── .✦ fem!satoru gojo as your best friend with a not so secret crush on you
satori gojo who was always touching you. whether it's an arm around your shoulders, or resting her head on your lap while she hugs your middle, or cuddling in your bed, perfectly content as though it were hers. when it was cold, she'd shove her hands under your shirt, insisting she needed your warmth. if she sees you from behind, she'd hug you firmly, grope your tits with her long fingers and mumble about how soft you felt, ignoring your squeak of protest.
satori gojo who hated every man you dated. she'd roll her eyes with contempt whenever you mentioned a guy you were talking to. at parties shed pull you away from conversations with other people, make sure you stuck by her side. you'd complain that she was too possessive. satori never listened. as long as everyone else knew you were hers, she didn't care.
satori gojo who took every chance to spoil you. she'd barge into your room and drag you out to go shopping. she'd pick outfits for you, convincing you she knew what looked best on you, which just happened to be whatever were the shortest clothes. when you went in the trial room, she'd simply follow with an innocent smile. she'd offer to help you change, saying it was fine since both of you were best friends. although you'd argue that her slipping your panties down and pocketing them with half hearted promises of buying you new ones wasn't entirely platonic.
satori gojo who loved to tease you. she'd laugh as you got flustered whenever she leaned in too close, whispered compliments in your ear or grabbed your hips and waist as she pleased. you looked so pretty to her when you blushed, only making her want to bully you more. she'd use her height and strength over you to her advantage, caging you against walls or counters, picking you up, moving you around like you weighed nothing. of course you let her every time. you'd never admit out loud it's because you loved her hands on you.
satori gojo who constantly wants your attention, your affection, and your praise. she lived to get your approval. all her outfits were picked out with care and the thought of you staring at her chest that day. academics was never an obstacle to her, but she visibly put more effort around you because she knew how you appreciated it. she loved when you fussed over her, worrying if she'd get sick, if she hadn't eaten, ensuring she was taken care of. satori often teased you when you did, called you her pretty little wife. if only you knew how much she wished it was more than just an inside joke. little did she know how you wished for the same thing too.
I saw someone say Anthony Gordon has the same appeal as Mike Faist and I can’t unsee it now. LIKEEE I didn’t get how people found him attractive at first but now??? Holy biceps
⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ! | okay first off, WHY is this SO FUCKIN EMOTIONAL for no absolute reason. damn. consider this a 1000 follower special! likes & reblogs are appreciated! 𖹭
[𝜗ৎ] 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : 2.9𝗄
𝓜𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏!
my husband hates me.
the thought settles deep in your chest like a stone, familiar and heavy, as you lie on the silk sheets of the massive bed.
your fingers trace the embroidered patterns on your robe—some floral design you can't see but can feel beneath your fingertips. the fabric is soft, expensive. everything here is expensive. everything here screams luxury and power and wealth.
but none of it screams love.
you hear nothing from his side of the bed.
the man is so impossibly quiet, it makes your skin prickle with unease. you've been here for three months now. three months as the wife of ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, the most feared ruler in all the lands. and in those three months, he has barely spoken a word to you.
at first, you thought it was a game.
some twisted test of patience. you were clever enough to know that political marriages were rarely about love. you'd been prepared for indifference, for coldness, for a husband who saw you as nothing more than a strategic alliance.
but this? this silent treatment that stretches night after night, this deliberate distance he keeps?
it cuts deeper than you expected.
your hand moves from your robe to your stomach, pressing against the plane of your belly. you're small. you know this. delicate in a way that makes people underestimate you. and blind. gods, the blindness. the one thing that has sent every single suitor running in the opposite direction.
princes would see your face first—the one they called ethereal, otherworldly, beautiful in a way that seemed impossible—and they'd fall to their knees.
they'd whisper sweet words, promises of devotion, declarations of love at first sight. and then you'd speak, and they'd realize your eyes didn't track their movements, didn't meet their gaze. and slowly, painfully, you'd listen to them pull away. hear the hesitation creep into their voices. feel the distance grow until they were gone.
you were used to it.
but sukuna? sukuna had looked at you once, for a single moment, and said yes. the entire empire had been shocked. the king of curses, the ruthless murderer, the emperor who had never shown interest in any woman, accepting a blind bride from a neighboring kingdom? it was scandalous. impossible.
and you'd felt hope.
you hate yourself for that hope now.
because three months of silence have taught you the truth. he doesn't want you. he tolerates you. and honestly? you'd almost prefer cruelty. at least cruelty would be a reaction. at least cruelty would mean he saw you as something worth acknowledging.
but this nothingness? this endless, suffocating nothingness?
it makes you feel like you've already disappeared.
the servants guide you through your days with practiced efficiency. they dress you, feed you, lead you through the palace halls. you've memorized the layout of your chambers, the path to the gardens, the number of steps from your room to the dining hall. you've learned to navigate this world without sight, just as you've always done.
but you can't navigate him.
you don't know where he sits at meals. you don't know if he watches you. you don't know if he even notices when you're in the same room. his presence is a void—a massive, oppressive absence of warmth that you can feel but never touch.
tonight was bad.
you'd been led to the gardens by a new servant, someone who didn't know your habits. she'd taken you left instead of right, and you'd walked straight into a hedge, thorns scratching your calves before she'd yanked you back with a flurry of apologies.
then you'd almost fallen down a staircase—the grand staircase with its uneven steps—your foot catching on the edge, your heart lurching into your throat as you'd pitched forward. a guard caught you just in time.
and the whispers.
you can't see their faces, but you can hear their voices. the concubines. the noblewomen. the servants who think you can't hear them.
"the blind empress."
"does he even notice her?"
"i heard he hasn't touched her once."
"what a waste of a pretty face."
"she must be so lonely."
"she must be so pathetic."
you'd smiled through all of it. kept your head high, your shoulders back, your voice steady. you learned long ago that showing weakness only invites more cruelty. so you'd walked through the halls with your practiced grace, your cane tapping against the marble floors, your face serene.
but inside, you were crumbling.
and now, lying in this massive bed, with your hair spread across a silk pillow and the scent of incense curling through the air, you can feel him beside you. he's so close. you know he's sitting up, his back probably against the headboard, his presence a heavy weight in the darkness.
does he ever sleep?
you've never heard him snore. never heard him shift in his sleep. he's so still, so silent, you sometimes wonder if he's even real.
a long, long time passes. the candles burn down. the incense fades. the night wraps around you like a shroud.
and you can't take it anymore.
"ryomen?"
your voice comes out soft, barely above a whisper. you hate how small you sound. how vulnerable. you'd wanted to sound strong, confident, demanding. instead, you sound like a child calling out in the dark.
silence.
you wait. count your heartbeats. one. two. three. four. five.
just when you're certain he's ignoring you, just when the familiar ache of rejection settles into your chest, a voice cuts through the darkness.
"what."
it's gruff. low. a single word that rumbles through the air like distant thunder. and it's the most he's said to you in days.
you swallow. your throat is dry. your fingers twist in the sheets.
"i...i want to ask you something."
more silence. you can feel him staring at you. you can't see it, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable.
"ask."
you take a shaky breath. this is it. this is the moment you've been building toward for three months. the question that's been eating you alive, consuming you from the inside out.
"do you hate me?"
the words hang in the air between you. they sound so small. so pathetic. you wish you could take them back, but it's too late. they're out there now, exposed and raw.
"hate you?" his voice is strange. almost...confused?
"because of...because i'm...y'know, blind." the words taste like ash in your mouth. "i know it's...i know i'm not what you expected. i know i'm not the best option. i know i'm—"
"stop."
the word is sharp, and you flinch. your breath catches in your throat. you brace yourself for anger, for cruelty, for him to finally confirm what you've suspected all along.
but instead of harsh words, you feel movement. the bed shifts. his weight moves closer.
and then, without warning, a hand wraps around your waist and pulls.
you let out a frightened shriek as you're yanked from your position, your body colliding with something solid and warm. your hands fly out, grasping at fabric, at skin, at anything. you're on his lap, straddling his thighs, your chest pressed against his. he's so big—so impossibly large—that you feel like a doll in his arms.
"ryomen!" your voice is high, panicked. "what—"
"quiet."
his hand settles on your thigh. it's huge. calloused. rough in a way that sends shivers down your spine. but the touch is gentle. impossibly gentle. he strokes your thigh once, twice, a soothing motion that slowly calms your racing heart.
"you really think," he says slowly, his voice rumbling against your chest, "that i hate you?"
you can't speak. your throat is too tight. you settle for shaking your head against his chest, even though it's a lie.
a low sound escapes him—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh. his hand slides from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face up. his thumb brushes across your lower lip, feather-light.
"open your eyes."
the command catches you off guard. "what?"
"your eyes. open them."
you blink, confused. your eyes are already open. you can't see anything, but they're open. you tell him as much.
"no." his voice is strange. softer. "i mean...look at me."
"i can't see you."
"i know." his thumb traces your jawline. "but i can see you. and i want to see your eyes. please."
please.
the word catches you off guard. the king of curses, saying please? to you?
you don't move. don't breathe. just let him hold your face in his massive hand, his touch devastatingly tender.
"i don't hate you," he says, and his voice cracks on the words. "gods, woman. i could never hate you."
your heart stutters. "then why—"
"because i'm fuckin' terrified."
you blink. "what?"
"do you know what i am?" his hand slides from your face to your hair, fingers threading through the strands. "i'm a killer. i've been killing for centuries. my hands are stained with blood i'll never wash clean. i'm rough, and violent, and i don't know how to be gentle."
"but—"
"but when i saw you..." he trails off. his fingers tighten in your hair, just barely. "when i saw you, i couldn't breathe. you were so beautiful. so small. so... perfect. and i thought, 'she's too good f'me.' , 'i'll break her.' , 'i'll hurt her.'"
his voice drops to a whisper.
"so i stayed away. because every time i look at you, i want to touch you. and every time i touch you, i'm afraid i'll destroy you."
tears prick at your eyes. you don't understand. you can't understand. this entire time, you thought he hated you. you thought he found you repulsive, broken, worthless.
but he was...
...afraid?
"you don't hate me?" you whisper.
"no." his forehead presses against yours. "i love you. i've loved you since the moment i saw you."
a sob escapes your throat. it's ugly and raw and you can't stop it.
"but you never—you never talked to me—"
"because i didn't trust myself." his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. "because i knew if i started, i wouldn't be able to stop."
"then don't stop."
the words leave your mouth before you can think. they hang in the air, bold and desperate.
"don't stop," you repeat. "please. i don't want you to stop."
sukuna goes still. so still that you wonder if he's stopped breathing.
"you don't know what you're asking."
"i do." you reach up, your fingers finding his face. you trace the planes of his cheeks, the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips. "you're my husband. i want you. all of you."
"i'll hurt you."
"i don't care."
"i'll break you."
"i don't care."
his breath hitches. and then, finally, finally, his lips crash against yours.
the kiss is desperate. hungry. it tastes like three months of longing, of confusion, of aching loneliness. his hand fists in your hair, pulling you closer, and you gasp against his mouth. his tongue slides against your lower lip, asking for entry, and you give it willingly.
he tastes like sake and power and something darker. something that makes your toes curl and your heart race.
he pulls back, breathless.
"tell me to stop, and i will."
"don't," you say immediately. "don't stop."
he groans. his hands slide down your back, gripping your hips, and he lays you down on the bed. you fall against the silk sheets, your hair spreading around you like a halo. you can't see him, but you can feel him—his weight on the bed, his heat surrounding you, his breath ghosting across your skin.
"m'gonna show you," he says, his voice low and rough. "m'gonna kiss every inch of your body. gonna taste you until you scream my name. i want to make you feel so good that you forget every single doubt you've ever had about yourself."
your breath catches. "ryomen—"
"let me." his lips brush against your neck. "let me show you how much i love you."
you nod, unable to speak.
his hands find the tie of your robe. he undoes it slowly, reverently, like he's unwrapping a gift he's been waiting centuries to open. the fabric falls away, cool air hitting your skin, and you shiver.
"beautiful," he breathes. "so fucking beautiful."
you feel his lips on your collarbone. soft. worshipful. he kisses down your chest, his tongue tracing a path between your breasts. his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples, and you gasp.
