I have four requests in the queue, three recent and one left from the old blog. It will take me some time to work on them, but when I am done, I will re-open the Ask Box.
Shutting up shop for a bit and bunking down for some serious writing. Thanks for all of the requests! I love each and every one of you and all of my followers.
[Hey all! Thanks for the requests!
There has been quite a lot of Akashi loving coming to my inbox, so in the interest of keeping it equitable, I’m going to place a cap on Akashi requests for this round of open ask box. Thank you again, and thank you for your understanding!]
[will not write specific reader body modification or types]
[ask you to please limit asks to 2 characters (more than two characters are accepted to appear in the same scenario, but only one scenario will be accepted in that case)]
[might not actually get your ask because it may have been tumblrmunched]
[may not feel comfortable writing content you’ve asked for, in which case I will: let you know privately, omit some things but still create content, decline&start a list or something]
[generally take a long, long time to write]
[only accept asks when the ask box is open]
[limit myself to only a few asks taken in at a time]
can i request nsfw scenarios for murasakibara and midorima when they catch a glimpse of their gf in the shower ? pls and thanks !!
It’s a beautiful morning: the early morning sun shines in dappled spots on the bedspread diluted through the leaves on the tall trees, birds chirp and flutter about their busy lives outside the window, and Midorima Shintarou sits with his legs slung over the edge of his mattress and his fingers at his temples.
With burning eyes, throbbing headache, and body coated in the thick yet invisible evidence of a night spent with you, Midorima makes a noise of displeasure at how terrible he feels this morning after. In theory, he would love nothing more than to chase that post-orgasm flood of adoration and rose-coloured glasses, but unfortunately, he’s alone in the bed and his actual glasses are smeared with fingerprints. In reality, all he wants is a shower and a nap.
Midorima pauses only long enough to pull on a pair of sweatpants before making his way across the hall. His back cracks and pops involuntarily and he remembers the way he’d slept so unnaturally with you at his side in his too-small bed.
He wonders if you had even slept at all. It’s little wonder he wakes up alone.
Guilt pokes only the slightest of holes through the pounding in his head as he wonders where you’re off to, if you’re stopped somewhere for breakfast, or if you’re even planning to return today. He couldn’t blame you if you didn’t come back; last night had been, for a lack of better word, powerful. The fury and the fragility of exchanging a whole self for someone else for the first time? Undeniable, sure, but the intensity that bordered on fanatical had taken you both by surprise.
Midorima cleans his glasses on his sweatpants as he shuts the door behind him. The room’s humidity does not register before he rests the frames on the corners of the sink and hooks his thumbs into his waistband.
The shower curtain pulls back with a sudden, metallic shriek, and Midorima flinches in shock. The realization floods his senses as the heaviness of the steam and the rushing sound of the water all click into place.
“Shin-chan?” you more mouth than speak.
Your flushed body shimmers in the blurry outlines of Midorima’s vision, but he can see enough to note the telltale signs of exhaustion present in your every bend and curve.
“Good morning,” he murmurs with a growing ache in his chest as the realization dawns that he’s been staring at your slippery, supple form for what he’s quite certain is an inappropriate amount of time.
“Good morning,” you return, beckoning to him with an outstretched hand, but Midorima shakes his head lightly before turning on his heel and making his way out to the hallway.
Midorima stops abruptly and presses his forehead to the wall, his eyes closed and his breath caught like fire and hot ashes in his lungs.
The curtain screeches back closed again. “You could come in with me,” you call.
A shiver courses over all of his sensitive skin and Midorima groans quietly to himself. You, the Undine. For you, he would happily brace that risk, for he’s lost so deep that if he were to ever surface, he might just die anyway. He’s hard again, even though only hours ago you’d taken each other past the point of breaking and come out as something new and mended with your hearts threaded together. To think, the blurry outlines of your body he’d seen for only a moment are enough to get him gnawing at the corner of his lip and clenching and unclenching his fists in an unconscious need for release. Midorima would have never let himself think he would be the type.
Every pore; every vein; every scar, mole, and freckle — this much he can feel on his lips and in his fingertips just with one unexpected look at you.
He takes a long, shuddering breath before replying in a tone so normal it surprises even him. “I’ll wait until you’re finished. Will you stay for breakfast?”
“What’s on the menu?” you ask, a smile obvious in your voice even over the sound of the running water.
“Anything,” he says hoarsely.
“What’s that?” you call, turning off the faucets with an audible squeak.
“I said I’ll see if I have anything suitable,” Midorima says louder as he clears his throat, padding down the hallway with his glasses long-abandoned to the bathroom. There’s no point in retrieving them if he can’t contain himself around you when he can hardly even see. He’s not entirely sure it would be healthy for you to start your morning out up against the bathroom wall, not after last night. His lips twist into the gentlest shade of a smile as the aching need between his legs pulses at the thought.
can i request nsfw scenarios for murasakibara and midorima when they catch a glimpse of their gf in the shower ? pls and thanks !!
