You whispered, your fingers gently running through Frankâs hair.
Frank hummed in acknowledgement, a smile appearing on his lips as he lifted his head. He moved off of the bed and kneeled down in front of you. He grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of the mattress. âIâve thought about you so much,â He said as he looked up at you, wide eyed. âThought about how much Iâve missed you. Missed making you feel so good,â Frank spoke.
The thing about Frank was that he was never one to be quiet in bed. He loved talking, he loved making noises, and moaning in your ear. It was something you always adored and something you missed entirely during your time apart. The times youâd touch yourself over the last few months were lackluster, unfulfilling (literally) because you lacked Frankâs voice in your ear.
His fingers went to the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips for him, allowing Frank to pull them down and toss them to the side. His hands came to thighs, softly rubbing your skin. Frank leaned down to press a kiss onto both of your knees before gently parting them. Frank audibly whimpered as he looked at your glistening cunt. âFuck,â He breathed out.
You couldnât help the breathless chuckle that left your lips from Frankâs reaction. You licked your lips and lifted yourself up on your elbows as you looked at him. You were about to say something when Frank dived right in, burying his face into your cunt, his tongue lapping all over as he groaned against you. You moaned loudly, closing your eyes in pleasure.
Frankâs tongue moved on you as if he were depraved, and in many ways perhaps he was. It had been far too long since the two of you had been together in such a way. And if there was one thing Frank adored more than sex itself, it was being able to bury his face in your cunt. There had been numerous times when Frank made you cum multiple times simply from his mouth. And you certainly werenât ever going to complain about that.
Frank wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue moved around your clit in figure eights, flicking the nub with each movement. You bucked your hips against his face, your hand entangling with Frankâs hair as you tugged on the strands. As you pulled his hair, Frank groaned in pleasure. âFrank,â You moaned, the vibrations from his groan sending sparks through you.
His right hand moved from your thigh as he latched his lips onto your clit and began sucking. You let out a high pitched whimper, arching your back in pleasure. You felt Frankâs finger teasing your entrance, causing you to flutter around nothing in response.
A whine left your lips as Frank eased his finger inside of you, his lips still latched onto your clit. He began pumping the digit, getting you used to the feeling before adding another. When he added another finger, he curled them, causing you to gasp loudly. âFrank!â You moaned his name once again while he began fingering you, hitting your g-spot dead-on. You tugged on his hair a bit harder, causing Frank to whine against your cunt.Â
It didnât take long before you were clamping your thighs shut around Frankâs head while arching your back, moaning Frankâs name in a mantra. Your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you much harder than it had in months. By the time you were finished, Frank pulled away from you, looking up at you with his pupils blown and his mouth glistening from your juices. As he looked at you, Frank brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked, lapping his tongue around his digits.Â
You bit your lip and breathed heavily, still coming down from your high while watching him. You moved yourself further onto the bed until your head hit the pillows.Â
When Frank finished gathering your juices into his mouth from his fingers, he stood back up with a small groan, causing you to let out a small laugh. He pressed his lips together in displeasure while looking at you. âDonât make fun of me,â He said.Â
âIâm not,â You replied with a smile.Â
Frank smiled back at you, glad to have finally made you smile after so long of being the cause of your unhappiness. He only hummed in acknowledgement. âI donât have any condoms on me and Iâm sure the ones that were in the drawer are expired,â Frank said.Â
âI donât care,â You replied.Â
âAre you sure?â He asked, raising his eyebrows.Â
You nodded your head. âIâm sure,â You said softly.Â
Frank cleared his throat and nodded his head. His thumbs reached the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, revealing his cock. His length was red and hard and from the lighting in the room, you could see he was already glistening with precum. It had been so long since heâd been inside of you and you were desperate to feel him.Â
Frank moved onto the bed and crawled on top of you. He looked down at you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. His lips remained on yours as he reached between the both of you and grabbed his cock before guiding it to your cunt. He pulled away from the kiss to hiss in pleasure as he teased the both of you by running the tip along your slit, smearing around your wetness. He then brought his cock to your entrance, slowly easing himself inside.Â
You inhaled sharply at the intrusion. Since it had been so long since the two of you had sex, your body wasnât used to the size of him any longer. Frank captured your lips once more, hoping to distract you from the slight pain you had felt, while he continued easing himself into you.Â
His breathing was shaky and once he was inside of you all of the way, Frank stopped. He pulled away from the kiss and ducked his head between your neck and shoulder. The two of you stayed like that while you got used to the feeling. And after a few seconds, the foreign feeling subsided.Â
âYou can move,â You said, placing your hands around Frankâs back. Frank shook his head against your shoulder, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. âWhat?â You asked.Â
âIf I move right now, Iâm going to cum,â He replied, his voice muffled from your skin.Â
That sentence caused you to chuckle which in turn made Frank whine. âSorry,â You apologized.Â
Frank lifted his face from your shoulder to look at you, his cheeks red. âGod, this is embarrassing,â He rolled his eyes but looked down at you with a small smile.Â
âItâs been a long time,â You replied, matching his smile. You brought your hands to Frankâs face, your fingers gently moving the hair away from his forehead, your other hand cupping his cheek.Â
âFar too long,â He breathed out and kissed you once more. Your lips moved together in sync, soft and gentle. It slowly grew more heated and desperate as Frank leaned on his forearms which were on either side of your head. He slowly dragged his hips out and thrusted them back in. You pulled away from the kiss to let out a small noise, your hands moving to rest on Frankâs back.Â
Frank continued his slow thrusts, dragging his hips out and moving them back in, getting into a slow rhythm. He moved his right arm to grab one of your hands before placing it beside your head. He intertwined your fingers and looked into your eyes, maintaining eye contact as he thrusted into you.Â
âYouâre so beautiful,â He whispered shakily, âI love you.â There was a vulnerability to him that you hadnât seen or felt in so long. It made you long for him, even though he was already there. The realization of how long it had truly been dawned on you at that moment. But that hardly mattered now, not when Frank was finally here with you once again.Â
âAnd I love you,â You whispered back with a shared vulnerability,Â
Frank once again ducked his head between your neck and shoulder. He began thrusting into you a bit faster, causing you both to moan in the process. His hand remained intertwined with yours while your other hand clawed at Frankâs back.Â
âFuck,â He moaned against your skin. âYou feel so fucking good, baby,â He grunted while thrusting his hips, his cock hitting deeper inside of you with each movement.Â
You moaned in response, your eyes fluttering shut. You tilted your head to the side, relishing in the pleasure. âYou do too,â You said, your voice coming out in an almost whine. âMissed you so much.âÂ
âMmm, I missed you too, baby,â Frank said, lifting his head to look at you. âMissed hearing you moan, missed the way you felt around my cock.â His thrust grew harsher as the pleasure grew between the two of you. His cock began hitting your g-spot, causing you to gasp and moan his name. âRight there, baby?â He asked.Â
You nodded your head and licked your lips.
Frank grunted into your ear, groaning the dirtiest things as he fucked you. âGod, I am not going to last long at all,â He said as he pulled his hand from yours and moved it between you both. His fingers landed on your clit and began rubbing in sync with his thrusts.Â
You moaned his name loudly, throwing your head back in pleasure. Both of your hands clawed at his back, scratching his skin, which in turn urged Frank on more. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the type that you could only get when being fucked by Frank.Â
And with just a few more thrusts of his cock and movement of his fingers on your clit, you clamped down around him and arched your back as you began cumming. âFrank!â You called out, your orgasm overcoming you in waves of pleasure.Â
Frank moaned your name loudly, burying himself deep inside of you and filling you with his cum. The moment had been intense for you both, lasting far longer than previous orgasms had in the past.Â
When you both came down from your orgasms, you breathed heavily. Frank allowed himself to lie on top of you without holding himself up. Your hands moved from his back to his hair as your fingers began running through his strands, causing Frank to hum in contentment.Â
Silence encompassed you both as you relished in the aftermaths of what had occurred between the both of you. You loved Frank more than anything, just as he loved you. And that was enough, at least for right now.Â
Frank eventually pulled out and moved to lie down beside you. He pulled you into his arms, entangling your legs, and let your head rest on his chest. âAre you staying the night?â You asked after a while, breaking the silence.Â
âWould you like me to?â He murmured, his fingers tracing patterns onto your arm.Â
You were silent for a few minutes as you thought about what to say. âI-I would like you to come home,â You whispered, lifting your head just enough to look at Frankâs face.Â
Frank looked down at you with soft eyes. âI would really like that,â He whispered back before leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.
It would take a long while before everything was as it was before. A lot had happened on that simple day in September that led to the worst ten months of either of your lives. Not everything would be healed in one night, that would be silly and unrealistic. The wound between both you and Frank needed time to heal and thatâs okay. This was simply the beginning of mending everything and Frank was more than happy to begin that journey of healing with you.Â
geto suguru is everyoneâs first crush. having a crush on him is as hopeless as it is inevitable though your friends quickly disagree that the awe-struck, mouth gaping expression is a strictly you thing, and that he isn't as much of a campus celebrity as you believe he is. regardless, you're determined to put your inability to hold a conversation with him in the past. the solution is simple, you seek out his best friend. if geto suguru is everyoneâs first crush (again, a completely objective statement), then gojo satoru is everyoneâs first heartbreak.
pairing: frat&icehockey!gojo x reader
content: mdni, idiots in love, oblivious reader, babyâs first kiss + virginity taken by same person (satoru ><), suguru as the wingman, a little angst, mostly fluff + crack !! titjob, a little spitting, p in v, degrading, oral, fingering handjob etc etc 37k+
note: happy belated national arabian horse day! this was meant to come out on the 19th but life got in the way... regardless of the day hit up a friend and start beating a dead horse to celebrate!
Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first crush.
Your friends insist youâre seeing him through some delusional rose-tinted lens and that he is, in fact, not as much of a campus celebrity as you believe him to be. You reject that notion. One look at him from across the room, other party goers be damned, is all it takes to confirm what you already know.
Geto laughs at something one of his friends says, tipping forward slightly as the alcohol softens his movements. You catch the tail ends of his laughter through the thumping bass, the glint of light reflected off his lip piercings when he smiles wide, his hand running through his untied black hair.
It would be as easy as walking up and saying hi to start a conversation. It would be as easy as smiling for him to turn his head and grace you with a smile of his own.
Oh, what you would give to be bathed in his gaze, for that pretty smile to widen at the sight of you. Heâd spot you through the crowd, youâd tuck your hair shyly behind your ear and heâd politely excuse himself from his conversation to walk over to introduce himself to this mysterious beauty from across the room.
Shoko makes a noise like sheâs strangling herself but when you turn to save her, sheâs staring at your face. âDo you have any idea what you look like right now?â
âWhatâs wrong? Did I smudge my liner?â
You pull out your phone to check your makeup using the reflection but between the flashing lights and someoneâs elbow jutting from your peripheral, youâre only eighty percent sure you donât look a mess.
Considering you dragged your roommate out to this party last minute, Shoko sips her drink with commendable patience. âEven if you did, that would be the least of your worries. Look, you really donât have to overthink this. We didnât just spend all night planning this for you to end up weirding him out with that look in your eye.â
âShit, that was the rehearsed deer look I was talking about!"
âRehearsed how?"
You decisively ignore her. âI just want to do this right."
Her eyes soften slightly. Sheâs always been weak to your woes. âYou will. Heâll love you. If you donât believe in yourself, believe in me. I promise you, Iâve known this guy for years and youâre exactly the type of person he just eats up.â
You think of all your attempts to enter Getoâs world. There's just something mystifying about him, some kind of aura he emits that has you tripping over your tongue and freezing at the worst moments. Your words become stilted, your humour and wit abandoned at every crucial moment, causing you to simultaneously dread talking to him as much as you wished for it.
Shoko turns you to face her, eyes steady in a way yours isnât. âAre you ready?"
You let out a slow breath and attempt to mimic her determination with a single nod.
âThen go find him.â
When you hesitate to even take a single step forward, Shoko gives you a push and then youâre off, legs moving without another thought. The crowd swallows you, bodies brushing past and jolting your shoulders, knocking you here and there. But none of that matters. Not when your heart is already set. Not when determination is the one thing keeping you upright, guiding you closer and closer to the boy who somehow makes a packed, sweaty houseparty fade into background noise
For too long, youâve let this intoxicating feeling linger, letting it settle deep in your chest, almost convincing yourself that watching from the sidelines was enough. As if anything short of his eyes on you, perhaps even his lips on yours, could quiet the restless longing twisting in your heart. Limerence is what Shoko diagnoses you with, but the word feels too small for the intensity that surges through you every time his name crosses your mind.
Geto appears like a beacon before you, the crowds having finally parted enough for you to catch a good look. The party music transitions to an angelic choir but admitting that is basically affirming Shokoâs concerns that your infatuation is unhealthy, so you quickly refocus. Your heart clenches, pounds against your ribcage, and you only hope the dim lighting will hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. Heâs right there, right within reach. All you have to do is say his name.
All you have to do is make him see you.
You take a step forward, mumble an apology to the girl you bumped shoulders with, take another step towards where heâs laughing with a friendâthen veer sharply to the right and slip into the kitchen.
If talking to Geto were really as easy as saying hi, you would have done it months ago.
The kitchen is quieter, the bass reduced to a distant, muffled thump and you can finally breathe as the crowd thins. Thereâs still chatter though significantly more bearable and your eyes fall onto the small cluster of boys within, standing in the near dark.
Your feet instinctively slow but Shokoâs voice in your head tells you that youâve done too much to stop now and with a deep breath, you step beyond the threshold.
One by one, the group takes notice of you, their rambunctious laughter quietening into soft chuckles as heads pop up to look. Itâs not strange for someone to enter the kitchen at a party so the most you get is a head nod in greeting before they return to their conversation.
You reach for a red cup and then for a jug of some mysterious jungle juice.
Unfortunately, the jug sits behind one of the boys. Even worse, it sits behind who youâre really here at the party looking for.
Leaning lazily against the counter and nursing a red solo cup of something strong no doubt, stands Gojo, Getoâs best friend.
If Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first crush (again, a completely objective statement), then Gojo Satoru is everyoneâs first heartbreak.
You can feel the burn of Gojoâs stare as you get close enough to lift the jug and pour, hands trembling slightly. Before you can help yourself, you steal glances from the side of your eye, landing squarely on his shirt specifically at the crude letting that reads âTwo Seaterâ, arrows pointing abashedly toward both his crotch and his face.
You look back up immediately. You donât want to know.
The punch sloshes into your cup, some of it missing due to your shaky hands and you donât notice until a sticky trickle runs over your fingers. You hastily stop pouring and lick at the mess.
Before you can figure out how to announce your presence, thereâs a rush of footsteps and another frat boy appears. Hikari, you think his name was, stands by the kitchen entrance, hair slightly disheveled from his usual style, loud and demanding as heâs always been.
âHey!â he calls, scanning the room. âYou guys need to come see this."
A chorus of half-drunk âwhat?â and âsee what?â answers him like a herd of seagulls.
âIn the living room,â he says. âThere's two people on the floor andââ He stops, glancing over his shoulder like the situation might escape him if he looks away for too long. âJust hurry up!"
His vague words cause curiousity to spread faster than wildfire. The group of boys begin funnelling out of the kitchen, cups still in hand, voices rising with excitement.
âWhat is it?"
âIs it a fight?"
âPlease tell me itâs a fight.â
âDid someone break something?â
Hikari doesnât elaborate, instead turning and leaving the kitchen, confident the herd will follow. One friend, Choso if you remember correctly, looks back at Gojo who remains calmly drinking from his cup, still leaning against the counter beside you.
âArenât you coming, Satoru?â
Gojo shrugs, tipping back the last of his drink. âNah. You go on ahead.â
Choso hesitates like he wants to ask why, then seems to think better of it.
âSuit yourself,â he mutters, already backing toward the door as someone behind him shoves past with a whoop.
Within seconds, the kitchen drains of bodies.
Youâre deathly aware of the warm presence beside you. You inhale deeply and turn, ready to get this over and done with only to find him shamelessly looking at you.
For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, his expression unreadable as he looks you over before his face splits into a lazy grin. âHey.â
âHi,â you squeak, immediately reprimanding yourself at the awkward sound.
His smile only grows. âI didnât expect to see you here. Are you looking for someone? Or maybe you missed the exit? Itâs down the hall to your right.â
âThatâs rude.â You cross your arms in an attempt to place distance between the two of you and to maintain a confidence you donât feel. âI attend parties.â
Gojo huffs and you feel slightly offended. He straightens and steps closer, close enough that his cologne hits youâsharp, expensive, and entirely too much. âI donât know about that. Iâve never seen you at one of these before.â His head tilts, regarding you. âHow do you even know Sukuna?"
For a moment you blank, wondering why he was asking about Sukuna. It hits you then that this party must be his. âAh. I came with Shoko.â
He hums. âThat makes sense. Shoko always did have a habit of collecting strays."
âExcuse me?â
âNot a stray,â he amends lightly at your glare. âMore like her lost puppy.â
"Just because youâve only ever seen me when Iâm with Shoko doesnât mean Iâm always with Shoko.â
âI was talking more about how you were holding onto her shirt in the crowds earlier. She didnât bring a leash for you?"
âDonât project your weird kinks onto me."
âDo you often spend time thinking about what weird kinks I might be into?â Thankfully, Gojo lets the topic go before you really do decide to throw it all away and walk out. âBut alright, letâs say I believe you and youâre just here for the party. Why are you here in the kitchen, then?â
âWhat else do people come to parties for? Iâm here to drink. And stuff.â You trail off, clearing your throat.
âReally?â He eyes your untouched cup. âBecause thatâs just juice. The good stuffâs over here."
He steps into your personal space to reach over you to grab a bottle from the top of the fridge and youâre face to face with the gross words on his top. He retracts his arm, bottle in hand, but doesnât step back. âWant me to pour you one?â
You think back to the last time you let yourself drink under the unwise judgement of Shoko, and how you can only recall glimpses of light and the vague memory of a toilet bowl âItâs fine, Iâve already had a lot to drink."
âRight,â he says, in a tone that makes it clear he doesnât believe you for a second.
You watch as Gojo pours himself another drink, sipping leisurely, pointedly ignoring the way youâre staring.
Gojo isnât exactly a stranger, but itâs an overestimation to call him your friend. In truth, heâs Shoko's friendâwhich means she occasionally drags him back to your shared dorm before disappearing to do whatever it is best friends do. You catch glimpses of him in passing, fleeting and inconsequential, never quite crossing into âintroduce-yourselfâ territory. Why would he? Heâs the kind of guy who turns heads without trying, long-limbed, effortlessly confident, wearing the grin of someone whoâs never been told no in his life.
Where Geto is soft-spoken and warm, guiding you through conversation with patient smiles and gentle ease, Gojo is loud and vibrant and reckless. There's a challenge in his eyes, a knowing smirk on his lips, like the world is perpetually entertaining and heâs always in on the joke.
You, on the other hand, are about as normal as it gets.
When the silence draws into something a little less casual and far more awkward, you clear your throat. âIâm Y/N by the way."
âI know who you are.â
âYou do?â
âShokoâs roommate, right? Weâve seen each other before. Sheâs mentioned you too.â He offers a hand, eyes holding yours like he knows youâll pull away with anything less. âIâm Gojo. Itâs nice to finally meet you.â
You go to echo his words, that of course you knew he was the Gojo Satoru but hesitate, settling instead for shaking his hand. His grip is warm and solid, carrying none of the jitteriness you feel. Hell, maybe you should have accepted a drink after all. What is this, a job interview? Why are you shaking his hand?
When you let go, you become painfully aware of how damp your palms are and curse yourself silently.
Gojo picks up on the silence and moves to lean against the counter, mimicking your earlier pose such that his arms are crossed over his chest, only emphasising his biceps in his sleeveless top. âSo, Y/N. If you didnât come in here for a drink, why are you here?â
His words cause you to still. This was it. Every moment in your dorm, huddled around the whiteboard usually reserved for studying, now littered with far less academic plans, Shoko chiming in her own thinkpieces occasionally. It all accumulated to this moment.
âI was looking for you actually. I wanted to talk to you.â Your voice is barely a whisper and humiliation slowly sinks in when he doesnât answer immediately. Perhaps he didnât hear you considering youâre speaking to your shoes.
When you finally look up, thereâs an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo slowly tracks his eyes up and down your figure. Finally, he straightens, head tilted slightly. âTalk to me? Alone?"
You nod, and his face breaks into a broad grin.
âI wasnât expecting that. Not that I hate it,â he purrs, voice dropping into something smoother as he steps closer and curls a loose lock of your hair around his finger. âWhat did you want to talk about, princess?"
Your mind vaguely registers the gesture, feeling the dampness of your palms once again. âI donât really want to say here."
His fingers still, your hair wrapped around it. âOh?"
You wonder what that look in his eyes meant. âCould we go upstairs?â
Gojo cocks his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His brows knit slightly, but his eyes gleam with amusement as he releases your hair, the strand falling back into place in a soft wave. âYou do know Iâm Shokoâs friend, right? And youâre her best friend?â
âWhy does that matter?â
âSeriously? You donât think itâll be awkward?â
Awkward? You blink, trying to make sense of his words. Perhaps Gojo and Shoko had argued recently. Maybe he didnât want her catching sight of the two of you together else it put you in an awkward position. Heâs more considerate than you expected.
âIt doesnât have anything to do with her,â you say carefully. âWhether you or I are friends with Shokoâit doesnât matter to me. I just want to talk to you.â You smile in satisfaction, relaxing a little at his kindness.
Gojo suddenly laughs, brushing a hand through his hair as he throws his head back like youâve said the funniest thing. When he looks back down at you, his eyes are shining. âThatâs what Iâm saying! But every time I joke about it to Shoko, she goes all crazy on me. Looks like we have a lot in common, huh? I guess that makes us compatible.â
You continue to smile, the corners of your lips wavering a little in uncertainty. Youâre not entirely sure what he means by that but considering youâre about to ask him for a favour, you appreciate his good mood.
âWell, alright,â he says at last, taking your hand. âIâd love to hear you out. Lead the way.â
Ignoring the little flip of nerves your stomach does as you hold his hand (perhaps he felt too drunk to climb the stairs alone?), you turn and lead him back into the living room and up the stairs to the quieter rooms of the house. The hand holding serves another purpose, you realise, as you weave through the crowds of people and he would surely have lost you had you not held on tighter, practically dragging him onward.
You feel a tug before your feet can even touch the second floor, like heâs suddenly become immovable. Before you can turn and check on him, you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, his hand slipping from yours to settle at your waist. Youâre pulled to a stop, his breath now brushing against your ear, his hair tickling the side of your face. Youâre certain heâs leaning over you despite being a step lower, and the faint scent of alcohol and sandalwood fills your senses.
âI didnât think youâd be so proactive,â he murmurs. You think he might have inhaled, slow and deliberate, but itâs hard to tell over the base vibrating through the floorboards and the frantic pounding of your heart. âWhat else are you hiding from me, hm?â
He reaches for your hand and turns you slightly so you can watch as he licks your fingers, tasting the sticky residue of your spilt juice. His blue eyes seem to sparkle, mesmerising in a way that makes you freeze. âYou taste sweet.â
Your breath hitches and he must have heard because the hand on your waist tightens and pulls you against him, head leaning down to gently nip at your neck. Your stomach does that little flip again, this time accompanied with a hot flush that short-circuits your brain.Â
âWait!âÂ
He chuckles softly, lips ghosting over a soft spot that makes your knees tremble a little. âDonât be nervous. You have me right where you want me.â
You freeze, heart hammering, fingers twitching. When his hand slips just barely beneath the hem of your top, the words tumble out of you in a rush.
âI like Geto!â
For a heartbeat, everything goes still, his hand, his lips, his breath. Gojo pauses, lips pulling back from your sweaty neck. In fact, his entire body jerks back, both feet returning to the step beneath you, hand leaving your waist to turn you to face him. His fingers find your chin to tilt your face down, eyes dark as they hold yours.
âWhat did you just say?â
You swallow, looking him in the eye. âI like Geto.â
He stares at you wordlessly for a few more moments before he frowns, letting go of you completely and stepping down one more step just for good measure. âWhat the fuck are you doing here with me then?"
You gesture frantically between yourselves, finding the answer quite simple. âTo talk? Thatâs what I said earlier, didnât I? I wasnâtâI wasnât insinuating⊠I wasnât trying toâyou know?â
âYou said you wanted to come with me upstairs.â
âYeah?â
âAlone.â
âRight.â
His frown only deepens at your easy response. âYou know how that sounds, right? To get a guy alone upstairs at a party?â
âIt sounds like I wanted to talk to you privately?â You try again at his disbelieving expression. âThe music was super loud. I didnât think youâd be able to hear me downstairs and I had to ask you something important so I didnât want to risk it.â
He lets out a huff, something short and breathy, lips quirked upwards like he finds something amusing, even as his eyes stay locked on you, unmoving. âYouâre kidding me, right?â
You hold out your hands as if to say, âWhat can you do?â.
Gojo groans, dragging a hand down his face. âFigures this was too good to be true.â His hand drops from his eyes to cover his mouth as he continues to stare at you. âNothing about that situation implied you just wanted to talk. And about Suguru, of all things? Seriously, heâs being a cockblock and he isnât even here.â
âWhat was that?â
âForget it.â He drops his hand. âIâm leaving.â
You quickly hold onto his arm before he can completely turn. âWait!â
Maybe itâs the desperation in your voice, maybe itâs your iron-clad grip on his bicep but he doesnât attempt to pull away. Instead, he looks back and wrinkles his nose at you, a strangely childish gesture.
âIâm not in the mood to just talk. Not anymore.â
âCome on, please? Thereâs no one else I can ask!â
âI donât see how thatâs my problem.â
âIf you could just please, out of the kindness of your heart, hear me out I would seriously appreciate it!â
He doesnât budge.
âI wonât tell anyone I rejected you!â
He frowns. âFirst of all, you didnât reject me because it was a misunderstanding. Second of all, are you really in a position to blackmail me right now?â
âI wonât tell Shoko you were the reason her favourite candle knocked over and singed a bit of her rug.â
His frown only deepens. Blackmail, you think, is surprisingly effective. âHold on, how do you even know that?â
âWhat do you mean? I was literally right there.â
Gojo lets out a deep, long groan. He wriggles out of your hold, sending you a glare. âYou know, you really suck at asking for help.â
âYou donât have to agree to helping me just yet. Just at least give me a chance to explain. Weâre already here, arenât we?â
âYeah, well, I had other plans when we got up here that didn't involve just talking.â
You remind yourself to be patient. Again, you were the one asking for a favour, heâs the only one that can help you with your dilemma, you need him. Donât call him a disgusting freak and walk away.
Clapping your hands together, you muster your best pleading look and send it his way. âPlease, Gojo.â
Youâre not really sure what broke through his defenses. For your own ego, you decide it must be because of your puppy dog eyes because he lets out a sigh and gives a reluctant nod.
âGo to the room to the right of the stairs.â
You bite back the instinct to cheer. Halfway through turning around, you look over your shoulder. âYouâre coming too, right?â
âJust get up there before I change my mind.â
Wondering if souring his mood like this would backfire on you, you quickly hop up the remaining steps and head to the mentioned room just in case he really does change his mind. It would be beneficial to appease him before you ask for a crazy favour, after all. Therefore, you donât even try to eavesdrop as Gojo continues to mumble to himself as he follows behind, worrying that somehow he might hear and turn around.