"sensitive," he murmurs. "good. i'll remember that."
he takes one nipple into his mouth. his tongue circles the peak, slow and deliberate, and you arch into him with a desperate moan. he laves at you, sucking gently, nipping with his teeth until you're writhing beneath him.
"more," you gasp. "please—"
"patience." his voice is a dark promise. "i haven't even started with ya' yet."
he switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, until he reaches the apex of your thighs. you're already wet—embarrassingly wet—and he lets out a low growl when he feels it.
"fuck," he mutters against your skin. "you're soaked. f'me?"
"yes," you whimper. "only you."
he groans. his fingers slide through your folds, collecting your wetness, and you buck into his touch.
"tell me what you want."
"i want—" you gasp as his thumb circles your clit. "m'want your mouth."
his laugh is dark and breathless. "demanding little thing, aren't ya'?"
"please," you beg. "ryo, please—"
"shh." he kisses your stomach. "i'll give ya' what y'want."
he moves down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire. he kisses your hips, your thighs, the inside of your knees. by the time he reaches your core, you're trembling, desperate, aching.
and then his tongue touches you.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair. he laps at you like a man starved, his tongue sliding through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you. he moans against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.
"taste s'good," he mutters against your skin. "could eat ya' forever."
he sucks your clit into his mouth, and you scream. your hips buck against his face, but he holds you down, his massive hands gripping your thighs. he alternates between sucking and licking, building a rhythm that has you climbing higher and higher.
"that's it," he praises. "let go f'me...lemme taste ya'."
his fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you without warning. two fingers, thick and long, stretching you. he curls them, hitting a spot that makes you see stars, and you shatter.
you come with a scream of his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you. he doesn't stop. he laps at you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're sobbing from the intensity.
when you finally come down, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours. you taste yourself on his tongue, and it's the most intimate thing you've ever experienced.
"m-more," you whisper. "m'want more."
his eyes—you can feel them—search your face.
"are you sure? we can stop. we can—"
"i'm sure." you reach for him, your fingers finding his chest. "i want you...please."
he hesitates. you feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint he's barely holding onto.
"m'bigger than ya'," he says, matter of factly. "a lot bigger. and i have...i have two dicks, woman. i don't know if—"
"i don't care." you pull him closer. "i trust you."
he groans, pressing his forehead against yours.
"if it hurts too much, tell me. and i'll stop."
"okay."
"promise me."
"i promise."
he shifts above you, and you feel something heavy and thick press against your thigh. and then another. two cocks. the thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a thrill through your body.
he aligns himself with your entrance, and you feel the tip pressing against you. he's huge—so much bigger than his fingers—and you wonder if you can actually take him.
"relax f'me," he murmurs. "breathe."
you inhale deeply, and he pushes in.
just the tip, and you gasp. he's stretching you in a way that's almost unbearable. it hurts. there's a burning sensation, a pressure that's too much and not enough.
"shh," he soothes. "you're doing s'well. so good f'me."
he pushes deeper, inch by agonizing inch. you feel your body struggling to accommodate him, your walls clenching around his length. and then—
a sharp pain.
fuck...you forgot.
you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. he stops immediately.
"did i hurt ya'?"
you can't answer. the pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. you feel something wet trickle down your thigh. warm. sticky.
blood.
his eyes slowly flicker down, and you can hear his breath stop. he's tense. too tense.
"fuck," he hisses. "you're—you're a fuckin' virgin?"
you nod weakly, biting your lip. your heart is pounding fast. loud. "is that...bad?"
"no." his voice is strained. "no, it's not bad. i just—fuck—i didn't know. i would have been more careful, woman."
"you are being careful," you whisper, fingers pressing into his shoulders "keep going."
"you're fuckin' bleeding."
"i don't care. please. i want to feel you." you sniffle. god, the pleasure is making you bold. too fucking bold.
he lets out a shaky breath. "you're going to kill me."
but he pushes deeper, slower this time. gentler. his lips find yours, kissing you softly as he sinks into you. the pain fades, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that makes you moan.
when he's fully sheathed, he stops. lets you adjust. his forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged.
"y'feel incredible," he breathes. "so tight. so...fuck...perfect."
"move," you beg. "please."
he pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. the friction is delicious, the stretch exquisite. he sets a rhythm—slow, deep, deliberate—each thrust hitting a spot that makes you see stars.
"ryomen," you gasp. "r-ryo—"
"i know," he murmurs. "i know, doll. feels s'good, doesn't it?"
"yes—yes—"
his hand slides down your stomach, pressing against the slight bulge where he's buried inside you. the feeling makes you moan.
"look at that," he says, awe in his voice. "you can feel me, can't ya'? right here."
he presses down, and you feel it—the outline of him inside you. it's obscene. it's incredible.
"more," you gasp. "harder—"
"y'sure?"
"yes—please—"
he obliges. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.
"gonna come," he warns. "where do you want it?"
"inside," you gasp. "please—i want to feel you—"
he groans, his hips slamming into yours. and then he's coming, hot and thick, filling you so completely. you feel it—his release pouring into you, painting your walls, claiming you from the inside. his cum is already trickling down your thigh, oozing out of your cunt.
at the same time, he's stroking his other cock. you feel the wet spurts hit your stomach, warm and sticky.
he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you. his face buries in your neck, and you feel his breath, ragged and uneven.
"i love you," he whispers, gruff. it's funny. you've always thought the word love doesn't exist in his vocabulary. but here he is, saying it over and over again. "i love you so much it terrifies me."
you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.
"i love you too."
a long moment passes. then another. and then—
"we're going to do that again."
you laugh, breathless.
"right now?"
"after i clean you up." he kisses your neck. "and then again. and again. and again. until ya' can't walk."
"promise?"
he pulls back, and even though you can't see him, you know he's smirking.
"promise."
you're already half asleep when he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear. his lips press against your hair, your forehead, your eyelids.
"my wife," he murmurs. "my perfect, beautiful wife."
Pairing ✶ (Disney) Hercules! Izuku Midoriya x Megara! Reader
Synopsis ✶ With great power comes great responsibility. Izuku Midoriya knew this better than anyone, having been blessed with immense strength for as long as he could remember. It took him 20 something years to be loved by society, but in all those years he still couldn't get a girl? Someone call Zeus ASAP.
Content ✶ WHIPPED Izuku Midoriya, Stalkerish reader not really but like all the evidence is there, Hades Shigaraki, Reader is big sister general, Izuku is an idiot in love, small bits of angst here and there, manipulation, Inexperienced x Experienced (he's a fast learner though),Gran Torino as Phil cause he the GOAT, Descriptions of awkward kisses and other awkward moments, Sexual tension, Mommy kink (wink wink), Tit sucking, Oral (f & m), Reader is a TEASE, sub!Izuku and femdom!reader but they kind of switch?? Praise (giving), fingering, overstim, 69, grinding
a/n I am very much aware that the Disney version of Heracles's story is very inaccurate e.g the movie being called Hercules when that's the roman equivalent and the story is set in ancient Greece but anyways, the movie is very dear to me and this one-shot is inspired by the movie. creds for divider @strangergraphics and post dedicated to my lovely moot @batfambat also yes the title is the lost media song
wc:6.7k haha
To say Izuku Midoriya had an easy life would be an overstatement. He was a humble man, ever grateful for the opportunities that seemed to befall him, but that did little to silence the nagging voice in his head reminding him he did little to deserve it. Even now, as he spoke with his renowned mentor, the satyr who guided some of the world's greatest historical figures, all of whom Izuku looked up to more than anything in the world.
He soaked in the information, hearing about his favourite heroes, for instance, Toshinori Yagi, or more commonly, All Might. He'd heard the goat man grumble about him on many a moon, boasting of his achievements only to grow silent whenever he seemed to remember the arrow that caused his demise. He was thankful to be training under the gaze of a historical figure, even if he woke up every day feeling undeserving.
"This could be your big break, kid," Sorahiko Torino called from his side, watching as his pupil stumbled forward in armour that barely covered his bulging figure.
"You really think so?" Izuku beamed, the mismatched metal from his suit clinking together.
"No, but who's to say! Prove me wrong, kid."
He, in fact, did not prove him wrong.
Though in all fairness, it really wasn't his fault! Izuku was ready to slay the guardian opposing him and his mentor, but when he saw you in their grasp, it was like every instinct in him just froze. Not because it was the first beast he'd truly be facing--no, that wasn't the issue at all. Izuku Midoriya had trained day and night to take down various mythics who crossed his path.
His true problem was you.
You acted nothing like the damsels his mentor told him to look out for!
Instead of panicking, you remained unfazed; hell, you even spoke to the guardian calmly, even when he had you in his grasp. You didn't seek his eyes for help; if anything, you looked annoyed that he was there in the first place. When he declared he was here to save you from harm, you rolled your eyes at him and ignored his presence, acting like he was nothing more than a fly on the wall. And if his guard wasn’t down already, your beauty had him at a loss for words.
Sure, he'd talked to women before, but none of them had him feeling like a love fool in a one-sided conversation. His eyes traced over the furrow of your brow, the way your eyes and lips frowned ceremoniously whenever you met his stare, how small strands of your hair stuck to your temple.
Whilst dazed, he failed to account for the guardian who was staring at him like he was nothing more than a fly on the wall. As a consequence, he got swatted like one, too.
It took Izuku Midoriya later rather than sooner to finally defeat his enemy. He turned to you, waiting for even just a small voice of thanks, but your arms folded over your chest with your head held high and your nose upturned, facing away from him.
You were enchanting—impossible to understand, but enchanting nonetheless.
“I suppose you’ll want me thanking you for your chivalry.” The first words you spoke to him.
When it finally occurred to Izuku that you weren’t talking or looking at another person; that your attention was directed towards him, he melted on the spot, “Well—I um, I hadn’t t-thought that far—” He squeaked out, voice stammering as you got closer to him to the point your chests were touching.
You pressed your finger against his sternum, tracing a slow, deliberate path down before letting your hand fall languidly to your side again. “I’m only teasing, Wonder Boy—thanks for the rescue.” You stepped back from the nervous hero, watching as his fingers visibly trembled and his Adam’s apple bobbed anxiously. “Do I have the pleasure of learning the name of my courageous saviour?” you asked, arching a brow as you fixed your hair, a sly lilt in your voice.
“…I-Izuku Midoriya!” He finally exclaimed when his words wormed their way back to his throat. You giggled, slinging your hair back into place, “I think I like Wonder Boy more.”
Your gaze shifted from his quivering figure to both the stallion and goat-man behind him, looking on at the scene, disapproval in both their eyes, but for reasons that differed from one another. “I don’t suppose that’s your merry band glaring at me?” Izuku turned around at your words, clearly panicking, “Oh, they just—” He started speaking, his arms flailing around him in the air as a way to dismiss whatever opinions you had about their attitudes towards you.
You chuckled, once more, “It’s alright, wonder boy, I know where I’m wanted and this just doesn’t seem like the place.” You told him as you reached down in the water to gather the fallen items you lost earlier in your argument with the guardian. Izuku saw what you were doing and, being the ever-so courtly individual, began helping you with your fallen items.
As the two of you picked up your fallen belongings, you could see from the corner of your eyes that Izuku was bursting to ask you something. His eyes kept on gravitating back to you, only pulling away whenever he caught onto his observations. “You want to know how I wound up like that, right?”
He didn’t say anything, but you saw him give you a small nod.” Well, you know how some men are. They think ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘get lost’ means ‘take me, I’m yours.’” You recalled, looking at the body of the fallen guardian. Izuku inched closer to you, passing another trinket from your bag that fell earlier.
“Thank you, Won—” “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He cut you off, mid-conversation. Realising what he did, his face flushed once more, only this time, instead of flailing his arms like a headless chicken, he raised one hand to the back of his neck, scratching it as a means to break the sudden tension he’d caused. “Sorry, I just mean that you speak as though things like that happen often. I may not know you, but I at least want to make sure you’d be okay.” He said, no malice in his words and you smiled at his concern.
The soft summer breeze carried stray strands of your hair in the wind, whilst his curls separated from his face, allowing you to see his face fully. A tranquil silence was cast over you two as you held unwavering eye contact. The small sounds from nearby animals and running water from the waterfall grew duller the longer you stared into his viridescent eyes.
The two of you failed to notice the unintentional closeness between you until his companion neighed from the shore, nipping whatever started to bloom between the two of you. The sound snapped the two out of whatever trance you’d both fallen into as Izuku grew impossibly redder, whilst a more subtle hue rose to your skin. He backed away immediately, apologising for getting too close, while you chuckled.