Murasakibara isn’t surprised when no one greets him at the door, even though you said you’d be home. He heads to the side of the house and pulls an old terracotta pot off the kitchen windowsill and finds the old key. That key has been there for as many years as he’s known you.
Once inside, he removes his shoes, which is a bit of an annoyance, because if you’d just been ready to go like you had said you would be, he wouldn’t have had to bother. He’s not particularly surprised that you’re running behind and a quick stop at a stocked pantry smooths over any ill will.
He can hear the water overhead as well as the music blaring tinnily from your bedroom. As he winds up the stairs, the noise of the shower grows louder and the words in the music are lost to the sounds off your off-pitch lyrics that absolutely shine with pure, in-the-moment enjoyment.
Murasakibara stands at the top of the stairs for a good minute, just listening to your half-yell with a smile on his face and the bag of crisps in hand.
“I want you to come with me-ee-ee-EE!! Something, something, ba-by! Nuh nuh nuh, we flow like the wi-i-IND, okay! Tho-ose are theee words, I think, mayyybe!”
Murasakibara enters through the open door and says your name through a mouthful of crunchy salt but you don’t seem to hear, and from the sounds of it, you’re completely immersed under the water flow. He comes right up to the tub edge and looks directly over the top of the curtain, which for him is easy enough, even if he hadn’t meant to do so.
He frowns at the sudden constriction in his chest. The minimal steam in the air lays thick in his lungs, causing him to bunch his shirt into his hand as if somehow that will stave off the feeling of suffocation.
Your wet hair, your sloping shoulder, and the droplets that had fallen like tiny waterfalls over your nipples — all of this is just cause for him to take another look. He tries to be more critical this time around, to understand exactly what had provoked this sudden sense of falling into himself, this immediate feeling of self-awareness.
He sits on the edge of the tub and lets the crisp bag fall from his fingers. Things have changed so quickly, haven’t they? When had you gone from childhood playmate to this? Is it you? Is it him? Murasakibara shakes his head and shifts a little to accommodate his hardening length.
It was just a matter of time, he supposes. And it’s not like he didn’t know, somewhere in the back of his mind, that your school skirts had gone from being just a piece of clothing to something illusive and tempting. From your hair tangled and pulled in fun to soft and seductive locks. From you simply being smaller and someone that he had to be mindful not to crush too hard to being someone smaller and in need of protection from being hurt in any way by anyone.
“Hey,” he says, drawing out your name and only including the ‘-chin’ as an afterthought.
You shriek, and in half a second, Murasakibara is treated the sight of you covering yourself with one arm and one hell of a throw as your conditioner bottle hits him squarely in the shoulder.
“Atsushi! You jerk! You could have knocked!” You pull the shower curtain back, fashioning it into something like a makeshift toga around your body. This, unbeknownst to you, creates the effect of the plastic clinging to your curves. “I’m kind of naked!”
Murasakibara sighs, forces the blush out of his cheeks through sheer power of will, and turns his gleaming eyes to the ground.
“And anyway, you’re early!” you accuse, sticking your arm out for a towel.
“You’re late,” he counters easily, holding the towel just out of your reach. “I guess I could come in there with you.”
“You could fall out the window and break your big jerk head, you… Atsushi, just give me the towel!”
He hadn’t been teasing but he’s more than less glad it comes off that way. For now, he crosses his legs to hide his erection and rearranges his features into a mask of familiarity and blandness as he hands you your towel. That feeling in his chest has just grown that much more overwhelming, that much more difficult for him to take, but for you, he will bear it. Just for a moment, if only a second, he’d seen the crack in your armour. He had seen a realization you’re not yet ready to have flash over you, in the goosebumps on your skin and in the part of your lips.
Murasakibara knows what he wants. Seeing you naked had only solidified it. Now, he thinks as he turns his attention to the crinkly bag on the floor and doesn’t bother to move as you have to push your way around him to get onto the tiny sliver of bath mat his feet will allow, he can wait for you to figure it out yourself. You’ve been friends for years. A little while longer won’t hurt.
Hi... do you take commissions? Not sure if you’re active tho
Woah hi! Sorry, my activity is hit or miss and that’s putting it kindly!I have never really thought about commissions. I don’t have much content but I’m so honoured you think the quality is worth paying for (!!!? Like so honoured!). I honestly don’t know. Perhaps in the future I might! I don’t know what I would even charge.Hit me with what you think! I am so sorry to sound so unprepared and unprofessional about this.Does anyone have experience with this? To be honest, I don’t think I am active enough to feel okay with taking a commission, but maybe that would get my butt into gear for writing a bit more. Thoughts?
A little background on why it’s taking me so long; I keep the ask box open for a period of time and then work on requests (although I tried something different this last time around but I don’t think I’ll do that again).
But what’s really taking the time is I just got another job! I am very happy about it. I now have my full-time position, plus now two others… and I’m very grateful. I have been traveling for work a bit, too, so that has been taking away from some of my writing time.