When you both reach the room, he closes the door and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest and expression flat in a way that feels very un-Gojo. Youâre suddenly struck by the unfairness of it, of how someone with such a careless, teasing exterior can also appear so unreadable when he wants to.
âFive minutes.â
You clear the irrelevant thoughts from your head. âExcuse me?â
âYou have five minutes before Iâm going back down.â
You take a deep breath. This is it, no backing out now. âOkay. I need your help.â
He huffs, unamused. âSo youâve said. But with what exactly? Calculus? Because spoiler, Iâve been drinking.â
âWith Geto.â
You watch in real time as the connection in his brain is made. He straightens off the door slightly. âWait. Suguru? You want help with Suguru? What kind of help? Love help? You want love help with Suguru?â
Every word from his mouth is like a bullet to your dignity. Through gritted teeth, you hiss, âYes. Can you be any louder?â
âI can try,â He says with a hint of humour. The smirk returns to his face and a feeling of foreboding looms over you. âThis is what you wanted to get me alone to say?â
âLook, I needed someone whoâs close with him and youâreââ
âClose? Please, Iâm his best friend. Iâm practically his wife.â
âOh. So that makes us competition?â
He wrinkles his nose and looks you up and down. âYou want me to help you get him.â
You nod.
âYou want to confess to him.â
âObviously.â
âDate him?â
âThatâs the goal."
âSleep with him?â
You give him a look so incredulous that he laughs, short and amused. âIf you want advice just hit up reddit. If you want him to like you back then an etsy witch has you covered for five dollars. I donât see why you have to bother me.â
âBecause,â you say slowly. âHeâs surrounded by people. He doesnât even know me. I need all of that, the advice, the reciprocation, and I need someone who can get me close enough to him where he can notice me. And I feel like getting an Etsy witch to manipulate his dreams to include me would cost more than five dollars. And Iâm broke. And Iâm kind of bad with guys.â
âSo, what? You want me to introduce you to him?â
âSure. And maybe tell me what he likes?"
Gojo looks you up and down again. He leans back against the door but this time, thereâs something smug and arrogant about his posture, eyes lazy as he takes up as much space as he can. âYouâre not even his type.â
âThatâs fine, Iâm flexible.â
âThatâs something you say at a job interview, not when youâre trying to get a boyfriend.â
âJust shows that I have an adaptable personality.â
âHe just came out of a 2 year relationship,â he shoots back.
âI accept and embrace his past.â
âHe has a habit of leaving his jackets on the arm rest of couches.â
âI have hands, I can put them away.â
âWhereâs your self-respect?â
âWith him. Iâll get it back after I get with him.â
Gojo huffs. âHe doesnât even know you.â
âThatâs why Iâm asking you for help.â
âYou know, I think I liked you better when you were just a shy little thing stumbling over your words.â
Again, you can only shrug.
When he only frowns, you decide to use your hidden ace. Before he can open his mouth and surely reject you, you beat him to it, voice overlapping his.
âIâll tutor you!â
His eyes narrow and when he doesnât say anything else, you push on.
âI know youâre aiming for that sports scholarship to study abroad next year.â
âHow do you even know about that?â He catches on quick with a groan. âShoko.â
You nod. âAnd I know that youâre looking for someone to tutor you because you need to get good grades to get accepted. If you help me with this, I promise I can definitely bring your grades up. We both benefit!â
Gojo stares at you like youâve just grown a second head and you think youâve lost him when his lips twitch. Then, almost traitorously, one corner lifts higher.
âYou,â he says slowly, pointing at you like heâs identifying a rare species, âAre trying to bribe me. Youâre trying to bribe me because you canât get game by yourself.â
âIt's not a bribe,â you say stiffly. âI'm just saying thereâs something in it for the both of us.â
âItâs a bribe,â he repeats, delighted now. âHoly shit, Shoko's roommate is bribing me. How desperate can you get?â
âIâm offering to give you academic support!â
âWith strings attached.â
âYes,â you sigh. "That's usually how deals work.â
He grins, wide and boyish and every bit infuriating as youâve ever known him. âYou think I can't get a tutor without helping you bag my best friend?â
âWell, you havenât yet.â
âThat's because I don't need one.â
âRight. So I should just forget all the times Shoko has ranted to me about how you keep asking her for help?â
âYou know, this conversation has really enlightened me on who my real friends are.â His gaze slides back to you, assessing. âAnd youâre confident you can help me?â
You straighten your shoulders and give a solemn nod. âIâve fixed worse than you.â
He studies you, eyes tracking your features down to your shoes and you fight the urge to squirm self consciously. He seems to be recalibrating you, seeing you not as Shokoâs tagalong but as an actual person making a very earnest, albeit very ridiculous, request.
Finally, he sighs, long and dramatic.
âWell, at least you have one thing going for you. Suguru eats this kind of stuff up, hardworking, stubborn, a little patheticââ
âHey.â
ââin a cute pet way,â he amends smoothly. âRelax.â
You glare at him anyway but the rational part of your brain reminds you that you need this. He grins back, entirely unrepentant.
âFine,â he continues, raising a finger, âIf I do this, weâre doing it my way. That means we need rules.â
You fight the urge to jump up and down in joy. âI was going to suggest that anyway! How about this, weââ
âRule one,â he says, face settling into something serious. âYou canât fall in love with me.â
Unable to help yourself, you burst out laughing. âTrust me, thatâs not going to be an issue. You're definitely not my type.â
At your laugh he smiles though it doesnât reach his eyes. âRule two, no complaining. Keep that mouth in check, sweets.â
You giggle. âWhat's wrong, fragile ego?â
He raises an eyebrow and you mumble irritated curses under your breath. âSorry.â
âRule three, if Suguru ends up falling head over heels for you, you owe me big.â
âHow big?â
His eyes flick down to your mouth again, then back up, smirk slow and dangerous. âIâll decide later.â
You catch the movement and swallow, feeling none of the humour from earlier. âOkay, deal. Then, rule four, you take your studying seriously. I don't tutor people who donât care.â
âI think between the two of us, I want to succeed the most so thatâs a given. Any more rules, sweets?â
When you shake your head, he nods. âWeâll start tomorrow.â
âNot today? I mean heâs literally right here,â You quickly clarify. âNot a complaint, just a question!â
âI came here to get drunk and have a good time. Iâm going to need at least three drinks to get me back there so be a good girl and wait. Iâll text you tomorrow if you really canât be patient. Unless, you want to back out already?â
You straighten your shoulders, trying to match his confidence. âIâm not backing out! I just want to make sure youâre not going to ditch me. This isnât really a normal request.â
âOh, so you know?â
You roll your eyes at him but have the decency to at least look bashful.
âTomorrow,â he repeats then jerks his chin toward the door. âGo on, sweets. Before I sober up and regain some self-respect.â
âDonât call me that.â
âA complaint?â
You bite your lip. âA suggestion.â
âHereâs a real suggestion,â he starts, turning around to open the door. Standing in the doorframe, he gives you one last look. âNext time you ask a guy to go upstairs with you at a party, maybe start with the part about not wanting to make out.â
Your face gets hot instantly, mouth opening to splutter, âI didnât mean anything by it!â
But he doesnât stay to hear the end of it, rejoining the masses downstairs without another word. He lifts his hand once as a goodbye and then heâs gone, leaving you alone in the room, half mortified, half exhilarated. Unwilling to give him any sense of victory with his last words, you head back downstairs and find Shoko to tell her the results of the first step of your plan.
Itâs a struggle pushing through the thick waves of people but you finally find your roommate off to the side, musing herself in a conversation with someone you donât recognise.
Instinctively, your eyes search for Geto if only to recall what youâre doing this for. Standing beside him, arm swung over his shoulder is Gojo, already sipping from a cup and laughing into the conversation with a natural ease that reminds you of the gap between who you were and who he is. As if sensing your gaze, he looks over and you flinch as if burnt. Something stirs in your gut and you wonder if your little plan to get with Geto has taken a slightly unpredictable turn.
âYou okay?â Shoko asks, noticing your fluster.
You nod, looking away quickly. âOf course. All going to plan, you know?â
âThen I guess youâre up to step two.â
âRight,â Your eyes drift back to Gojo and find him looking at you over the rim of his cup. The feeling in your stomach lurches. âStep two.âÂ
Step two begins with Gojo texting you at the ass crack of dawn. You blink the sleep from your eyes, squinting at the bright light of your screen in mild disbelief and annoyance as he tells you to pull up to his 9am lecture. Despite the lingering feeling that youâve bitten off more than you can chew, you understand that this is necessary.
You know for a fact that you have no classes today and therefore no reason to make the trek to university. a whole day,just gone and tasked with the impossible task of putting up with that infuriating player.
No, you reprimand yourself as you text back your agreement. No complaining. Do it for him, do it for Geto. With those words repeating in your head like a mantra, you pull yourself together and out of bed to get to campus.
It would be helpful, after all, to see where his studies were at if you were going to take this tutoring business seriously.
You get a coffee at the station to combat your sleepiness and the chill of a winter morning before hesitating and getting another. With two coffees, one in each hand, you wait outside his lecture room until the doors swing open.
Spotting him wouldnât be too hard, you muse, considering Gojo is impossible to miss.
And then, you see him.
His unmistakable frame, hair a messy white halo catching the late morning sun, strides into view. He's mid conversation as he steps out, animated, half-grinning, and you find yourself understanding why so many girls lose their minds over him.
âGojo!â You call out, voice slightly drowned out by the chatter all around.
Youâre about to give him a piece of your mind, him having been the reason why you kept to your phone all of last night like a wife anticipating the return of her war husband, when you freeze. Because when Gojo turns, your mind barely registering the amused look he gives you, the person he was talking to comes into view.
Because of course, where thereâs Gojo there is Geto, the yin to his yang.
You werenât ready for both of them.
Noticing your sudden stiffness, Gojo looks beside him and scoffs. Unimpressed, he starts walking over. You panic, attempting to smooth out your clothes and fix up your appearance though your hands are full of coffee so you end up doing an awkward wiggle.
âLook at you,â Gojo starts when heâs close enough. âLoitering outside my class like a fan. Maybe this is more urgent than I thought, not because you like Suguru but because you really need your self-respect back.â
You open your mouth to respond, to clarify, to deny, to just say something, but Geto catches up beside him and suddenly every possible word tangles up in your throat.
âOh. Hey,â Geto says, recognition flickering across his face. âYouâre Y/N, right?â
You blink, knees feeling weak and mind in shambles that he even knew your name let alone match it to your face. âUh, yeah! Thatâs me!â
He smiles, soft and easy, all the charm youâve seen him use on others now directed to you. âI thought so. Youâre in one of Shokoâs tutorials, no? I think I remember her mentioning you.â
âIâm her roommate, actually.â You try for a smile and pray it doesnât give off the extent of your adoration towards him.
âRight, that would be it. Iâm Geto.â
You nod mutely, wishing your brain would reboot to say something, anything that doesnât make you sound like youâve never spoken to a human before. Geto, he says, like you didnât already know his name, like he wasnât one of the most known people on campus. Still, the fact that he so humbly introduced himself only proves his humility and your heart gives a quiver.
This moment was everything youâve ever fantasied. His eyes on you, giving you that pretty smile youâve only seen directed at others. You could have stood there and basked in his attention until the end of time if Gojo didnât suddenly clap Getoâs shoulder and butt in.
âGreat, so glad youâre both acquainted,â he says, ignoring your glare and throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side. âBut as much as Iâd love to keep standing here and soak in this riveting small talk, I think my very dedicated super fan here needs me for something.â
You shoot him a look. âI am not your super fan.â
âNo? And is that not my coffee?â
You look down at your hands as if only remembering now what you were holding. Biting back a remark, you thrust out a coffee. âIt is.â
He grins, taking it and letting his fingers brush against yours. âThought so.â
Geto looks between the two of you. âOh, I see how it is."
Your eyes fling back to him at the same time Gojo exclaims, âWhat?â
âWoah, did I touch a nerve there or something?â Getoâs smile quickly turns smug. He returns Gojoâs earlier gesture and thumps him hard on the back twice. âI get it. Iâll get out of your hair then. Be gentle with him, Y/N. Heâs actually a pretty sensitive guy.â
It takes you a while to process his words so Gojo reacts first.
âDude, Iâm telling you itâs not like that.â
âSure,â Geto says in a tone that very much suggests he isnât convinced at all. âGuess Iâll see you around, yeah? Later, Satoru.â
You only realise seconds after he leaves that you hadnât said goodbye. In fact, after Gojoâs interruption, you hadnât managed to say anything more to Geto.
âHuh,â Gojo muses, breaking the silence. âYou get like that around him?â
You groan and find the lump in your throat gone. âI stood there like an idiot!â
âYou did.â
âHe probably thinks Iâm a freak!â
âProbably.â
âAnd you!â You look up to glare at him. âYou didnât have to make it sound so weird!â
âSo now itâs suddenly my fault?â
âYou caught me off guard by calling me your super fan!â
âRight, like that was the weirdest part of the conversation,â he shoots back, lips curled in dry amusement. âThat, and not the super sour face you were making at him. Like a grimace.â He mimics your expression and you properly grimace this time, hoping against all odds that that was not the face you had been making at the person you were actually a super fan for.
Deciding you will only lose if you continue to defend yourself, you choose to change the subject. âYou should have told me heâd be here.â
âYou never asked. Besides, is it my fault if you didnât prepare for that to happen?â
You sulkingly mumble a yes and he wags his finger at you, tutting disapprovingly.
âNo complaining, remember? Come on, letâs go. We have things to talk about.â
You sigh though relent to fall into step beside him, fingers curling around your own coffee as the crowd thins around you. Now that Geto is gone, the world feels marginally more comfortable, less bright, less sharp, but also less mortifying.
You remember your stuttering self a few minutes ago.
Still a little mortifying but now bearable.
Gojo takes a long sip of his coffee, then glances sideways at you over the rim. âFor future reference, I don't like coffee.â
You dig your elbow into his side and he winces but doesnât remove his arm around your shoulder.
âWhere are we going? I was thinking we could go to the library and look over your courses. That way I can pinpoint your weakness and where to target first. We only have a few months into graduation so weâre in a bit of a time crunch but I'm positive I can raise your grades from whatever they may be to⊠what?â
You trail off when you find Gojo looking down at you in disbelief. He shrugs when your eyes meet and shrugs, though the gesture is a little awkward with his arm over your shoulders.
âI just didnât think you were serious about the whole tutoring thing.â
âI keep to my promises, Gojo,â you pause. âAnd I hope you will too.â
He reaches over with his free hand to ruffle your hair, ignoring your squeak. âDesperation isnât a good look on you, sweets. Relax, relax, I'll get you two together. Trust me.â
You grumble but donât voice your suspicions, instead letting him drag you in a certain direction. You perk up when you donât immediately recognise your surroundings.
âWhere are we going?â
âI get it, you want to check me out. I'm just taking us somewhere where that can happen.â
âYour studies, not you,â you clarify.
âYeah, and my studies are mine so youâre checking me out.â
You grimace and he chuckles, turning you around a corner. âThe library is too quiet so weâre going back to my place.â
You stop abruptly.
âYour place?â
âYeah.â
âYour place?â
Gojo cocks his head as if listening to something in the distance. âDid you just hear that echo too?â
âForgetting the fact that we should clearly just go to the library or somewhere on campus at least, I thought you lived in Sig Kap?â
âRight you are. Wow, I'm really starting to see why youâre the perfect choice as a tutor.â
âBut you just said weâre going to your place.â
âNothing gets past you.â
âYour place as in the Sig Kap house.â
âLook at you go.â
You stare at his side profile, waiting for a punchline that wonât come.
âGojo.â
âYeah?â
âI am not going to your frat house.â
âWhat happened to not complaining? That was the first rule and youâre already breaking it, sweets. I'm starting to dread this whole arrangement,â he continues to tease, looking ever so peaceful.
âI'm sorry, I don't know what you think I'm about but I wouldn't willingly walk into a den full of men named things like Chad. Do you even have furniture?â
âI only had a cot for the majority of first year but now I've upgraded to a mattress on the floor.â
âGreat. Let's end this here.â
Gojo hooks his finger in your belt hoop before you can walk away. âFirst of all, we donât have a Chad. We do have a Kyle though.â
âYou're not doing yourself any favours.â
âSecond,â he continues on, pulling you back towards him with his finger. âItâs ten in the morning. Half of them are in class and the other half are probably legally dead.â
You stand your ground. âLibrary.â
âSig Kap.â
âLibrary.â
âSig Kap.â
âGojo.â
He leans in suddenly, close enough that you can see the faint crease at the corner of his eyes from squinting in the sun.
âYou want Suguru, right?â
Your breath catches and despite yourself, you hear him out. âSo? How is that relevant?â
âBecause,â he says mildly like heâs talking to a little kid. âSig Kap is where Suguru hangs out. He's my best friend, you know heâs my best friend thatâs why you came to me. Why wouldnât he be over at mine all the time? If you canât handle coming over now how are you ever going to fuck him?â
âI am notââ you choke, voice pitching before forcefully lowering your voice when you notice people looking at you. âThat is notâ I haven't evenââ
Gojo hums, watching you with a victorious grin. âSo you donât want to sleep with him?â
You make a startled noise and start walking in a random direction, eager to leave him behind. Life, however, is full of disappointments considering he follows, his arm draping over your shoulder once more.
âSo where are we going?â
You give in. âSig Kap.â
âWrong way, sweets.â
You groan but follow as he steers you in the opposite direction.
Gojo chatters in your ear the entire walk to where the frat houses are situated on campus, about how his least favourite professor is out to get him, about someone in his frat who set off the fire alarm this morning, about the latest philosophical debate holding the frat hostage: whether cereal is a soup or not. It's a steady stream of nonsense, ridiculous but unbroken because at least he wasnât talking to you so much as at you.
At some point, you stop responding entirely.
Somehow, his mere presence is enough to change your opinion and you actually feel relief when you finally see the house before you. Sig Kap stands broad and sunlit, paint only mildly chipped, windows open to let in the winter air. There's a couple bikes leaning against the porch railing and thereâs an abandoned hoodie on the outdoor chairs.
âOh thank god,â you mumble under your breath when he finally stops talking.
He lets you go to jog up the steps, opening the door to what youâre positive is about to be an overstimulating nightmare.
Warm air hits you first, carrying the scene of coffee and something oily. Sunlight stretches across worn hardboard floors until Gojo closes the door behind you and the hallway dims. A TV murmurs somewhere deeper into the house and thereâs a loud conversation happening upstairs.
âYou said everyone would be either in class or dead!â you hiss.
âIt was an exaggeration,â he says lightly. "Don't worry, everyoneâs harmless. But if youâre worried, you can just stick close to me.â
You ignore his cocky grin and shove him to get him walking. Unfortunately, getting to the stairs meant walking past the living room and you know things wonât be as harmless as he says when a voice calls out.
âYo!â
Gojo pauses and steps back to poke his head into the living room. âMorning.â
You awkwardly step back to let him, pushing you into view too.
Two heads snap toward you at once. One of them is sprawled across the couch, blanket half-tangled around his legs and a bowl of popcorn balances on his stomach. The other is slouched in an armchair, controller in hand, eyes bloodshot and face pale as if he was still hungover. Considering the state of the party last night, you donât doubt that he might be. Speaking of the party, you recognise the one on the left as Hikari.
âYouâre bringing a girl back in broad daylight?â The controller guy says, no tact whatsoever.
Hikari snaps his fingers in recognition. âHey, youâre the girl at the party.â
âDamn, back for more?â
Hikari shoves controller guyâs head down at the crude comment.
âShe's here to save my GPA,â Gojo explains. âSo keep it down, yeah?â
âThat's what we should be saying to you,â controller guy smirks.
Unfortunately, Gojo smirks back. âYou know they canât help it. I'm just too good.â
He guides you back towards the stairs as the boys in the living room chuckle, and when you finally think of something to say youâre already standing in the middle of his room. By then, thereâs another something to take up your mind and computing power.
Despite the relatively large floor plan, Gojo has decided to use none of it. True to his words, thereâs a mattress lying on the floor against one wall, blanket a mess and a single pillow sitting flat at the top. A stack of old textbooks make up a bedside table where thereâs a cute small lamp. On the other side sits a couch and a giant flat screen in front of it at a distance that would make optometrists frown.
Maybe thatâs why Gojo is sometimes seen wearing sunglasses indoors. Maybe theyâre prescription.
âThis is what you bring girls back to?â
Gojo drops his bag on the floor and flops down onto the couch, patting the cushion beside him. âCome sit.â
You eye the seat in disdain.
âWhat's with the look?â
âIs that even sanitary?â
He snorts. âWorried youâll get cooties or something? Relax, I rarely bring anyone back. Usually I go to the girlsâ place for that kind of stuff. Fucking on a mattress is pretty harsh on the back, you know. Youâre the first girl I've brought back in a while. Lucky you, right?â
You grimace but sit down gingerly. âCan you tell me what courses youâre doing?â
âWhat's the rush? Let's get to know each other better,â he says but he still reaches over to grab his laptop from his bag, opening it on his lap.
You can picture it so clearly, Gojo coming back from a long day of (skipping) classes to do his assignments and homework like this, slumped over his laptop on this surprisingly comfortable couch. The bare mattress on the floor might be a big contributing factor to his back pain, but you have no doubts that this routine wasnât doing him any favours. âHere,â he places his laptop on your knees and leans back, pulling out his phone from his pocket. âYou look.â
Considering his complete disregard of safety is not your issue, you donât protest and quickly type in the college website. As if sensing this is not the right time, a prompt pops up to log in again.
âPassword?â you ask, tilting the screen to him.
He barely looks up from his phone, one arm behind his head, the other typing away. âSixeyes69 question mark exclamation mark.â
You pause and type it in. It goes through.
âWhat's the number?â He asks, disinterested.
You look on the screen. â67.â
He chuckles. âNice.â
âAre you seriously okay with telling me your password like that?â
He shrugs, screenshotting the multi authenticator screen before hitting enter. The website in front of you loads and opens to his details.
âTtâs not like thereâs anything you can do with that. Are you planning to sneak in and do my assignments for me?â
Finding no fault in his words, you accept it and click through the tabs. Your brows quickly knit together as you read the contents.
âGojo.â
âMhm?â
âYouâre missing three assignments in this class, you have a midterm for another in two weeks and youâre barely passing first year statistics.â
Gojo looks up at the ceiling in deep concentration before looking down with a smile. âYeah, that sounds about right, why?â
âThis is insane! I'm not a miracle worker!â
âBetter find a lamp that grants wishes soon because your love life is on the line,â he points out. âThat was the deal, you find a way to get me into that scholarship and I get you and my best friend together. It's not my fault you were weirdly confident and didnât check to see where I was at before proposing that.â
Flabberghasted, you can only open and close your mouth like a fish. âLook, the midterm in two weeks, I can probably help with. The three assignments? You failing statistics?â
âPretty sure I passed that last quiz. Maybe check again?â
â51 is just barely passing which is basically a fail.â
âOh no, it seems like you canât do this after all. Looks like the deal is over. Hey, by the way, since youâre already here, why don't weââ Gojo sits up and leans in, one hand on your thigh above his laptop.
âI demand another favour.â
He freezes. âYou canât just do that.â
âI can,â you square your shoulders and meet his eyes. âI did this statistics class during my first year so I still have my notes. I can easily alter them and give them to you and if you have any questions, we can meet up and I'll go through the questions with you. There's no way you can submit two of the three missed assessments as late but I can help you write the one that was due last week. There will be a mark reduction but I'll make sure itâs as good as can be. And, like I said, studying for the midterm is possible in two weeks.â
Gojo stares at you as if seeing you for the first time. When he finally moves, itâs only to remove his hand from your knee and slump back into his leather couch. âYouâre insane.â
You wonder if heâs sulking.
âBut,â you continue on. âIf I help you with this then I can add to my condition. Besides, I made it too vague earlier and youâve helped me see that. So thank you.â
He rolls his eyes. âJust tell me.â
You bite your lip. âGo on a practice date with me.â
He blinks at you, giving you that same incredulous look before bursting into a fit of laughter that does wonders for your ego.
âHey.â
He keeps laughing, one hand resting on his chest.
âHey!â You hit his arm and he finally cracks an eye open to look at you.
âYouâre kidding,â he chuckles, struggling to catch his breath. âGojo Satoru doesnât do dates.â
âDon't refer to yourself in third person.â You smack his bicep one more time for good measure and because heâs weirdly solid under your touch. âIt wonât actually be a date. I just need to know how dates work. I can't just go from zero to not-zero without practice!â
His laughter trails off though the smile remains on his face. He tilts his head to the side. âYouâre at zero?â
You freeze, feeling like youâve walked into a trap.
âDefine zero.â
âHave you kissed anyone?â
You look away. âDefine kissed.â
He laughs again, though mercifully shorter. âThat's crazy. Next thing you know, youâre going to ask me to teach you how toââ
âPlease!â you say quickly. âIt won't be anything serious. I just need to know the mechanics, you know, how dates actually work. What youâre supposed to say, how you sit, when you pay, whether eye contact should be continuous or intermittentââ
âJesus,â he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. âYouâre actually a lost cause.â
âWell I've never done one before!â You clamp your mouth shut after, mortified at how loud you just got.
Gojo watches you for a long moment, the amusement still there though dimmed now by something closer to curiousity. Maybe even concern if you squint.
Silence stretches between you, warm sunlight pooling across the floor, distant house noise muffled beyond the door. He looks down at his laptop on your lap then back up to your face.
â...okay.â
Your heart stumbles and you inhale sharply. âOkay?â
âIâll do it.â
âReally?â Relief overwhelms your system and your shoulders relax.
âGojo Satoru doesnât go back on his promises.â He straightens and places a hand over his heart, a mock solemn expression on his face. Before you can poke fun of his use of third person again, he continues. âBesides, I need to figure out where you stand. Let's go on a date tomorrow.â
âEager much?â
He shrugs. âRip the bandaid off. Besides, I have no other time this week, I have practice all of this week for the upcoming game.â
Though you were ready to disagree, you find yourself nodding. âOkay, tomorrow.â
âIt's a date,â he says sweetly before clapping his hands together once loudly. âSo, does that mean I'm off the hook for today? Steam is having this massive sale and I have money to spend.â
You snort. âWhat makes you think youâre free to go?â
âYou got what you wanted,â he points out reasonably. âPractice date secured so mission accomplished, right? Seems like a natural stopping point and the Steam store is calling me.â
He reaches lazily toward the laptop. You smack his hand away without hesitation.
âWell hang up because youâre failing statistics and the submission box for that technical report is waiting for you. I'm afraid youâre going to have to reschedule.â
âYou're kidding. I dragged you here and gave you nothing to prepare with, thereâs no way you'll have anything to tutor me with.â
You stretch out your arms, fingers interlaced, and listen to the satisfying pop of your joints. âWatch me.â
Night has long since settled by the time you return to your dorm. Despite his perennial sulking throughout the entire tutoring session, lips jutted out when he isnât whining, eyes drifting from the screen when youâre not giving him your full attention, he still offers to walk you back to the opposite side of the campus where the dorm houses are. Guiding him through the writing assignment was somewhat akin to extracting teeth from a little kid, but heâs surprisingly quiet when youâre talking and only chooses to complain when youâve stopped.