“To answer your question from earlier,” you started, finishing off the small laugh that welled in your chest, “I’ve been defending myself for a while now, I’m a tough girl; I can tie my own sandals and everything.” You smirked, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you started to walk away from the trio.
“Wait!” A familiar voice shrilled, and you turned. “You know my name, but what am I supposed to call you by, just in case we meet again!” Izuku inquired, his form only growing more uncertain as he began to restlessly fidget with his hands as the seconds passed.
You studied his form and, before long, gave your own name to the young hero before continuing on with your day. Izuku watched your figure leave, his pupils expanding by the second as a heartfelt sigh left his mouth.
“Really, kid,” Sorahiko called from his side, disappointed as ever, whilst his pegasus gave his own exclamation of dissatisfaction.
If Zeus wasn’t the brat’s father, Sorahiko Torino surely would’ve ditched his student purely based on how he embarrassed himself in front of a random girl moments ago. He could only deal with so much second-hand embarrassment, and this, having to watch his pupil act like a lovesick buffoon over a girl he barely met half an hour ago, was repulsive, because in that moment, Torino already knew his student’s Achilles heel.
The second time Izuku met you was in the city, Thebes. While on the way there, Izuku had listened to Sorahiko talk about the city countless times. “If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.” He told his student as their sandals greeted the cobblestone roads of the city.
It wasn’t easy. They spent the week going from person to person seeking quests, only to be shunned, under the guise of being a ‘fake hero’. He’d even had someone spit in his face when he asked them if they needed help with a simple chore. The small spark, fuelled by his naivety, was fading faster than a dying flame; all hope seemed lost until he heard an outcry from the city square.
Immediately, he ran toward the frantic and pleading voice, seeing the form of a woman, hunched over and crying, pleading with the citizens to help her. When his eyes focused on the figure, he noted how their silhouette had a startling resemblance to your own—yet as the eyes of the stranger met his, it clicked into his head that he wasn’t looking into the gaze of a stranger—but your own pleading eyes. You ran over to him, hands gripping chlamys as your tears soaked into the fabric.
“Oh, Izuku, it was horrible! My brothers were playing in the gorge, and there was a terrible rock slide, and they got buried under the rubble, and I wasn’t sure where to go and—” Your cries were cut off as he pulled your crying face away from his clothing, holding your weeping face in his hands while he brushed your tears away with the thumb of his fingers.
“Show me,” He sternly told you, already motioning for his companion to take the two of you there as quickly as possible.
“Oh, I can just direct you—” Quickly, coming to your defence as his hands transitioned from being on your face to pulling you into his arms as he made his way over to the flying horse.
“It’s faster like this. I need to get your brothers out as soon as possible.” He informed you, placing you on the back of his pegasus as he saddled himself on the animal too, making you wrap your arms around him the moment you felt the animal about to gain momentum. “If you’re nervous, you can grip onto me harder if it helps.” He told you as the two of you steadily picked up speed, before eventually ascending to the air. You did just that, even going as far as to bury your face in the back of his clothes.
While your face was buried in his clothes, time seemed to pass by faster than intended. Your arms would fist into his clothes, and you could feel his hardened muscles beneath the layers he placed on top for what you could presume to be ‘protection’. A part of you almost felt bad that this was a setup. Maybe, if you weren’t pitted against him, you’d actually consider wanting to know him.
The next few moments transpired in a blur. You recalled the cries of your brothers, with Izuku lifting them out of their confinement, allowing them to run back into your arms—snot-nosed and tear-streaked but ultimately unharmed. Seems that God could keep his promises after all. You saw the way people crowded around Izuku in the stands, cheering him on before an unsightly being emerged from the rubble. You saw the way he thought, and when all hope seemed lost, he came out on top. Albeit slimy and a bit shaky, he was ultimately unscathed.
And as people flocked to him, chanting his name and finally calling him a hero, his eyes wandered back to you. Where you and your brothers should have been, safe and on the stands near his fight. Though there was no one there, the space was left empty as if the three of you had ceased to exist. Did you even see him come out on top? Did you think he was still in the belly of the beast? Thoughts rushed to his head as his body was carried through a joyous crowd, accompanied by his mentor and stallion trotting behind him—soaking in on the glory whilst his mind wandered back to you. His first real victory, and he couldn’t even enjoy it with how his head raced, and his heart pounded.
What he didn’t know was that you’d seen it all. You’d seen how he fought with vigour, how he never gave up and how he beat the beast that dared show itself in the first place. Both you and your brothers even meant to congratulate him before your forms were whisked away by a ‘mysterious’ fog. Knowing who summoned you, you brought your brothers closer to your form. Trying your best to shield your siblings from the God of the dead.
“Well, the three of you certainly know how to put on a performance. Maybe I should have you doing this more often, hm? I know how much that boy means to you.” Shigaraki said as his body floated around the three of you.
“He means nothing to me. Leave us alone, we did as you asked.” You tried to reason with him as you saw new ideas brewing in his mind.
“You did, though that won’t be enough to pay off your poor old boyfriend’s debt, will it? Need I remind you how you got in this situation or—”
“No, I understand.” You replied. To shield the people in your life, you’d sacrificed your boyfriend all those years ago.
“Good! Now get out there and find his weakness, I’ll be needing it sooner than you think.” He spat out, walking away from the three of you.
“How do you expect me to do that? You saw him out there! The boy’s practically invincible.” You rebutted.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Do you need me to keep your brothers here as motivation, or are you capable enough to—“No!” Your outcry caused a smile to worm onto his face as he appeared in front of you once more, only this time he rested his hand atop your hair, as if to tell you he was pleased with your answer. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go.” You did just that, dragging your brothers along faster than their little legs could take them until you were certain the area was ‘safe’.
Unfortunately for you, you’d be spending a lot more time with Boy Wonder than intended. A lot more time.
──────
Izuku had reached the point in his life where he began to think of himself as cursed. Which wouldn’t be too peculiar for a demigod. Since his fight with the Hydra, his popularity had increased, and he’d officially been recognised as a hero. Not some freak kid with unnatural strength, but as someone who people could rely on, a real hero. Now, he had riches, fame, a long-sought-after purpose finally achieved, but what he lacked was nothing any riches could buy him.
Izuku Midoriya had lived anything but an easy life, because why, at the grand age of twenty-four, had he never experienced love outside of companionship? He was grateful for all the relationships he had in life, his adoptive parents, and his godly parents, whom he frequently conversed with at their temples.
Even the newfound friendship (if you could call it that) with his mentor was something new and seemingly unachievable to the younger him. Though the one thing that seemed to be out of reach for him was a romantic partner. Had he done something to warrant his streak of bad luck? All of the men and women who seemed to be into him were only interested in his hero persona, not the real Izuku Midoriya. He could already envision the headlines on local papyrus if he got involved with one of them.
How long had it been now, three months? He thought he lost you on that day. He went back to the gorge after the horde had dispersed and tried to look for any sign that you were still there. He spent hours looking, but it was as if you being there was a figment of his imagination. He tried not to think of you, but you were all he could think about. While he fought different monsters or signed shirts, his mind constantly wandered back to you. Would you recognise him now in his new attire? (He hoped so.) Would you tell him he changed? (Would that make you not want to talk to him anymore? Please no.)
So when he finally finished his tasks for the day and retired to his garden, the scream he let out when he saw you, perched across the fountain that Sorahiko had installed the moment he moved in, had more than a few birds flying from their nests.
“Wonder boy! Your schedule is crazy packed, so I thought coming here might make things easier. “ You beamed from the fountain, sliding your body off the stone ledge and wringing the ends of your hair that were damp from the flowing water.
He stood still, stammering whilst you stretched, the curve of your chiton rising with you, only to fall lower than intended when your body levelled itself. Izuku watched you like a hawk, staying as still as a statue as you slinked up to his petrified figure, placing your palm on his head and asking if he was ‘burning up’; sarcasm laced in your voice.
Izuku tried to rein in his expression, quickly shifting the conversation, “I thought you were hurt. Why come back now?” The immense redness left his face, leaving him with his usual rosy cheeks as he stared down at your figure, awaiting your response. You removed your hand from his forehead, lowering it to your side as your expression faltered ever so slightly before constructing again with your usual behaviours.
“Why, miss me?” You teased, and he stood still, seemingly lost in thought, though not too much by the way he clasped your palms, putting them in his own hands. He ran his thumbs over the closed fingers tenderly.“I couldn’t stop thinking about you” “I was worried about you,” was the response he chose.
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? Nothing to worry your pretty head about.” Izuku felt his heart flutter at your words, even if they were meant in a slightly condescending fashion.
The two of you grew closer; maybe you were aware of it? Maybe you weren’t. But whatever the case, you removed your hands from his hold, mirroring an action he had done to you all those months ago as you took his own face in your hands, rubbing small circles into his skin. He leaned into your touch, curls falling over your hands as he fully embraced the affection you gave him.
Three months thinking of you non-stop, and now that Izuku had you here, he was going to do anything to savour the moment. The two of you let unspoken words flow between the small space as he revelled in your touch. Even if this meant nothing to you, even if this painted him as a lovesick fool, he accepted it anyway, for being with your touch was better than living without.
He folded in no time. Letting you whisk him away to your previous seat on the fountain ledge, only now you sat upright whilst his head lay in your lap. You stroked his hair, massaging your nails into his scalp as he told you about his more than eventful moments from the past three months, like you didn’t already know.
He didn’t have to know that, though. He didn’t have to know you weren’t as invisible as he made you seem for the past three months. He didn’t need to know how you’d seen him almost every day, observed him for hours whilst he blissfully went about his day.
What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. At least it seemed that way, and you’d try your damn best to keep it that way. Up close, you studied how the corner of his mouth curled when he recalled fond memories; the moments where he’d drag his eyes off you just to gaze at the starlit sky, like the constellations held his stories. You took note of how the soft Mediterranean breeze caressed his hair, with soft curls falling onto his tanned skin and dotted cheeks.
His body instinctively warmed up to your touch, like your embrace was a safe place they could finally call home. Perhaps it was his doing, perhaps it was yours, but as the minutes passed, your bodies gravitated closer to each other, his head slowly rising as yours slowly fell; lips brushing over his own chapped ones. Not falling on them, simply grazing the pink flesh. Both your eyes were half-lidded as your hair draped across his chest and neck like a silk blanket. He pulled away, eyes staring up into yours while you remained unmoving, looking back down at him.
"I um, I’ve never—" You cut off his reveal with a finger to his lips, dragging it down his bottom lip and the rest of his face until it reached his Adam's apple. You tapped it thrice carefully, before leaning down once more until your lips almost fell onto his. "That makes you all the more charming, Izuku." The first time you had used his name, he melted. Relaxing in your hold as your lips finally pressed against his own.
Sparks.
Genuine sparks were going off in Izuku Midoriya's mind. He seriously thought he'd never, ever find anyone that would love him for him, but here he was! Kissing a girl who ran rampant in his mind without an apology. He’d longed to know what it felt like to have someone love you like this, and here he was! It took him some serious willpower to finally submit to your request of placing his head in your lap, but thank Zeus, he did it.
If he knew it would've led to this, he would've at least tried to do it sooner. At his next temple visit, he would mention it to his father. He can already imagine how the conversation would go: with his dad asking him how everything was as he rambled on for hours about you. Mentioning how smart you were and noticing the tiniest things about him, or how you didn’t even mind listening to his rants and where most would have run, you stayed. The two of you completed each other perfectly, and you brought out a side of him that he wasn’t aware of until now.
You deepened the kiss, pulling his arms slightly so he was prompted up instead of the same still position he lay in. Izuku shifted, sitting up entirely this time, one hand behind and the other skimming over yours; not breaking the kiss once. He memorised the way your lips faintly tasted of saccharine summer cherries, lips once painted maroon from excess fluid, but as he pulled away, the flush of your lips returned to their natural colour.
He pressed against your mouth, his eyes finding yours once more as his hands manoeuvred around you, both of them tightening their grip on your waist as he pulled you in for another kiss. You leaned your body into his, soaking in all of his warmth as your hand that once placed itself on his shoulders wormed its way down until it hovered over his crotch. As your fingers brushed over the clothed skin, he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled back from the kiss.