Hello! I’m back!! Unfortunately, posting will likely be sporadic at best. Thank you all so much for your patience and support... now lemme get started on some of these SUPER BELATED requests!! 😍😍
A little background on why it’s taking me so long; I keep the ask box open for a period of time and then work on requests (although I tried something different this last time around but I don’t think I’ll do that again).
But what’s really taking the time is I just got another job! I am very happy about it. I now have my full-time position, plus now two others... and I’m very grateful. I have been traveling for work a bit, too, so that has been taking away from some of my writing time.
[Thanks for the requests so far! I’m very torn about the poly ModoKi… I would like to add a sexy follow-up, but do you think it would be worth it to even do a follow-up since it was a part of a request from like 2 years ago? Is that even something you would like to see, followers?]
I’m moving into my own apartment at the end of the month! Woo! Could I ask for a r18 scene where fem reader and Haizaki move in together? Thank you! :)
[plot twist, the door is open the whole time. congrats on moving!]
The sun is unforgiving and there are still far too many boxes left to unload, but when Haizaki follows you up the stairs, he’s reminded of just how much stamina is left in him.
“Fucking busted elevator,” he complains for effect as he smirks, watching as a bead of sweat rolls down the back of your shapely thigh. The corner of the box he’s carrying presses into him uncomfortably, which let’s him know he’s a little over half-hard.
“Fucking south-facing little piece of crap,” he groans on the fourteenth trip, focused less on the sweltering heat of the container of your apartment and more on the hair plastered to your forehead. Your concentration is elsewhere, which Haizaki finds pleasingly unusual.
“Fuck, couldn’t they have cleaned up before we came?” he grunts to the dust that clouds a lovely golden red in the sun as he plops down a particularly heavy box. He’s not terribly focused on the cleanliness of the apartment at all; rather, he times his outburst for the moment when you drag your wheeled suitcases through the door. Haizaki is sure to rub a line of dust across his clavicle to catch your attention just as artfully as he’s designed for his tank top to ride up up just so over the slope of his hip. When your distracted eyes catch on the defined contours of his body, he hides his knowing smirk behind a scowl. As he hooks a thumb through the belt loop just enough to reveal the sharp dip of his tan line, he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. “Bet they haven’t even turned on the water for us yet. What a dump.”
You swallow, even though there hasn’t been any moisture in your mouth for a good quarter of an hour, because Haizaki’s shifting musculature has been killing you from the get-go but he hasn’t even noticed how you wore your most impractically tight pair of shorts just for him.
Last night, Haizaki had been ecstatic at the prospect of finally having your own little place in which to settle down, as he made clear over a bowl of saucy takeout noodles. “Most of the time it’s gonna blow, and we don’t even have room for the toothbrushes, but this place is yours and mine, babe. It’s yours and mine. It might be a shit neighbourhood, but if anything’s scares you, we will just turn up the music and fuck until you forget about it.” Somehow, that positivity had morphed into the reality of his bad mood today, where he couldn’t care less about this groundbreaking moment in your relationship, and even less that you are actually there with him, except as a spare hand to clean the place.
“Shougo,” you say hoarsely. He scans the haphazard pile of boxes before finally turning his eyes to you, as if he has any right to look as good as he does covered in dust and sweat and shining in the red sun. You touch your throat delicately before winding your way around the boxes. “I bet I can take your mind off of things.”
He arches an eyebrow and spreads his arms wide in an expression of disbelief. “Look at all this junk, babe. If you wanna run to the vending machine and get some cold water —”
When you move toward him, your skin catches fire in the sun. You’ve rarely looked as beautiful as you do now, covered in grime and completely unmade, and Haizaki knows instinctively that this is one of the few good decisions he’s ever intentionally made.He has pulled his weight by taking the heavier boxes and had caught you when your knees gave out, which are his little ways of showing you he cares. That said, he had woken up this morning with you wrapped around his chest and moaning in your sleep just enough to make him ache, and had decided then that he would make this moving day the most torturous of your life.
Haizaki’s lips curl into a smile as you push at his chest, backing him up against a box, to mimic one of his favourite sayings. “Shut up or put up, babe,” you murmur against the salty expanse of his chest.
Giving you the little wins is another way he shows his care. It’s cute when you think sex your idea.
Haizaki takes a generous handful of your ass and squeezes, letting his legs fall open as he pulls you against his thighs. Truth be told, he only had about half an hour left in him before he would have been peeling your shirt off and bruising your knees, but as it is, he can afford to be a bit more generous with his touch.
“Make me,” he teases in a throaty tone. Haizaki’s very veins are swimming with anticipation.
When you push, he lets himself fall back, tumbling over the box and pulling you tight against him as he rolls onto the floor. With only a forearm to brace him a whisper away from you, he watches as your eyes slip closed in that same sense of impending truth as he feels pooling right at the base of his stomach.
Haizaki can’t help but tease. He leans down lightning-quick and presses a kiss to your nose before snickering and rolling onto his back to push you up into an arch of the spine.