And by the end of it, youâre proud to announce that he has 500 words on a once empty doc that was almost ready for submission.
Hey, you did mention before that you canât create miracles.
Still, thereâs something bright in his eyes when he reads through his own work, mumbling the words under his breath. So then, when you had reached down to pick up your tote bag and call it a day, heâs on his feet almost instantly, laptop snapping shut as he follows.âIâll walk you,â he says, like itâs not even a suggestion.
The campus at night feels different, all those late nights in the library had taught you that. Itâs quieter, softened at the edges and maybe it's placebo, maybe it isnât, but the air feels fresher and time seems to slow. Streetlamps cast warm pools of light along the pathways, the winter air crisp enough to bite at your cheeks. Your breath fogs slightly as you walk, footsteps echoing in companionable rhythm.
For once, Gojo isnât talking.
He makes the occasional comment, something about how dead campus feels after dark, how he hates early morning practices, how someone keeps taking his chocolate milk from the fridge, but for some reason you donât find it so tolerable. Maybe itâs the way heâs saying it, slower and calm, nothing like before.
You steal a glance at him.
His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed, expression softer than youâre used to seeing. Without the performative grin and constant chatter he looks less like the campus celebrity Everyone knows and more like heâs just some guy. Albeit, very attractive but you digress.Â
âYou didnât have to walk me,â you say into the silence that he hadnât immediately rushed to fill after his last anecdote.
âI know.â
âThen why are you?â
He shrugs. âJust felt weird not to. Besides, itâs late out and your dorm is half a century away. I need you alive to fix my grades, remember?â
You give him a faint chuckle and look forward again.
A few more steps pass in silence, broken only by the shuffle of feet.
âHey,â he says suddenly.
You look up, watching the light scatter over his side profile.
âThanks.â
âFor what?â
âFor today.â He kicks at a pebble on the path, watching as it skitters ahead. âFor not giving up on me after the first five minutes.â
You huff softly. âI said I'd help. And Y/N never goes back on her promises.â
He looks over at you and you both share a smile before his expression turns thoughtful. âYeah, but people say stuff all the time.â
You study him. âDo they?â
He hums and doesnât elaborate.
The dorm building comes into view ahead, lights glowing warmly through the windows. There's still a couple students drifting in and out, bundled in hoodies and coats and wearing slides, soft laughter spilling into the night.
You slow, suddenly aware that the walk is almost over. You turn to him so you can look at each other.
âYou know, youâre not as hopeless as you think,â you say quietly. âI think youâve just never pushed yourself to seriously try.â
He snorts. âThanks, real inspirational.â
âIâm serious,â you protest but the corners of your lips quirk up.
He looks at you then, properly looks, eyes searching your face with a small frown. When he canât find whatever heâs looking for, his brows relax.
âYou really think I can pass?â
âYes.â
Something in his shoulders loosens, tension easing away.
âOkay,â he breathes out. âThen, my grades are in your hands, teacher.â
You make a face. âI think I prefer sweets.â
He laughs and you turn to walk up to the entrance. The automatic doors remain stubbornly closed until you step into the sensorâs range, humming softly as they slide open. Warm air spills out, smelling faintly of old carpet and air freshener.
For some reason your feet slow.
âHey, Y/N.â
You turn, looking at him as he stands just outside the warm lobby light, hands in his pocket, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold.
âYeah?â
He hesitates.
âSee you tomorrow."
You bite your lip and nod, repeating his words softly. Then, before you can do something stupid, you turn and walk into the building. The doors close with a soft thud, sealing you inside.
Through the glass, you watch him turn and head down the path, white hair catching the glow of the streetlights. And of course, he doesnât look back.
Your reflection stares back at you instead, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes a little too bright, heart still beating faster than it should.
Tomorrow, apparently, youâre going on a date, practice or not.
For some reason, Geto pops up in your mind and you tighten your hold on your tote bag, making your way up the stairs. The soft curve of his smile earlier this morning, the way he had said your name like it belonged in his mouth, or maybe that was just wistful thinking. But the warmth in his eyes that had nearly short-circuited your brain was most definitely real and you cling to the image.
Right, this is for him.
Your phone buzzes a little after you settle into bed that night, making you jolt. you roll onto your side and reach for your phone, pulling it free from your charger as you read through your notifications.
gojo: i made it back safe in case you were wondering ><
You get comfortable, tucking your doona under your chin as you type back, your phone the only light source in your dark room.
you: trust i wasnât worried but thanks ig
gojo: who said anything about being worried?
also donât flake on me tomorrow
iâm taking this mentorship very seriously so u better asw you: i wonât flake ik iâm already asking sm of u
gojo: oh u know do u?
so ure going to pay for our date tmrw?
you: itâs not a date
gojo: sure it isnât
you: itâs just practice
gojo: i didnât say it wasnât
but if you admitted it was a real date iâd pay yk
you: please
like iâd actually want you to pay for my coffee
not a date, not real, donât need u to pay for my drinks
gojo: ure a hard girl to please
you: if its from someone like you, its gonna be harder than just hard
try impossible
gojo: harder than hard?
you: ?
gojo: something feels wrong about that sentence for some reason
anyway
is the campus close for you or should we meet up in the city
you: the campus works for me
gojo: ure not just saying that to avoid the date allegations are you
you: no way
gojo: sure sweets i believe u
donât wear anything boring
first impressions matter yk
you: oh my god stop pushing the date allegations
its just practice !!!!
gojo: okay and you can practice dressing up for me
for suguru
like for practice
you: ?
i know what u meant
but sure
as long as u do too theres no way im embarrassing myself by showing up overdressed if u show up in sweats and a hoodie
gojo: wouldnât dream of it
see u saturday sweets
You stare at the nickname longer than you should.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before moving.
you: goodnight gojo
The reply bubble appears then disappears before appearing again. Nothing comes of it as it disappears one more time and stays gone.
You swipe off the app and place your phone back on your bedside table, ignoring the pleasant buzz running through you.Â
You show up early like a super fan.
Youâve been sitting at the little corner table situated at the back of your favourite campus cafe for the past ten minutes now, stirring your drink just to look busy. The cafe hums around you with soft chatter, clinking spoons against teacups and ceramic against ceramic, a mellow playlist faintly playing in the background, but your nerves drown most of it out.
Youâve already gone through three mental checklists as you sit there, waiting. Your fingers curl around your empty cup, feeling the beads of water drip down your fingers and you really hope you wonât need to make an awkward break for the bathroom anytime soon considering he should be here about now.
You tell yourself youâre not nervous but you catch yourself glancing at the door every other second, heart jumping each time it swings open.
The bell chimes again and you look up with a start, eyes immediately locking onto Gojo as he saunters in, lifting his sunglasses so they rest on his head. Heâs dressed casually, a white and blue jersey over a pair of blue baggy jeans, but his good looks mold the outfit into something appropriate for a date.
Gojo spots you at his first look around and grins, sliding into the seat across.
âMorning,â he greets, a wide smile on his face. His eyes flicker down once at your empty cup. âDid you wait long?â
âNo, not at all!â You remember who youâre talking to and relax a little. âActually, I got here fifteen minutes early. I guess I got a little anxious.â
âWell, you donât need to be. You look nice,â he says, tone light. His eyes look you over once to make his words comprehensible and then one more time purely for the love of the game. âTrying to impress me?â
You scoff, trying to recover. âYou told me to dress nice.â
âCâmon, sweets. Play along. Weâre on a date, you know. Your next lines should be something like,â he suddenly tucks his elbow in, body curving to the side slightly, hand half closed and held delicately over his lips and chin. His eyelashes flutter over his cheek as he looks down and to the side, a faux shyness that makes you want to laugh. ââThank you, you look good tooâ.â
You let yourself laugh, shoulders relaxing. âWhat the fuck?â
âYou give it a try. It always works in anime.â
âNo way in hell,â you continue, laughing fading into occasional giggles as his gesture replays in your mind. âBesides, this is a practice date. I'll save that technique for the real deal, thank you very much.â
âAnd for practice, weâre going to pretend this is a real date.â He leans back into his seat, legs stretching out and bracketing yours under the table. His feet bump against yours lightly. âLet's give it another try. Did I make you wait long?â
You stir the straw inside your drink, pretending to be nonchalant, though your fingers twitch slightly against the glass. âNot long⊠I guess.â You try a mysterious act, hearing that guys like a woman with secrets. At least, thatâs what Shoko told you though a small part of you wonders if you should be taking âhow to seduce a guy 101â from a lesbian.
ââI guessâ?â he echoes, tilting his head. âThatâs the best you can do? Youâre supposed to be charming me, remember? At least try to make it look like I'm not coercing you here.â
âI donât care if I charm you or not,â you say quickly, cheeks warming. âIâm here to learn and youâre here to teach me.â
He laughs, a low, easy sound that makes your chest tighten. âYou know, I'm not exactly made of time. Do you know how many girls and guys would kill to be in your position right now?â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes though donât stop yourself from making your voice dry. âOh sure, letâs spend this entire date talking about all the competition I have.â
âWe would need at least four more dates to cover it all.â
âI didnât know getting into a relationship with you would be such an investment.â You snort. âIf all five of our dates are just going to be you listing my competition, I'd rather stand you up now and save myself the time. And the money.â
âI did offer to pay for your drinks.â He grins at the back and forth, the sides of his shoes bumping into your ankles lightly. âThatâs it, youâre getting into it.â
âFor practice.â
âSure, sweets. Practice. Speaking of,â he says, leaning forward just enough that the sunlight catches his hair. âYou should call me Satoru. Weâre on a date, remember? I canât tell if youâre on a date with me or my dad if you call me Gojo.â
You grimace. âCalling you by your first name makes it too real.â
âIt is real. Thatâs what you should tell yourself to get into this.â He juts out his lower lip, drawing his eyebrows inward. âCome on, sweets, let me hear you say my name.â
âWhen you say it like that, it makes me want to throw a drink in your face.â
âJust once, Y/N.â
You huff and roll your eyes. âSatoru.â
âOh my god, a girl called me by my first name!â he squeals.
You almost stand to get out of here if it means preventing people from associating you with him. He grabs your hand and drags you back down into your seat before you can properly escape, much to your dismay. âRelax, Iâm just playing.â
âAre you here to mess around or help me?â
âWell, you need to tell me so I can help you. What do you even know about him?â
âAbout Geto?â
âYeah, unless thereâs someone else you want to know more about?â He grins, easy and confident.
You ignore his comment. âWell, I know he⊠likes books. music. He's kind⊠thoughtful. Plays the guitar. Ah, specifically electric."
âAre you listing off whatâs on his dating profile right now?â
âShut up,â you snap, but it comes out weaker than intended.
âHe isnât actively on any dating app right now, just for your information.â
âAnd how would you know this? What are you doing on there?â
âIâm not on hinge, unfortunate for the female population, I know. We just tell each other everything,â he says, leaning back, one elbow resting on the armrest of his chair as he studies you from across the table. âIâm helping you, you know? First rule, donât just parrot his interests. Though maybe I don't have to worry about that since youâre clearly struggling to even remember them.â
âI wasnât going to parrot him.â
âI know you were,â he interrupts, wagging a finger. âLast time I checked, liking exactly what he likes does not make you compatible. It makes you predictable. And desperate.â
âOkay, harsh.â
âIt's all tough love, sweets.â
You fold your arms, slumping back in your seat, letting gravity do half the work of your sulk. âFine then, oh wise love guru. What should i say instead? Like, letâs say he asks me what I'm into and my mind goes blank like last time. What then?â
âYou're asking like itâs that difficult. Just be honest, tell him what you like regardless if it matches his interests. Do you want to be a groupie or be something more than a friend?â
âI want to be someone he likes.â
âSo you're going to play the role of Suguruâs perfect girlfriend? And what after that, genius? Are you just going to pretend forever?â
Gojo looks over to the front counter and smiles at some waitresses standing there already looking in his direction. He turns back as they start giggling and playfully arguing over who should come over to take his order.
âDonât force yourself to perform for him or curate yourself to be digestible. If the two of you are meant to be then he should want you.â
You look away, picking at nothing on your glass. âThat's easy for you to say.â
âIt's actually incredibly tiring being this emotionally intelligent all the time,â he says, face neutral.
You snort despite yourself and he looks satisfied.
âAnd what if I tell him and he doesnât like it?â
Gojo shrugs, slow and deliberate. âThen heâs not for you.â
You frown. âWow, youâre terrible at pep talks.â
One of the waitresses finally makes it to your table, an eager smile on her face and a determined look in her eyes. Behind her, you catch the rest of the staff shooting encouraging looks. She clutches her notepad a little too tightly, taking in a deep breath before talking. âHello, are you, um, both ready to order?â
âYeah,â Gojo says easily, flashing her a smile. âIâll just grab a hazelnut toffee latte with soy milk.â
The woman quickly scribbles his order down. âOf course! One hazelnut toffee latte with soy milk.â
âAnd whatever she wants,â he adds, nodding toward you.
You blink, caught off guard. âOh, I already ordered earlier. I'm fine for now, thanks.â
The waitress spares you a glance, eyes flickering briefly over you before returning to Gojo like a magnet snapping back into place. âNot a problem. Is there anything else I can get you started with today?â
âWe're good, thank you.â
Her face falls. She nods, but lingers a moment too long, clearly hoping for something, another question, a joke, anything to keep the interaction going.
Gojoâs grin grows just a little bit wider as he obliges.
âBusy today?â He asks casually, tone warm and interested.
Her face lights up and she quickly steps forward again. âA little! It's usually busy in the mornings what with the morning rush and all. Honestly, itâs like nonstop until at least 1pm.â
âThatâs brutal,â he sympathises, leaning back in his chair, posture loose and open. âAt least youâve got good coffee to survive on.â
She laughs, a bright and breathy sound that makes it clear sheâs not just laughing at the coffee comment alone. âPerks of the job, I suppose. Do you come here often?â
Gojo tilts his head as if the question deserved genuine thought and wasnât just a throwaway pick up line.
âNot as often as I should,â he decides easily. âBut I might start if the service is this friendly.â
Her smile widens, pink creeping into her cheeks. âWe try our best.â
âI was talking about you, sweetheart.â
Youâve been listening and watching with apt attention, taking mental notes on the right time to smile, when to tilt your head just so, when to tuck your hair behind your ears and when to employ the double tuck, when his last words make you frown.
You clear your throat, eyes fluttering away when both Gojo and waitress look over at you.
âWell,â the waitress starts suddenly, glancing down at her notepad like she needs to remind herself sheâs on the clock, "I'll bring your drink out as soon as itâs ready.â
âLooking forward to it,â Gojo replies, though he hasnât looked away from you yet.
She lingers half a beat longer, then turns and walks away, shoulders a little straighter than before.
âDone staring?â He teases.
âI was not staring. Don't you have the tact to not flirt with someone else when youâre on a date?â
âOh, so now itâs a date? Only when itâs convenient for you, huh?â
You reach over for a napkin and crumble it up to throw it at him. It barely makes it halfway across the table before it starts fluttering down.
âItâs only manners,â you insist, cheeks warm. âI didn't know what to do when the two of you were talking.â
He snorts. âYou couldâve joined the conversation.â
âAnd said what? "Hello, I'm also present and this jerkâs date for the day?â
âHey, I like the sound of that,â he muses.
Your next crumpled up napkin doesnât get any further than its predecessor. You glare at him, something about that conversation rubbing you the wrong way, echoing unpleasantly in your head in a way that makes you want to peel your skin off.
You clear your throat again.
âYou're here to teach me like I taught you statistics, right? Even though one is clearly harder than the other.â
âRight. Getting you to date ready is much more difficult.â
You ignore him to save the life of one napkin. âSo, how do I do that? Flirt so effortlessly and not make it cringe?â
âYou want to use what I just said with the waitress on Suguru?â He actually laughs out loud. âDo not, heâs going to see right through you. You should have met his last ex. The two of them were absolutely disgusting andâ oh wait, should I not talk about that?â
âYeah, letâs not.â
He hums and changes the subject. âAnyway, just let it happen. Be natural. You talk to me just fine.â
âYeah, but youâre you. frivolous, class clown, never takes anything seriously, probably never commits to anything,â you start listing, counting them on your fingers.
âI feel like the first thing and the last thing mean the same thing. Put one finger down.â
You refuse, still holding up four fingers. âSleeps on a mattress on the ground.â
âSo does half of Sig Kap. But relax, I get it. So you suck at flirting. Shouldnât you be happy I gave you a live demonstration of how itâs done?â
That gets you frowning again.
âDo you always call everyone something?â
âWhat does that even mean?â
âYou called her sweetheart.â
âI don't know her name. I wasn't about to call her âwomanâ, that sounds very sexist and I'm a feminist at heart. Thoughts on banning periods?â
âShe has a name tag.â
âI donât look at that area on a woman on the first date,â he pledges.
You continue without thinking.âHow is anyone supposed to know when you actually mean it when you give everyone similar nicknames?â
He goes quiet, eyes narrowing slightly. âWhat?â
Before you can elaborate, or maybe divert and make him look away so you can dig yourself out of the hole you just created, the waitress returns with his drink. She leans over him, placing it down carefully.
âHere you go!â
âThanks,â he says, polite but no longer quite as engaged. In fact, he hasnât looked away from you, still giving you that same disbelieving look.
You fiddle with your own drink. Maybe you should have ordered something else if it meant spicing up the number of objects you have in your possession to pass awkward silence with.
The waitress lingers a moment before hesitantly leaving when itâs clear thereâs no encore performance.
âI just meant itâs confusing for anyone, hypothetically,â you say in a rush, beating him. âAnyway! Flirting techniques, letâs talk about them!â
He watches you for a moment longer before dropping his head and ruffling his hair. You grimace, eyeing how close his head is to his open drink. When he looks back up, whatever conflict on his face has disappeared.
âFine, okay. Let's talk. First of all, itâs important where the date takes place. There's unspoken etiquette for every typical date location.â
âLike how you go on a coffee date, you shouldnât flirt with the waitress.â
Gojo cracks a grin. âYouâre getting it. Look, Suguru is kind of an artsy guy. He'd probably take you to an art museum or like a jazz bar for your first date.â
You narrow your eyes. âHow do you know that?â
âI told you, he tells me everything. Focus.â He dismisses your look. âHeâs kind of an enjoy-the-moment kind of guy. Probably wonât talk too much while youâre both admiring something together and saves all the talking until after when he leads you to some underground totally underrated dinner spot.â
You wince. âShit. I kind of like making little jokes in the moment.â
He snaps his fingers, face brightening. âRight? Like when youâre watching a movie in the cinemas!â
âOkay, that is a bit tricky. It depends.â
âDon't Genshin theorycraft me.â
âYou're lucky I got that reference.â
Gojo shrugs. âWell, Suguru enjoys just existing with his special someone. Don't get me wrong, he definitely talks when you get him started but I think heâs kinda cool for being able to sit in silence with someone.â
You chew the inside of your cheek. âIâm kind of bad with silences. I end up embarrassing myself just to fill them. Do you think itâs fixable? Should I just not talk?â
âWoah, slow down. Itâs fine, he has enough social awareness to fill in the gaps if youâre uncomfortable. But iâm just telling you what he likes,â he studies you. âHe doesnât like petnames, by the way.â
Heat creeps up your neck. âThatâs fine, itâs not a dealbreaker,â you mumble.
âI'm just saying. He's a real fan of using your first name. When you two get on that basis, of course.â
âAnything else, Geto expert?â
Gojo hums, taking a long sip of his latte, eyes tracking up. âHe likes meaningful stuff like art with a story behind it, long conversations about philosophy. Like yeah he still likes doing things just for fun but thereâs a difference between like and love.â
You wince. âBut love is meant to be silly, meaningless stuff. Like sending pictures of dogs cuddling because it reminded you of us or whether youâd still love each other if you turned into worms. Like taking the longer way back home just to spend more time together. Or, I don't know, building blanket forts as adults.â
Gojoâs mouth twitches.
You stop, suddenly aware you sound like youâve been storing these thoughts and theyâve suddenly all gotten loose.
âStuff that doesnât matter,â you finish weakly.
He rests his chin on his palm. âLike going to the arcade and getting plushies for each other at the claw machines?â
You laugh, shoulders relaxing. âI'd obviously do better. You look like you have no hand eye coordination.â
âDid you forget I literally play ice hockey?â
âRight, your role as the benchwarmer?â
âMy ass has never once graced those benches.â
âI don't know, I swear I remember seeing you on the sidelines.â
âYouâve come to watch me play before?â He grins, cheek slightly smushed from his position.
âBecause Shoko went.â
He juts his lower lip out. âHarsh.â
There's a few seconds of silence as the conversation replays and you feel a sudden rush of embarrassment. You look up to see if he clocked your earlier slip up but he only tilts his head more into his hand.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â You clear your throat and look down at your drink. It's left behind a ring of water around its base. âHow are you two best friends when youâre so different?â
âBecause he slows me down,â Gojo says like itâs simple. âAnd I drag him out of his head. But he doesnât need another person to do that for him so donât even think of taking my spot.â
You both share a laugh and it lingers a little longer than the joke deserves, warm and easy, until it naturally tapers off into something softer.
âWhy do you even like him?â He suddenly asks, voice soft against the murmur of the cafe.
You slowly slide your gaze out the window as if reliving the moment. You can almost feel the rain on your skin, the warmth of a hoodie not your own, and the residual laughter at the back of your throat that makes you smile.
âLast semester when it was pouring rain, he saw me waiting outside a building without an umbrella and we ended up running through the storm. Itâs stupid but it was fun and meaningless and definitely what I needed after my finals.â
Your words make him frown, finger tracing a random shape on the wet surface of his glass absentmindedly. âThat doesnât sound like him.â
âMaybe you donât know him as well as you thought?â You offer.
âDonât be ridiculous, heâs my other half.â
âAgain, should I be concerned right now?â
âAre you homophobic?â
âNo?â
âThen youâre fine.â
âWaitâŠâ
Gojo glances down at his phone and sighs. âIt's getting late, sweets. I'd love to stay longer but I promised the boys weâd go do this carwashing event.â
He pauses and looks up.
âDid you want to come?â he quickly adds on, âYou donât have to come alone, you could bring Shoko along or something.â
You wrinkle your nose. âNo thanks. You can imagine that sheâs not keen on seeing a bunch of shirtless boys.â
He grins. âSuit yourself. I'll walk you out. It's the least I can do on this date.â
You roll your eyes but stand and follow him out anyway, ducking under his arm as he holds the door open for you. Stepping out, youâre almost blinded by the bright sun and you have to cover your eyes to look up, squinting even with the shade provided by your palm.
He moves to stand in front of you. âWell, I'll see you around.â
Next tutoring session,â you remind him, letting your arm drop to your side. "Don't forget to watch the online lectures before then. And remember to do the weekly quizzes this time. Andââ
He reaches over to ruffle your hair fiercely, laughing when your words turn into a startled squeak.
âYes, yes, I got it,â
He lets you go and watches with a toothy grin as you start fixing your hair, glaring up at him and his audacity to smirk. His face quickly softens.
âSorry I canât walk you back to your dorms. I'm already running kind of late.â
âDon't worry about it,â you say when you feel like you look presentable enough. âUm, get there safe?â
âI will,â he starts stepping back. âText me if you need anything.â
âOkay, make sure toââ
âRelax, sweets, I got it,â He says with a chuckle and a wave, before he turns and starts walking off in your opposite direction.
You watch him go for a little longer before heading back to your dorm.You stare up at your ceiling. your ceiling stares back down at you. You've been staring at your popcorn ceiling for so long that youâve begun to discern shapes and different shades of what you had previously considered to be beige, plain and simple, but was now warping into the image of Gojo.
Something he had done yesterday clung to you even hours after the date. The ease in which he allowed the waitressâ fingers to brush his as he handed her the menus, the way he easily held onto your hand at the party, the lack of concern as he stood close to you on the walk back. You lift up your hands and slowly interlace your fingers. It's comfortable, familiar. until you start wondering one hand as someone else's.
Before you can doubt yourself, you pull yourself up and gather your phone and keys, heading to the door without another thought. On the way through the dorms, you send a quick text.
you: u free? im coming over
You stand outside Gojoâs door and knock. There's a muffled, incoherent reply before the door is pulled open, revealing Gojo. His hair is slightly damp with stubborn strands clinging to his forehead and heâs brushing his teeth. He's not wearing a shirt.
You stare at his chest.
âOne second,â he says around the foam in his mouth. He holds the door open a little wider and ushers you in, letting the door fall to a gentle click behind you. âSit on the couch.â
Wordlessly, you do, watching his bare back as he heads into his bathroom. The sound of water muffles your racing thoughts until he reappears, still shirtless but at least heâs not brushing his teeth anymore.
âHey,â he says, irritatingly casual. âI saw your text. You didnât even wait to see if I was free or not. For the record I am but imagine I wasn't. That would have been an awkward situation and between you and her, I would have picked her.â
You blink away your surprise and look up at him. âHer?â
âItâs a Friday night, Y/N. Youâre lucky I don't have someone over.â
You frown a little at that and he continues, heading to his kitchenette to open his fridge, pulling out two beers. He hands you one, pushing it towards you once more when you donât immediately take up his offer.
âSo, what are you doing here?â
âAre you going to put on a shirt?â
He blinks before a wide grin splits across his face. âI was wondering what you were looking at so deep in thought. I didn't want to assume again after you made a fool of me at the party but I guess you do have working eyes after all. Do you want me to put on a shirt?â
You blush, finally looking away. âObviously.â
He chuckles and places his beer down on the coffee table before going on a hunt to find a clean shirt. âBut from the way you were eyeing me it really wasnât that obvious. Besides, youâre telling me to put on a shirt in my own home?â
âIt's common sense when you have a guest over.â
His voice carries over from his room. âYouâre not really a guest, more like a pest. A guest implies I invited you over, no?â
âBut yesterday you said I could come to you for anything.â
âRight. What was I thinking?â Gojo comes back out and flops next to you, the couch dipping under his sudden weight. He takes the beer from your hands and cracks it open before handing it back and doing the same to his. âSo, you finally going to tell me whatâs up or are you just here to leech off my dwindling beer supply?â
âI donât even drink,â you mumble, watching as the water beads down your fingers.
âNo, but I do have some manners for my guest.â
âYou just saidâŠâ you trail off, recognising that youâll only go round and round in circles if you keep up this conversation. you place the beer on the floor and turn to him. âForget it. I'm here because I need your help.â
âFigures.â He holds the beer to his lips and takes a deep swig. âWhat can I do for you today?â
You bite your lip before turning to him. âCan I kiss you?â
Gojo chokes, pulling the beer from his lips with a hack, liquid spitting out onto his no longer clean shirt and sweatpants. He finally manages to get his mouthful of beer down, but he only coughs and hits at his chest. Hesitantly, you reach over and pat his back lightly.