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—” “We probably shouldn’t do that—” Your voices overlapped, and upon realisation, the two of you burst out laughing. You nudged Izuku to continue, and he did. “I’m sorry, I just—I’d feel more comfortable doing this inside with you, not that I don’t want to do it with you, it’s just—” You pressed your finger to his mouth and placed a kiss against it.
Taking his hands in yours as you took him from the fountain and towards his house. Izuku didn’t question how you knew the layout of his house so well, despite never having been there before. Chalking it up to lucky guesses as you guided him through corridors he himself barely knew. You kicked his bedroom door open with your leg, back facing the door as your sultry eyes focused on his nervous form.
He tried his best not to show it, but you could tell he was panicking on the inside; the way his hands grew clammy was a dead giveaway even before you looked at his face. “Wonder boy, everything okay up there?” Izuku was so lost in his own world of worry, he forgot what was right in front of him: you, staring at him with eyes full of an emotion he had yet to undress. “Yes!” His voice cracking at the end immediately had him looking down at the floor bashfully, and you strode up to him, taking his gaze from the floor and onto you. Whatever thought in Izuku’s mind that originally steered him from looking at your undressing figure out of respect had been snuffed out the moment he saw the way your underwear hugged your figure.
His eyes travelled down from your lower garments to the cloth that supported your chest, and back up again. “My eyes are up here, you know.” You teased, savouring how his shoulders tensed, and cheeks flushed, “I didn’t mean to! It’s just—” Once more, you cut him off by pressing something to his lips. The first time, your pointer finger, the second, your lips.
It started slow, with you initiating the kiss while he meekly but happily followed along. You guided him to the cotton embrace of his bed, stumbling over him while your lips remained locked, unbroken until one of you needed air before immediately going back in. What had started off as something sweet soon turned into a passionate, deep kiss as your body fell across the once neat covers and his clothes came off garment by garment. He tried to put his tongue in your mouth; you felt it; and it felt all wrong. “Zuku, let me teach you, okay?”
He looked at you, eyes blissed over as he nodded at your request, and you directed him once more. You started off slow, not roaming his mouth with your tongue like he was doing to you earlier. When you found his tongue, you leaned in further as you sucked on the muscle. Izuku immediately whined, the hands that once roamed your body now found their home in your hair as Izuku used the grip he had on you to pull your body further onto him. His teeth clashed with yours as you tried to get up to reposition yourself, though he wouldn’t let you. Crossing one of his legs over your own, he knelt on one, forcing your chest to fall onto his as he deepened the kiss, trying his best to mimic what you did with him and give you the same exhilaration.
In all honesty, you felt your teeth clashing way too much for your liking, and you tapped the side of his face as a way to let him know to let you go. He did just that, gasping for air once your lips left his as if he broke out of whatever spell you cast on him, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve let you lead and…” His rambles started to drone on in your head as you focused on the man underneath you, ideas brewing for what you could possibly do to him.
“Wonder boy, how bad do you want this?” If he wanted to stop here, you wouldn’t object to it, but if he wanted to continue, you had more than a few things he needed to learn.
“More than anything.”
“Follow my lead then, alright?” Pushing his leg off of you, you sat up in his bed properly, a satisfying crack emanating from your back. Izuku hurriedly mirrored you, sitting up cross-legged, his hands shielding the obvious bulge between them while he nodded, chin almost meeting the bed.
“Move your hands.”
“What!?”
“Move 'em, or else I’m going home.” After some meaningful consideration, he obliged, refusing to look at you while warmth returned to his cheeks as he narrowly saw you hovering over his lap, where his dick was very much pronounced. Your own warmth almost touched his as you picked up his hands and brought them to your chest, guiding them from the front of your chest to the back, where your bindings were tightly secured.
“I want you to untie them. Can you do that for me?” He nodded, “Use your words or else I’ll think that you won’t want to.”
“I can do it…please let me.”
“Go ahead, baby.”
Instantaneously, he got to work. Not caring for the fabric that covered your tits as he ripped it away, disregarding the meticulously placed knot you’d spent time to perfect. He watched your tits spill out as the cloth came loose. He gently brought his hands back, cupping your tits in his palms like he was unsure what to do with them. You could feel the tremors in his hand, and you placed your own over his, smoothing the back with your thumb. Both as an act of reassurance and assistance.
You could already see the worry painting itself on his brow, and you leaned in towards his lips once more. Much like the other times, he melted, and the nerves seeped out of his pores and into the unknown. You made sure this time to dominate the kiss, giving him unspoken words of guidance whenever the kiss would navigate towards his clear inexperience. Your hands that were still covering his directed his fingers to skim over your already pebbled nipples.
As he slowly started to gain his confidence with touching you, a thought pinged in your head, though it wasn’t really a thought—more like a revelation of sorts. How long could you keep on lying to him? Shigaraki was expecting you to uncover his weakness soon; you’d spent the past three months hidden from his view, all while trailing behind his every action. How long could you keep up the act of a lady clouded in mystery and not behave like the pitiful girl you knew you were.
A lick to your neck broke you out of your thoughts as you looked down at Izuku. Maybe your thoughts were too drastic before to realise, but Izuku had left your mouth, and his lips found their own place on your neck, gliding his tongue across the skin as he gently suckled on the skin.
His hips thrusted up into yours as a surprised moan left your mouth when his clothed dick came in direct contact with your masked clit. Instinctively, your body leaned into his touch. His mouth travelled further south, resting on your nipple, giving the flesh a quick peck before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it until you squirmed above him. One of his hands remained on your other breast whilst the free hand slithered its way to your hips, helping you grind on him with mirrored fervour.
“Ah! Izuku—” You moaned, curling more into his touch as his mouth plopped off your nipple, revealing dark marks around the sore flesh. “Am I doing good? Tell me I’m doing good, please.” He begged, lips trailing up your chest to greet your mouth once more while his hips continued to grind up into you.
“Being so good for me, Zuku.” Murmuring against his lips, it was obvious were positively soaked. Your underwear had already gathered a wet spot that began seeping into his clothes. You pulled away from him, staring deep into his eyes.
“Think you could work on this next for me, pretty boy?” You tapped against your covered clit, his eyes focused attentively on where you wanted his attention next and when he looked up at you, they expressed a sense of determination you didn’t know was capable; until now, that is.
He said little, opting for laying you down so he could pepper kisses along your body as his mouth travelled further down. Directing his attention to your covered cunt, bringing his lips to it and sucking on the juices that had been waiting to get cleaned since the moment he touched you in the garden all those hours ago. He practically suctioned out whatever you had produced earlier because if your panties were without the excessive amount of saliva Izuku was covering them in, you're sure they would be dry.
“Zuku, can you be a good boy and take these off for me?” Blissed out but slightly irritated with how long it was taking for him to eat you out already. “Anything for you, mommy, I’ll be good—I’ll be so good.”
He wouldn’t even let you dwell on what he just called you before ripping away at the cloth that covered your cunt from him, licking a long stripe up your slit. The action immediately had you jolting as his hands moved to hold down your hips so your cunt was at a position for him to devour.
Just like what he did earlier, he peppered kisses around your mound before focusing on your clit. Giving it kitten licks and gauging your reactions to see what you liked the best. And when he found it, he was ruthless—or as ruthless as he could get when he finally had you in his hold. For once, he wasn’t fucking his fist to the idea of you, the idea of setting your pretty little cunt over his mouth and slurping until every sense was lost to him. Dreams he thought were simply just a wish in a well had now become a reality.
“Izu—ahn! P-please,” crying out to the man between your legs that was currently ravishing you. He heard you, you know, he heard you, and yet he ignored. Swiping his tongue up your slit again and swallowing all the juices that dripped from it before he drove his attention back to your clit, flicking and sucking the bud, making you whine all the more.
You wove your hands through his hair as you felt your orgasm crashing into you. Whether it was to pull him closer or further, you weren’t sure. Your vision whitening as you creamed all over his face. Izuku still feasted on the juices from your cunt, even as your body writhed with overstimulation and short cries, his ministrations didn’t stop. In fact, they intensified as he pulled your exhausted body from its lying position to a seated one, over his face.
Whatever worries you had about your mission had been sucked out of you the minute Izuku plunged his tongue into your cunt, smoothing it on your walls. He positioned your body onto him firmly, using one hand to hold your hip down whilst the other travelled upwards, skimming over your tits but never quite tending to your nipples. He was in complete ecstasy; your pussy had made him whipped. Yet, that left you with other aching parts still yearning for attention.
You moved his hand so his fingers could give attention to the perked buds. Subconsciously, he knew what you were doing and let you command his body, even if he could hardly comprehend what was going on. His hand slid down from your chest once it was done toying with your tits as he spread you further for him. The hand that wasn’t holding you in place slid across your thighs, inching closer and closer to your open entrance.
He pulled your lips further apart with his fingers. If his tongue didn’t feel like it was deep enough in you, then it certainly did now; he deliberately took his time to pull his tongue out of you as he traded it for his fingers. It was a slightly uncomfortable stretch at first. He put one in, curling it inside. It felt good, but it wasn’t hitting anything that had you crying his name like earlier. You turned around, looking down at him, “Izuku?”
You had to call his name three times before he took his attention off your dripping pussy that called him and onto you, who was actually talking to him. His eyes widened in anticipation of what you had to say, “Could you try something else with your finger?” You saw his expression slightly deflating, “Zuku, it’s just that for me to feel good, you have to do it a different way. You want to make me feel good, right?”
He nodded furiously from under you, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then let me make you feel good while you get to work, yeah?”
Yeah! Okay—” Already feeling another ramble, you silenced it by placing your pussy on his lips one more. He immediately got to work, sucking on your clit whilst he entered another finger in you, keeping your words in mind and opting to curl them inside you instead.
You, on the other hand, were determined to make him climax before you did (again.) His robes, already discarded, just left him with a pronounced, leaking dick sitting thick against his skin. You saw the wet spot it left as you leaned down to leave a kiss against his clothed dick. His body shivered under you as you heard him slightly groaning before continuing sucking on your clit and thrusting his fingers out of your hole. He hit that spot that had you crying out, fingers digging into his skin as he maintained his pace.
Wasting little time, you unsheathed his cock, the tip hitting your lip slightly from the curve. You put your mouth on his tip, kissing it slowly and sensually, even while Izuku was smoothing himself in your juices, the sounds of sex radiating in the room. Your saliva joined with his precum as you pulled back slightly, gathering your hair in one hand and flinging it over your shoulder so you could help him with his looming problem.
When your mouth had finally taken him, you sucked on his tip, keeping the same sucking motion all the way to about half of his cock, using your hands to wrap around the remnants of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You moved your fingers up and down, still sucking on his cock as you moved your mouth up and down, in unison with your hands. He started shaking under you; he was close, but so were you.
His fingers kept thumping against that spot in you that felt so good—not to mention the added pressure to your clit had you feeling an impending orgasm that no man had ever given you before. You were still determined to make him cum before you did, moving your hands up and down his curve with slightly more force than before. You did the same thing with your mouth, taking more of him and using whatever mix of saliva and pre-cum that had dribbled down his cock as lubricant.
The room grew hotter, louder, as the two of you melted into one another, cumming in unison, and it felt just right. Like a moment meant to be cherished forever, as you slowly pulled your body away from him, plopping next to the panting man who had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life. He was still gathering his breath while you were already ready to leave. You enjoyed it here, with him, doing this—but you knew it couldn’t be permanent. He couldn’t be something you fixated on, like a schoolgirl with a silly crush.
You sat up, already scanning the room for fallen clothing and dragging half of your own body out of the bed as his hand fell onto your arm. You turned back, and he was practically glowing; the sweat glistened, highlighting his muscles. You knew he'd spent hours perfecting them, whilst his chest heaved up and down. “Don’t go yet, please.” He looked at you, big eyes filled with so much adoration it almost frightened you since you’d never seen anyone look at you with that expression. His fingers drummed against your arm, and he slowly pulled you back over to lie by his side.
So now you lie with him, in his embrace, trying to calm down your thoughts of rationality on why staying here, cuddled up with Izuku, with your head on his chest and his arms around you, was such a bad idea. Whilst Izuku drew his eyes to you one more, memorising the enchanting way your lashes fluttered and your chest rose, and he could only think to himself that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cursed after all.