Your lashes flutter open in surprise as you blink into the stream of light. In your opinion, Haizaki couldn’t look more self-satisfied if he had planned this whole encounter. He certainly couldn’t be more excited. His fingers brush under your waistband and hook around to press into the flesh of your hips. He presses just hard enough that you toss your head back in a moan and rock against his hardness.
Haizaki’s nimble hand encourages you into building a rhythm before he slides his arm behind his head to watch properly. His throat shifts as his smirk melts into parted lips. “Damn girl,” he rasps. “If you wanted it this bad, you coulda just said something.”
You grab his hand and bring it between your breasts, rocking atop him, now uncomfortably sensitive against your underwear. He folds his fingers encouragingly between yours, and it’s not until you groan, your hips stuttering and thighs burning, that you tear at the buttons and zipper of your shorts.
“I wish you’d just fuck me against the wall, Shougo,” you admit, cheeks burning, as you shunt your bottoms to the side.
“Are you kidding? After lifting all that shit up those stairs? I’m beat,” Haizaki lies, his piece de resistance. His eyes catch on the shape of your hips and wander over your stomach as you strip off your shirt. “Don’t you move,” he instructs with a groan as he shamelessly brings his fingers down to his cock that burns under the layers of fabric. He hisses in relief as he shifts his palm. “Touch yourself for me.”
“Shougo!” you whine your surprise as you shrug out of your bra. It’s difficult to deny him, though, as he shifts into sitting and palms himself roughly over his jeans.
“I don’t wanna fuck you until we get a bed in this goddamn room,” he says, guttural. “I’m not some kind of animal who can’t — ah, yeah — control himself.” He works his jeans and boxers loose and wraps his fingers firmly around his familiar, swollen length that has your mouth watering.
Your legs threaten to give way for just a moment as you watch the angle of his jaw as his head falls back against the box. It’s easy enough to work your fingers between your legs, and it’s no surprise to find the slick wetness. It is, however, surprising to hear Haizaki’s admittance.
“So is this,” you gasp sharply as you finger over your clit accidentally, “like a warm up, then?”
“Baby, you look like a piece of goddamn art,” Haizaki half-answers through his trademark smirk as he slides his fist over his weeping cockhead. “Yeah, what can I say, I’m a fucking romantic.”
You neglect to remind him that there will be nothing but a pile of blankets to call your bed until one of you gets paid and focus instead on the hollowness in your throat and the burning under your deft fingers. It crosses your mind like a hot poker that neither of you will be able to last long enough to get a bed in your new space.
“You know how hard it is not to tell you to drop to your knees and crawl over here?” Haizaki groans, chewing at his lip as you start to burn for more than just your fingers working yourself into a firestorm of delectable fury. “I want you worshipping my dick, baby girl.” There’s frustration building in his tone just as he builds the pace of his fingers to match his words. You whimper at the look on his face and slide to the floor.
“I want you to be crying out my name with the door open and the neighbours to hear and just… hah fill you up, til you’re coming and shaking… I could have it all, this new apartment, my woman riding my dick, but I’m not about to without a fucking bed.” He ends the tirade with a fist to the floor that rattles a couple of spiders back into their corners, and you withdraw your fingers from yourself with an near-indecent noise even considering the circumstances as you crawl closer.
Haizaki groans, teetering on the unpredictable, as you slide over to him, to be there with open eyes and a waiting mouth. Haizaki’s silver lashes flicker as he senses the warmth between his tented knees, and just for a moment, he beams a completely unguarded smile. And you may be soaking, throbbing, completely aware of how good and warm and satisfying the slide of his flushed cock would be inside of you, but all that is nothing compared to that smile.
“Come on me,” you whisper before leaning in, the swing of your breasts enough for him to heave shudder. The sensation of the cotton on your sensitive nipples is almost unbearable. You moan hot against his skin before sealing your lips against his, and the only motion comes from the force of his hand working over himself. Haizaki’s telltale throaty growl vibrates against your swollen mouth just before he comes in thick ropes up your chest and down your legs. You plant your hands on either side of his shoulders and kiss him so hard he chokes for breath.
“That doesn’t count for christening this place,” Haizaki says as soon as he’s able to breathe again. He’s shaking and twitching and watching your unfulfilled body intently. Haizaki roams his gaze over the artistry of the viscous lines he’s painted over your body.
He’d hoped, from the moment he’d woken up in the morning and decided to leave you desperate for his touch, that he would have been able to come in your mouth or over your pretty face, but his plan has come together well enough, all things considered. He doesn’t bother to tell you that he hasn’t bought a bed yet, that you’ll be sleeping on the tatamis he had left outside the room. He would rather you come to that realization on your own, and only when you can no longer stand it will he be plenty happy to wreck your body with fitful tremors and pleading breaths.
Haizaki threads his clean digits through your hair. His come shines brilliant in the light, and combined with the slick on your legs and the pink of your cheeks, he can’t help but grin. “What a masterpiece.”