He shrugs your touch away, looking at you in disbelief. âWhat did you just say?â
âI was wondering if youâd let me kiss you?â
âJust because youâre saying it politer now doesnât take away how crazy you sound.â He stares at you incredulously. âLook, I know we went on a date yesterday but I thought you of all people knew it was a practice date. I'm sorry but I don't feel the same way. Gojo Satoru doesnât do relationships.â
You groan, rolling your eyes. âI didnât suddenly develop a crush on you, Gojo.â
âSatoru,â he corrects you despite his shock.
âSatoru,â you emphasise. âI donât like you.â
âCould have fooled me.â
âYesterday just got me thinking. Youâre so natural with touching and stuff and I realised that I have literally no experience whatsoever. I know Geto isnât the type of person to care about whether I'm a virgin or not but I care. I care because I know I'll freeze up if we ever get to that part.â
He stares at you. âWhen i asked you a few days ago about whether or not you wanted to sleep with him, you told me to shut up.â
âThat was a few days ago.â You shuffle closer to him on the couch and watch as his eyes drop to your thighs inching closer, then back up, something like fear on his face. âI know this is a big favour but I thought since youâve kissed so many girls before and theyâve never meant anything that you might be okay with this? I mean you thought we were going to kiss that time at the party. So is this really that crazy to ask?â
âYes,â he says immediately. âIt is. because you like Suguru and I'm his best friend.â
âBut this is practice.â
âYou canât just echo what I've said in the past.â He runs a hand through his hair, looking off in the distance before coming back to you. âSuguru isnât the type of person to rush to things like that. You'd be in good hands.â
âI know but this is for me. So I know what to expect.â
His face is contorted in a way youâve never seen before. You decide to give another push.
âJust think of me as one of your hookups.â
He exhales softly, eyes staring into yours. âAre you sure? Have you even thought this through?â
âYes, I have,â you lie. âI mean, there arenât any cons. I'll lose my first kiss, get experience, and itâs all under practice anyway so it wonât mean anything. And you get a hookup for the night. It's a win win!â
His face only seems to pale more at your words. âYou havenât had your first kiss yet? Fuck, thatâs a lot of pressure. And I feel like you have the wrong idea about what a hookup entails.â
You shrug. âKissing? Making out?â
âSex.â
You pause. âWell, we wonât go that far. Maybe.â
âMaybe?â He exclaims and you quickly deflect because heâs looking more and more shocked.
âWe can start with kissing.â You shift closer, your thigh pressing against his. âCome on, it doesnât have to mean anything.â
Gojo looks at you, really looks at you, from the encouraging look in your eyes to the determined line of your lips. He huffs, running another hand through his hair at the absurd change to his Friday night plans. Sure, kissing someone wasnât a big deal for him, not when heâs tasted the lips of many before, but there was something different about taking someoneâs first kiss.
Finally, he sighs, long and hard. âJust a kiss.â
You beam, face lighting up. âOf course!â
He hesitates, cursing under his breath something long but incoherent, before gently reaching out to tilt your chin up. âTell me if you change your mind. Just shove me away, okay?â
You nod enthusiastically. âWhat do I have to do?â
âJust let me take the lead for now. And if you feel confident enough to kiss back, go for it.â Again, Gojo mumbles something under his breath, the absurdity of the situation still not lost to him. He leans forward as if to seal the deal before pausing, moving his hand up to caress your cheek tenderly.
Your breath hitches, eyes wide as you curse your own touch-starved form.
âYou okay?â He asks, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. âChanged your mind?â
You shake your head slightly.
Gojo huffs and you feel the puff of air against your lips.
When his lips finally press against yours, fitting against yours in a way youâve only ever seen in movies, you feel⊠nothing. You squeeze your eyes tighter, trying to dig through the sensations and pick out the one thatâs meant to set off fireworks and melt your stomach into goo. Instead, it just feels like thereâs someoneâs lips touching yours.
Sensing your discomfort, Gojo pulls back, eyes fluttering open to meet your unsure ones. His nose scrunches up a little as he studies your expression.
âHey,â he starts, voice low. âYou're hurting my ego.â
You lick your lips, trying to return your lips to their usual sensation. âIt just wasnât what I was expecting.â
âWhat were you expecting?â
âButterflies?â
He chuckles, hand still caressing your cheek. âYou're kissing me without any feeling. Itâs not my fault youâre as stiff as a board. Relax. Imagine Suguru or something.â
Now itâs your turn to make a face. "Wouldn't that hurt your ego more?â
âJust relax,â he repeats and you make the conscious effort to focus on the way heâs stroking your face soothingly. âThatâs it. Good girl.â
âDon't call me that, I cringed.â
He laughs, leaning in. âAbandon the part of you that cringes not the part of you that is cringe.â
With that, he brushes his lips against your again, letting you feel the slow movement and determine the pace.
Itâs not exactly rocket science, this kissing business, and you start to mimic the motion of parting your lips against his. It takes a few tries for him to hum in approval and deepen the kiss, his free hand sliding up to cup your neck and gently pull you closer to him. You let out a soft squeak and quickly pick up from the momentary break in rhythm on your end.
When his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, you blanch and pull back.
âOkay,â he starts. âThat really hurt my feelings.â
âWhat was that?â You cover your mouth with your hands, the slimy sensation replaying in your mind.
âThat was my tongue.â
âWhy didnât it feel good?â
He rolls his eyes at your complaint and slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until youâre half on his lap. âBecause youâre thinking too hard.â
âI was not thinking at all, actually,â you say, scandalised. âI didn't know I was going to be ambushed.â
âOkay, my bad, I should have given you a heads up.â He pauses and announces solemnly, "I'm going to start using my tongue.â
You make a face and he huffs out a laugh, forehead dropping briefly against yours. Up close like this, you can feel the vibration of it in his chest, the way his grip tightens just a little like he doesnât want you getting any bright ideas about you escaping.
âYou're doing fine,â he says more softly, thumb brushing slow circles at your waist.
You think briefly that this must be the allure to him that has girls fawning for his attention. You're not immune either, and you sub consciously melt under his touch, relaxing again. Once youâve done it once, given into his temptation, itâs easy to fall back again.
âFine doesnât seem like outstanding status,â you mumble, trying to maintain some resistance.
âFor your first time, it wasnât so bad.â His nose nudges yours, playfully and coaxing and youâre in his web again. âCâmere.â
Gojo doesnât pull you this time. Instead, he just waits, one arm warm and steady around your hips, hand stroking your hair as he waits for you to come to him. It's a sign of consideration that has you feeling jittery and warm, though thereâs a lazy smirk on his lips that suggests he has other ulterior motives that makes it as infuriating as it is attractive.
Your gaze flicks to his mouth then back to his eyes. His lashes lower just slightly, watching you watch him, and something in your stomach flips over completely. Probably your common sense.
âJust⊠slower,â you mumble.
âYeah,â he says quietly. âSlower.â
He still doesnât move first which is deeply unfair, because now you have to be the brave one.
You lean in. It's clumsy at first, more of a gentle bump of noses and a too-soft press of lips than anything smooth or cinematic like he had kissed you earlier. You almost pull back in embarrassment, ready to admit that maybe he was a better kisser than you had given him credit for if itâll mean this pathetic peck of yours can end and he can make it good again, when his hand tightens on your hip and he takes over.
His mouth settles properly over yours, angle shifting until the awkwardness disappears, until it stops being babyâs first kiss and starts becoming a warm, steady pressure that has your toes curling. Yhe faint brush of his breath against your cheek, the subtle tilt of his head that fits your mouth together and when he nips at your bottom lip, a soft startled sound escapes before you can stop it.
He swallows it down without hesitation.
His hand tightens reflexively and slides down, cupping your ass as he leans back and guides you onto him, fingers pressing into the fabric of your clothes to keep you there, not that you had any plans of moving. One moment your body is twisted awkwardly to meet him and the next youâre seated full on his lap, his warmth solid beneath you.
His breath fans across your cheek in uneven bursts, warm and damp, and the faint scrape of his teeth lingers as a tingling awareness.
You realise, distantly, that youâre no longer stiff.
Your hands, which had been braced awkwardly against his shoulders, loosen without permission. One slides up into his hair as you lean into him, damp strands cool at the ends, warm near the scalp, and the sensation grounds you in a way nothing else does. His mouth opens at the sensation and when his tongue sweeps along your lower lip again, you donât pull away. It isnât slimy or invasive like last time, in fact you welcome it, mimicking his openness and the kiss deepens.
Your breath mingles, movements syncing up and under the guidance of his lips and tongue, you start getting bolder.
You shift closer, just a fraction, your head moving up and face tilting down to angle yourself deeper when a low sound slips out of him.
Your eyes fly open and you pull away. âWas thatââ
âNope,â he says immediately, eyes darker than when you last checked. He's panting beneath your palms, a slightly warm tint to his face as he stares at you.
You swallow. âYou justââ
âI didnât,â he insists, far too quickly.
When heâs so adamant like that, itâs a little hard to say anything more. Besides, while itâs almost fun to poke the bear, the memory of his mouth on yours has you thinking about something else entirely.
You donât move from his lap and he doesnât push you off.
âThink youâre getting it?â he asks, watching you with something unreadable lurking in his eyes.
You donât hesitate. âNo.â
You stare at each other, catching a much needed breath.
âAlright,â he says, voice rough. âOne more. and then we have to stop.â
You lean in and he lets out a soft sigh like a man doomed before meeting you halfway.
Gojo doesnât start slow this time, maybe because he knows if he does, he wonât be able to control himself.
His hand slides more firmly to the back of your neck, guiding you towards him with a kind of impatience, mouth finding yours with confidence, your chest tightening at the gesture. Your fingers clutch at his shirt instinctively and he makes a low noise at the back of his throat, deepening the kiss until you slide your fingers up and into his hair.
A low exhale slips through his nose, almost shaky and he tilts his head in response to your faint tugs.
âThatâs it,â he murmurs against your lips.
Emboldened, you tilt your head and slide your tongue into his mouth to taste him. He tastes like beer and minty and something addictive that has you repeating the movement over and over. When he reciprocates, your stomach swoops instead of recoiling.
You shift, suddenly desperate to get closer and settle over his bulge.
Wow.
You both jerk away from each other quickly, your hands leaving his hair and his arm retracting from your waist. The break feels violent in its suddenness, like surfacing too fast in deep water.
Cold air rushes between you where there had only been warmth seconds ago. Your lips tingle, oversensitive, parted as you drag in a shaky breath. Gojoâs chest rises and falls sharply, eyes wide in a way youâve never seen before, pupils blow dark. For once, there is no smirk, no teasing glint, just a raw, stunned awareness, like heâs trying to process several things at once and failing at all of them.
You become acutely aware of exactly where youâre sitting.
Heat floods your face and to the tips of your ears. you scramble backward, knees slipping against the couch cushions, putting space between your bodies even as the loss of his warmth makes your skin prickle.
âOh my god,â you breathe, horrified. âI didnâtâI mean, I wasn't trying toââ
âDonât,â he groans, slumping back, covering his flushed face with his arm. His other hand reaches down to adjust himself though he doesnât seem to have any ideas of covering himself so you watch unabashedly. âJust donât say anything for a second.â
You clamp your mouth shut obediently.
The room feels too small, too quiet, every little sound like the rustle of fabric or the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchenette, even your own uneven breathing, suddenly feels magnified.
Eventually, Gojo pulls himself up, fixing dark eyes on your figure.
âIâm sorry.â You rush to say, though youâre not sure what youâre apologising for.
âItâs fine, itâs not your fault. It wasn't because of you, I guess I've just been pent up,â he runs his hand through his hair and you watch as he pauses, something passing over his face before he abruptly pulls his hand away. âAnyway, itâs normal.â
You nod too fast. âRight, yes. Totally fine. Super normal, nothing weird happened.â
âRight,â he says. âNothing weird.â
Your shoulders sag a little, tension leaking out now that thatâs been cleared up. The adrenaline leaves behind a strange floaty sensation and you try, and fail, to push down the sudden desire to continue, to explore even further.
âWeâre definitely stopping the practice today,â he says, crushing your dreams.
You nod again, somewhat grateful that a decision has been made for you considering the conflict thoughts warring in your head. âOkay.â
He suddenly ruffles his hair all messy and stands up with an exaggerated groan that makes you jump. âOkay! That's over. You did good by the way. Youâre gonna be trouble when you actually start dating someone.â
You frown. âWhy?â
âIt's a compliment, sweets, learn to recognise them, yeah?â He starts walking over to his kitchenette. âWant an actual drink?â
Your brain is still somewhere back in that last kiss, struggling to catch up. âSure. Just water, right?â
He snorts. âIâm not a creep.â
When you lean back against the couch and close your eyes to recenter yourself, he steals a glance and lets out a long exhale. He closes his eyes for a moment like heâs deeply exhausted.
When he opens his eyes again and makes his way to you, his signature smirk is back.
If anyone saw how nervous you look about to text Gojo, they might think you had a crush on him. Which is absurd because you clearly have a crush on Geto.
Your thumb hovers over the send button, chewing the inside of your cheeks as you debate whether this is a good idea or not.
Itâs been a week since you first asked Gojo for advice and though his methods werenât orthodox nor was he incredible help, you still had to give him his merits. Talking to him was relaxing in a way, the constant back and forth familiar and even his judgement didnât seem to come from a bad place. The physical stuff was a whole other story and did not influence your thoughts on how you felt about him whatsoever.
In summary, Gojo has given you determination that you couldnât have achieved on your own.
Using this newfound confidence, you take a deep breath and finally hit send.
you: hey are you in class today?
Not even a full minute later, his reply buzzes.
gojo: yeah i am
stalking me, super fan?
you: god this is exactly why i hate texting u
gojo: :(
why whats up though
ur class doesnât finish until 2 right?
you: yeah how did u know that?
u sure ure not my super fan?
gojo: guilty!
i just know dont ask what u cant handle
so u gonna leave me in suspense or are u gonna tell me
you: well you have class with geto right
The inside of your cheeks starts getting a little tender as you continue to gnaw and bite at the flesh, anxiously waiting as Gojoâs typing bubbles appear and disappear.
gojo: yeah i do
you: can i come see you?
gojo: what
you: like ill come to your class but can you leave after so its just me and him
u were talking about creating these situations on saturday right
so like
wouldnt this be perfect?
gojo: god this conversation isnât good for my heart
you: ?
gojo: our class ends later than urs
you: thatâs fine i can wait !!
gojo: nah i dont feel like it
you: ?????
man what the hell you said youâd help me
gojo: and i did
on saturday
what if i want suguru all to myself today?
you: come on please???
gojo: what if i dont want to see u
you: well i wont be bothering u this time
i just need an excuse to see him
i think whatever magic u casted over me on sat worked im feeling like scarily confident
i want to talk to him before the feeling goes away
like i feel like i can really do it this time you know?
please satoru?
gojo: god u have no idea how evil u are
fine
ill get us to go to the library
you: THANK YOU@!!!!!!
gojo: u owe me
you: YES DEFINITELY
gojo: another date this friday then
you: OKAY!!!
wait what
Waiting at the library is agonising. you attempt to complete some smaller tasks for your courses that youâve left in lieu of thinking about, well, boys. But just like every time before, your thoughts stray and settle on him. His pretty effortless smiles, his soft laughter, that sparkling glint in his eyes when he looks at you and itâs like the world quietens just to listen too. his long fingers, the mole on his earlobe, his whiteâ
When your phone buzzes again an hour later, you jump up from your seat to find the location of the photo Gojo sent.
You slip into the fifth library floor as quietly as possible, scanning the endless rows of students for the familiar top of someoneâs head. It doesn't take long for your eyes to settle on him.
Gojo is impossible to miss, slouched low in a study booth, hood up and drooping over his hair and the bottom pulled up to cover his mouth. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares at his laptop screen.
And of course, Geto sits across from him.
Taking in a deep breath, you slow your pace into something that might pass as a casual stroll as if you had randomly come upon them by chance and stop by their booth.
âOh, hi Satoru!â
He doesnât look up. âHey.â
Then, after a manual moment, you turn to Geto. âOh my god! Geto? Wow.â Your voice comes out pitched a little too loud. âWhat a coincidence!â
Geto looks up with a smile. âHey, Y/N. What are the chances we ran into each other?â
Gojo snorts and you donât miss how pointed it is. You take the chance to glare at the side of his face but he only sinks into his hoodie with a grumble. You continue to stare, even narrowing your eyes as if itâll sharpen your gaze and he finally lets out a loud groan, flipping the hood down to ruffle his hair and sit up.
âOh no,â he announces into the silence, loud enough to draw a few irritated glances, not that he cares. He checks his phone, staring at his empty notification list. âIt looks like my best friend accidentally locked himself out of his dorm.â
Geto pauses. âI'm your best friend.â
You purse your lips, watching as Gojo begins to slowly pack up his things. Granted, he only needed to close his laptop and shove it into his tote bag, without a case mind you. He refuses to look up despite your efforts to catch his gaze.
âSorry man, duty calls. I canât help that iâm such a good friend.â He stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. When he passes by, his arm brushing against yours despite the empty space all around, he leans down to whisper, âGood luck.â
You donât have the time to decipher if itâs sincerity or sarcasm that you detect because he leaves, his lingering cologne the only sign that he was ever there.
You turn back to Geto, offering a small, awkward smile, wondering if heâs caught on.
âWhat was that about?â You laugh.
Geto chuckles softly. âSorry about him. You know how he can be sometimes.â
He looks up at you patiently.
âWell, an empty spot has opened up. Are you staying to study?â
You fight the urge to celebrate. You happily erase thoughts of Gojo from your mind, leaving the gruelling task of decoding his strange behaviour for another day. Gojoâs seat is still warm when you take it, pulling out your laptop just for the act. There was no way you were wasting this golden opportunity with actually studying, donât be silly.
âSo,â you begin, picking at the corner of your sleeve. âAny plans this weekend?â
âYou didnât hear? Satoru is having a game this weekend. Itâs just a preliminary but heâs been hyped for it. I'm sure heâd love it if you rocked up.â
You almost laugh out loud. âNo way. He'd hate that.â
Getoâs brows lift, amused. âWhy would he hate it?â
âBecause,â you say, gesturing vaguely. âWe're not really friends. More like we have a symbiotic relationship. If we didnât have that, I doubt weâd even talk to each other.â
âI don't think so,â Geto smiles at you but instead of giving you the butterflies, it leaves you feeling unsure. âBut you should come. Not by yourself, of course, I'm sure Shoko would come along.â
âIf she was going to go, sheâd just take Utahime.â You shift in your seat, throwing the idea around in your head. âEven if I wanted to, I don't think I know anyone else whoâd want to come with.â
âDo you want to go with me?â
Your brain blanks.
âWhat?â
âI was planning on going anyway,â he says, tone casual and all your senses tunnel-vision on him. âBesides, I've been curious about the girl whoâs been taking up so much of Satoruâs time.â
Your answer is obvious.
âIâd love to!â
It comes out a little too fast, a little too bright, but you canât quite bring yourself to care. Relief, excitement, disbelief, it all tangles together in your chest until the only discernable thing left is a giddy sort of lightness.
Getoâs smile widens, clearly pleased and you beam back. He hands you his phone.
âCan I have your Insta then? So I can text you the details later.â
Your hands shake as you take it, thumbs clumsy as you type in your username, backspacing more times than youâd like to admit. Youâre suddenly hyperaware of everything, the way heâs close enough to see your screen, the warmth of his hand where it had just been, the ridiculous desire to go through your own profile but through his eyes settling on your mind. Later, you can already imagine stalking your own profile, scrutinising every photo, every caption, trying to imagine what it would look like to be him scrolling through for the first time.
When he takes his phone back, he doesnât immediately pocket it. Instead, he actually looks, thumb scrolling down, humming.
Oh god, heâs looking right now.
"Where's that quote from your bio from?â He asks, glancing up briefly. âIt sounds familiar.â
âOh, um. Itâs from my favourite novel.â Your eyes flutter across his face as you tell him the title, sneaking in a quick description to try to sell it.
âIâll have to check it out then,â Geto says, putting his phone away. âDo you read often?â
âNot as much as I want to. You know how it is, with school and everything. Not to mention books are crazy expensive nowadays.â
He nods sympathetically. âThere's this small bookshop tucked away near the city. It's actually close by the rink where Satoruâs game is. I could show you after his game on Saturday.â
Your breath catches.
âAfter the game?â You repeat, trying very hard to sound normal and not out-of-breath.
Geto nods, completely at ease.
âIf youâre not in a rush to get back after,â he adds, considerate as ever. âIt says open pretty late.â
You stare at him for a second, thoughts scrambling over each other.
Heâs inviting you out after a game. That meant walking together, talking more, being alone without the buffer of a crowd screaming over a bunch of men slamming into each other and hitting with their sticks.
You realise youâre meant to give an answer and quickly hurry.
âYeah, that sounds perfect actually!â You say, a touch too fast, then wince and try again, softer. âI meanâyeah. That sounds really nice.â
âGood,â he says simply, smile deepening. âIt's a cozy place. You could get lost in there for hours.â
âThat sounds dangerous. I already have a book-buying problem."
âSecondhand prices,â he reminds you. âIt's much safer.â
You hum. âThat's debateable. Lower prices just means I have to buy more.â
You canât believe your luck. Not only had Geto basically invited you on a date to Gojoâs game, heâs also asked you to go book shopping together afterward. And somehow, you had just finished a perfectly normal conversation with him without embarrassing yourself beyond recovery.
Could things possibly get any better?
âYou know,â he starts up again and you lean in. âSatoruâs doing suspiciously good in his classes recently. Any clue why?â
You freeze, temporarily thrown off guard. âHe better be. I don't tutor him for nothing.â
âI knew it was you. Why are you tutoring him? If heâs blackmailing you, I can help,â he says with a straight face.
âNo, no! Nothing like that!â You rush to explain.
He cracks a smile. âIâm just joking. He's not actually as bad as his reputation makes him out to be. It's all bad rep, you know?â
While youâve known Gojo through his reputation for as long as you can remember, youâve never once stopped to consider that might not be everything about him.
âWhat do you mean?â
âSig Kap had a frat sweetheart two years ago,â Geto explains, folding his hands loosely on his laptop. âShe was nice, really sweet but some of the older guys treated her like shit. When Satoru called some of the boys out for messing with her they werenât too happy.â
Your brows lift. âSo did they kick him out or something?â
âNot that thereâs much they could have done considering his family.â
âWhat about them?â
He glances at you surprised. âYou donât know?â
You shake your head.
âHuh.â His expression softens into something gentler. âYeah. A lot of people approach him because they want something, connections, favours, you know the deal. He absolutely hates it. Ironically, that influence is also what kept the older guys from pushing back too hard and they couldnât exactly scare him off so heâs there to stay.â
âAnd some people still donât like him?â
âSome still donât,â Geto confirms. âSo they spread all those stupid rumours instead. Probably easier that way since itâs not exactly traceable.â
Your stomach tightens. âWhat kind of rumours?â
He hesitates, then shrugs. âStuff about him sleeping around. that heâs messed with every girl on campus, that kind of thing. You donât have to look so devastated, it doesnât bother him much. If anything, it gets him more game. But itâs far from the truth. I mean youâre a girl on campus and he hasnât messed with you.â
Something about the way he says it, calm and matter-of-fact, makes your chest ache.
âHe did earn a lot of respect back,â Geto continues, oblivious to your growing distress. âEspecially from the younger guys. But some of the older ones never really got over it.â
He falls silent, studying you with that gentle, searching look that makes you feel like youâre under a microscope and the spotlight is shining down on you. Whatever he sees under the lens makes him smile.
âItâs nice,â he says softly. âThat youâre so genuine with him. He doesnât get that very often.â
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Couldn't he have used a word other than âgenuineâ? Because you arenât genuine, far from it, and that realisation makes your stomach drop, nausea blooming sharp and sudden and upheaving the contents.
You approached Gojo with a plan just like all those who have approached him with ulterior motives in the past. And youâve used him for his friendship and his willingness to help, to get closer to the person right in front of you.
You are no better than the people Geto just described. Worse, even.
Heat rushes to your face, then drains away just as quickly, leaving you cold.
You push your chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.
âWhere did Gojo go?â you ask, wincing internally.
Geto blinks up at you, startled by the sudden shift. âOh, uh.â He gestures vaguely toward the exit. âHe said he had to help meâthat is, his friend unlock his door. He's probably back in his room now though.â
You nod too quickly, already stuffing your laptop into your bag with fumbling hands, cables tangling as if theyâre conspiring against you.
âAre you going after him?â Geto asks gently.
You freeze for a split second.
Are you?Here you are, sitting across from the person you supposedly like, the person you engineered this entire situation to get closer to, and youâre about to abandon the conversation to chase after his best friend. This is your chance, the perfect golden opportunity, and youâre throwing it away. and yet, you canât bring yourself to completely doubt yourself.
âYeah,â you say, half a smile hovering on your lips. âIâm so sorry. Thereâs just something I need to say to him.â
You bite your lip.
âSee you at the match though?"
Getoâs surprise melts into an easy grin. "Don't worry about it. Good luck. And Y/N, seriously, take care of him, okay?â
The words prick at your skin with a faint sense of deja vu, but you donât stop to examine it. Instead, you give Geto one last shaky smile, sling your bag over your shoulder, and hurry toward the exit. Your heart pounds so loudly it drowns everything else.Â
You knock at what you believe is his door if memory serves correct.
âGo away, I'm jerking it.â
You canât decide if heâs being serious or just scaring unwanted guests away. Regardless, you clear your throat and talk.
âSorry for interrupting? Look, itâs me, itâs Y/N. Can I come in?â
No sooner had you said your name, the door flies open, Gojo standing right behind, eyes wide and face flushed.
âY/N? What are youâI mean, I thought you had that date with Suguru?â He goes to run a hand through his hair but pauses, switching to his other hand.
âYeah well, clearly I left him to come see you.â You sigh deeply and brush past him into his room. âThereâs something I need to say to you and itâs really eating up at me for some reason.â
âNo sure, go ahead. Walk right in,â he mumbles but doesnât try to stop you, instead closing the door gently. âWhat are you doing here? Because if youâre here to gloat or have a girl talk, Shoko is the one for you.â
You flop onto his couch, staring up at his ceiling. He pauses before following, the couch cushions dipping under his weight as he drops down beside you.
âGojo, Iâm really sorry,â you say, turning to him.
He stares back unamused. âI told you to call me Satoru.â
You blink, momentarily caught off guard before correcting yourself. âSatoru. I'm really sorry.â
âOkay.â His frown lifts and he leans back to look at you. âAbout what?â
You open your mouth, then close it again, suddenly unsure where to even start.
âAbout everything?â You try weakly.
He raises a brow. âThat narrows it down.â
You groan, dragging a hand over your face. âOkay, specifically I feel like I've been using you and being annoying and dragging you into my mess. And also I abandoned you in the library which was rude and I donât know what I was thinking. I guess I wasn't and I'm really sorry.â
Gojo blinks at you and you hold your breath for the verdict.
â...thatâs it?â
âThatâs not âitâ, thatâs a lot,â you argue, pushing yourself up. âYou've been helping me this whole time and I'm just barging into your life, asking for unreasonable favors and taking up your time.â
He watches you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes, surprise, confusion, maybe even something softer that he quickly buries under a flippant expression.
âThat's it?â he repeats, slower this time.