Synopsis. It’s a bird! It’s a plane! Look up out—it’s Supergirl. The villains fear you. The headlines hate you. The Justice League doesn’t understand you. And no one cares except for perhaps…Nanami Kento from the investigative journalism department. Tall. Blond. And sweeter than the world’s most potent aphrodisiac.
But he doesn’t know that.
The problem is that the villains now do.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!Supergirl!reader, journalist!Nanami, DC AU, Supergirl AU, he’s Iowk like genderbent Lois Lane, nerdy Nanami, journaIism, headIines, inhibitions, you’re hated by the pubIic, but he Ioves you, saving people, saving the worId, more about finding yourself acc, miId vioIence, feeIings, aphrodisíacs, Nanami is PÚSSYDRUNK, hand j’s, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, x-ray vision, heat vision, YOUR powers, manhandIing, matíng presses, he’s FÉRAL, he’s big, making it fit, tummy buIges, pressing down on it, cervíx smooches, struggling to take it, making HIM break, creampíes, s with feeIings, confessions, getting together, happy ending, Kenjaku mentions, Nanami with glasses, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 13.7k
A/N. Haven’t watched the new Supergirl movie yetttt but I just KNEW I had to do an AU.
MEET THE NEW GIRL IN SPACE!
SUPERGIRL: THREE A-LIST VILLAINS AND THEIR HENCHMEN DOWN IN SHINJUKU TRAIN FIGHT. DESTRUCTION PRICELESS—!
SUPERGIRL FLIPS OFF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE MID-AIR?! TAKES DOWN THEIR VILLAIN FIRST. ACCUSED OF STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT?
SUPERGIRL HANGS ZENIN CONGLOMERATE HEIR—ZENIN NAOYA—BY HIS SHOELACES FROM TOKYO TOWER! CITES ‘CHAUVINISM’ (EXCLUSIVE)
SUPERGIRL—THE NEW FACE OF HEROES OR A DARK TURN FOR JUSTICE?
That last particular headline makes you scoff.
Your eyes are darting to the byline; and immediately afterwards they’re on the verge of rolling. Who else would write such a rag of an article but Usami from the sports journalism department? And it’s not like Supergirl even had anything to do with the latest football scores or which manager had been sacked recently.
But you suppose everybody wanted a piece of you now.
“It’s rotten, isn’t it?” A voice trundles behind you—low and lightly husked. “They beg for a saviour, but in the face of one it’s revealed that what they really want is perfection. But with everyone’s definition of perfection being different…”
Nanami Kento.
“-isn’t what they really want just conforming to their mold?”
You’re turning around.
A faint smile on your lips. “Then what can we do about all the different molds?”
Nanami nods. “No one person is correct. It’ll never be good enough.” He lets out a soft sigh before pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses; they were a delicate kind that seemed to have a faint glow whenever they caught the light filtering in from Tokyo’s busy morning. Perfectly paired against Nanami’s handsome face—in the sort of classical, movie-star manner that might have caused him to be hung up on posters in teenage bedrooms or emblazoned outside of theatres.
Or so you’ve heard human customs tend to do so.
And yet, here Nanami Kento was: standing in a cream-colored suit with ink smudges on his fingertips. It often surprised you how a perfect Earthling like this was simply tucked-away in a little cubicle at Daily Planet Newspaper.
You certainly have never seen another like so.
But you got to see his face everyday—so you weren’t exactly complaining.
Nanami’s eyes drop at the growing smile on your face, and he pushes up a strand of golden-blond hair. That was just about as mussed-up as that perfectly slicked hairstyle of his would ever become. “Apologies. It’s just- it really bothers me to see the shit being written about Supergirl with no basis. Especially in respectable newspapers.”
“Well, it is the gossip column.”
“The sports section?”
“Same thing.” It was all human mish-mash to you either way. Beside him, the corner of Nanami’s lips give the faintest twitch. You’re flipping through the latest print of Daily Planet to another page; this time one with your (Supergirl’s) face plastered centrespread. Mid-air and your red cape flying behind you. It’s been only a few years since you’d landed on Earth after the destruction of Krypton. Then only a few weeks since you’d debuted as a superhero: stealing the spotlight from Green Lantern and the rest of the Justice League as you swooped in and defeated Metallo.
Ever since then it’d been an explosion of newspaper headlines and television shows and even sketches; both good and bad. Mostly bad. You weren’t sure what got you off to the wrong foot. Maybe it was the uniform that too-closely resembled Superman’s? Maybe it was the crude words you’d spit out at villains mid-fight? Maybe it was that one time you flipped off the Justice League for being too late to the fight?
In your defense, you thought Earthlings said something about early birds getting the villains?
And maybe all those were correct.
But whatever it was—they would tear you apart. Then piece you back. Then tear you apart again. You weren’t the family-friendly image of a superhero that most were; and it made something at the pit of your stomach feel saturated and dark and useless to have to edit such articles time and time again. To have to write them yourself, if you wanted to get approved by your higher-ups.
Perhaps that was a part of human culture?
Fuck those windbags either way.
You didn’t understand how any other hero did it - then again it wasn’t as if you could easily ask them. You weren’t an official part of the Justice League—and you didn’t see yourself getting welcomed with open arms anytime soon. So you hid yourself away and semi-hypnotized those at your workplace to see a forgettable face whenever they looked at you - not Supergirl—even so, it was brittle at best.
Kryptonian hypnosis wasn’t as powerful as Martians. What you could merely do was suggest. “So- you don’t think Supergirl’s too crass?”
Nanami looks up, brows somewhat furrowed. “I quite frankly don’t think it matters. Who am I to judge?”
“Oh yeah? What about too destructive? Too disrespectful of the Justice League?”
“Again, who am I to judge?” Now, Nanami’s taking a seat—his desk was opposite yours, your backs to one another as you tap-tap-tapped away at new articles everyday. “Maybe she could do with a little less destruction of public infrastructure and that’s fine, but if she’s too crass then she’s too crass. That’s just her. Just as I’m not forced to like it—it’s silly to expect every superhero to conform to the ideal. Not one person nor mold is completely correct.”
From his seat, he tips his head up and looks at your standing self.
“But, personally, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Green Lantern in the first place.”
This time, it’s your turn to attempt to keep a too-big smile off your face.
You give him a pointed look. “I dunno. I heard she steals candy from babies—says so on Page 9.”
“Ridiculous.” Nanami cocks his head and beckons for the newspaper from you; after you hand it to him he flips through to that very page and scans it. “And precisely without proof. This is why I’ve been investigating Supergirl, beyond what these pages or secret sources say—”
From where you were, you could hear Usami loudly bragging to his colleagues a few desks over about the ‘exclusive source’ that gave him that little tidbit of information. You wanted to roll your eyes again.
“-and I’ve been working on something.”
“What is it?” You lean over to look as Nanami unlocks one of his desk drawers and pulls out a thick file. Unmarked. Your heart leaps to your throat as he sweeps it open to reveal pages upon pages of…pictures of you.
Not you—
—but you as Supergirl.
You mid-flight amongst thunderclouds. You amongst rubble. You pushing a kid behind you in order to shield him from a villain. You with your face twisted in fury as you’re pummeling that very same villain with a ferociousness that scared most - even civilians.
Which explained the headlines.
You skulking off into an alleyway before the medics and police could arrive, as you always did.
You. You. You. You. You.
And around them were notes scribbled in Nanami’s own neat hand.
Hero analysis:
Best skills: Superhuman strength, superhuman speed (comparable to that of the Flash), heat vision, physiological control, martial arts (see more on…)
Costume is that of similar style of Superman however with the added adaptabilities of…(sketch on back)
—one of the strongest debuts of any superhero in history. The supervillain Metallo has been terrorizing—
—though at odd relations with the Justice League, it seems that clashes over justice enactment—
—train—
—the greatest—
Female. 20’s to 30’s. Features may be changeable with Kryptonian powers (follow up with…). Suspected resident in Tokyo—concentration of fights here; in close contact with the Justice League who has headquarters here in Tokyo. Furthermore, seems familiar with the alleyways for her ‘disappearing act’ (for more thorough analysis see more on…) and mapping (more on…) has revealed that Supergirl tends to head in the wider direction of—Kabukicho.
(Follow up).
Your eyes widen.
Fuck.
You have to change up the bars you hit after fights.
And just when you think your heart can’t leap any higher; he flips through a few more pages and stops on one particular piece of evidence - the biggest of them all - a frontpage newspaper clipping of you…and him. Nanami all dust-covered and dishevelled, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, as you threw his arm over your shoulders and helped him out of Tokyo Downtown Bakery. You had your face twisted in fury, and Nanami…you never noticed it before, but Nanami was looking at you like you were the Sun.
The fight had happened just last week: you’d been heading home after work when your superhearing told you something was off. An explosion downtown.
Tokyo Downtown Bakery was a favorite of gods, mutants, aliens, and other non-humans alike. Known for it, in fact. And there was only one villain you could think of that wanted to take down such non-humans—Kenjaku.
You’d zipped there as fast as your flight could take you, and only once you were there had you heard a familiar heartbeat. More frantic now, of course. But familiar.
Nanami was trapped underneath the rubble.
Kenjaku saw your momentary distraction - the realization that made your blood grow cold - and had taken the chance to disappear into the shadows.
After making sure that every other customer and employee didn’t have to be flown to the hospital urgently, you dropped onto your knees in front of the mountain of rubble and dug and dug. And dug. And dug. You dug until you felt the control over your physiology slipping, and small cuts started to apply at your fingertips—healing over instantly. Then getting ripped open all over as you just kept- on- digging.
In reality it must have been less than five or ten minutes, but it felt like months, before you finally flung away the last block of debris from a soft body. And Nanami Kento stirred.
That was what had resulted in the photograph, and the headlines that followed.
SUPERGIRL A WEEK INTO SUPERHEROISM AND ALREADY LETTING VILLAINS ESCAPE?
SUPERGIRL PAUSES FIGHT FOR BREAK?! MORE LIKE LAZYGIRL (Exclusive)
SUPERGIRL SAVES THE DAY AGAIN—BUT WHAT ABOUT THE INFRASTRUCTURE?
SUPERGIRL SAVES RUBBLE-TRAPPED CIVILIANS: “I owe her my life.”
That last one boasted the picture. And the byline of Nanami Kento.
You try to control your breathing.
“Ever since she saved me, I’ve been trying to understand Supergirl better. That fury on her face…I’ve been trying to figure out who she is-”
“To…expose her?”
“No.” Nanami shakes his head. The both of you were breathless - though for very different reasons. Excitement practically makes him glow, “To maybe try and interview her- personally. I want to see what she’s like beyond all those cashgrab headlines and the rumors. And…”
You’re silent as he pauses.
“-and I want to thank her personally.” So soft.
“Oh.” Your voice sounds small. Smaller than you’ve ever heard it.
He’s then closing his file and looking up at you so sweetly—“And if you’re interested, then maybe we could work together on it? I actually got a tip that I’m about to go do some field work on right now.” A sudden burst of shyness makes Nanami’s cheekbones burn a pretty rouge as you stare at him intensely. That was one thing you loved about humans - immense control over your physiology meant Kryptonians couldn’t blush unless you made yourselves. Humans couldn’t control when they blushed and it was just the sweetest thing to you. Was Nanami’s heartbeat picking up? “That is…if you would like to? I know you likely have better articles to work on, but just in case…”
He trails off and you’re trailing behind your head and your heart.
Your heart that wanted you to say yes.
Your head that made you say—
“I’m sorry.” You feel your heart fall. There’s a simmering of anger at yourself; soothed partially by the understanding that the more time you spent with Nanami…the higher the chance was of him finding out who you were. There were countless people out to get you: villains, henchmen, reporters. And the second-best thing to getting you was getting someone you cared for that knew you. About you.
The only powerless humans that knew about you were Clark’s- Superman’s adoptive parents.
And whatever misery that might put you in - you’d take it twofold if it meant keeping one more normal Earthling like Nanami safe. You’re taking a step back and giving him a sheepish smile. “It’s just I have this really ah- riveting story to write about the erm- tax refunds and the economic implications of Supergirl’s last fight and…”
“Oh!” Nanami nods fervently, pushing his glasses up. Embarrassment radiated off of him like a miniature Sun, and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and tell him this was on you. But alas. “Oh, right, of course- I wish you luck with that.”
“Thank you.” You smile, lips pressed together to prevent a sigh. “I’m going to need it.”