[Thanks for the requests so far! I’m very torn about the poly ModoKi... I would like to add a sexy follow-up, but do you think it would be worth it to even do a follow-up since it was a part of a request from like 2 years ago? Is that even something you would like to see, followers?]
[will not write specific reader body modification or types]
[ask you to please limit asks to 2 characters (more than two characters are accepted to appear in the same scenario, but only one scenario will be accepted in that case)]
[might not actually get your ask because it may have been tumblrmunched]
[may not feel comfortable writing content you’ve asked for, in which case I will: let you know privately, omit some things but still create content, decline&start a list or something]
[generally take a long, long time to write]
[only accept asks when the ask box is open]
[limit myself to only a few asks taken in at a time]
Ok this is like my secret dark desire so...With Kagami and Himuro, the reader is dating one and cheats with the other and then she makes up with her bf and it is verrrrrrrrry steamy. (So one where she dates Kagami and cheats with Himuro and one where she is dating Himuro and cheats with Kagami please if that makes sense!Thank you!)
Kagami cracks his neck as he ducks to get through the door. He brings the winter chill with him, but no one seems to mind, because the apartment is packed with enough bodies that the temperature hardly even fluctuates. It’s dark. People are crowded together. There’s just enough anonymity to make for a perfectly low-key party.
The bass isn’t too loud, but it has a subtle effect on almost everyone around, Kagami included. There’s something in the atmosphere that has any given person either bobbing their head or swaying their hips just a little.
It’s nothing crazy. It guarantees the sort of respite he’s been seeking.
Kagami smiles and lets himself into the kitchen to try and find the host, though when he gets there, he’s informed by a pretty girl passing out glasses of water to anyone who may want some that the host has actually just stepped out to get more supplies as the party gets underway. Kagami shrugs and makes his way through the crowd. He thinks of checking his phone. His fingers twitch at his hip as he fights the inward battle to check on his open social media apps, just once, even though he’s told himself not to.
Because, realistically, if he had truly wanted not to think of you, he would have just left his phone at home. That frustrating realization propels him down the hallway with his phone burning a hole of attention in his pocket as the crowds thin into only a pair of couples lining the hall. Seeing them doesn’t make Kagami particularly embarrassed or uncomfortable, but it does remind him of the urgency he had unintentionally created as soon as he had noted that the apartment has a balcony.
He pushes open the bedroom door to find a couple pressed against the far wall. He’s two steps into the room before he even registers what they’re doing.
“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles, reddening at last and cursing himself for not knocking. He averts his eyes to the floor, and as he does, the image of the guy with his hand up the girl’s skirt and her hands presumably full and busy, comes flooding in more detailed relief.
Then, quite suddenly, time stills for everything but the speed of Kagami’s pulse. The party noise turns to a faint buzzing in his ears, and he just blinks as the room swims and shifts as he stares at the blank space between the bed and the floor.
“Taiga?” comes the familiar voice, cutting through everything, crushing Kagami’s chest and threatening to obliterate his being.
At least in some small way, Kagami knows exactly what he’s doing, like he has never been more focused, but he also seems to leave his body to watch as he strides the room in two easy paces, rips the pair apart at the shoulder, and draws his fist back to strike Himuro so hard it leaves him gasping on the floor and already swelling at the cheek.
Then his attention turns to you, and he hardly recognizes you through the lenses of disgust and rage that permeate his vision. But there you are, nonetheless, flushed and hands clapped to your mouth in shock. Kagami can feel his hand forming into a fist again, can feel the tension and recoil forming at his elbow, but forces his arm to stay down out of sheer force of will. Himuro is saying something, but Kagami can’t hear him.
“You,” he hisses, watching the confusion and terror play over your flushed features. “We’re done. And you!” Kagami rounds on Himuro, who has a hand raised to his cheek. His left eye is swelling and completely reddened, but he looks concerned above all. Kagami’s ire is near to breaking, and it’s all he can do to restrain himself further as he spits out what he has to say. “You could have had anyone!”
With that, he spins on his foot and nearly shatters the door as he flings it open. He hardly stops even to pull on his shoes with shaking hands. His graceless heart flutters and bounces off every corner of its cage and he scowls as he kicks his feet through the light dusting of snow as he considers just cutting it right out and saving the pain of his pride.
Your voice sounds from behind him, but it just serves to spur him on faster. He can outpace you fairly easily on a regular day, and each of your calls of his name sounds more winded and desperate and as he cuts down an alley and you stop calling his name, he considers it fitting that you could have given up that easily.
It’s not until he’s two full blocks away that it clicks in his mind, and Kagami hates himself for accidentally putting it together. He hates himself even more drawing to a complete stop. Snowflakes land on his cheeks and lashes and melt down his face in little rivulets, though it doesn’t register. He’s busy re-enacting the events, how had seen your body go into shock, how he had watched as your eyes grew vacant and blank. He had heard your cries grow fainter and more and more breathy with each call. He has seen panic before. But even so, Kagami hesitates. What kind of an idiot would he be to go back now?