You nod, twisting in your fingers together in your lap, the fight leaving your body as quick as it came. âI mean, it's not nothing. I know I've been a lot. And you didnât have to help me at all, with any of it, but you did and IâŠâ Your voice falters. âI don't want you to think I was just⊠using you.â
Silence settles between you, thick but not entirely uncomfortable. The hum of his mini fridge in the corner fills the gaps. Somewhere down the hall, a door slams and laughter echoes faintly before fading.
Gojo exhales through his nose and leans back, head tipping against the couch cushion as he stares up at the ceiling.
âYouâre terrible,â he mutters.
He turns his head to look at you properly, blue eyes sharp in a way that makes your chest tighten. Up close like this, without the buffer of banter or crowds or motion, itâs impossible to ignore how intense he can be when he isnât performing for anyone. You've had the privilege to see this side of him a few times, and the thought that heâs let you in and youâve only gone and used him fills you with more guilt.
âYou didnât abandon me in the library,â he continues. âI left on my own free will, remember?â
âYeah butââ
âAnd youâre not using me,â he adds, voice flattening slightly. âIf you were, then you arenât using me to my full potential.â
You huff a weak laugh. âThanks?â
âI mean it,â he says, not smiling. âPeople who use others donât show up at their door looking like theyâre going to throw up from guilt.â
Heat creeps up your neck. âI did not look like that.â
âYou did,â he says easily. âStill kind of do.â
You shove his shoulder lightly. He barely moves, solid as ever, but the corner of his mouth lifts and the tension in your chest loosens at the sight.
âSo⊠youâre not mad?â You ask carefully.
He considers that more seriously than you expected. âI was.â
The worry comes back tenfold.
âBut not for the reason you think. So stop looking like youâve aged ten years, sweets, itâs not a good look on you.â
You wait for him to elaborate but he doesnât.
You sigh, unable to keep up with the emotional whiplash and opt to instead throw it all away.
âOkay, well thatâs cryptic," you mutter.
He shrugs. âI'm a mysterious guy. Itâs all part of the irresistable, untouchable charm.â
âI donât see how you can be mysterious when youâre so loud.â
âI open up to you and this is what I get?â
âYou did not open up.â
He turns his head back toward the ceiling. âAnd now I'm closing back down.â
You roll your eyes, but the knot in your chest has loosened enough that you can breathe again, you almost miss this back and forth and it seems he does too because he relaxes fully into his couch. Without thinking, you mimic him, shoulder brushing his. This time, neither of you moves away.
The proximity feels different than before. You've been closer to him than this, and you randomly recall being on his lap for some reason unrelated to this specific moment and the charged, quiet atmosphere.
After a moment, he speaks again, softer.
âDid you at least get what you wanted?â
You hesitate, the question knocking you out of orbit. âI think so. I mean he asked me to go to the game with him. and then a bookstore after.â
Gojo goes still beside you.
âMy game?â He shakes his head with a scoff. âFigures. Well, good for you.â
You twist the fabric of your sleeve between your fingers, suddenly unsure why that answer feels so unsatisfying.
âYeah,â you say anyway, forcing brightness into your voice. âIt is good.â
He hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed somewhere on the ceiling. For someone who never shuts up, his silence feels louder than anything he could say. You sneak glances at him from the corner of your eye, observing the strong curve of his nose, the harsh bob of his Adam's apple, the rise and fall of his chest and his big hands youâve had the opportunity to feel on your ass.
The quiet stretches, though it is far from quiet inside your head.
Then, before you can stop yourself, youâre already opening your mouth.
âCan I ask you something?â
His gaze slides to you instantly, sharp and attentive as if he was waiting for you to break the silence first. âNot to be that guy but you just did.â
âA real question.â You roll your eyes though his somewhat predictable rage bait helps ease some tension. Still, you hesitate, throat tight. If you say it out loud, it becomes real and no longer a suppressed fantasy. But if you donât say anything, this feeling in your chest might never go away, tainting every future you might have with Geto.
âHow do you know what youâre doing?â You ask.
One white brow lifts. âIn what context? I'm good at a lot of things. You're gonna have to narrow it down, sweets.â
You groan softly. âWith girls. With⊠touching. And stuff. Etcetera.â
Understanding dawns slowly, then all at once. You donât catch the shift in experience because you stare stubbornly at your hands clasp in your lap, heat flooding your face.
âOh.â
âI just donât know,â you admit, voice small. âI don't know what I'm doing at all and itâs embarrassing.â
He sits up a little, attention sharpening in a way that makes your skin prickle.
âY/N.â
You press on before he can interrupt. âI mean, I know theoretically, obviously. That's what bio class is for right? But I know in practice Iâll just freeze. Or overthink or do nothing. And if things ever go further with Geto, I don't want to be useless. You mentioned heâs had exes before, right? But I haven't. And that kind of sucks to think about.â
Then softly. âYou're probably the closest thing to experience I have.â
âUseless,â he starts. âIs not the right word I'd use. Suguru would never think that. Heâs not a dick.â
You finally look at him. âI donât want him to regret it. Or think I'm awkward. or that I don't want him.â
He studies you for a long moment, jaw tight, eyes searching your face like heâs looking for something he hopes not to find. âAnd youâre telling me this becauseâŠ?â
You scoff. âYou're not stupid. I mean sure, you almost failed babyâs first statistics but youâre not dumb.â
âNo, I guess I'm not, thanks,â he sighs, running a hand through his hair. âBut I was kind of hoping maybe I'm still fantasising.â
âYou were fantasising before?â
âLet's not go there.â
âItâs a Friday,â you say slowly. "Shouldn't you have a hook up right about now?â
He pouts, looking oddly down. âI wasn't feeling like it.â
âSo you had to use your hand.â
âI wasn't jerking off, Y/N.â
Neither of you believe that statement. Here you are, sitting on the couch of campus heartthrob Gojo Satoru, joking around about the lack of a female body against him while youâre upset about being a virgin. Even Gojo, who isnât admittedly the best at math, shouldnât struggle with putting two and two together.
âRight, I believe you.â You bite your lip, opening your eyes wider as you plead. âI just hate feeling unprepared. Youâve seen just how bad I freeze. Canât you help me?â
He chews on his lips aggressively before finally groaning, running a hand down his face. âYou have the worst ideas known to man. Fine. I'll help you. But we're stopping if it gets weird.â
âObviously.â
âDo you even remember how to kiss?â
âFind out for yourself.â
You grab his collar and tug him towards you, smacking your lips against his the second heâs in range. It's not the graceful, fireworks-exploding moment from rom-coms, more like two magnets clashing awkwardly, teeth bumping before you recall the right angle. Gojo chuckles into the kiss, the vibration tickling your mouth, and you pull back just enough to glare at him.
âIt hurts that you donât remember my lessons, sweets,â Gojo purrs, clearly enjoying your fluster.
âShut up and kiss me properly,â you mutter, snarky even as your cheeks burn.
You dive back in, and this time it clicks, most likely due to his more active participation. Your lips move in sync, his tongue slipping past your teeth. It's surprisingly nice, all heat and shared air, making your stomach flip in a way thatâs equal parts nerves and excitement. You didnât realise how much you were craving this since the last time.
Gojoâs hands stay loose on your waist, respectful but firm, until he deepens the kiss with a low hum. You feel him shift under you, his body reacting before his brain catches up. When you break apart for air, his eyes are darker, pupils blown wide. He adjusts his hips, and thereâs no missing the semi-hard bulge straining against his jeans because it nudges insistently against your inner thigh.
You both look down.
âUh, yeah,â he says, voice a little rough, something like accusation in his eyes as he glares down at Gojo junior. âGuess that means you do remember lesson one after all. Mind if I lose the pants?â
You snort, trying to play it cool despite the heat pooling in your gut. âNot so reluctant now, huh?â
âGame is game.â
He grins, all cock swagger, and pops the buttons off his jeans. They slide down his legs in a heap, leaving him in snug black boxers that do nothing to hide his growing interest. Gojoâs leaner than youâd pegged him for, abs carved from lazy gym sessions, waist dipping in before flaring to solid shoulders. But your eyes zero in lower, where his cock twitches half-hard against the fabric, outlining a decent length thatâs got you curiously intrigued rather than intimidated.
When he sits back down, he leans back on his palms and smirks. âYou can touch me, you know. I bet itâs better than just looking.â
âAnywhere?â
âI'm practically offering myself up to you on a platter. Yes, Y/N. Everywhereâs fair game.âÂ
You eye him for a little longer. He's not as big as he carried himself around to be.
As if sensing your unspoken realisation, he hurriedly explains, "I'm not completely hard yet.â
You nod, sympathetically. âRight, no I get it.â
âIâm serious, Y/N, stop looking at me like that.â
He grabs your hand and places it on his abs, ignoring your sudden squeak.
âYouâre going to have to work to get me there.â He watches as you hesitate, his heartbeat quickening slightly under your touch.
âThis seems less like teaching and more like you just wanting someone to get you off.â
âYouâre learning.â Despite his teasing tone, he eases you closer to him. âLook, itâs not exactly rocket science and what I tell you probably wonât apply to everyone. But most guys are animals so if you can make them feel good then thatâs all that matters. What's meta for most guys though is probably their neck and lower stomach. But you can start anywhere.â
His smirk falters just a tad when you explore, tentatively at first, palms sliding over his ribs and thumbs brushing his nipples until they pebble under your touch. Gojoâs breath hitches, but he keeps it together, murmuring encouragement. âI guess you could try there too. Fuck, this is kind of embarrassing. Canât you be normal and go at my neck or something?â
âYour neck?â Your fingers slide up to touch him there but he laughs and gently brushes your hand away.
âOkay, donât strangle me. When I say touch, I don't just mean with your fingers. You can touch your lips too, canât you?â
You bite your lips and nod, wetting them quickly with your tongue. You lean in closer, your lips finding the pulse point of his neck. It's a quick peck at first, testing, and he just arches a brow, unimpressed.
Fine, challenge accepted.
You brace yourself on his shoulders and lick a slow stripe up the tendon, tasting salt and faint cologne which isnât the best tasting thing in the world, so you nibble the skin. Gojo hums, head tilting to give you better access, and you dive in, sucking lightly, alternating with kisses that leave faint marks.
Itâs heady, this rush of control. His bare chest radiates warmth against your arm, heavy breaths ghosting your ear as he lets you lead.
âHungry, are you?â Gojo finds his footing against the absurd situation because if thereâs one thing he knows, itâs receiving attention from pretty women. If he closes his eyes like so, focusing only on the cute licks against his neck, he can almost ignore the fact that itâs coming from you. âI'd be careful not to leave any marks. Girls get jealous easily, you know?â
You roll your eyes at his very unsexy comment. He's underestimating you, youâre sure he is, and youâre even more determined to prove him wrong.
You kiss down his neck, licking at the column of his neck, and when you find this soft patch of skin, pale under your lips and glimmering with a thin layer of sweat, you do what your instincts roar at you to do and bite him as heâs mid yapping.
âI never really let girls kiss me like this, so be grateful that Iâohfuck!â
Gojoâs reaction is immediate as a downright sinful moan escapes his pretty lips unchecked. His hands tighten in your hips, head dropping forward, panting as he catches his breath from the sudden sharp inhale.
You let go, licking at the mark left behind. âOh, sorry. You donât do marks, right?â
âThat wasâŠâ He trails off, eyes dark as he holds you in his gaze. âJesus, sweets, where did you even learn that kind of stuff?â
You shrug, letting him hold you back and feeling a little bit like a rabid animal. âIt was just something I wanted to do. Was it bad? Did it hurt?â
âNo, it was fine. Keep going just⊠use your hands a bit more too,â he hurries to add on, clearing his throat and loosening his hold on you. âIt feels better if you use both your mouth and hands at the same time. Keep going, but donât forget the rest of me.â
Finding no error in his words, you enthusiastically go back to kissing and sucking on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. Meanwhile, you slide your hands down his chest, marveling at how smooth he feels despite his muscle.
When you graze your finger tips between the medial line of his abs, you feel him shiver and you detach your lips from his neck to watch his eyes track your every move, hungry and unblinking.
âAtta girl,â he rasps, abs flexing under your palm and he shivers as you slide even further down, hand hovering his stomach. His cock visibly thickens in his boxers as you trace the ridges of his abs.âThatâs it. Take your time, sweets. I'm not going anywhere.â
You never considered that Gojo would be so vocal during sex, not that this even counted as sex yet. If anything, that made you even more curious, wondering if he himself knew how much he was talking and how little any of it even meant. In case he didnât, you didnât dare talk in case it would break the spell.
Your fingers skim the waistband of his boxers and he sucks in a breath, voice dropping an octave.
âFuck, yeah. Thatâs the spot.â The fabric tents fully now, his cock hard and straining, the tip outlined clearly. It's thicker than you expected, pulsing with need, and the sight sends a thrill straight to your core.
Gojoâs eyes flick between your hand and your face, flushed and focused. âSee? told you itâd wake up. want to see all of it?â
You nod, eyes trained on his bulge.
He grins, taking your hands to hook your thumbs into the sides of his boxers. He helps you slightly though he lets you do most of the work. Emboldened, you tug the boxers down just enough to free his cock, watching it spring up, thicker now, veins prominent along the shaft, the head flushed and glistening with a bead of precum.
Your first words are, of course, very sexy.
âOh damn.â
Gojo laughs breathlessly. For my own ego, I'm going to take that as a good thing.â
âIt just doesnât look how I expected it to.â
That makes him frown. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. âHey. She has feelings too, you know. Donât imply that sheâs ugly, sheâll sag.â
âShe?â It's so ridiculous you snort, the nervousness running away to let curiousity fuel your movements once again, fingers curling around his hot, velvety length. He's rock hard under your soft touch, precum slicking your palm as you pump him experimentally. Gojo groans low in his throat, head falling back against the couch.
âShit, just likeânghâthat,â he grits out, voice wrecked. The sound hits you like a spark, raw and primal, making your thighs clench. âMyâmy dick has she/her pronouns. Itâs 2026 now, get woke.â
Still looking at you, he takes your hand again, wrapping it around his shaft.
âHold it properly. Feel how hot it is.â
He groans softly as you hold him, guiding your hand up and down in a slow stroke, pressing down where heâs sensitive just the way he likes it. âSqueeze gently and twist your wrist as you move.â
He demonstrates the twist motion, his large hand enveloping yours, precum beading at his tip from both the sight and feel of you.
He lets you go, leaning back on his elbows, enjoying the view of you jacking him off. âYouâre a natural, keep going, just like that.â
His breathing becomes heavier, his abdomen tensing. He canât help but buck slightly into your hand.
Despite his unattractive dirty talk, it doesnât drive away the power you feel and it doesnât take away from the sounds, the way his body trembles under your control. It's all so intoxicating, way better than any awkward fumble youâve imagined with Geto late at night with your hands down your pants.
To shut him up, you squeeze a little tighter and he hisses, pulling you away.
âSlow down,â he pants, catching his breath. He closes his eyes for a moment before locking you in a fierce gaze. âDo you usually shove your finger inside when youâre dry?â
âWhat?â
âThis is why lube exists, woman. God, my poor lady,â He looks up at you, eyes trailing down from your eyes to your lips.
âPlease donât refer to your dick as a lady.â
âIâve gotten no complaints so far.â Gojo reaches up, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, dragging it down slightly. âHave you ever spat on anyone?â
âExcuse me?â You look down at him as if heâs grown another head.
He lets out a strangled groan, hips bucking up under you. âYeah, keep looking at me like that and spit on my dick. Give her the good old hawk tuah.â
Your grimace only grows and he bites his lip, the corners quirking up. âPlease,â he whispers and youâve lost.
The word hangs between you like a dare, his blue eyes locked on yours, all wide and pleading in a way that clashes hilariously with his usual attitude if the unsure quiver to his lips didnât wreck you.
Gojoâs cock throbs in your loose grip, the head leaking more precum that drips down the shaft, making your fingers slick without even trying. You hesitate, face heating up at the sheer audacity, but the way his abs tense, the subtle roll of his hips begging for more, chips away at your resistance.
âFine,â you mutter, rolling your eyes to mask the flutter in your stomach and you must have imagined the way he groans. âBut just know Iâm judging you the entire time.â
âEven better,â he moans.
You lean over him, one hand steadying on his thick thighs, firm muscle under smooth skin, and purse your lips as you spit on him. Itâs awkward as hell, the glop of spit landing off-centre on the underside of his shaft, but you smear it around with your palm.
The glide turns smoother instantly, wet and filthy, your strokes picking up speed as his cock slicks up fully.
Gojoâs reaction is immediate, a deep, rumbling moan spills from his chest, his head knocking back against the couch with a thud, not that he notices. âFuuuck, yesâthatâs it, just like that.â
His hands fist the fabric of the couch on either side of his hips, knuckles white, like heâs fighting not to grab you and take over. But he doesnât, he lets you work him, hips jerking up in shallow thrusts to meet your rhythm, the tip bumping your palm on every upstroke.
âKeep going, tighter⊠shit, youâre killing me here.â
The power rush hits you harder now, watching him come undone under your touch. His cock feels massive in your hand, thick and veined, pulsing hotly as you pump from base to tip, thumb swiping over the slit to collect more precum and spread it down. You can feel every ridge, every twitch, and itâs nothing like the vague fantasies youâd spun about Geto. This is real, messy, and way more intense. Your own arousal builds, thighs pressing together as you grind subtly against nothing, the heat between your legs turning insistent.
âDoes it⊠feel good?â You ask, voice breathy and you slow your strokes just to tease, squeezing the base and watching in awe as a fresh bead of precum pearl at the head.
He cracks one eye open, gaze hazy and dark, lips parted in a pant. âGood? Sweets, donât sell yourself short.â
A grin tugs at his mouth but it falters into a groan when you resume, faster now, the wet schlick of your hand echoing in the room causing you to squirm.
âDonât stop,â he all but whines. âGonna cum if you keep this up. Want me to, sweets? Want me to paint your hand or what?â
The crudeness should turn you off, but it doesnât, it only amps up the thrill, making you bold. You nod, biting your lip as you lean closer, free hand bracing on his chest to feel his heart hammering.
âYeah, do it. cum for me.â
Gojoâs control snaps like a rubber band. his moans pitch higher, body arching as his cock swells in your grip, veins bulging. âFuckâfuck, canât help it, Iâm gonnaââ
He bucks hard once, twice, and then heâs erupting, thick spurts of cum shooting from the tip to splatter your fingers, his stomach, even a streak across his abs. It's hot, sticky, rope after rope as you milk him through it, not knowing what else to do. You slow your strokes until heâs spent, twitching sensitively in your palm.Â
He slumps back, chest rising and falling like he ran a marathon, a lazy, disbelieving laugh bubbling out. He runs a hand down his face, groaning softly.
âI amâŠâ He lets out another breathless laugh, head dropping back against the armrest of the couch. âSo fucking washed. What the hell was that, sweets?â
You blink, a little dazed yourself. Your hand is still loosely wrapped around him, slick and messy, and only when his eyes flick down do you jolt and snatch your hand back like youâve been burnt.
âIâI donât know,â you mumble, gratefully accepting the tissue he hands you, awkwardly deciding to dab at his stomach and abs too, anywhere your eyes can safely land that isnât his softening cock. âThat was⊠hey, wait a minute. Shouldnât i be asking you? What the hell was that spitting thing?â
He shrugs, your body moving with the motion as you remain on his lap. âI told you, thereâs some things some guys like and some donât. As a note of reference, maybe donât spit on Suguru. Youâll kill his ego.â
He has the audacity to smirk at the thought considering the state of him, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, mouth pink and kiss-swollen from all the swearing and groaning.
âYou're disgusting,â you accuse weakly, trying not to think about how heâd looked under you a few seconds ago, jaw slack, eyes glazed, like youâd wrung the soul out of him.
âMmm.â His gaze drags over your face, down the line of your throat, lingering a beat too long at your chest before he drags it back up. âSo, how are you feeling after all that?â
âEmbarrassed,â you say immediately.
âBut kinda turned on, too?â he guesses, just as fast.
Your mouth drops open. âI did not say that.â
âDonât have to,â he says, maddening. âYouâre still sitting on me, you know.â
You freeze. You're still straddling his lap, knees planted on either side of his thighs on the couch, hips pressed to his, fingers bunched at his stomach. You'd be so focused on that scrunched up look on his face when he came that you kind of forgot to be mortified about the position.
Now you remember.
âI was busy,â you mutter, shifting like youâre about to climb off.
His hands come up automatically, one at your waist, one braced at your hip, holding you there without quite pulling you back down. âHey, hey. I didn't say you had to move.â
âBut youâre allâŠâ you wave a hand vaguely at his lap, face burning. âPost-nut clarity or whatever. You should be resting or something.â
âThatâs hilarious, do you think Iâm an old man?â He huffs a laugh. âIf my stamina lasted one puny handjob I would never show my face anywhere. Hey, donât glare at me like that. you know what that does to me. you glaring at me and spitting on my cock while you jerk me offâfuck.â
âDon't say it like that,â you hiss, heat flooding your chest. âYou literally told me to.â
âAnd you did so good,â he croons. âLook at you, all flustered now. You were seconds away from calling me pathetic, you know.â
âHow are you turning this on me? Youâre the one that liked it,â you shoot back, shoulder tensing.
His fingers flex at your waist, like heâs remembering it. âYeah. I really, really did.â
The way he says it sends a tiny shiver through you. You feel ridiculously aware of yourself suddenly, of your damp palms on his chest, of the way your thighs are pressed around him, of the restless thrum under your skin youâve been trying not to notice since he first groaned for you.
You shift again, intending to put some space between you, and hiss as the movement drags you a little too firmly against him, sparking through the ache low in your belly.
You go very still and so does he.
His eyes flicker, dropping for a fraction of a second to the point where your hips meet his. You can feel the change in him, no longer wrecked and loose-limbed, but sharpened like heâs honing in on every tiny flinch.
âOh,â he says softly. âFeeling something, sweets?â
âDonât start,â you warn, feeling every urge to catapult yourself off his lap. His hand tightens on your waist, thumbs rubbing absent circles, maddeningly casual. âCan you let me go already?â
âBut itâs not over yet, are you sure you want to miss the best part? If I said I wanted to make it your turn, would you say no?â
The question hangs between you, heavier than his usual teasing.
âThis isnât⊠about that.â
âSure it is,â he whispers, lips curved into a wicked grin. âYou wanna learn how to make a guy feel good right? Then you also need to know what you like. If you know what works for you, itâs easier to tell him what works for him.â
Has Gojo always been so reasonable?
âBesides,â he continues when youâre not rushing to sign up to his touch. âIâm being selfless here. You canât seriously think I'd let you walk out of here without repaying the favour first, right?â
âWay to sound like a douche.â You swat at his chest, a weak attempt to appear levelheaded.
âHow else am I supposed to say it?â He laughs softly, catching your wrist but not pushing it away, thumb stroking over your pulse. âI want to touch you. properly. Can I?â
Your stomach swoops.
âJust to know what it feels like?â
âExactly.â His smile goes crooked at the edges. âNow youâre getting it.â
You stare at him, breathing shallow. Your heart is thudding way too fast. youâre hyperaware of your own body again, of the way your panties stick uncomfortably, of the restless ache thatâs only been getting worse, of how easy it would be to fall into his tempting embrace.
âHey, come back to me,â Gojo murmurs. âWe don't have to do anything you donât want. I promise I'm not a dick. So? What do you want, sweets?â
You look down at where his hands rest, big and warm on your hips, fingers flexing like heâs trying very hard to stay put.
You could say no, you know that. He'd let you hop off, probably make a dumb joke to break the tension, and the both of you can go back to pretending the constant physical touch is driving you up the wall. But you also know your legs are still a little unsteady, and that every time you shift you have to bite back a sound you really donât want him to hear.
You swallow, hard.
âYou have to listen,â you say finally. âIf I say stop, you stop. and none of your stupid comments either.â
His expression sobers instantly, hands jumping a little at your hips. âPromise. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.â
âIâm telling you, when you say shit like that, everything goes back inside.â
âYeah, yeah, I get it, you want me quiet. So can I touch you or are you going to keep torturing us both?â
âYou deserve the torture,â you grumble, then quieter, âBut, yeah. okay.â
He hums. âNot good enough. Say it again?â
You bite back a complaint. âI want you toâŠtouch me.â
It comes out barely more than a whisper, but it hits him like a truck. His eyes darken, lashes lowering as he sucks in a breath. One moment youâre straddling him, the next heâs sat up and turned you around so your back leans against his chest, his breath tickling your neck.
âYou donât know what you do to me,â he groans, hands sliding down to your stomach. His fingers play with the hem, nails barely grazing your bare skin. âCan I?â
You shiver, looking down to watch his hands with anticipation. Swallowing, you brace yourself and nod.
âGood girl,â he breathes.
His hand trails under your shirt, fingertips tracing nonsense shapes on your skin. He doesnât go straight where you know youâre aching for him to go. Instead, he takes his time, mapping out the sensitive spots he finds, where your muscles jump when he squeezes, lowering his hand to where your breath stutters when he drags his knuckles along the inside of your thigh.
âYou're wound so tight,â he murmurs, half to himself. âRelax for me, Y/N.â
âShut up and stop teasing,â you hiss, and then gasp when his hand finally slips higher, brushing over the edge of your waistband.
âIs that a no?â He asks instantly, stilling.Â
]You want to throttle him. âIâm just⊠nervous.â
âOf course you are,â he says, voice going stupidly soft in your ear, hands playing with the fabric. âThe first timeâs always weird. But it doesnât have to be bad-weird.â
He slowly slips his hand under the band, feeling you go still.
âHey.â He presses his lips to your hair, mumbling soft words of praise. âYou're okay, youâre doing good. Just breathe for me.â
You do, albeit shakily, his fingertips brushing the damp centre of your panties.
âYouâre already⊠Jesus," he says quickly. âI really did a number on you, huh? And without even touching you, too.â
âIf you donât shut up, I'm leaving,â you threaten weakly.
He chuckles, guiding your attention away. Gojo slides your shorts down so you can see exactly where his fingers press against, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks at the sight of his thick fingers prodding against the backdrop of the panties you chose out this morning. If you knew something like this would happen, you would have worn something else.
Gojo thankfully doesnât comment on it. Instead, he slowly explores, no sudden movements, no overwhelming pressure, just the occasional slide against your clit.
âOkay?â he asks, and you realise youâve gone silent, holding your breath again.
âYeah,â you gasp. âJust feel different thanânevermind.â
âDifferent good?â He prompts, thumb pressing down on your clit and you jolt, an audible inhale escaping you.
You feel his arms tighten around you.
âOh, there we go,â he mutters, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. âThat got you.â
You donât dignify that with an answer, not that you have the capacity to because the next moment, heâs moving his fingers with practiced purpose. His thumb circles your swollen clit through the damp fabric, the barrier muffling any sharp pleasure though it helps you wrap your head around the sensation.
When you start lifting your hips to meet his touch, he knows he has you where he wants you.
With his other fingers, he slowly slides your panties to the sides and touches you directly. The effect is immediate, your eyes snap down to watch, body tensing, want like youâve never known it before shocking you.
The sight of your own arousal makes you wetter and he abandons his touch to touch you directly.