“A journalist like you? Not in the least.”
With a nod of graciousness, you’re just about to leave Nanami’s table and pretend that the latter half of this interaction perhaps never happened. You almost wished Kryptonians had the ability to hypnotize themselves as they could to others. And you’re considering a much more interesting article about that before you’re stopping in your tracks and half-glancing at Nanami over your shoulder.
He was hard at work gathering his things for what you assume to be the extra field work regarding his Supergirl article.
You feel your heart clench.
“Nanami?”
He looks up eagerly. “Yes?”
Your words are slightly less than steady once you speak again. “If- when you discover Supergirl’s identity…you might be…disappointed. They say she’s nothing like Superman.”
“She doesn’t have to be.”
As Nanami throws his messenger bag over his shoulder and stands to leave—“I’ll see you tomorrow, my darling.” But he calls everyone that, doesn’t he?
“And I’ll…be working late.”
“Be careful not to miss your train.”
You don’t look at him until the very last second. When his tall frame is ducking beneath the doorway to the Daily Planet journalism department; cream-colored suit and golden glasses; old movie star looks drawing eyes, but not too close so he’ll never know that you stared at him from afar. Never.
You sink into your chair.
“What was that about?”
Had your superhuman senses not told you about Shoko’s nearing presence, you would have been startled. But you’re throwing in a slight jump just for the sake of it.
“Oh- come on.” Shoko says with a roguish grin. There was a slender cigarette tucked between her index and her middle finger; as was wont to have if one was Ieiri Shoko. You honestly don’t think you’ve ever seen her without one. “Not dramatic enough. Next time try throwing in a little gasp there.”
It seems that you still had work to do on your human reactions…“What have I told you about the cigarette smell getting on the papers?” You grimace at her - this particular human pleasure was especially sensitive to your nose.
“Can’t remember.” She replies, blowing out her last puff of smoke.
Shoko was perhaps your one exception to humans not knowing about your true identity—for the sole fact that she wasn’t your average human. Smooth. Silent. And stupidly intelligent - Shoko was perhaps the best investigative journalist Tokyo had to offer.
Which was to be expected, of course, given that she was the protégé of The Question.
A normal human journalist—just with enough combat skill and power to get him inducted into the Justice League. The Question had been a master in hand-to-hand combat even amongst the most trained superheroes; which paired well with the depth of investigative journalism that he would do. He exposed criminal underworlds that led to likely half the lodgers at Tokyo Island Penitentiary.
When you’d been reading up on the superheroes of Earth - both current and inactive - it was his sheer heroism as a mere human that’d inspired you to become a journalist as well.
The Question had hand-picked Shoko as his successor—and for good reason. After his passing due to old age, Shoko quickly proved herself to be a master with the pen; she cracked her ink like a whip. Just last week, she’d exposed that damned Lex Luthor’s embezzling which at least got him out of Superman’s hair for some time. And despite the publicity of the event, the covert nature of her heroism meant she didn’t have to deal with the constant headlines.
Shoko was no different than those at the Justice League. Than you.
But she was an enigma.
So you couldn’t have asked for anyone better to have walked in on you hurriedly changing into your supersuit in the cramped cubicle bathrooms at the Daily Planet - there was a train about to go off-course a few thousand kilometers away - than Shoko.
“Oh.” You remember it like it was yesterday. The door had swung open as you had one foot into the suit. “The lock’s broken.” She’d said.
“Uh…occupied?” You’d murmured then, in a voice higher-pitched than usual. You considered hypnotizing her twofold- no wait, there was some power to do with amnesia even though you weren’t sure whether it would be—
“I know what you’re thinking.” Shoko had smiled then. “And don’t you dare try - not because I’d say anything, but because the Justice League’s paperwork is a pain in the ass when you try to fight another superhero.”
Your jaw had dropped. “Another…?” You’d shove that paperwork up their asses- but another superhero?
“Haven’t guessed it already?” Shoko shoved a hand into her long jacket, pulling out a square piece of what almost looked like rubber. It was in the exact shade as her skin tone, and when she placed it over her face—
“Featureless.” You’d gasped. Pseudoderm. “Just like The Question.”
“Flattered you know us, Supergirl.”
But there was no more time for chit-chat—that train you’d been hearing was dangerously close to going off-tracks now, and you’d hastily begun stuffing yourself into your supersuit. To which Shoko hadn’t flinched - instead appraising you curiously. “Why don’t you just wear that underneath your suit?”
“Because…” Because you were too afraid of someone sneaking a peak at the suit underneath. Because you were too afraid of being Supergirl when you were your ‘human’ self—hated. At least as a human you weren’t hated. Because you were too afraid of walking around as two halves making up one whole, when one half was all you needed at a time to feel content.
Ultimately you settled for not saying anything at all. “Listen- please don’t-”
“Yeah, yeah- I’ve already been through this song and dance.” She waved you off absent-mindedly. “Don’t reveal your secret identity to anyone. Don’t make it obvious when you’re off saving the world.”
You felt a smile come to your face at those last few words.
“You don’t think I’m…ruining justice instead?” A rush of embarrassment ran through you for even asking.
But Shoko merely cocked her silky head. “Hah, no? And who cares what the Justice League thinks? Now go do superhero things, superhero.”
The train and its passengers were saved in record time that day. And just like she’d said, Shoko hadn’t spilled a word.
Though for all the secrets she kept- she did love hearing them.
“So…” She relights her cigarette. “Did Nanami finally ask you out and you rejected him?”
“What-” You’re turning to her with a yelp. “He did not—” She takes the moment to blow a cloud of smoke at your papers, and you’re snatching the cigarette from between her lips and snuffing it out on one of your ceramic desk decorations.
“Hey…” Shoko whines.
Finally you’re whispering to her in a low tone - “He did not ask me out. And I did not reject him.”
“Then why’d he leave all sad and puppy-eyed?”
You’re turning around—almost as if expecting Nanami there still. “He didn’t…did he?”
“Maybe. I didn’t see. But you looked, didn’t you?” Chuckling. The Question takes the cigarette back from you, and holds it out of your reach.
“That was only because you-” You find that you don’t quite have much to say - at least not something that Shoko would pay heed to. And so you’re settling for a few grumbled curses—“No. He just asked me to be part of one of his articles.”
Shoko looks up in interest. “Oh? About what?”
“Supergirl.” You cross your arms. “He said he wanted to figure out who she was so he could interview her- I said no, of course.”
Shoko - who’d now newly relit her cigarette - takes a long drag and lets it free into the air. “Why?”
“What?”
“Why’d you say no?”
You take her cigarette and put it out again. “Because the more time I spend with him, the more likely he is to…find out. And with everything going on, I can’t risk putting him in danger.”
“Hm…” Shoko thinks for some time. “Putting him in danger? Or putting his image of you in danger?” She stares at you intently. “Are you really afraid that he’s going to be captured by villains you’ve been defeating time and time again these past few weeks? Maybe.” Then she’s gently tugging the cigarette from between your fingertips - to light it again. A final time. “Or are you more afraid that once he finds out who you truly are- he’s going to be just like the rest of them?”
You don’t bother reaching for the cigarette anymore. “I…”
But Shoko wasn’t done just yet. She blows her smoke into the air and lets it linger. “It’s just like these papers and this smoke. When the nicotine sticks to them, it’s invisible but it’s there—even if you don’t like it. But that doesn’t change its contents. Nor does that make it any less worthy than any other article here.”
You crinkle your nose. “But others won’t like it either.”
“So fuck them.” She stands. “It’s gonna be printed into a damn article, it doesn’t need to smell like rainbows and roses. No two newspapers are printed the same.”
And with that said, Shoko striding off. Cigarette and all.
And you’re left staring at a blank paper—ready for typing.
.
.
.
Nanami Kento had never quite been to this area of Tokyo.
It was one of the seedier places; an amalgamation of everything your mother advises you against. Past the bars and the spas, past the graffiti-tattooed walls and the alleyways that seemed to stretch into darkness endlessly. Past men slouched on roads - drunk or dead. Past the rattle of trains in the distance and rats who chittered at the only abode they truly ruled. Where even those cowered standing next to—and one goes to share the same fear doused upon this neighborhood, doled, perhaps to replace that of their own.
Then again, there was a strange beauty in it itself - like a giant wound mending itself.
There was a stun gun in his pocket. He wondered what this place would look like in daylight.
He ignored the knot in his throat as he kept on walking.
It wasn’t the place you’d expect to find a superhero - then again, Supergirl didn’t listen to anyone’s expectations of her.
Often after fights, he’d see you disappearing into the shadows of a building or a lone alleyway such as these. As if never there. You didn’t wait around for any authorities or paparazzi. And it was only after weeks of investigation that he’d managed to narrow it down to one district that you were frequenting: Kabukicho.
Even afterwards, he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t simply the entertainment district that you were fond of.
You were fond of hiding.
Asking around for sightings of a person of your description took Nanami meters away from actual Kabukicho, and down narrow alleys and underground streets. Into clubs and behind hotels. Into the seediest, smallest establishments hadn’t even the faintest waft of a main street. Currently he was heading towards a bar he was directed towards by an anonymous tip; the tip had said that you came here at least once a week or so. Sometimes not even to drink - just to people-watch.
And if Nanami Kento knew anything about you: it was that you found humans fascinating.
He’d seen it after fights, when you’d watch families rush to one another and embrace. He’d seen it even during fights, as you analyzed villains that were easy prey.
And he wondered…did you find humans interesting as much as they found you? Or at least, he did.
It’s after a few minutes of walking down this small street, lit only by the angry neon signs of underground clubs, that he stops before a squat bat. THE CHAMELEON—the sign said.
He pats the stun gun in his pocket.
And with a deep breath, he’s walking in.
The stench of liquor dances a frenzied waltz with cigarettes; it reaches his nose though he doesn’t cringe as he weaves between closely-pressed tables. Patrons hunched over nursing their columns of glasses look up at him suspiciously as he walks past them. He knew he should have changed out of his cream-colored suit.
It was barely visible in the bar, due to the faint light buzzing solely from a few spots on the ceiling, surrounded by wine-drunk flies, but Nanami managed to sit himself down at the counter. A bartender with long greyish-blue hair wiping greasy glasses with an even greasier rag looks up at him.
“Ah…” Nanami’s eyes fall to the glass and the rag - he himself was a good drinker, though the establishments he frequented were nothing of this sort. “Just a beer, please.”
The bartender asks, “Mmm, tap?”
“Do you have bottles-”
“No bottles.”
“Then ah- just a water, please.”
“No water either.” He says in a strangely melodic voice, “Just cider. Just cider. Apple, peach, and pear~!”
Nanami looks at the man warily, “Then…a peach cider please.”
The bartender shrugs then takes the rag—blowing his nose into it- before he throws it somewhere over his shoulder and fetches a peach cider for Nanami. It pools condensation onto the counter as it’s set in front of him, but he doesn’t reach for it even a single millimeter.
“What are you trying to find, young man?”
Nanami almost flinches.
The voice comes from the seat next to him; gruff and gravelly like when one has smoked far too many cigarettes for far too long. As he turns—the man next to him laughs. He had a white, wide-rimmed hat tipped low over his face, and was wearing an equally stark white suit. It was just about the only things he could make of him - nothing of his actual features.
And though Nanami didn’t know the man, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of kinship as the two patrons of the bar that didn’t seem like they belonged there.
Despite this, however, this other man’s fingers found a chip in his cider glass with familiarity.
“There are only two reasons that folks come down to a bar like this: either to lose something—pain, memories, fatigue; or to find something.” He nods his head over at the younger man, but still doesn’t reveal a sliver of a face. “And since you haven’t touched that cider of yours, young man, I’m assuming…”
“Finding something, I suppose.” Almost robotic, Nanami grasps his glass.
He thinks he sees a flash of a smile from the other man.
Nanami continues, “Maybe you can help me? Would you happen to have seen someone come in tonight-” His heart thunders as he lists off the features written down in that file of his—and the man keeps nodding with each one. “-perhaps around my age, though-”
“So it’s love problems.”
He stops short. “What?”
“Love problems.” That man clucks out a wet laugh, then takes a swig of his cider.
Nanami responds hesitantly. “I’m…afraid you misunderstand. I’m just trying to find-”
“I know perfectly what you mean.” He displays a set of paper-white teeth, gleaming. Reaching into his coat pocket, he slaps something down on the marble counter. “Her, right?”