He gives in and clenches his fists at his side, scowling, to draw a deep and cold breath into his lungs and holds it for at least five full seconds before letting it go and turning back around.
When he finds you, he grinds his teeth. You’re collapsed right in front of a commercial recycling bin, unconscious but breathing steadily in slow streams of white vapour against the crisp air. You’re dressed in little more than flat shoes that look to him more like slippers and a dress meant for indoor or summer use only. The snow settles in your hair and on the fabric of your dress, and your body shivers out of self-preservation. You must have leaned up against the recycling can to catch your breath before you realizing that the inability to breathe wasn’t coming from the cold or from running after him, but from the panic constricting your throat and tearing at your lungs.
Kagami sighs. He ignores the suggestion born of raw pain to just leave you there, that someone would be along soon and help, and instead leans down to grab your limp form and heave your body over his shoulder.
It’s not until he’s riding the bus back to his apartment and ignoring a couple of blatant stares at your disheveled body, that he realizes he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else coming along and touching you, even just to check your temperature as they called for an ambulance. He adjusts the sleeves of his winter jacket to wrap around your frame as best he can; he had shrugged you into it when he’d set you down in the seat and assured the driver you wouldn’t be sick, but it only dwarfs your frame, it doesn’t necessarily give you the warmth you need.
As he catches the blur of lights through the snow, he realizes he isn’t really concerned about the jacket warming you at all — he simply doesn’t want anyone looking at you.
He sees the thick red flag of jealousy waving in front of his eyes. He can smell the smoke before the fire. Kagami knows better than to go down this path.
He blinks, tucks his arm around your shoulder, and as your head meets his chest, he barrels headlong and fully aware into the danger anyway.
When you awake, you’re warm.
You’re wet.
You’re in Kagami’s bathtub.
Kagami watches passively as you blink back into consciousness. Every flutter of every lash brings you back into yourself, and every second that passes drags with it the weight of remembrance. He won’t tell you this, but you’d regained consciousness once before on the bus ride, though out of perhaps some sense of desperate self-preservation, your body had shut right back down again just as quickly.
He can see your head swimming, the confusion playing out in your eyes as a film reel of the last couple of hours goes back even further to every judgement and decision of the day that had lead you pressed against a cool wall in the soothing hands of the closest thing Kagami has to a brother.
At what point, he searches repeatedly, had you made the decision? Kagami stares hard into your dazed and doelike eyes as you silently replay the events over and over, as if by watching, he could see the turning point himself. Was it in the small choice of picking what shade you would wear on your lips that had predetermined the encounter? Had you woken up thinking today would be the day? Was it when you had first crossed the threshold? Could it have just as easily been with anyone? Was it when you had first seen Himuro and had fallen hard and fast for his handsome, alluring mystery and the promise that lay in under the weave of his shirt and his tight jeans? Or was it when you had first exchanged words, at Himuro’s easy confidence and disarming voice? Or had you always had an unfaithful mind and this was a chance for you to act on it?
Kagami knows this is the first time you’ve cheated. He has construed it from your expressions of the particular type of shock — not necessarily from having been caught, but from having been in that situation in the first place and caught at it only to boot.
So it comes as a bit of a surprise to even himself, when Kagami shifts his stance to rest his weight on the balls of his feet as he leans over the edge of the bathtub to better see the entirety of your face, when he asks a very different question than the one he’s been considering all along. “Why?” he growls. It feels like pouring molten steel down his throat and he grimaces at the burn, but there it is.
Your skin is already pink in the areas he’d polished with soap and a face cloth, like the repetition would start to chip away at Himuro’s touch on your skin. You flush, deep and uncomfortable and completely self aware, as you draw your hands around your knees and draw in on yourself. You don’t so much as blink, but tears stream from the corner of your eyes in more of a biological function than intentional grief. When you’re finally composed enough to speak, you meet Kagami full-on, eye to eye, and what he finds there is the start of a dark, smouldering fury. His pulse sings through his veins as he returns the energy easily.
“You said we should take a break,” you say quiet and low. You’re a danger like this, to yourself and to him, but Kagami can’t find it in him to care much past the point of matching your anger. “It was you, Taiga.”
And Kagami knows he shouldn’t act, but his body moves on its own to assert itself as the aggressor and aggrieved in this situation, to make himself look as big and as intimidating as possible. He silently dares you to add the word that single provocation to the end of your sentence.
You fall for it. There’s no way you couldn’t, because the cornered rat will always bite the cat. You hiss the word through your clenched jaw. “Remember?”
Kagami reaches out as a conduit of lightening itself to grab your forearm and pry it from your leg in a physical display of tearing down the walls of what he sees as your self-imposed, self-righteous defensiveness.
The warning alarms are blaring red and loud and seizing at the edges of his mind, but the hallways are abandoned and all of Kagami’s focus is on breaking you down until he’s staring into the heart of the truth the way he wants it to look.