âLook at that,â he coos in your ear, voice breathy with awe and smug satisfaction. âHere you were acting like you wanted to leave when youâre this wet. Thought I wouldn't know, sweets? That I couldn't see you eye my dick all hungry like that?â
He emphasises his words with a harsh pinch of your clit and your head falls back to rest on his shoulders with a filthy moan ripped from your throat, raw and unprocessed.
Gojo takes the chance to kiss your neck.
You should hit him for his words, you really should. But instead, your hand flies up to his forearm, nails digging in when he slides a finger to circle your entrance and the world briefly whites out.
He groans quietly, like your reaction is doing something to him. âThatâsâfuck, youâre so cute. Do that again.â
âDonât tease,â you say again, voice barely there and brain too mushy to think of something original.
And like he knows, Gojo slowly slides a finger into your pussy and the pressure temporarily pushes out all of the pleasure. But then his free hand is playing with your clit and heâs telling you how good you are and how pretty you sound, and it comes back.
He thrusts that finger in and out slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion and when youâre sighing soft moans and broken demands again, he curls it and doesnât stop moving. He could easily overpower you, could pin you down and take, take, take, but he doesnât. Every time you tense like you might pull away, he backs off just enough, murmuring at your ear, though by the time youâre close you havenât panicked in a while.
Heâs the one breathing hard when you start to chase your peak, like heâs the one being touched.
Youâre writhing now, his arms having to tighten around you to keep you still as he slides another finger inside.Â
âThatâs it,â he whispers, panting when your thighs clamp around his hand, head tipped back on his shoulders and eyes starting to roll back. âThere you go. I've got you. Let go for me, yeah? Doing so good for me, sweets.â
âS-Satoru,â you choke out, the name ripped from somewhere deep.
His whole body jolts behind you and you feel a twitch near your ass.
âOh, fuck,â he groans, like youâve done something filthy. âSay my name like that again, I swear to godââ
You donât because suddenly, youâre gone.
His fingers pressed against the spongy spot inside, his thumb circling your clit, and suddenly everything tightens then snaps and youâre tumbling, shaking around the steady anchor of his hand and his arm and his voice in your ear. He doesnât speed up, letting you ride your orgasm on his hand, mumbling sweet nothings against your sweaty neck.
Itâs messy and overwhelming and a little scary for a second, then his palm is flat over your lower stomach, grounding you as waves of sensation roll through your body. His other hand finally gentles and you can breathe again.
When you finally slump back against him boneless, the room feels dimmer. your chest heaves, skin prickling with aftershocks that he guides you through.
He eases his hand away and wipes it on his pants, keeping you steady on his lap.
âHey,â he says softly, lips brushing your hairline. âYou still with me?â
You nod, or at least you try to. âI think so.â
âYeah?â He presses, smiling against your skin.
âYeah.â
âGood.â he exhales like heâs been holding his breath with you. âYou did amazing, sweets.â
âYou're making me sound like a dog.â
âWell, you were very obedient,â he says lightly, then winces. âOkay, that sounded kinda bad.â
He huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest where youâre still half-leaning against him. One of his hands comes up, hovering for a second like he isnât sure if touching you again is allowed, then settles gently at your side.
You catch your breath, stealing a glance. His hair is a mess, cheeks flushed, eyes still blown wide but thereâs something softer around the edges, so different from his usual cocky composure that it does something strange to your chest.
âYou're the worst,â you mumble, just to say something.
âOh?â his brows lift. âYou seemed pretty satisfied with the lesson.â
You keep your mouth shut because there is absolutely no winning that argument.
Silence falls, not heavy nor awkward, but certainly unfamiliar. Without the distraction of movement or adrenaline, your mind starts spinning into the consequences of your actions.
And the fact that youâre still sitting between his thighs.
You stiffen and he notices immediately.
âUh. Do you⊠want toââ
âYes,â you say at the exact same time he says, âWe should probablyââ
You both stop, voice overlapping as you tell each other to continue then stop again. Itâs funny if not awkward and you laugh, startled and breathless.
âOkay,â he says, hands lifting slightly in surrender. âYou first.â
âNo, you go,â you insist, scrambling upright a little too fast. The room tilts for half a second and you grab his thigh to steady yourself.
His hands hover again, then settle at your waist just in case.
âCareful,â he murmurs. âYouâre still a little⊠yâknow?â
You straighten and stand away from the couch, legs wobbling in a way you pretend not to notice. The cool air hits your skin and reality comes rushing back in a tidal wave of embarrassment.
Your skirt rests on your thighs but theyâre crumpled, and your hair is surely a mess.
Gojo watches, biting his lip hard enough to leave teeth marks. He stands too, running a hand through his hair, suddenly looking almost shy as he grabs his discarded shirt and pulls it back on.
For a moment, neither of you know where to look.
You fixate on a crack in the wall and he studies the floor.
âDo you, uh⊠want me to walk you back?â
The normalcy of the question feels surreal.
âIâm fine with walking,â you say quickly. âThe weatherâs nice so.â
âYeah,â he nods. âFresh air. Definitely.â
You grab your bag with fumbling hands, nearly knocking it off the couch in the process. He catches it before it hits the floor, fingers brushing yours again as he hands it over.
Neither of you pull away immediately. Then, you both do at the same time.
âRight,â you say.
âRight,â he echoes.
He opens the door for you, peeking into the hallway first before gesturing.
âYou sure you donât want me to walk you back?â
You almost cry at the visual of a way out. âNo, no, I'm fine. Itâs not too far anyway.â
Gojo studies your face like heâs trying to decide whether to argue or not. For once, he doesnât look like heâs in on some big secret. He just looks uncertain.
âIf you say so,â he mutters, stepping aside.
You slip past him into the hallway, letting out a big sigh of relief when you hear the door close gently behind you with a soft click. Looking over your shoulder, you see Gojo follow you out anyway.
Your feet slow. âYou donât have to, I'm really okay.â
âIâm not,â he says quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. âIâm just heading in the same direction. That's all. What a coincidence?â
âUh-huh.â
The staircase is only a few doors down, but the short walk stretches, each step heavy with things unsaid. You can hear voices downstairs, life continuing on, oblivious.
At the top of the stairwell, you stop.
âAre we still going the same way?â
He shakes his head.
âIâll see you around,â you settle on when the silence stretches.
âSee you, Y/N.â
You take one step down, then another. After a third, you glance back.
Gojo is still there, watching. your chest does something uncomfortable as he waits.
âGoodnight, Satoru,â you say softly.
He blinks, like the name catches him off guard every time. Then he smiles, small but warm.
âNight, sweets.â
When you reach the bottom and push out into the night air, it feels shockingly cool against your overheated skin. The campus is quiet, streetlights painting everything gold and shadowed, the distant sound of traffic humming like white noise.
You walk faster than necessary because if you slow down, the thoughts will quickly flood in. And if you start thinking, you might realise that somewhere between asking him for help and leaving his room tonight, something has gone very, very wrong.Â
Youâre not sure why you care so much.Â
You tell yourself itâs because Geto will be there, because this is a chance to make a real impression, because this is what all of it has been building toward. But as you stand in front of your mirror, turning this way and that, smoothing imaginary wrinkles, adjusting your hair for the third time, checking your reflection from angles no one in real life would ever see, you realise this isnât normal.Â
Youâve never put this much thought into a âcasualâ outing before.Â
Not the outfit, carefully balanced between cute and effortless, like you didnât spend forty minutes deciding between two nearly identical tops just for the jersey to cover it anyway. Not the makeup, soft enough to look natural, deliberate enough to feel like armor. Not the way your stomach flips every time you picture stepping into the arena.Â
You know deep down this isnât about Geto. That thought alone makes your chest feel tight.Â
You grab your purse before you can overthink it further and leave.Â
When you walk into the arena, the roar of the crowd hits you like a physical force, loud and electric, buzzing with anticipation and cheer. It bleeds through the concrete walls, through your bones, and through the floor beneath your shoes.Â
The game hasnât officially started yet, you made sure to come before then, but the energy is already at a fever pitch.
Your eyes sweep the rink automatically, searching. And you spot him immediately.Â
Gojo, in his navy and white jersey, skates across the ice like it belongs to him, like the rink exists solely to accommodate his momentum. It doesn't seem to matter that his helmet obscures most of his face, youâd recognise him anywhere. the easy confidence in the way he moves, the loose, effortless posture, the casual speed that looks like he isnât even tryingâitâs unmistakable.Â
His hair, damp under his helmet, peeks out in soft white tufts. His cheeks are slightly flushed from exertion, breath fogging faintly in the cold air as he glides past teammates, exchanging easy shoves and taps of sticks. He's the easiest person in the world to look at and the hardest to look away from.Â
He glances up towards the stands during warm-ups, scanning lazily, and your heart stutters. You freeze, suddenly aware of yourself, of the crowd, of how ridiculous it is to hope heâll notice you among hundreds of people wearing the same colours.Â
I mean, all these people? All wearing the team jersey? And you wouldnât call yourself beautiful, not in the kind of way that makes someone stand out across a packed arena, and certainly not in a way that draws eyes automatically, notâ
Gojo turns a little more. and then his eyes meet yours.Â
The jolt is instantaneous, sharp and electric, like touching a live wire. Your breath catches, lungs forgetting their purpose entirely as a stupid, bright grin spreads across his face.Â
A strange warmth floods your chest, blooming outward until it feels too big to contain. You bite your lip, trying and failing, to suppress your own giddy smile as you tug lightly at the hem of your jersey, lifting it just enough to show the number at the front and point at it.Â
06.Â
If it's even possible, his grin widens. He spins around without hesitation, and easily mind you, skating backward for a few seconds just to show off the back of his own jersey, jabbing a glove thumb at the matching number with pride.Â
Heat rushes to your face.Â
It's ridiculous, childish even, but your heart is pounding and the warmth in your chest swells until itâs almost overwhelming.Â
When warm-ups end, he lifts his stick in your direction in one last, unmistakable acknowledgement before skating toward the bench, where his teammates swarm him instantly. One of them hooks an arm around his neck, dragging him down while another plays bongos on his helmet, elbows digging into his ribs.Â
From this distance you canât hear what theyâre saying, but you donât need to. His expression gives everything away, the wide grin and mock protests, and the way he shoves them back half-heartedly while still laughing.Â
Someone whistles, another bumps his shoulder and one even points toward the stands, toward you. Your stomach flips.Â
âY/N?âÂ
You start, tearing your eyes away as if caught doing something incriminating. Geto stands beside you, already holding two drinks, his expression warm and easy.Â
âHey,â he says, offering you one. âYou made it. I found seats over here, itâs a pretty good view, if I donât say so myself. We should head over before the game starts.âÂ
You take the cup automatically, fingers brushing his. âThanks!â
He smiles, guiding you through the rows of people with gentle awareness, making space and steadying you when someone brushes past too close. It's thoughtful and careful and exactly the kind of thing that made you fall for him in the first place.Â
Once seated, conversation comes easily to him. Itâs all polite small talk and soft jokes, quiet observations about the team and season. He fills in the silence like Gojo had predicted, never letting it become uncomfortable. He does all the right things that you could almost tick them off a list. He laughs at your comments like theyâre genuinely funny and asks questions that make it clear heâs paying attention.Â
It should be perfect, it should be everything youâve ever wanted.Â
And yet, your eyes drift back to the rink, to the flashes of navy and white.Â
To the tall figure leaning against the boards, helmet off now, shaking his hair as he listens to a coach, nodding absentmindedly while his gaze flicks upward.Â
Your pulse jumps when his eyes land on you again. Except this time he doesnât grin. It might be your imagination but he seemingly looks to Geto beside you, then back, just watching.Â
You force yourself to look back at Geto, nodding at something he just said, hoping your smile looks natural and not strained.Â
BUZZWORD
The game starts fast.Â
Faster than you expected, faster than anything youâve watched on TV, faster than seems physically possible for men balancing on thin blades over frozen water. The pluck drops and suddenly the rink explodes with motion, bodies colliding, sticks clashing, skates carving violent crescents into the ice.Â
You lost track of the puck almost immediately.
Geto leans closer, voice raised just enough to carry over the roar of the crowd. âWatch Satoru, he plays center so heâll usually be in there.â
Your eyes find him easily.Â
He moves differently from everyone else, you see, loose, flashier, or maybe thatâs just you. No, you reject that notion as he accelerates in bursts, gliding between players with impossible precision, stick tapping the ice impatiently when he doesnât have the puck.Â
Every time he skates past your side of the rink, your chest tightens and your throat hurts a little more as you try to cheer louder.Â
The first goal goes to the other team.Â
Your side of the arena groans as one, a wave of disappointment that rattles through the stands. You feel it too, a sinking drop in your stomach, though you donât fully understand the play that led to it.Â
Gojo slams his stick once against the ice in frustration, then shoves off hard, jaw set.Â
Geto doesnât seem worried. âTheyâll bounce back. Satoru is the best they have, after all.â
Just like he predicted, they do. Midway through the second period, one of Gojoâs teammates manages to slip the puck past the goalie, and the building detonates. People surge to their feet to cheer and you find yourself in that crowd, cheering without thinking, adrenaline crackling through your veins like you personally contributed.Â
On the ice, Gojo grabs the scorer by the shoulders and shakes him, helmet bumping into helmet, grin blinding even through the cage.Â
Itâs a tie game until itâs not. Another goal to the opposing side which Gojoâs team equalising moments after. Again and again, a tense back and forth that even has Geto inhaling sharply at moments.Â
By the third period, your nails are dug into the flimsy paper cup in your hand, ice long melted into a yucky watered down version of whatever was in the drink. You barely notice when Geto takes it from you and sets it aside so you donât crush it completely.Â
The scoreboard reads 3-3 and the clock tells you thereâs two minutes left.Â
The noise is deafening now, frantic and desperate, every movement on the ice met with gasps or shouts.Â
Gojo has long since lost the playful edge from earlier. He circles near centre ice, knees bent, weight forward, eyes tracking the puck like itâs the only thing that exists in the world. A defender tries to box him out and he shrugs him off with a brutal shoulder check that makes the crowd howl.Â
The puck slides loose along the boards, ricocheting off a tangle of skates and sticks like it has a mind of its own. Someone on Gojoâs team snatches it first and fires it forward, a risky pass that slides clean across open ice, and towards him.Â
Gojo receives it in stride, blade cushioning the impact with effortless control. He doesnât even glance down. his head is already up, scanning his way forward. A defender lunges for him and he slips past with a sharp pivot, hips twisting, edges biting deep into the ice.Â
Youâre on your feet before you realise youâve moved.Â
âGoâ!â you scream and like a domino effect, people around you start to cheer.Â
Gojo fakes a left. The goalie commits.Â
He snaps right, dragging the puck across his body in one powerful motion, forcing the goalie to witness the outplay. And then he flicks his wrist and a sharp crack echoes across the rink.Â
The puck lifts, a black blur slicing through air, threading the narrowest gap between glove and shoulder, and slams into the back of the net.Â
For half a heartbeat, there is silence. Then the buzzer screams and the crowd erupts.Â
Sound crashes over you in a tidal wave, screaming, stomping, clapping, the metallic rattle of the stands shaking under hundreds of pounding feet. Youâre shouting too, throat tearing with it, hands flying to your mouth before dropping again because you need them free to clap and wave, anything to release all this energy exploding out of you.Â
Down on the ice, Gojo throws his head back and roars, pure exhilaration bursting out of him. His teammates collide with him seconds later, swarming him in a pile of navy and white, shoving his helmet and grabbing his shoulders, almost knocking him over in their celebration.Â
He's laughing.Â
Even through the cage, from the distance, you can see it, the wild brightness in his eyes and the way his chest heaves with adrenaline.Â
They won.Â
They actually won.Â
Youâre bouncing on your toes without realising, hands clasped in front of your mouth.Â
Gojo breaks free from the pile just enough to turn and look up into the stands. It's easier finding you this time around when he knows where to look.Â
His whole face lights up, grin splitting wide and unrestrained, so bright it feels like it could blind you, he lifts his stick and points it straight at you then thumps it once against the ice in a triumphant salute.Â
Your stomach swoops violently.Â
You laugh, breathless and giddy, lifting both hands to wave back like an idiot. Your body is already leaning forward, feet shifting as instinct screams for you to move. To go down there, to be closer, to meet him at the glass while heâs still glowing with victory looking as beautiful as youâve ever seen him, so alive that it radiates off him in waves.Â
You want to throw your arms around his neck.Â
You want to tell him that was incredible.Â
You wantâ
âY/N?â
Getoâs voice cuts gently through the chaos, close to your ear.
You blink, tearing your gaze away from the ice to find him watching you with a small, amused smile.Â
âThat was intense,â he says, laughter in his voice. âI forgot how crazy these games get at the end. Makes you glad you came, right?â
âYeah,â you breathe, though it comes out shaky and raw from all the cheering. âYeah it was. Definitely.â
Your eyes flick down despite yourself and find Gojo still looking up, smile dimmed.Â
Geto gestures toward the aisle. âIf we leave now, we can beat the post-game crowd. The bookstoreâs only a short walk away anyway. We can find Satoru after he comes out.âÂ
The words land heavy in your chest. How could you forget? There was a plan in action, the reason why you came, the person youâre supposed to be focusing on.Â
âRight,â you say, though your voice sounds far away even to your own ears.Â
On the ice, Gojoâs teammates are tugging him toward the bench, shouting in his ear and shoving him here and there. He goes easily enough, though not without one last glance at you. He tilts his chin, a silent question in your eyes, clear despite the distance.Â
Are you going?
Your fingers curl into fists at your side.Â
âReady?â Geto asks softly.
You swallow. â... yeah.â
But as you turn to follow him up the aisle, the roar of the arena swelling behind you, you canât shake that youâve made the wrong decision. You feel it, that strange, electric thread stretching thinner and thinner behind you as the tunnel swallows Gojo whole.Â
BUZZWORD
It should be fun.Â
Geto is easy to talk to, heâs polite, thoughtful and gentle, and all the right things. You trail behind him between the shelves as he talks about a book he likes, or some theory he discovered that explains so much and makes so much sense.Â
You try, you really do. You nod your head and attempt to store that information away. Â
But everything just doesnât feel right. It's hard to store that information away when your head is full of that look Gojo had given you, the way his white hair had stuck out from under his helmet, damp from the effort and glory of winning, eyes sparkling under the stadium lights, the way he had lifted his stick to point at you.Â
Geto is kind. But your tastes donât match. Your jokes land in different places. He's nice, and you do enjoy his conversation. But not in the same way you had enjoyed Gojoâs company that day in the cafe.Â
You donât feel nervous. You donât feel excited. Honestly, you just feel like pretending.Â
And as if the universe is screaming at you about something just beyond your grasp, when you reach for the same book, your fingers donât brush. And you donât want them to.Â
Getoâs phone buzzes when heâs in the middle of explaining some theories from this guy called Slavoj Zizek? He winces at whatever he reads.Â
âSorry,â he starts, sounding genuinely apologetic. âI need to head out. But hey, hereââ He pulls a paperback off the shelf and hands it to you. âThis is the one I was talking about. I think youâll like it.âÂ
you accept it automatically. âThanks,â you say, and then heâs waving and gone the next moment, door swinging behind him.Â
For a while, you wander the bookstore in an attempt to rationalise the complex emotions warring inside you. Geto is your crush. You know this. And yet, it all feels so superficial. Gojo had been right, there was nothing personal about the things you liked about him to explain the crush.Â
You stand in the quiet of the aisle, holding a book you frankly donât care about, surrounded by a silence that feels like the wrong choice made tangible long after the last customer walks out. Heavy rain falls outside, pelting against the roof of the store, a steady white noise that backgrounds your thoughts.Â
When the bookstore begins to close, youâre ushered outside. You swear as youâre suddenly caught in the harsh weather and through the heavy sheets of rain, there looks to be no other store open. Hastily, you run out in the rain to find some place where you can get cover over your head. Finally, you see a small awning from a closed shop.Â
You run under the awning, hugging your arms to your chest as you wait out the storm, feeling stupidly alone and stupidly unsure why youâre this upset. This is what you wanted right? But the part of your heart that has always known the truth traitorously voices the thoughts youâve been pushing down all this time.Â
Gojo.Â
Through the sheets of heavy rain, someone is running towards you. Tall, white hair, still in his jersey, his hair now damp (read: soaked) with rain water rather than sweat.
He skids under the awning, breathless, terribly drenched, an unopened umbrella in one hand.Â
âWhat the hell,â he says immediately, voice sharp with concern and frustration. âAre you trying to get pneumonia? Why didnât you go home? Didnât you check the weather? It clearly said it was going to rain today!â
You blink, gaping at his sudden presence. âWhat are you, no, why are you here? Shouldnât you be celebrating?â
He snorts. âYeah, I was. Until Suguru texted. Said he left you at the bookstore and for me to pick you up. Seriously, you didnât even bring an umbrella?â
The situation finally catches up to you and you frantically gesture to his own umbrella. âHow can you lecture me when you just ran out all the way here without opening your umbrella? itâs literally in your hands, all you had to do was open it!âÂ
âLike i had the time to! My legs are literally burning from the game and you made me run all this way out to save you!â
âI never asked you to!â
âWell, I had to!â He steps closer, finally freeing himself from the rain completely. His presence fills up the cramped space under the awning and you catch a whiff of cedar and sweat. âI couldnât just let you die out here in the cold!â
Speechless, you open and close your mouth like an idiot. Finally, you manage to ask, âHow did you even know I was out here?â
âWerenât you listening? I told you Suguru told me he ditched you!âÂ
At Getoâs name, your face falls. Ah, right. your little moral dilemma about Geto.Â
Gojo also calms down a little, his chest heaving a little slower as he uses the silence to catch his breath. his eyes scan your expression, picking up on the way you bite your lip, eyes looking away.Â
âHey,â he says, voice soft though still strained. âYou okay?â
Your throat tightens. âI guess? I don't know. Look, sorry. I appreciate you coming.â
âDon't give me that. Just donât. Youâve told me every embarrassing thing about yourself when you outed that you, you know, like Suguru. Donât hide something from me now. Are you upset that he left?â His hand comes out to wipe water off your cheek. âDon't cry.â
You scrunch up your face in mild disgust. âIâm not? That's literally just rain water.â
âOh. So you're okay?â
You inhale and let it out slowly. Were you okay? You shouldnât be, not if Geto was your crush and he just ditched you. And yet, under Satoruâs shadow as he stands in front of you, blocking the rain, brows furrowed and lips pressed tight as he looks you over in concern, you find yourself feeling okay. More than okay.Â
âWhy do you even like him?â He asks, quietly, a question that would have easily been lost to the rain if you werenât hanging off his every word.Â
âI told you,â you start, just as quiet. âHe saved me that one time.âÂ
âYeah?â He opens the umbrella with one hand, and holds your hand in the other, gently guiding you out from under the awning. Rain hits heavy against the fabric and he holds you close to keep you out from the storm, your chest grazing his. âHe saved you that day in the rain, did he?â
You swallow. âYeah.â
âJust like this?âÂ
Mutely, you nod. In his arms, you barely notice the slight chill.Â
Gojo searches your eyes for something. He exhales, long and uneven, like heâs been holding this in for longer than heâs willing to admit. And yet, he doesnât shy away, doesnât tear his gaze away from yours, just keeps holding the umbrella over your head, tilted ever so slightly in your direction such that youâre completely covered.Â
âThat day,â he says, quiet but steady, âWhen you got caught in the rain after that stupid orientation thing? Suguru wasnât on campus. He went back home for a month before the semester started and didnât come back until the second week. I was the one that found you.âÂ
Your breath falters. âWhat? But he⊠he gave me his hoodie. His name was on the tag.âÂ
âYeah,â Satoru laughs, a single disbelieving puff. âI was wearing his hoodie. He wasnât at the dorms so I stole some of his clothes to wear. Itâs whatever, he steals some of mine sometimes. The point is, I was the one that helped you.âÂ
For a moment, you stop breathing entirely. The rain pours around the two of you, a curtain of noise, but itâs silent under the umbrella.Â
Youâve never seen Gojo so nervous. Definitely not before the big game earlier, not on any of the practice dates, never when he talks to a group of people. Between the two of you, nervousness came more naturally to you. And yet, standing before you vulnerable, wet lashes stuck together, cheeks flushed from running and is that a faint bruise forming on his jaw? He looks nervous and itâs a sight that sends warmth all over your face.Â
His eyes are unbearably soft as he waits for your verdict.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Your voice sounds too small.Â
âBecause you thought it was Suguru. Because you liked him. And back then, I didn't realise that I wanted you to know it was me.â
Your heart thuds, something a little more daring saying the next few words for you. âAnd now?âÂ
This moment was perfect. The two of you had been slowly closing that small gap of distance, eyes seeing nothing but each other and suddenly all those rom coms and kdramas come to mind. All those scenes of first kisses (forgetting the practices because those didnât include real romance), all those late night conversations with Shoko about what itâs like, they all come and leave your brain.Â
But instead of leaning in and sealing the deal, Gojoâs entire body suddenly stiffens. His arm around you loosens, placing more distance between the two of you.Â
What the hell?Â
His gaze drops a little further before coming back up with a discipline that can only come from reciting the digimon opening theme over and over in his head. âNow I'm trying really, really hard not to stare at you.â
Curious, you look down to your soaked shirt where the fabric clings painfully close, embarrassingly sheer. It only serves to emphasise the lines of your bra and though you canât really see anything, Gojoâs face is flushed pink not just from exertion, and his jaw is tight.Â
âSatoruââ
âMy place,â he blurts. âWe should, uh, get you warmed up. Your shirt is literally see-through and if I have to keep pretending I don't notice, I'm going to walk myself right into traffic.âÂ
âThat is so dramatic.â The beginnings of a smile cause the corner of your lips to quiver upwards at his flustered state.Â
âiâm dramatic,â he insists, voice strained, still not looking. âNow come on. I still donât want you catching pneumonia out here and Sig Kap is literally right near the gate. We can keep talking there when you donât look like a puppy left out in the rain.â
âSays you.â You eye his white hair plastered to his forehead and smile, reaching up to move a few clinging strands from his eyes. âBut okay. Iâd like that a lot.â
Unfortunately, the gesture makes him look back down at you, inevitably making him catch an eyeful of your chest. He closes his eyes. âLet's just go before I give you this umbrella and walk onto the road.âÂ
You laugh a little. âGeez, you really are dramatic.âÂ
He walks you to Sig Kap, refusing to stand fully under the umbrella. When you try to grab his arm and pull him under, he only launches into a talk about being a feminist and how chivalry isnât dead and how much he hates periods and loves matcha. You laugh and he smiles down at you before looking away. Seriously, he needs to get over that.Â
At the door outside the house, Gojo stops you.Â
âHere.â he hands you the umbrella, fingers brushing yours, before reaching down to take his jersey off. You instinctively blush and look away, but considering your state of undress it would only be fair if you stole a glance. So you peek at him from the corner of your eyes.Â
You only manage to look just below his abs when something warm and slightly damp flops over your head.Â
âHey!â
He takes the umbrella back from you, standing in front of you and covering your back with the umbrella.. âPut that on before we head inside. Take your wet jersey off, hurry.â
Feeling warm despite the rain, you hastily pull off your soaked top, making sure heâs looking politely away, and throw his jersey on. Itâs still damp but not as drenched as your own. Looking down, it falls past your skirt and just above your knees.Â
âYouâre going to walk in shirtless?â
âBetter than you walking in looking like that.â He doesnât give you a moment to think about his words. âCome on, youâre going to catch a cold.â
He leads you to the now familiar front door and when it opens before Gojo can even touch the doorknob, you understand the reasoning of his actions.Â
âDude!â Hikari cheers, wrapping an arm round Gojoâs shoulders and eagerly pulling him in despite his grunt of protest. âCongrats on the win, man!â
Hikari quickly notices your presence.Â
âOh. So youâre already celebrating, huh?â
Gojo brushes past him, his hand holding tours to guide a path through the sweaty frat boys. âShut it, Hikari. Is Sukuna in?â
âNah. The whole floorâs gone.â Hikari answers, raising his voice as Gojo quickly places distance between him and you.Â
When the door of his room closes behind you both, he turns and pulls you in, his hand falling down on your hips, pulling you close. You both look like wet dogs but you couldnât care less.