Nanami peers in and finds it to be a blurry polaroid of you at this very bar, taken like you hadn’t known it was happening. And you weren’t revelling like one would have expected you to after a constant winning streak against villains. You weren’t even lamenting your woes with your fellow bar patrons.
You were just…watching.
Alone at a booth. Nothing in front of you but a water- perhaps that bartender had lied to him.
It was a night livelier than this one, evidently, as bachelor celebrations and 21st birthday parties and seemingly drunken singing surrounded you from all angles. But you simply watched. Waited. There was something so sorrowfully beautiful about you that it made Nanami’s heart ache.
“It’d been my buddy’s divorce party and someone had pulled out the polaroid. He snapped a picture and somehow I just couldn’t find it in myself to part with it…there’s something so haunting about it.”
Nanami merely stares speechlessly, running his finger down the edge of the picture.
“Trying to understand someone is, too, an act of love isn’t it?” The other man says. Before Nanami could respond, he’s polishing off the last few drops of his cider and getting off the chair—he seemed much taller when he was standing. “Come now. This Supergirl of yours is quite the party- after draining The Chameleon she tends to head East towards the Golden Gai. Finish up your cider and then we can go.”
“R-right.” Nanami’s hand almost falls to pat his stun gun reassuringly- but under the man’s scrutiny he reaches for the cider instead. “And sorry- what was your name again Mr…?”
“Come now, come now. We can save the pleasantries for when we walk there, young man.”
“Right.”
Bringing it up to his lips.
Almost. “But how did you know I was searching for Super-”
He sighs. “You journalists ask too many questions.”
And with a forceful shove, he’s making Nanami chug down the cider - blood and peaches coating his tongue. And the sharp shot of something else he couldn’t place.
“And you can call me Kenjaku, young man.”
And then it’s black.
“I saw the way Supergirl—” Spit. “—looked at you. And I must thank you for leading her to me.”
Kilometers away, you’re in the middle of heading to the train station with Shoko. You’d both gotten off work late and were lamenting what a pain it’d be to get up tomorrow morning—
Your head snaps up.
You’re immediately looking behind you.
“What is it?” Shoko asks with no small sense of emergency.
That gasp. That thud.
You’ve never heard it; yet you’d recognize it anywhere.
“Something bad has happened.”
.
.
.
Alleyways. Bar. Rats. Love Hotel. Alleyways. Bar. Bar. Alleyways. Alleyways. Alleyways.
Why did you have to go down so many alleyways?
It was a bar that you’d only been to once; the shadows were long and the cider was sweet—but ultimately you’d decided that you didn’t want to return. It was the day after you’d saved Nanami Kento.
And now you were doing the very same thing.
THE CHAMALEON had wound down for the night by the time that you skidded to a halt before it - with the tar road cratering beneath you as you stopped. There’s a thundering noise that echoes down the gloomy streets of this forgotten part of Kabukicho. You don’t waste a single second longer before kicking the door open and storming inside—
“Ah~ my lovely Supergirl.”
“Kenjaku.” You spit. The bar was empty save for the man seated at the counter - a dark waterfall of hair, darker eyes - and in his hand he held a single glass of what you assumed to be cider. “Where is he-”
“Slow down, my dear.” He croons. “Why don’t you sit back? Have a drink or two? And then maybe we can-”
“Where the fuck is he.”
It happens instantaneously—in a jerky movement you’re picking up an entire table by its leg. Using a mere fraction of your strength, you chuck it at the man - not quite to hit just yet - and it flies past him with naught a hair’s breadth of space between the side of his head and the table. Crashing against the wall of alcohol bottles in the back; liquor and shards of glass explode behind Kenjaku, yet he doesn’t move a single muscle. Not a single muscle.
Not even his lips to speak.
It infuriates you that he can remain sitting and sipping his cider without a care in the world- and so you’re striding towards him. Though striding was perhaps a kinder word.
Grabbing a bottle off the counter, he breaks its end and attempts to stab you.
You dodge.
He stabs.
You dodge.
He swipes your cheek—
“Motherfucker you better know that I don’t care what you do to me-” Each word leaves you like a dagger. “I don’t care how you hurt me-” And within a few seconds, you’ve closed the gap completely to grip him by the collar and raise Kenjaku a foot off his chair. “But what the fuck have these innocent people ever done to you?”
Suddenly, his eyes go wide and he starts laughing.
And you’re only watching in stunned silence.
You only can watch—Kenjaku laughs long and unabashed, with a strange hitch like a crow’s call - he laughs so hard that he has to wipe away a tear. It sends red-hot fury curdling in your veins.
You reel your fist back.
Tightly-coiled. Trembling with anger.
And you’re just about to swing—
When Kenjaku raises a single finger - the gesture humans often do when asking for a moment of your time - that makes you halt in your tracks. Whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, you didn’t want to risk anything that might put Nanami in danger.
And so you wait.
And you watch.
As Kenjaku’s eyes fall to the glass of cider that had been kept on the counter. He takes it in his hand. He clears his throat, “You should have been here earlier, oh- your little boyfriend was just drinking away his woes. Something about his love being a filthy alien, you see?” Those deep amethyst eyes—they were so dark that they seemed to leave a stain where they then turned to look at you.
You can’t take your eyes off of him - even as you bring your raised punch back and instead grasp Kenjaku’s neck with both hands. If you can’t pummel him to death, you were ready to strangle him.
Your hands tighten.
“O-oh.” Kenjaku’s hands claw down your forearms, but he’s powerless against you. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
They tighten.
“And you already know it’s true, don’t you? You know that deep down—you’re everything they say you are- you’re everything and worse-” They tighten. His skin starts turning blue then purple. “Why else would they hate you so? They know- they know it and you do, too.”
They tighten.
And even though you had the upperhand, seemingly, Kenjaku seems to crane his head down to whisper to you.
“You were nothing. You are nothing. You will always and forevermore be nothing.”
Your breath hitches- and Kenjaku knows he’s got you.
Unbidden from your senses, you’re letting go of him - he stumbles to the ground but manages to catch himself on the bar counter. Throwing an arm over it to steady himself, Kenjaku looks down at his cider glass once more, with only a few drops at the bottom of it.
He throws back those last few ounces and holds the glass out to you- “Be a dear for me, and help your little boyfriend get me another glass, will you? It seems he’s gotten his…hands full.”
Shit.
Shit.
You’re forgetting to even fly down to the bar—you’re breaking off a leg of a nearby stool then bending the metal into something that resembles a handcuff, quickly restraining Kenjaku for the time being before darting downstairs. There was a dingy staircase in the corner of the room, of which the rusty handrailing bends and warps as you grip it with your superhuman strength.
As you do, Kenjaku calls after you…“But do be careful not to miss your train~!”
It doesn’t take long before you find yourself at the bottom of a damp cellar- running to a Nanami Kento who’d been hopelessly bound and gagged. His golden hair falls in front of his face. His skin glistens with sweat.
And as soon as you reach him, you’re noticing the sheer heat that radiates off of him.
It was as if he was on fire—
Was this…?
“Nanami- Kento.” You’re hissing - you don’t need to untie those cloth restraints, you’re tearing straight through them. Removing the fabric gag and cupping his face, you look deep into his eyes. “Kento- oh, are you alright? Speak to me-”
“Go.”
“What-”
“The train.” Tears fell down his handsome cheeks. His bottom lip was trembling as though he was cold - even though he felt like an inferno to the touch. “My darling, don’t worry about me worry about the train-”
You insist. “What about the train, Kento?”
“Kenjaku- fuck, I overheard him telling his henchmen to destruct the Yurikamome line on the Rainbow Bridge- the train is going to go over it any second now—”
Brows furrowing, you focus your supersenses. Hearing. “But that can’t be, I should hear…”
The zooming of a train. The distant rattling of train tracks that sounded different than usual - too different, too distant.
Then it hits you.
“Kento, while you were here, did you encounter anything…strange?”
He strangles out. “The peach cider he gave me- a-after that I just…”
“I understand.” Your mind was racing a mile a minute—Kento. The train. Kento. The train. Kento. “Kenjaku probably laced it with something to weaken you, and amongst that he must have added…”
Your blood goes cold.
“Hold on tight.” And without another word, you’re scooping the man into your arms - a princess carry. You hold him to you like the most precious thing on Earth and Krypton as you crash! through the top of the cellar—past several stories without a single scratch nor ache. Past bottles of liquor and ceramic tiles. Past layers of concrete and your fear.
Once you’re out into the wild night, you’re taking in incredible lungfuls of crisp air, soothing the burning sensation in your lungs.
You could almost ignore the gasps around you- as people whip out their cameras. This time, you don’t shy from them.
Gently; you’re hovering down to the street below and setting Nanami down. “Are you okay, Kento?”
“Yes- yes.” He’s gasping as he struggles to stand- you’re attempting to help him, only for Nanami to back away as though afraid. Something painful twinges inside you.
And he must see the breaking of your expression - because he’s immediately rushing to answer. “The thing that was in that cider…it was Kryptonite, wasn’t it?” Your silence is enough of an answer. “You have to go.”
You step towards him. “We have to get you to a hospital. The Kryptonite-”
“The train-”
“Just let me-”
“The Kryptonite will poison you before it ever even thinks of poisoning me. Do you really think I’d ever- fucking ever put my life above yours?” Nanami Kento doesn’t exactly yell—but his voice carries to your superhuman senses above anything else. Anything else. “Save the people on the train. Save the world. Save yourself- for everything I love, please please leave me- save them, Supergirl.”
You’re straightening.
“I’ll be back for you, Kento.”
Stumbling back a few steps; you have to shake your head to do away with the fogginess of the Kryptonite.
And then you’re in the air once more.
Wind whipping your face. Cape thrashing behind you.
The clouds stick to your features and form condensation with how fast you’re flying to the train- fuck.
Once you get there, you’re seeing exactly what Nanami had been talking about.
The train track where the Yurikamome Line was going on top of - the lower deck of Rainbow Bridge - was completely obliterated in the middle. Throngs of metal sticking upwards. Train track rattling like a wounded snake. The train was charging full speed ahead, the driverless transit unaware of any anomaly in the track.
Just enough of a gap that it would prove fatal to the 160,000 passengers aboard.
Just enough of a gap that you could zip down—as fast as you could go. As low as you could afford. And as fearful as any human would have been in that moment - and just as foolhardy.
And as the Yurikamome Line heads towards the broken railroad, you’re lifting the train once it passes. The dip in the train track; you’re making up for it with your hands and your shoulders—never letting the Line falter even a single decree—it stretches and stretches and sinks its heavy metal body down onto yours. Rolling over your shoulders. Like nothing you’ve ever felt before- you have to keep your shoulders up. You have to keep your shoulders up. You have to keep your shoulders up.
Your body was indestructible. But you’re feeling cuts on your palms. But you’re feeling the strain on your core and your deltoids.
Every single axiom in your body was screaming—
Towards the middle mark of the Yurikamome Line, you feel a dip- fuck.
Gritting your teeth, you let out a clenched groan as you push the train up. From inside you can hear passengers scream. And from the horizon, you can hear news helicopters thundering.
Please.
A tear runs down your cheek. You struggle to move.
Please. Please. Please.
You’re pushing the train upwards with all your might.
Humanity above, only you know how strong you can be.
Be strong.
.
.
.
Birds are twittering.
You would have assumed that the afterlife had no shortage of birds, too; but it’s a bit odd to you that they’re singing a tune so jolly.
Personally, since you were dead, you’d like to sing something more lamentable.
“My darling?”
It’s so quiet that you almost don’t hear it - but of course, you do. You’re Supergirl—and you hear everything everyone says to you whether you want to or not. But this one in particular sounds quite pretty in your ears - even prettier than the spring melodies of birds - and it makes you realize ah- angels…
But at the same time you’re realizing that angels didn’t exist on Krypton.
And then you’re shooting awake.
“Fucking fuck!”
Your graceful resurrection is marked by knocking your head with none other than Nanami Kento - whom you found quite understandable to mistake for an angel. As you’re clutching your forehead and letting out a few swears, he lets out nothing but the sweetest, soft chuckle—and as your vision slowly grows used to the light and unblurs, you’re seeing the most beautiful smile on his face.