He knows he’s hurting you, but your eyes and your truth don’t back down. Hell, he could — and in this state, he probably could — tear the apartment down around you and you would still be there, naked and vulnerable and completely exposed, and still not prostrate yourself to the far-sweeping edges of his pride.
Remember?
“We didn’t break up!” he says, much louder than he means to. “And there you are, whoring yourself out — no, that’s wrong, they get paid! They’re in business! — you’re just more than happy to fall into the arms of the first big, strong man you can find! You saw him and thought, ‘wow, Tatsuya would be a good fuck’.”
The water sloshes as you relax your knees and lean forward to face him closer, white-hot in your rage. “Would it have been better or worse if it hadn’t been Himuro?”
“I don’t know!” Kagami says, finally able to regain the modulation of his volume but exchanging it for stinging inflection.
“You wouldn’t be able to needle me with specifics, like I bet you’re going to, if it hadn’t been,” you hiss.
His jaw is set and his mind is blank, even the struggle to form a coherent thought is a difficult process to follow, even one straight line is too almost too much.
“Like you didn’t go to that party to get your dick wet,” you cry, and now it’s your voice that cracks into half a yell, now it’s your breath hot and heavy on his face, and that’s not how Kagami had wanted it. He prepares for the verbal hammering and can barely draw in a deep breath before you’re serving it out. “I wasn’t even thinking about getting laid. I was thinking ‘hey, I’m going to have a nice evening for the first time in, oh, three weeks, since my boyfriend suddenly said he needed some time’ — and I get that you have priorities and the world is spinning too fast for you! I get it, Taiga! — and then I ended up at that apartment! And hardly a word from you! For weeks! What am I supposed to do with that!? And, guess what? We’ve been dating for months and I have never been introduced to Himuro, not even when you call! So, I meet a guy and I get this strong sort of vibe, that he’s special, like he’s special in the way I think you’re special, and it just happens!” you’re shrieking as you wind down, but your breathing has gone ragged and punctured, and Kagami sees what you don’t, that you’re rubbing at your chest and throat for air that’s hard-coming once again. “Don’t act so high and mighty with me!”
Kagami can’t find a way to loosen his hold on your arm, not that you struggle for it back, leaving him forced to rise with you as you stand. You’re dripping and nude and full of the confrontation he hasn’t understood how to face until now.
But the hurt doesn’t die without a few last vicious kicks, so Kagami lets his mouth be a vessel for it. “That doesn’t change anything. You wanted it. You were all over him! And it probably would have been more if I hadn’t found you.”
“You said we were on a break, Taiga!” you gasp, shrill and clear and losing control of your lungs. You lurch forward, colliding with his chest in a blow that Kagami barely registers.
“‘I need some time’ is not a break,” he grumbles, low and steady as your composure breaks apart in front of his eyes. He circles your fist with his free arm and is only now able to loosen his grip on your arm.
“And you think you can have whatever you want without any regards to the consequences?” You rage, furling and unfurling your fingers in both hands in impotent upset. “You only texted me a few times. How was I supposed to know you were even still interested? The world doesn’t revolve around you alone!”
Kagami winces. You’re right, there’s no way you could have known that he’d been checking up on you several times a day, but that doesn’t excuse your actions, not yet.
“Still,” he says quietly to the top of your head, “you wanted to sleep with someone else. You kissed him without even trying me first,” he lets go of your arm completely and lifts your chin up so you have no choice but to look up at him. The fury in your eyes is unbelievable and sets his nerves further on edge. “How did it feel, to be touching someone else? To have Himuro playing you like you’re an instrument until you’re just about ready, to have you begging him for it —”
The hit doesn’t come from your dominant arm and you’re far too close to have as much of an impact as you must want, but the slap still rings sharply against Kagami’s cheek. He opens his eyes, before turning his head back to face you only to feel the loathing in your stare. “Damn you, Taiga. Is this what you want? If you don’t want me anymore then just tell me and I’ll go.”
“Don’t you move,” Kagami growls, surprising himself once more as the red, blaring alarms fade into silence. He re-enters himself with the sting on his cheek helping to cool his focus. “If you wanted sex, you could have come over any time.”
“Nice,” you grumble. “R-really special.”
He captures your arm once again before you are able to move it, but this time he forces his hold to be gentler. He strokes over the bruise he knows he’s left on your wrist with his thumb. Your shudder sends cold wave of delight over him. “So what were you looking for?”
“Attention, maybe? Like, to feel like I wasn’t a burden. I wanted to be wanted,” you whisper, panting the words for breath that’s so hard-won. You fail to smother the hoarseness of your voice. “I wanted… I… why didn’t you want me?”
“Oh,” Kagami exhales. He knows the look on his face is what’s causing the tremble in your knees just as he knows the fist against his chest is no longer for impact but to brace yourself. Your eyes are so big and beautiful and imploring and the material wet dreams are built from. He pulls backward, and you follow, stumbling out of the tub to press against him. The whole of your naked need to be wanted presses into him and Kagami surrenders with a shudder of his own, easily passing from betrayed into determined.