âSorry about them,â he mumbles against your hair.Â
âItâs fine,â you pause. âWho's Sukuna?â
âThe guy in the room next to mine.â
âOh.â
He hesitates, searching your eyes in the dark of his room. The storm rages on beyond his window, rain entering through a slightly ajar window, but neither of you make the responsible move to close it. Instead, you find yourself pressing up against him, hoping for more.Â
âSweets,â he says, his voice low. âPlease donât tell me this is still practice.â
âItâs not.âÂ
He takes a deep breath in. âYou piss me off. Youâre annoying, and insistent, and you always get what you want.â
You frown a little. âHold on, I thought this was going a different way.â
He shushes you by placing a finger against your lips. âYou never listen to me and you never act how I think you will. Youâre definitely not normal and your thoughts are all weird and messed up. But youâre always in my head and you have the prettiest smile and the softest voice and when you tell me to shut up I want to drop to my knees and lick your feet.â
âOkay, itâs definitely getting weird now.âÂ
âI think Iâm seriously doomed,â he whispers despite your protests. âBecause I bought that coffee you gave me months ago and I still drank it even though I hated how it tasted. And I havenât been able to get it up without thinking about you and those pretty lips.âÂ
âNow I see why you donât do relationships.â
Gojo chuckles, eyes unbearingly soft. âI think Iâm in love with you, Y/N. Youâre all I can think about.âÂ
You let out a slow exhale.Â
This was not how you imagined any of this. That day when you sat down with Shoko to plan a devious scheme to get with Geto, you naturally assumed it would end with him by your side, or with a crippling inability to reassimilate with society.Â
Never in a million years did you think youâd be here, in Gojoâs enormous room inside a frat house, him hanging off your every word.Â
But thinking on it now, thereâs nothing you want to change in your plan.Â
âI think Iâm in love with you too,â you say just as quietly, a smile playing on your lips.Â
âReally?â If he had dog ears, they would have surely perked up. âBecause I was lying, I definitely donât just think that.â
âWoah, letâs calm down a little.â
He chuckles, breath misting your face.Â
His thumbs rub circles and you shiver at the faint sensation.
âCold?â
You bite the lip and nod. Now that youâve confessed, the forbidden desire building up in your core no longer feels like something you need to hide. Instead, you embrace it, and you let Gojo see the change in your eyes.Â
He nods back, looking down at his jersey on you.Â
âYou should probably take this off or youâll get sick.âÂ
You grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in just your bra. You mentally fist bump your past self for overthinking your attire earlier that morning and throwing on a matching set.Â
His pupils dilate as he looks at you, eyes lingering on the delicate lace.Â
âAm I moving too fast?â He whispers, breath misting your ear as he leans in.Â
You rapidly shake your head, heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with tension, the rain pattering against the window like a distant drumbeat.Â
He sighs, a low, relieved sound that vibrates through his chest. âGood. Câmere.â
He backs you up against the door, the wood cool against your bare back. His hands slide up your sides as he traps you. The guise of getting you out of wet clothes feels like a thin excuse now, but you donât mind, your own hands already tugging at his waistband, eager to feel more of him.Â
Gojoâs lips crash into yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue sweeping in to claim your mouth. You kiss back just as fiercely, fingers digging into his shoulders as you push against him, guiding him backward step by step. He stumbles slightly, surprised by your assertiveness, but a smirk tugs at his lips against yours.Â
He falls onto the couch with a soft thud, pulling you down on top of him. You straddle his lap, only because itâs the only position youâve had experience with thus far, and the friction of his hardening cock against your core sends sparks through your body. Your mouths meet again in a heated makeout, tongues tangling, breaths mingling in short, desperate gasps.Â
His hands roam your back, unhooking your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away. You arch into him, pressing your bare breasts against his chest, nipples hardening from the contact.Â
âFuck, youâre so hot like this,â he growls, nipping at your lower lip. âWhere were you hiding all of this, hm?â
You shiver, fingers digging into his shirt. âYou like it when I tell you what to do, donât you? Big bad frat boy, already so hard because a girlâs got you pinned.â
He groans, hands gripping your ass to grind you against him. âKeep talking like that, and I'll show you whoâs really in control.â
But you donât stop. Instead, you push him back further into the cushions and trail your lips down his jaw, his neck, biting lightly to mark him. He lets you, for now, his breath hitching.Â
His eyes look down your body, hands feeling the softness of your skin before resting at the waistband of your cute, little skirt. He smirks and before you know it, youâre torn from his neck because he flips you onto your back in one swift move, pinning your wrists above your head.Â
âMy turn,â he purrs, voice rough.Â
You try to wriggle free. âWhat are you doing?â
âYou've always had a thing against my tongue, havenât you?â
âThat was weeks ago, I don'tâwait a minute!â Your hands find his head, trying to push him back up but he refuses, settling properly between your legs and lowering.Â
âRelax.â He turns his head and kisses your palm, eyes on yours. âI'll make you feel good. I always do, don't I?â
You hesitate, your arms losing their strength as the tension eases from your body. He watches you carefully, his gaze soft yet intense, making sure youâre okay before he moves. With a gentle nod from you, he lifts the edge of your skirt and flips it up onto your stomach, groaning low at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.
âSo cute,â he hums, his free hand sliding between your legs to rub at the numb poking out through the fabric. âThis little clitâs begging for attention.âÂ
You let out a startled gasp, hips bucking up involuntarily at the sudden touch. Itâs all still so new, the sparks of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.Â
âYou want my mouth on this pretty pussy, donât you?â He murmurs, lowering to mouth against your panties.Â
His warm breath seeps through the thin material, and the flat of his tongue presses against you, exploring with teasing pressure thatâs not quite enough to satisfy the ache building inside.Â
You jolt again, the sensation overwhelming, back bowing slightly as if to instinctively pull away. He doesnât let you go far, his hand on your thigh tightening to pull you back against his mouth.Â
âI know, I know,â he coos against you. âIt's too much, isnât it?â
You whimper, looking down and feeling a fresh surge of heat when you meet eyes with him.Â
âThatâs it, just feel it,â he encourages, his thumb stroking your thigh in slow circles.Â
Finally, he draws your panties to the side and doesnât waste another second.Â
Gojoâs mouth descends on your pussy, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit.Â
You gasp sharply, hips bucking up as he sucks the sensitive nub between his lips, rolling it gently. His hands hold your thighs apart, fingers digging into your skin to keep you open for him. He eats you out like heâs starved, tongue delving inside you, tasting your wetness then circling back to your clit with firm, insistent strokes.Â
âOh god,â you choke out, the words tumbling from your lips in a breathless rush. âFuck, itâs tooâfuck itâs so good!âÂ
With your hands free, you curl your fingers in his soft white hair, guiding him exactly where the pleasure feels strongest. It's your first time feeling anything like this, and the intensity builds fast, a coiling heat thatâs overwhelming but addictive.Â
He hums against you, the vibrations making you whine as his tongue thrusts in and out, mimicking whatâs to come, stretching you open with wet, probing motions.
âMmm, taste so fucking sweet,â he growls between licks, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your folds. âYouâre clenching so hard alreadyâgonna finger fuck you open so you can take my cock later.â
He adds a finger, sliding it inside your slick heat slowly, curling it to brush against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. âThat's it baby, feel how wet you are for me? so tight around my finger, imagine how youâll squeeze my dick when I'm buried deep.â
You nod frantically, the haze of pleasure making it hard to form words.Â
He senses your building release, slipping a second finger inside to stretch you further, scissoring them gently to prepare you while his mouth latches back on your clit, sucking harder. âCome on, cum for meâwanna taste you so fucking bad, sweets. I want to feel you shake.â
The orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over your body without warning. you cry out, back arching off the surface beneath you as your pussy clenches around his fingers, pulsing with release. He doesnât stop, lapping at you through it, drawing out every shudder until youâre boneless and gasping for air, his tongue coaxing every last tremor from your oversensitive folds.Â
Gojo pulls back slowly, a string of saliva still connecting to you until he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawls up your body.Â
âFuck, you taste like heaven,â he murmurs, leaning in for a deep kiss and letting you taste yourself on his lips.Â
You kiss back weakly making him chuckle, and he pulls back with a wet chu.Â
âYou okay?â
You nod weakly. One moment youâre catching your breath on the couch, the next heâs lifting you over his shoulder and laying you down on his bed.Â
You yelp, feeling gravity turn on its head until youâre safely on his mattress.Â
Watching as he eagerly strips, you say, âYou got a bedframe.â
He grins widely, shimmying down his boxers to join his sweatpants on the floor. âYeah, I did. Do you like it?â
You huff. âYeah. About time, Satoru.â
Gojoâs smile is oddly bright as he gets on the bed and hovers over you. He shifts, propping himself up on his elbows, his blue eyes darkening as they fixate on your chest. Without a word, he moves down, his mouth hovering just above your skin before he presses his face into the soft valley of your tits, inhaling deeply as if savouring your scent.Â
âGod, I love these things.â he groans, voice muffled, his lips brushing the sensitive underside. âSo goddamn perfect. Feel how hard you make me just staring at them?â
You squirm, indeed feeling his cock throb against your leg. âYouâre such an animal.â
âI can't help it. Been thinking about these ever since last time.â He peeks up at you though heâs still hesitant to part with them completely. âCan i fuck them?â
Your nod is all the consent he craves. He straddles your waist carefully and guides his thick length to rest in the plush channel youâve created by pressing your breasts together. The first slide is torturously slow, the velvety skin enveloping him as he rocks forward, the tip emerging shiny with precum near your collarbone.Â
âShit, yes,â he hisses, hips snapping in a shallow rhythm. âSo soft, so fucking warm around me. Look at that, sweets. Your tits are hugging my dick like they were made for it.â
His voice drops lower, rough with building pleasure, each word punctuated by the slick glide of skin on skin.Â
You watch him, mesmerised by the concentration etching his features, brow furrowed, lips parted as he pants. Sweat beads on his forehead and trickles down his temples as his abs flex with every controlled push. The friction builds between your tits, his precum smearing across your skin, making the slide even smoother and more obscene.Â
He glances down to watch his cock disappear and poke out from your cleavage. âOpen your mouth for me, baby.â
âSweets,â you remind him.Â
He lets out a stifled groan, hips jerking forward. âSweets, please. Let me see your pretty tongue. Want it on my tip when i come through so fucking bad.âÂ
The nickname sends a thrill through you, and you part your lips obediently, flattening your tongue in invitation. He groans at the sight, hips stuttering as he angles higher, the flushed head of his cock brushing your waiting mouth on the next thrust.Â
âFuck, just like that,â he rasps. âYour tongue feels so good lapping at me like that. Swirl it around, taste how much I want you. God, sweets, youâre killing me.âÂ
You do, tracing the sensitive underside when he pushes forward, the salty tang of him flooding your senses. His reaction is immediate, a deep, guttural moan escapes him, his rhythm faltering as he jerks deeper, chasing the wet heat of your mouth.Â
âCan't get enough,â he growls, drawing back only to thrust again, his tip kissing your tongue with deliberate precision and drawing back a sticky string of his precum and your saliva. âGonna fuck your mouth next, stuff it full of my cock until youâre choking on it. You'd take it so well, wouldnât you? Suck me down like the greedy little thing you are.âÂ
Saliva pools on your tongue and drips down to mix with the mess on your chest. He watches it all with hooded eyes, rutting faster now, the slap of his hips against your breasts echoing softly in the room.Â
âFuck, sweetsâgonna cum,â he warns through gritted teeth, his forehead creasing in that pretty, desperate way. âCanât hold back with you squeezing me like this. Shit, iâm gonna paint you, mark every inch of these pretty tits.â
He lurches forward suddenly, back bowing as he towers over you, one hand bracing beside your head while the other strokes his base to control his release. The first hot spurt lands across your neck, thick and warm, followed by another that arches toward your open mouth. He aims with a focused groan, pressing down on the head to guide it, ropes of cum landing on your tongue, filling your senses with his taste.Â
âTake it, thatâs a good girl,â he pants, voice breaking on a final, shuddering thrust. âLook at you, covered in me. So fucking hot, dripping with my cum on your face and tits.âÂ
His body quakes through the aftershocks, eyes never leaving yours, drinking in your reaction as he milks every drop onto you.Â
When heâs spent, he collapses forward slightly, catching himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you and leans down.Â
Your lips meet his in a deep, unhurried kiss, tongues tangling slow and sweet at first, then hungrier as you melt into it. The taste of him, salty from earlier, mixed with the faint tang of your own arousal, ignites you, and you tug him down, hands roaming his shoulders, feeling the flex of muscle under sweat damp skin. A soft moan escapes you, and he swallows it, his grip tightening just a fraction.Â
He pulls back and pants against your lips, half laughing.Â
âSorry, I should have warned you. Kind of not the most virgin friendly thing to do, huh?â He sits up and reaches for some tissue to clean you. âShould of saved this for inside you, sweets.â
You clench, squeezing your thighs together. âIâve neverâŠâ
His eyes soften, wiping the last of his cum. âI know, sweets. We can wait if you need to, thereâs no rush.â
But curiousity and want is a dangerous cocktail and you find yourself shaking your head. âI want to.âÂ
Gojo lets out a shuddering breath and nods, sliding off your chest, his cock glistening and heavy against his thigh. âLet me get you warmed up again.â
He doesn't find much difficulty with that because one hand against your slit and his eyebrows are rising, feeling your wetness despite the lack of attention.Â
You blush, feeling caught. âWhat? Donât look at me like that, itâs embarrassing.â
âWhatâs got you so wet, hm?â
You squirm, feeling the lingering pleasure flare up. âItâs not my fault youâre so vocal.â
âDirty girl. You like hearing how good you make me feel?â His thumb smears your entrance, picking up and spreading the fresh arousal that gathers there and itâs as good as any verbal answer. âFeel that? So worked up with nowhere to go.â
His fingers part you gently, circling your entrance with feather-light strokes that make you gasp.Â
âLet me warm you up again, sweets. Youâre so swollen here, feels like youâve been waiting for more. Gonna make sure youâre nice and ready for me.â
He plays with the mess between your legs, his own expression a mix of hunger and restraint, breaths coming in measured pulls as he fights the urge to rush. One finger dips inside you shallowly, then two, curling just right to brush that spot that sends sparks up your spine.Â
The stretch is easier now, your body remembering the pleasure, and he coos softly at your soft whimper, thumb finding your clit to rub in slow, firm circles.Â
âShit, youâre so tight,â he groans quietly, voice rough around the edges. âSo warm and wet, itâs killing me not to slide in right now. But weâre taking our time, yeah? Making this perfect for you.â
Your hips rock instinctively into his hand, the coil of heat tightening low in your belly, and he grins, leaning in to pepper kisses along your jaw.Â
âLook at you, getting into it. My sweet girl, so responsive.â
You whine, the pleasure having reached a plateau and when you buck up for more, he withdraws his hand. The loss makes you whine but he hushes you with a gentle kiss to your forehead, reaching over to the nightstand and searching through his messy drawers for a condom.Â
The foil crinkles under his fingers as he tears it open and positions himself at your entrance. You're still slick, heâs made sure of that, but the anticipation makes you clench, nerves building up. He notices your sharp inhale and lets his tip nudge your slick folds, parting them teasingly though he pauses there to let you feel the pressure without pushing in.Â
âHey, eyes on me, sweets,â he murmurs, voice steady despite the way his chest heaves, his cock twitching against you. âYou still okay? Tell me if itâs too much, Iâll stop, I promise. But fuck, Iâd be lying if I said I didnât want to be inside you.â
âIâm okay,â you whisper breathlessly, fingers curling into the sheets below. âJust⊠go slow?â
He notices and slides a hand down to interlace your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss to your palm. âOf course. Whatever you want.âÂ
The stretch is immediate, a slow burn as he guides himself in, sinking bit by bit. His cock is much thicker than his fingers but the warmth of him, the way he watches every flicker of your expression with that twitch in his jaw, makes it bearable.Â
âFuck, youâre so fucking tight,â he rasps, eyes shutting briefly. âGripping me so good already. Easy, sweets, just relax into it.â
His voice cracks a little on the end, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds himself still once heâs halfway in.Â
It aches, but the fullness is intoxicating, waves of pleasure chasing the discomfort as your body yields. You gasp, squeezing his hand and he coos softly, stroking you with his thumb.Â
âCan I keep going?âÂ
You nod and even before your next breath, heâs already sliding in and bottoming out with a shared gasp, hips flushed against yours. His forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling in the humid air.Â
"How's that feel? Too much?â He asks softly.Â
âFull⊠so full,â you whimper, rocking experimentally and he hisses through his teeth, hips bucking up just a fraction before he catches himself.Â
âFuck, want me to move, sweets?â He shifts beneath you, guiding your hips in a gentle circle to grind against you, his praises making the movement slick.Â
âPlease,â you gasp out as the fullness sparks pleasure deep inside and he rewards your honest words with a slow roll of his hips.Â
âGood girl,â he praises, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper as he starts to move, shallow thrusts that build a steady friction. Each slide in and out drags against your inner walls, drawing out filthy whimpers and sighs as he hits that sweet spot with precision born of his experience.Â
Soon, your toes are curling and your back bows off his mattress, desperate to meet his thrusts.Â
âListen to those sounds youâre making,â he coos, emphasising his words with a deep thrust. âYouâre taking me so well, sweets. Makes me want to stay buried in your forever.â
The pace gradually quickens, his control fraying at the edges as your moans encourage him. He shifts the angle, one leg hooking over his shoulder to deepen the penetration, and the new position has you crying out, pleasure coiling tight in your core.
Sweat beads on his skin, dropping onto your chest and he leans down to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as he thrusts harder, the wet slap of skin echoing softly.Â
âThatâs it, let go for me,â he urges against your tits, teeth grazing the peak before soothing it with his tongue. âI can feel you squeezing, you close for me already? Come on, sweets, chase it.â
His words weave through the haze, dirty and devoted, spurring you higher as his freehand slips between you to circle your clit in time with his hips. The dual sensations overwhelm, building to a peak that has you trembling beneath him.Â
When it hits, itâs blinding, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, walls clenching rhythmically around him and pulling him deeper. He groans your name like a prayer, thrusts stuttering as rides it out with you, prolonging the bliss with expert rolls of his hips.Â
Only when you slump, sweaty and panting, does he let himself follow, a filthy groan escaping his lips as he buries himself deep one last time and spills into the condom, body shuddering as he struggles to hover over you.Â
He doesnât pull away immediately, instead pressing his hips closer to ensure youâve gotten everything before collapsing half on top of you, peppering lazy kisses along your neck.Â
âYouâre amazing,â he whispers. âMy perfect girl, did so good for us.â
You whimper against the ticklish sensation. âYou're too heavy.â
He chuckles and rolls off you, slowly pulling out to pull the condom off and discard it. you watch him with sleepy eyes, eagerly nuzzling into his arms when he settles back beside you.Â
âNeed anything? Water? Cuddles?âÂ
You hum, feeling the satisfaction morph into a drowsiness that has you melting into his arms, only feeling his warmth.Â
âYou?â
He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. âIâm so glad I stole you away. Youâre so fucking perfect for me.âÂ
You lean into his side, feeling a sense of indescribable completeness that fills you with certainty.Â
Geto Suguru may have been everyoneâs first love but Gojo Satoru is the one you choose.Â
And judging by the way his arm tightens around you, the way his grin softens when he looks down at you, he knows it too.Â
Geto Suguru is everyoneâs first love.
Even to this day, your friends will roll their eyes and insist that canât possibly be true. But from experience, that was exactly who he was, someone to admire from afar like a painting behind glass. Beautiful and alluring, and just out of reach.Â
You see him now up, sitting on the couches at the house party driving the murmur of conversation with ease, a red cup used to gesture. Laughter ripples outward in waves, people leaning closer, drawn in.
You smile out of solidarity, resting against the wall with content misplaced at a busy place like this.Â
âDid you wait long?â
You turn your head to find your boyfriend weaving through bodies with the casual confidence of someone who assumes space will make itself around him. Two drinks in hand, hair messy under his cat, grin already forming because heâs caught you staring.Â
You push off the wall, reaching automatically for whichever cup is closer but he pulls back to sniff both before handing you the opposite one.
You take it gratefully and when you take a sip, you realise itâs your favourite juice.Â
âWait time longer than the lines at Universal,â you tease.Â
He grins, leaning down to kiss your forehead. âNext time I'll get us the priority pass. Not that it looked like you minded the wait. Donât think I didn't see you eyeing Suguru like that. Do I have competition again?â
You shove him playfully. âPlease, like I'm the one whoâs been draping themselves over him for the past hour.â
Across the room, Geto laughs again, someone hanging off his shoulder while he tries to keep the liquid in his cup from spilling. He catches your eye briefly and lifts his cup in greeting. You return it with a smile.
Next to you, Gojo sighs dramatically.
âWow,â he says flatly. âRight in front of me too. Why canât I see any remorse in your eyes?â
âBecause there isnât any there,â you snort. âYou're the one who told him to come tonight.â
âWhere thereâs Satoru, thereâs Suguru.â
âI learnt that the hard way.â
He hums, arm sliding around your waist to pull you flush against his side. His thumb starts tracing lazy circles just above your hip, absentminded and affectionate, a touch so familiar you barely notice as you lean into him in return.
âStill,â he murmurs, quieter now, his breath warm against your cheek. âYou donât have to keep looking at him like that.â
âLike what?â
âLike youâre thinking about what you could have had.â
You tilt your head to look up at him. His expression isnât jealous, not completely, just searching, softer than the bravado he usually wears.
âI'm not,â you promise gently. âIt was always superficial. You know that better than anyone. I guess now, looking at him is like looking at a relic of a different version of me.â
He hums. âHe would have liked that sentence.â
You roll your eyes, ever so familiar with his dramatics. âYou have nothing to worry about, baby. I promise.â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â You reach up and adjust the brim of his cap slightly, smoothing down a piece of hair that refuses to stay put. âBesides, I think I traded up.â
âKeep talking like that and I'm going to start thinking you actually like me,â he grins, voice lowering.
You smack his chest but your other hand lingers in his hair, fingers slipping into the soft hair at his nape. "Don't get cocky.â
Too late. He's already smiling wide, not the loud, flashy grin everyone else gets, but something softer and almost boyish reserved just for you.
Gojo leans down and finds your lips. The kiss is slow and unhurried, deeper than something meant for a crowded room but not quite indecent, like heâs forgotten where you are or just doesnât care.
He pulls back just enough to talk. âHey, I have an idea thatâll solve this three way jealousy.â
âWhat?"
âWhy donât we just have a threesome?â
a/n: i had to repost this because i realised i could fit everything into one post but holy hell reformating everything made me wanna die so please smash that like button hit subscribe and don't forget to turn on that notification bell ++ shoutout to flatline and happy pokemon day to those who celebrate
michael robinavitch x jack abbot x fem!reader. threesome, d/s dynamics, bratting, brat taming, praise, spanking, fingering, blowjobs, orgasm denial.
word count: 2.3k
The second that Michael puts the car in park, youâre out of your seat and marching up the driveway. Youâve been in an unshakable bad mood all day. So, despite the fact that nothing went wrong during your shift (by ER standards, at least), youâre desperate to be home for the night. When you reach the front door you jam your key into the lock, turn it swiftly, and step into the entryway. Michael follows a few steps behind. As you make your way into the kitchen, Jack appears from down the hall.
âHey, sweetheart.â He greets you, giving a nod to the man behind you before he grasps the side of your neck and pulls you in to press a kiss to the top of your head. âHeard you gave Michael a lotta trouble today.â
You roll your eyes, pulling away from Jackâs hold and shooting Michael an accusing glance. âReally? What, did you text him real-time updates?â Your sneered words make him laugh, and he puts up his hands in mock surrender.
âHe asked how the shift was going. I was just being honest.â
You scoff. Your work bag hits the ground with a heavy thud as you drop it near the kitchen counter, then go to get a glass from the cabinet. You deliberately turn away from the men while you fill it at the sink. âI wasnât âgiving him troubleâ, he was being a fuckinâ dickhead.â You grit out, pent up irritation lacing your words.
Behind you Jack lets out a low whistle. âUh-oh. You werenât kidding, man.â
You huff, whirling around just in time to catch Michael shoot Jack a raised-brow âI told youâ look. Your expression sours. Jack comes up close beside you again, putting a hand on your waist.
âWhatâs wrong, baby?â He murmurs. He meets your eye expectantly. You fix him with a stubborn glare despite the arousal pooling in your stomach just from being in his presenceâ from smelling his familiar cologne, feeling his voice reverberate through his chest.
âNothingâs wrong.â You mutter. Your arousal mingles with your frustration, leaving you even more edgy. Your words are clipped. âFuck off.â
âAh,â Michael lets out from across the room, a knowing expression crossing his face. You furrow your brows at him, wondering what he suddenly has all figured out.
âIs that what this is?â Jack says. âCâmon, sweetheart, you know better. No need for all the drama.â You turn on him with the same confused expression you gave Michael. Their little inside joke only annoys you further.
âWhat are you talking about?â
âIf you want attention so badly you just have to ask.â Michael says simply. You scowl, heat flooding your cheeks. Your mouth feels dry and your arousal amplifies tenfold, but you still canât shake your bitterness.
âAttention?â You gripe.
âMhm,â Jack hums, his low voice still rattling you. His rough hands rub up and down your sides, sneaking under the hem of your shirt and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He leans down, mouth against your ear. âWeâll show you what being a brat all day gets you. Put you right back in your place.â
âYes,â you scream internally, âpleaseâ. You can already feel wetness gathering between your legs.
âBite me.â Is what comes out instead. You feel Jack smirk. His grip on your hips tightens near bruising. You let out a soft gasp.
âDonât tempt him, honey.â Michael warns. You feel a thrill shoot up your spine, and then Jackâs mouth is on your neck. He kisses it fervently, hot and messy, his stubble scratching against the tender skin. At the same time, he starts walking you forward.
âBedroom,â he orders. He delivers a sharp smack to your ass, making you yelp. Michael grabs your wrist from ahead of you and leads you down the hall.
Once in the bedroom, Michaelâs quick to unclothe. His arms raise above his head to remove his shirt in a swift motion, then he unclasps his belt and lets his pants fall to the floor. Your eyes rake over his broad body as he settles against the headboard. They linger on the growing bulge in his briefs, and youâd never admit it, but you swear your mouth waters.