“Taiga,” you say quietly, “it’s so hard to breathe.” The truth of your statement lies in the quick, shallow contractions of your chest and your warm pulse flickering staccato under his hand.
“Yeah,” Kagami swallows, frowning as he holds your chin up and brings his lips to meet yours. You heave a tremulous gasp and moan, twisting and shaking under him. He diverts your attention by softening his grasp on your chin and curling his fingers out over your cheek, stroking, calming, while demanding your focus on the moist heat of his kiss. He slips his tongue past your teeth, forcing them to release their subconscious clench, and after a long moment, you respond in kind.
When you lean into the kiss, Kagami shuts his eyes, only to be greeted with the sight of Himuro’s bruising face and of how Himuro had you in the palm of his experienced hand. He grunts, slamming his fist backward into the cool sink marble. “Do me a favour,” Kagami pants as he breaks the kiss.
“Anything,” you respond immediately.
“Hit me again,” Kagami demands, his voice low and hoarse.
A second of indecision is all it takes before you realize the gravity of his request and comply with a stinging slap across his face.
“Again,” he hisses his approval as the thought of Himuro’s is replaced with the grounding sharpness in his cheek. You frown but silently agree, and when you bring your arm up in a wide arc, Kagami’s sluggish senses finally perk up.
He grabs your arm before you can make contact and drags you against him, pulling you up to the tips of your toes into a bruising kiss. As he backs you against the sink with a guttural moan and you settle on top of it, you shiver into the intensity of Kagami’s touch. Instinct takes over and he grabs your back to crush you into him and your heartbeat is as ragged as his breathing. You wrap your legs around his hips and Kagami lets loose a gravelly moan from the back of his throat. “Hold on to me,” he orders, breaking away, watching the expression on your face as he lifts you clear up and away and makes his way to the bedroom.
“Taiga,” you whisper, and he’s distantly pleased that you’ve remembered how to breathe despite how it’s shallow again, but for a completely different reason. “What are you going to do to me?”
Kagami groans, rolling his eyes as if asking for the patience not to break over your shores too soon. You’re not trying to test him, and he has to tell himself that it was a genuine question, not a provocation dripping with sex. It proves difficult, though. He slams your back against the wall and holds you up with the help of his thigh and his left arm. The right, he braces against the wall. You quiver before him, your desire shaped in every little movement.
“First,” he says, lowering his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of your need, “I’m going to take you, hard, right against this wall.” You moan and he exhales slow, shuddering, and laden with restraint over your ear. “Secondly, we’ll move to the bed and you’ll come for me. I’ll be ready to go again by then, so I’ll take that pretty little body of yours and fuck you slow and deep until you’re crying my name. After, we’ll clean up, have some food, and talk this over.” He opens his eyes, meeting your blown pupils with his own, and kisses your neck. It’s not really a request, but he needs to hear you submit. “Agreed?”
Your strangled yes is enough to make his cock throb more painfully than he has felt in a long, long time. When your hands work frantically at his belt and fly, Kagami keeps his forehead pressed to yours, his gaze heavy on you, and only presses you into a deep, brief kiss when you have his straining cock in your hand. You’re a molten mess of desire riding high on his thigh, and Kagami can’t help but take the weight of your breast in hand, though there will be time for that later, so he only pinches once before bracing his arm from shoulder to shoulder across your chest to pin you to the wall.
“Please, Taiga,” you whisper, and he responds with a low moan as he eases his way into your wet heat. It feels like coming back to a home he thought he’d never see again, and Kagami pants as you squirm between him and the wall, at the exquisiteness of you at his mercy. His thrusts pick up speed as you gasp and paw at his shoulders and arms and leave little crescent-moon indentations in your wake. He growls for you to stay still, and when he does, you respond with an aching noise and let your head hit the wall. Like this, he can grab your hips better, drive himself into you, fill you full of him, but that’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough, and this won’t last long enough to fulfill either of you; he can already tell by the shaking in his legs and the fire stoked in his stomach that he’s close to coming.
Kagami abandons your skin to press his fingers into the wall and rakes his way down. Paint flakes come away under his fingernails. He slams his fist against it as your everything clenches hard against him: your fingers, your legs, your throbbing cunt. You’re murmuring something unintelligible with the soft length of your throat exposed for him, and he’s so tempted to bite down on it, but there’s not the space, so it’s with the picture of sundering you into trembling pieces under his control that Kagami comes sudden and hard. He shoots so thickly into you that you’re keening at the hot rush that takes too long to stop and squishes out between your thighs.
Kagami loosens his hold, his legs shaking beneath him but he’s still intent on keeping you up until you unlock yourself from around him and slide down the wall to the floor. You smiles a small, shaky smile up at him, but Kagami only frowns. “Get on the bed,” he rasps as soon as he’s able to speak. “We’re not finished yet.”
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