âCâmere, doll.â His voice breaks you from your thoughts as he beckons you over. âYouâve got a whole shift worth of attitude to make up for.â
You consider pushing back, but with one glance behind you at Jackâs stern face, you decide to obey.
âThatâs it.â Robby praises when you crawl up the mattress and position yourself on your hands and knees before him. He reaches out to cup your face, rubbing a calloused thumb over your cheek then across your bottom lip. âSo pretty when you listen.â
You smile at him with thinly veiled mischief, voice exaggeratedly servile. âThank you, sir.â
You crane forward to chastly connect your lips with his. When you start to pull away, he chases after you, deepening the kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth possessively.
Behind you, Jack occupies himself by groping your ass through your leggings. Robbyâs large hands come up to grasp your face and ease you away from his mouth. His intense gaze locks with yours, his pupils eclipsing the warm brown of his eyes. You smirk at him and lower down towards his crotch. You mouth gently at his clothed bulge, earning you an appreciative hum. Youâre exhilarated when you feel his cock hardening beneath the fabric of his briefs.
âWhy donât you take these off then really get to work?â Jack speaks up from behind you, hooking a finger in the waistband of your leggings and letting it snap it against your skin. You rise up on your knees, meeting Michaelâs eye as you work your pants down your hips to reveal your pink lacey panties. Much to your satisfaction, he groans outright.
âShit, sweetheart, to work?â He muses lowly. His hands come out to knead appreciatively at the flesh of your hips as he drinks in the sight.
You giggle, shimmying the leggings down further. Jack helps you work them past your knees, off your calves, then quickly casts them aside. He returns to groping your ass in no time. The feeling of two pairs of rough hands on you makes your head swim.
âYou were dolled up for Dr. Robby all day, huh baby? Just waiting to get his dick in your mouth.â Jack taunts.
âStill am,â you complain. Jack chuckles, giving your ass a smack.
âGo on then, baby.â
You bend over once again while Robby frees his hardened length from his boxers. The sight of it bobbing heavily against his abdomen â large and imposing just like the rest of him, a bead of precum gathering at his slit â never fails to awe you. You find yourself staring, wide eyed and needy, as he takes himself in hand to relieve some tension. Thereâs a wet, erotic sound as his languid strokes spread the moisture down his shaft.
You let out a pathetic whimper as your resolve crumbles and you dive forward to take the head of his cock past your lips. You moan around him at the familiar taste, practically drinking him in. You earn a groan in response.
âThatâs it, angel,â Robby gasps out, always at his most indulgent when your mouth is on him. He cups the sides of your head in big warm palms. Tenderly smoothes flyaways back from your hairline with the pads of his fingers. You hollow your cheeks, take him in a bit deeper, eager for the praise you know is coming. âThere you go. Fuck, youâre so good at that. Perfect little mouth.â
âWouldnât even know sheâs been a pain in your ass all day with how youâre talkinâ to her, brother.â Jack observes with halfhearted disapproval. Heâs begun exploring your wet folds, running two calloused fingers up and down your slit almost casually. Your brows furrow, and you release Robbyâs dick with a soft pop.
âIâm making it up to him,â you gripe. Robby takes a firmer hold on you, guiding you back down onto him with a shake of his head.
âHe didnât ask for your input, sweetheart.â He chastises, rough voice strained with arousal. âYou keep doinâ what youâre doinâ until youâre told otherwise.â
You roll your eyes, but are quick to take his cock deep in your throat before he can react to the show of attitude.
âReal fuckinâ mouthy today,â Jack roughly works his fingers, now slick with your arousal, into your pussy. Your walls flutter around him and you choke on a moan around Robbyâs cock.
Jack works you up expertly, massaging the spongey spot that has your hips rocking back against him in a desperate chase for more pleasure. Robby groans at the sight of you pathetically fucking yourself on Jackâs fingers while his cock is down your throat.
You gag periodically. Robbyâs guiding you rhythmically up and down, and every so often he forces the tip of his dick just beyond what you can take. The coarse hair at his pelvis tickles your nose and chin when he does.
The rough treatment only adds fuel to your internal fire, and when Jack starts to tease his thumb against your clit, youâre completely done in. You pull back against Robbyâs hold, a thick line of saliva strung between your lips and the head of his cock, and moan outright.
âYes, yes, yes,â you chant. Your head lolls down to rest on Robbyâs stomach, your orgasm drawing closer and closer. âJack, yes, plea-â
âNope,â Jack injects with a shake of his head. His fingers are still pumping inside you while you rock back against them. His thumb, however, breaks contact with your clit. You could scream. âYou donât finish till he does, you understand?â
âAre you fucking kidding me?â You crane your neck to throw Jack a scathing look.
âWatch it,â Michael growls from above you, âjesus, youâd think the attitude would be fucked outta you by now.â
âIt might be if youâd let me fucking cum.â You snap back.
âPoor thingâŠâ Jack muses lowly behind you, amusement clear in his voice. âYouâre not cumming if you donât behave yourself, baby.â
The smallest ghost of touch against your clit has you keening pathetically. You put on your most pitiful voice, glassy eyes imploring Robby from behind your lashes âOh my god, please. Please.â
âThatâs very cute, honey.â Robby condescends. Heâs leading you back towards his cock, nudging the tip against your lips until they obediently part and grant him entry. âThere you go. Take care of that cock and Jackâll take care of you.â
You double your efforts. Your mouth suctioning around Robbyâs dici makes obscene noises as you bob up and down. Jackâs fingers are still curling inside you. He keeps you teetering on the precipice. He reads your reactions easily, feeling every clench of your pussy and hearing every whine in your voice that tells him when he needs to slow down.
Robbyâs hips start rocking to shallowly drive his cock deeper with every downward thrust of your head. That coupled with the soft grunts spilling from his lips let you know heâs almost there. To bring it home your hand comes up to the underside of his shaft. You cradle his balls in your hand, rolling and kneading gently.
âGoood girl,â Robby groans out. His hand finds the back of your head, holding you down on him as he ruts firmly against you. âSwallow it all, baby.â
Thatâs all the warning he gives you before he thrusts forward one more time. Itâs deep enough to make you gag, but still you dutifully swallow down the ropes of cum that shoot from his cock to the back of your throat.
Jack immediately reacts, rubbing firm circles on your clit as promised. You moan around Robbyâs cock as it spasms against your tongue with the last of his orgasm.
âDid so good for Robby, babygirl.â Jack praises. âGonna give you what you need now.â He hits your g-spot with every drag of his curled fingers.
âYes, yes, right there. Please donât stop.â You beg, delirious with pleasure.
âI wouldnât dare.â Jack assures. He leans down to press a kiss to the small of your back. Youâre whimpering continuously, so close to the edge.
âGo on, honey. Cum for Jack. Youâve earned it.â Robby encourages, voice gentle and rugged in the wake of his orgasm.
Youâre cumming in the next second, white-hot pleasure igniting in your stomach. Your muscles tighten and your legs shake. You collapse against Robbyâs chest. Your hands clamor at his arms and sides, seeking comfort in his warm skin. Itâs long and drawn out, wave after wave of a bliss so intense that it makes your head go blank.
Slowly, the sensation passes. Robby hushes you softly when Jackâs fingers slide free from your pussy, leaving your sensitive, fluttering walls to clench around nothing. His thumb swipes across the corner of your mouth, gathering a smudge of his cum that had managed to escape. You open your mouth to take the wet digit inside without prompting. If your eyes werenât closed youâd see his soft satisfied smile as you suckle his thumb.
âThereâs our sweet girl.â Jack drawls, one hand kneading the flesh of your ass while the other sweeps up and down your back soothingly. You smile dopily around the thick pad of Robbyâs thumb.
several unrelated observations about a man named justin
dr. robby is an excellent doctor, a good teacher, and deeply committed to professional boundaries. right up until someone flirts with his favorite intern
bet u wanna meet the reader! ââ .⊠°ââ.àłàż*:
pairing: michael robinavitch x sunshine!intern!reader
warnings: fem!reader, intern!reader, implied age gap, medical slow burn, fluff, mentorship or smthin, pre-relationship pining, flirty patient, mutual pining, attending x intern dynamic, power imbalance, competence kink, robby's pov, jealousy!!!!, medical inaccuracies i am so sure, tired doctors making questionable emotional decisions, idiots in love (eventually)
prompt: here!
wc: 3.8k
âDoes it get worse when you rotate your hand like this,â you ask, lifting your own wrist into the air and slowly turning it in demonstration, âor is it more of a constant ache?â
The patient rolls his shoulder in a loose shrug, the exam table paper crackling beneath him.Â
âHonestly? Hard to say,â he says, flashing a grin thatâs probably carried him through a lot in life. âIâve got a pretty high pain tolerance. Played college ball. You learn to push through stuff.â
Of course he had to throw that in there.
College ball.Â
Robby finds himself wondering, almost against his will, if the resume continues along its expected evolutionary path.Â
Fraternity, maybe. The kind of house that permanently smells like cheap liquor and burnt pizza rolls. Backwards caps. Red plastic cups accumulating like a minor ecological disaster across a sticky kitchen counter. Someone shouting his name across a lawn at two in the morning while music rattles the windows and neighbors contemplate calling the police.
Brad. Or Chad. Possibly Kyle.
A man whose greatest formative hardship was probably losing a championship game and then immediately being told by twenty teammates that heâd âget âem next season.â
There is, technically, no evidence for any of this. Robby acknowledges that. But the visual indicators are⊠persuasive.Â
The posture alone makes a strong argument.Â
Elbows spread wide. Knees planted like boundary markers. The casual territorial sprawl of someone who has never once considered the possibility that he might be inconveniencing another human being.
If he had a remote control and a beer, Robby suspects heâd settle in for the evening.
The man does, in fact, possess a real name. Robby read it on the chart not ten minutes ago.Â
He cannot remember it now.Â
Robby doesnât forget names. He forgets anniversaries. He forgets to answer administrative assistance emails until they become passive-aggressive follow-ups, with lots of exclamation marks. He forgets where he put his own coffee approximately six times per shift.
But names usually plant themselves somewhere useful.
He attributes this lapse, generously, to the noise of the ER. The overlapping voices, the beeping monitors, the distant clatter of something metallic hitting a floor somewhere down the hall.
Yes. That must be it.Â
Definitely not to the fact that every time you speak, the manâs entire face rearranges itself into a gleaming, toothpaste-commercial grin like heâs auditioning for the role of Guy Who Is Extremely Invested in Whatever the Pretty Intern Is Saying.
âOh, what position did you play?â
Robby recognizes the move immediately. Context questions. Mechanism of injury. Establish the biomechanical chain before you ever touch the joint.
One of the things heâs taught you, repeatedly, this week. Athletes are walking anatomy lessons if you ask the right questions.
What position. What movement pattern. What repetitive stress their body has been quietly absorbing for years like a structural beam developing hairline cracks.
The patient reacts before he even answers.
He straightens in the bed, vertebrae stacking one by one, chest lifting like someone just opened the blinds inside him.Â
That familiar little flare of pride men carry around like dry tinder, catching the moment someone looks at them with genuine curiosity and says, tell me about your glory days.
Robby feels a flicker of annoyance that is irrationally disproportionate to the moment.
You asked the right question.
He should be pleased.
He is not, exactly.
Robby glances back at the chart again because he requires confirmation that the man exists as something other than the caricature he has already built for him in the last thirty seconds. The mind does that. Fast sketches. Quick outlines.Â
Football guy. Ego intact. Wrist injury. Anecdote about âback in the dayâ warming up in the bullpen of his consciousness, ready for deployment the moment someone shows interest.Â
The brain loves shortcuts like that. Loves categories. Categories are tidy. They conserve cognitive energy. But categories also do something else â they flatten people. Compress them into types instead of individuals.
They require less empathy, they donât remind you that the man sitting on the exam bed has a complicated, inconvenient interior life full of memories and failures and small humiliations Robby will never know about.Â
A name interrupts that process.
Justin.
âLinebacker,â Justin clarifies. âBack in college, anyway. These days I mostly just pull things at the gym and pretend thatâs normal.â His gaze slides back to you aftward and stays there. Heâs waiting. Watching your face to see if the joke lands, if the charm does what itâs clearly meant to do. âBut if talking about football helps the medical process, Iâm all for it. Happy to provide whatever background information you need.â
Robby steps forward before you can respond.Â
âAnd were you lifting when the pain started?â He asks.
You flinch at the sound of his voice.
Not because he startled you exactly, more like the sound of his voice briefly knocks you out of whatever thought you were standing in the middle of. The interruption hangs there for a second, visible in the slight pause behind your eyes, like youâre mentally closing one conversation before opening another.
For a brief second it looks like you genuinely forgot he was standing there. He tries not to take offense, especially because once you fully turn toward him, the transition on your face is instant.
Your attention sharpens, posture tipping forward almost unconsciously, the subtle physical reorientation of someone aligning themselves with a point of reference. A compass snapping toward north.
Robby has seen that look from you a few times already this week.Â
Itâs the look people get when theyâre waiting for instruction from someone they trust not to steer them wrong.
And Robby is not entirely comfortable being on the receiving end of it.
Because in his experience, trust behaves a lot like good weather. Pleasant while it lasts, but rarely something you can rely on sticking around.Â
âOh, thatâs good,â you say quickly, nodding as if the answer has unlocked three more thoughts in your head at once. âBecause if it happening during the movement that could point more toward ââ
You stop yourself. Then glance back at him with the face of someone who has just remembered that the lesson is still technically in progress and theyâve been narrating over the teacher.
You shift immediately, a quick step to the side that clears the space beside the bed and gives him the better line of sight to the patientâs wrist.Â
âSorry,â you add with a quick smile. âGo ahead.â
âFinish your thought.â
He doesnât know why he says it.Â
Well.
Thatâs a lie.
He knows why he says it. You were on the right track, the deferral was unnecessary, letting interns collapse mid-reasoning is bad pedagogy and he is, above all things, a good teacher. Thatâs why. Thatâs the complete and total reason.Â
It has nothing to do with the stepping aside, which he did not particularly care for, or the sorry, which he cared for even less.Â
You blink once, recalibrating, then look back toward Justin.
âRight,â you say. âIf the pain started during the movement, that can tell us which structures were under stress.â
Robbyâs attention drifts as you speak. Not away from the reasoning, the reasoning is sound, but sideways, landing briefly on Justinâs face and, more specifically, the tan.
Which is⊠notable.
The color sits a shade too warm against the fluorescent hospital lighting, faintly orange around the edges, with the almost reflective quality of pigment that did not originate from prolonged outdoor exposure.
Which tracks, because Pittsburgh in March is not exactly conducive to UV rays. Pittsburgh in March is a city that spends most of the month looking like a damp dishrag beneath a permanently offended sky. Grey sidewalks. Grey rivers. Grey clouds layered endlessly over more grey clouds like the atmosphere is personally disappointed in everyone living under it.
Natural sunlight is, at best, a rumor. So if Justin has achieved that orange hue this time of year, there are only a handful of possible explanations.
Tanning beds, then.
And heâs not judging.Â
Except he is, a little, because voluntarily climbing into a glowing plastic tube to cook yourself to like a rotisserie chicken while a machine hums around you⊠Itâs a choice.Â
Itâs a documented, intentional, repeated choice. The dermatology literature on this is not ambiguous.Â
Justin has presumably encountered this literature and decided, with full information, that the tan is worth it.Â
âYeah, actually,â he says, leaning forward a little. âI was doing incline dumbbell presses. Felt this sharp thing right here ââ He taps the inside of his wrist with his other hand. âAt first I thought it was just a normal gym tweak. You know, the kind where you shake it out, pretend nothingâs wrong, and keep lifting so the guy next to you doesnât swoop in and steal your bench.â
You guide his wrist through the movement once more, slower this time, studying the angle of the joint.Â
âOkay,â you murmur, half under your breath. When you press along the inside of the wrist again, Justin winces on contact. âThere it is.â You nod faintly, more to confirm the pattern in your own head than to announce anything to the room. âIf it started during the press and the painâs localized here, thatâs most consistent with a flexor tendon strain. Probably from stabilizing the dumbbells at the top of the lift.â
Justin reacts to the explanation by instinctively flexing his arm, as though the diagnosis might improve if the muscles involved are given an opportunity to present themselves properly.Â
Roby watches with the detached awareness of someone who has never, at any stage of fifty-two year life, had arms like that.
Not at eighteen when he was mostly collarbones and academic anxiety, not at twenty-two when his primary physical activity was carrying textbooks and the specific hunched posture of someone spending seventy hours a week trying to memorize the human body rather than doing anything interesting with his own.
And definitely not now, when his bodyâs ambitions have been scaled down to the realistic pursuit of sleep and food consumed in something resembling a seated position.
His arms are capable arms. They have done serious things. They have done meaningful work. They have stitched skin, held pressure on bleeding wounds, and steadied people during the worst moments of their lives.Â
They are simply not decorative, in the way that Justinâs are decorative, in the way that Justin is clearly understands they are decorative.
Robby is not entirely sure why this distinction feels worth noticing.
âFlexor tendon strain,â Mr. Orange Muscles repeats, like heâs testing the words out. Then he smiles at you again. âGlad you were the one figuring that out,â he says lightly. âMakes the whole injury thing feel a lot more worth it.â
Oh, come on.
You pause. Thereâs a beat where your brain is clearly completing a sentence it wasnât expecting to have to finish, the whole internal apparatus of wait, is he â yes, he is, heâs â okay running just behind your eyes before you surface with, âOh â well, thank you,â delivered with the endearing awkwardness of someone who has just been handed a social situation they did not order and are now trying to return politely. âBut honestly the exam makes it pretty clear.â
Robby clicks his pen. Once. It helps, slightly.
He is not blind. Despite every professional instinct he has to behave as though he is. It would be dishonest, intellectually dishonest, to pretend otherwise.
You are a beautiful woman. A younger one, which introduces a series of additional considerations he has no interest in thinking about.
But the evidence exists whether he chooses to engage with it or not. The way people look at you when you speak, the way conversations bend in your direction, the way people seem to lean toward you without quite realizing theyâve done it.
He is aware, somewhere in the distant administrative wing of his brain, that men will flirt with you. They will try to make you laugh, offer compliments that pretend not to be compliments, test the possibility that a brief interaction might become something more interesting.
None of that surprises him. What he did not anticipate was being forced to watch the process happen live, like an educational video he did not consent to view.
âSure.â Justin tilts his head. âBut I donât think I wouldâve made it through the exam with just anyone. Youâre really good at what you do.â
You open your mouth.
âWeâll get you set up with a splint, ice twenty minutes on twenty off, avoid any loaded wrist flexion for the next two to three weeks.â Robby hears himself saying it, hears the clipped efficiency of it, the attending-closing-the-encounter tone he didnât consciously decide to deploy. âFollow up if the symptoms arenât improving.â
Justin looks at him. You look at him. Thereâs a half-second where the room takes stock.
You close your mouth again, the unfinished response dissolving before it ever quite becomes a sentence.
After a moment, you nod and reach for the paperwork instead.
Robby looks back at the chart.
The chart, which he has already looked at far too many times today and which is suddenly very interesting and absolutely deserving of his full attention.
The man wasnât being inappropriate. This arrives too late to be useful. But he really wasnât.Â
Youâre really good at what you do is, objectively, a normal sentence. A complimentary sentence. The kind of thing people say to medical professionals when they feel well cared for, which is, technically, a patient satisfaction win, which Gloria has been on his case about for months, so really he should be pleased.
And even if the guy was flirting (which remains another working theory, not yet proven), for all Robby knows this could very well be your type. Clean-cut, easy-going, the kind of uncomplicated confidence that probably feels like sunshine to someone who spends twelve-hour shifts in the emotional trench warfare of the ER.
For all he knows, you were about to say something perfectly warm and open back, because thatâs who you are.Â
You walk into your shift and somehow manage to make people feel like they are the most important person in the room. You laugh at things that technically arenât jokes because youâve located the real joke underneath them. You apologize to rolling stools when you bump into them. You remember the names of patientsâ dogs.
You are, constitutionally, the kindest person in any given room, and the room is always better for it.
You do not need Justinâs attention to confirm that.
And you certainly do not need Robby stepping in front of you like some kind of Neanderthal.
Itâs not his call.
He definitely didnât make it look like it wasnât his call. In fact, he made it look extremely like his call, which is a detail he now has to live with.
You set the discharge paperwork on the tray beside Justin.Â
âThe splintâs going to feel weird for the first day or two,â you say, âbut youâll adjust. Just donât try to tough it out at the gym before itâs healed.â
Justin grins. âYes maâam.â
âTake care of yourself,â you add simply.
Then you turn, chart tucked against your chest, and move toward the door.Â
Robby follows.
The door swings shut behind you with a click, the sound briefly sealing the room and its lingering testosterone behind. For the next few steps the hallway fills with the familiar sounds of the department.
You turn before heâs fully cleared the frame.
Robby braces for it. Not visibly, heâs been doing this long enough that his face stays neutral, but internally thereâs a quick, unpleasant tightening of someone expecting a question they donât particularly want to answer.
Something along the lines of why did you do that back there, which would be a fair question and therefore extremely inconvenient.
Instead you say, âIf the strainâs been there for a few weeks without treatment, does the recovery timeline change significantly? Like, is there a window where it stops being conservative management and starts being a surgical conversation?â
Robby clears his throat, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden realization that you were, apparently, paying attention to the medicine the entire time.
âDepends on the degree of involvement,â he answers. âPartial tears managed conservatively within the first few weeks usually resolve without intervention. You let it go long enough, scar tissue starts complicating the picture.â
You nod, already writing something down in a notebook that, from the angle heâs standing at, looks less like handwriting and more like a small, determined storm of ink. âOkay. And imaging â MRI over ultrasound for soft tissue here, or is ultrasound actually sufficient for initial ââ
âUltrasoundâs reasonable first line,â he interrupts, anticipating the question before you finish assembling it. âDynamic assessment, cost-effective, readily available.â He pauses. âYouâre already thinking about the next case.â
âIâm always thinking about the next case,â you reply, still writing, like this is not only obvious but possibly the entire point of being here.
It is. He doesnât know why he said it.Â
Itâs the equivalent of pointing out that water is wet.Â
Thatâs the unspoken rule of emergency medicine: the current patient is the one in front of you, but the next three are already lining up somewhere in the back of your mind.
He waits until youâre a reasonable distance from the room, which he tells himself is purely for other reasons and absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that apologies travel farther than he likes in these hallways, and then says, without preamble, âI want to walk back something from earlier.â
You look up. âThe ultrasound recommendation?â
âNo.â
âThe two to three week timeline? Because I was reading that some studies suggest ââ
âNot the timeline.â He exhales once, a small release of air that carries more reluctance than frustration. âWhen we were in with the patient. I shouldnât have stepped in back there.â He glances down the corridor briefly before looking back at you. âYou were managing it. That was yours to handle.â
You stare at him in a way that makes it immediately clear the explanation he expected to be obvious is⊠not landing.Â
Robby watches the mental process unfold anyway. The rewind. The careful reconstruction of the last twenty minutes of clinical interaction, examined with the same thorough attention you apply to a differential diagnosis.
âWhen you closed out the discharge?â
âBefore that.â
Silence.
Then you shake your head slightly. âIâm sorry, Iâm not ââ A small crease forms between your eyebrows. âDid I do something wrong?â
âNo.â The word comes out immediate, slightly sharper than intended. âNo, you didnât do anything wrong.â He reins the tone back in with a slow breath. âIâm saying I overcorrected. You had it handled.â
You look even more confused now.
âHad what handled?â
He looks at you.Â
You look back at him, pen hovering, expression open and earnest, the look of someone who is clearly attempting to locate the missing variable in a problem that should, theoretically, have a solution.Â
And in that moment Robby understands something with the slow, weary clarity of a man realizing he has followed a perfectly logical chain of reasoning directly to the wrong conclusion.
You did not experience what happened in that room the way he experienced it.
That the patient's smile and the loaded pause and the words may have registered as straightforward, as kindness, as nothing worth questioning, because you move through the world expecting the best of people and so far the world has not done enough to correct this.
He wonât be the first.
âNothing,â he says. âForget it.â
You donât.
âOkay but,â you say, falling into step beside him anyway, your pace adjusting automatically to match his longer stride, âyouâre clearly bothered by something that happened in there, and you apologized for it, which â you donât really do that, so now Iâm just going to be thinking about it all day.â
He looks at you sideways. âYouâll survive.â
âIâll survive distracted,â you reply, âwhich is arguably worse for patient outcomes, so really this is a liability issue.â
The corner of his mouth does something he doesnât authorize. He smooths it away almost immediately. âYouâre prying.â
âI learned from the best,â you say simply.
Your eyes drop back to your notes, your attention rearranging itself into the careful, studious focus of someone who has decided that statement was entirely neutral and therefore does not require further analysis.
Robby faces forward.
He decides, with equal determination, that it does not require further analysis.
âHe was flirting with you,â he says finally and reluctantly, because heâs sure you wonât let this go. âI stepped in. It wasnât my place.â
The words sound reasonable enough once theyâre spoken, but heâs aware, even as he says them, that the explanation feels thinner than the impulse that caused it.
âOh,â you say. Then, smaller, âI didnât â I thought he was just being nice.â
âI know,â Robby says. âThatâs why it wasnât my place.â
You go quiet after that.Â
Robby doesnât look at you. That decision arrives quickly and then calcifies into policy. He fixes his gaze somewhere in the safe, noncommittal middle distance. A patch of hallway wall that is peeling and suddenly fascinating. Riveting, even. If anyone asked, he could probably give a full lecture on its paint texture.
âFor what itâs worth,â you say eventually, âI wasnât â I mean, itâs not like I was interested.â He doesnât say anything. âNot really my type. I think I just⊠I always end up gravitating toward the ones who are hard to get close to.â You say it like a confession to no one in particular, like you're just noticing it out loud for the first time. âMy therapist has thoughts about that.â
Something happens in his chest that he declines to name.
He has been described, by people who have known him for years, in almost exactly those terms. Not flatteringly. Not as a feature. As a recurring complaint, a pattern, a thing that makes him difficult to be around for sustained periods.
You didn't say it about him. He is clear on this. You said it about a type, a pattern, something that lives in your history and has nothing to do with him specifically.
He is, in all probability, not the thing you're describing.
He is also, in all probability, exactly the thing you're describing.
âYour therapist is probably right,â he says, because itâs the honest answer and also the only safe one.
âShe usually is,â you agree. Then you add, like youâre still thinking it through while saying it, âAlthough⊠I donât know if she is this time.â
Robby looks at you, expression narrowing just enough to suggest heâs trying to decide whether that sentence contained something heâs supposed to respond to.
âWhat does that mean?â
You hesitate like you might actually answer. Instead you glance down the hallway.
âRoom seven was waiting on labs, right?â
Robby doesnât miss the deflection.Â
âYes,â he confirms.Â
âOkay.â You nod once and start walking.
Robby watches the door to room seven swing shut behind you and thinks, not for the first time, that the brain likes shortcuts. Categories, patterns, quick explanations that make people easier to hold at armâs length.
Unfortunately, he has a feeling you are about to make a liar out of all of them.
you can find my michael robinavitch masterlist here!