His eyes crinkled at the edges, framed by golden glasses. His cheeks had one faint dimple each. And he was looking at you with something humans had never looked at you with - love.
It couldn’t…
Was that your heart thundering or his?
“You don’t know how happy I am that you’re awake.” Nanami whispers, as if afraid to break this fragile piece. This suspension in a place that didn’t quite seem to be Earth nor Krypton. He presses his forehead to yours—“I wanted to thank you first, my darling.”
“Thank me…for what?” You ask- your voice is incredibly hoarse. How long have you been out for?
Once you clutch your throat, Nanami hastens to pluck a glass of water off the bedside cabinet. And as you drink- you’re looking around the room. The next time you speak, it’s with a slightly steadier tone. “And where are we?”
“Ah- I guess I should apologize first.” Nanami says, sheepishly rubbing the blushing back of his neck. “We’re at my apartment. You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours now.”
Your lips part.
He hurries to explain. “Chief Yaga from the police station wanted to keep you under their protection at the hospital, the Justice League insisted on keeping you at one of their quarters- your fan club wanted you all to themselves but…I…insisted you wake up in a place that’s somewhat of a home.” Eyes darting shyly downwards. “Just until you wake up- I asked Shoko and she wasn’t sure where you lived, either. You’re a very private person, Supergirl. And Superman is in outer space right now so…”
“Oh…I…I see.” You hold the glass limply in your hand. “And ah- fan club, you said?”
Nanami nods - you don’t see any humor in his eyes. “Your rescue of the train was shown on every channel and program- every breaking news. The Daily Planet won’t stop printing, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That…” You feel strangely numb. “I don’t even know what to say. And the casualties-”
“Zero.”
“How did you get to the hospital?”
“Just after you left, Shoko arrived with the police to save me and arrest Kenjaku. Did you know that she’s a vigilante?”
You bite back a smile. “I did.”
He unabashedly smiles, as if meeting you for the first time. “And did you know that I know?”
“I figured by now.” Cocking your head.
“I always had a suspicion but…I don’t know what hypnosis you did but it just wouldn’t make sense in my mind. But when you came down to save me at the cellar, when you were affected by that Kryptonite it just…clicked.”
He’s reaching a hand up to softly cup your right cheek.
“It wouldn’t have made sense to be anyone else.”
It’s warm in Nanami’s bedroom. And it’s even warmer underneath the thin nightdress you’re wearing- you wonder where he got such a thing? And when you’d been put into it? It seems that he catches the questions in your gaze as it dawns upon you what you’re wearing—“I bought it for you after you got discharged at the hospital.” Nanami says. “Shoko helped you into it- althought…I did help.” With a shy blush, he’s looking away.
And you’re closing your eyes and leaning into the touch of his hand. “Thank you.”
You don’t need to specify for what.
“And then there’s that.” Nanami surprises you as he says, reinvigorated. And how completely correct you were in him having those old movie star looks - that smile of his, with the soft little dimple on each cheek, should be on the big screen. He has a knowing glint in his eyes. “Thank you for saving me- that time at the bakery.”
You feel a little breathless. “It’s no problem.”
“No but it was- it’s how Kenjaku managed to escape. And I know how much you got torn apart in the papers for it—” His jaw clenches. “I saw it everyday.”
You look down at your hands, clasped on top of Nanami’s sweet cream-white sheets. “It’s nothing.”
And slowly - but surely - at a pace that matches the hesitant staccato of your heartbeat, Nanami’s own larger, roughened hands are sliding across the sheets. Intertwining with yours. “It’s not.”
Your gaze was now flickering between your tangled hands and his unyielding gaze—you didn’t know which was more beautiful.
He continues, “And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. I know you don’t feel as if you’ve done enough to be thanked, but I can assure you- w-well, I don’t know how much my word will mean to you if anything at all, but just-”
“Kento.” You cut him off. “Kiss me.”
His lips meet yours and you never wish for them to leave; he tastes like coffee with a hint of honey and everything you’ve ever wanted. You feel as though you can finally breathe.
And he feels as though he can’t—and he’s searching for his first breath between your lips. Nanami gasps as you clutch his baby-blue button-up.
Nanami’s hand caresses the back of your neck, and he’s cockin’ your head to the side so he can deepen the kiss. Eventually you’re feeling that initial sweetness of first contact melt into somthing…more…something that makes your skin simmer, as he’s letting his pinkish tongue brush your lower lip.
With a gasp you’re welcoming him inside.
And before you know it, you’re being laid flat on your back with Nanami hovering on top of you. With a tap at his broad shoulders, you signal him to get up—and when Nanami’s on his knees before you you’re letting your hands…wander.
“O-oh.” His breath hitches. His Adam’s apple bobs. And a sizzling heat takes over the man’s body as your fingers trace the line of this throat- the valley of his pecs- the bumps of his abs.
All your knowledge of human anatomy led you to believe that he must be hiding immense strength beneath suits too-big for him, but even this was a surprise.
And then lower, lower, lower—until you’re reaching his rock-hard erection.
“Shit…” The soft grunt escapes the back of Nanami’s throat—unbidden. He immediately brings one roughened hand up to his mouth, chewin’ on the insides of his cheek as he watches your workings down below. Watches through half-lidded eyes as your palm’s meeting the bulge of his perfectly plaid pants. Cupping. Caressing.
Nanami’s breath grows more n’ more ragged as you keep palming- fuck, he was so big.
You don’t even have to use your x-ray vision to figure that out - but you’re doing so anyway. And what you’re seeing are about seven- eight? Inches of his swollen cock, all throbbing and pulsating underneath your touch. And beads—no, puddles of precum were constantly tearing out from the top of his shaft, creating a mess underneath that made Nanami feel shy.
You swear he’s growing even bigger once he feels the staring.
“A-are you using your…?” Nanami asks, pushing his thick glasses up.
“Mmm, maybe.” You’re cheekily replying. And in mere split-seconds you’ve used your heat vision to incinerate Nanami’s fabrics without actually hurting him.
He gasps and instinctively goes up to cover his aching erection-
But you’re stopping him with a hand of your own. Those fingers of yours wrapping around Nanami’s pale pink cock—he’s oh-so-thick at the base of it, surrounded by a scattering of golden tresses that graze the bottom of your hand.
You’re squeezing the hilt of Nanami’s shaft and he lets his head drop backwards with a moan- “Fuh-fuck. I could cum right here and right now, you know….”
“So do it.” You’re tugging his cock- until you’re reaching the mushroomy top of it and wipin’ away a speckle of precum. It feels so warm underneath your touch—he was just melting for you. “But just know that this is going to be a looooong night, Nanami Kento.”
He gulps.
Meanwhilst you’re pressing your lips to Nanami’s while you keep a constant pace fisting his length. Breaking off from the heated kiss only to lean down and spit-
A direct glob of your saliva gluing to Nanami’s puckered tip.
He’s shivering as it gleamingly trickles down his length—then reeling you into a kiss once more. “Mmm- I can hear your heartbeat, Kento.” You smile into the kiss. “Any reason why it increases when you’re around me?”
“I’m in love with you and I cannot lie about it.” And you don’t know what you expected - banter? Denial? But it certainly wasn’t outright confession, and it certainly wasn’t for Nanami to pant against your lips—to push you back onto the coiled mattress, and shuffle his body down until he’s between your legs.
With languid movements, he’s pressing your legs to the side until each one is pinned to the soft cotton sheets. And you let him.
Your peripherals locked with his. Nanami’s gold-rimmed glasses tracing your skin. You’re running a hand through Nanami’s blond mane as he presses a line of kisses up your right thigh, up your left thigh, before finally…“May I?”
“Please.”
The next sound escaping you is a deafening trill—as in that very moment Nanami pushes his face nose-deep between those legs. And his tongue’s darting outwards and swabbin’ up - eating you out as though he was starving.
Almost wolfish.
Mouth gaped wide open. Honed canines stickin’ against the opened sides of your folds.
Your eyes dart to the back of your head- as you’re feeling the dots of his tastebuds push through your nightgown. He was eating you out through your nightgown—
“Kento, take a breather.” You’re whispering down at him, peeping at the ravenous man through struggling lids. The pleasure was consuming every inch of you rapidly; and before long you snake a hand to lift up the nightgown. “Let me just take this off-”
“No.” Nanami’s warm hand comes gripping yours - with surprising strength for a human. “Please- please keep it on.” He struggles.
To even speak.
To even keep his breathing even.
To even unlatch himself from your pussy for the mere moments he has to speak- he didn’t want to waste a single second. And it’s with carnal ferocity that he’s stuffin’ himself back between your legs, flattening his tongue and pressing it against your hot folds. “A-at this point, it might just be the only thing keeping me sane, my darling…if I feel you in all your entirety then I might just-” Nanami’s voice cracks. “-break.”
“What do you mean, Kento…?” You’re breathing.
There was something…off about the handsome man. Sure, it could’ve just been the heated proximity that was warping your perception of him; but—
But that couldn’t explain the nearly-frenzied pace of his heartbeat - 112 BPM to be exact - or the furious red flush creeping down his neck, or the way he was plastered in a cold sweat. Golden tresses gluing to his forehead and the forefront of your pelvis. One of those beads of perspiration runs down his attractive nosebridge n’ ends up positioning where he was pushing and pushing his sensual face into your puffy folds. Cheeks hollowing as he’s sucklin’ on them through the barely-there barrier of your nightgown.
And you’re swiping your thumb across it - feeling the slightly-sticker consistency of his sweat.
More so than normal.
And somehow…sweeter?
It doesn’t take your heightened senses to realize—you start to tug on Nanami’s sweaty scalp- but he’s hesitant to remove himself. Merely parting an inch or so with the most agonized groan. “Kento- Kento, don’t you feel a little different right now?”
“Hmmmgh?” He asks with his bleary eyes struggling to focus on you.
“A little different? Maybe a little…warmer?” You watch as he has to think a little bit before nodding. “Don’t you feel like you’re going to- hah, shatter on my pussy?”
“I do.” Nanami spits a glob of spittle down on your cunt, kissing it away before it trickles. “Fuck, I do.”
“Mmm—” Your back arches as his tongue straightens then starts dragging up and down your sopping slit languidly. “And aren’t you wondering h-how exactly I know?”
“How do you know, my darling…?” Sounding barely awake as he questions so.
“It’s because…” And then you’re sitting up and starin’ down at his movie-star face, eyes half-lidded and his blond hair a mess. A few strands of it were falling in front of his gorgeous eyes—so you’re pushing them away with your hand- and Nanami shivers as though just splashed with cold water. “-I’m feeling the same way.” A shiver runs down Nanami’s spine. “That aphrodisiac seems to be contagious.”
“A-aphrodisiac?” Nanami’s eyes widen behind his spectacles.
And you’re giving him a soothing nod. “Mhm. Back at the bar, it seems that what Kenjaku spiked you with was a Kryptonite solution. But what he hadn’t accounted for was the fact that sometimes…Kryptonite can have a bit of an…aphrodisical effect on humans.”
You’re leaning down and kissing his pussy-drenched lips. “Mmm, yeah, I can taste it on you still.”
Nanami’s immediately lurching back- but this time, it’s your turn to be reeling him back in.
Keeping him delightfully hostage between your legs. “And where do you think you’re going, Earthling?”
“But the Kryptonite-” Nanami pants. Even though his eyes kept constantly flickering down to your cunt as if his favorite baked good set out right in front of him. Syrupy-filled. “It can’t be good for you-”
“At the weakened state it’s in now, it’s not bad for me either.” You smile. “The aphrodisiac shouldn’t impair you, either. But if you do not wish to fully continue-”
“I do.” The words can’t leave Nanami’s lips faster. He’s shoving your legs further apart and whispering. “I do I do I do—”
Then pressing such a harsh open-mouthed kiss against your swollen folds - so hard that it honestly felt as though he was trying to permanently imprint its outline against your pussy. And then when he’s pressed hard enough and long enough and deeeep enough—Nanami jerks away with a wrangled moan.
“But then since I’m already broken…”
And in robotic movements- he pushes your nightgown up until your tits- and he’s plastering his hot lips aaaaall over your cunt. Tongue swiping urgently between your folds and fuckin’ inside like a damn animal.
“Shit—” Moans bubble to your throat- seeping out with bubbles of spit. You’re clawing through his sweaty locks, holding onto him for dear life. “Shit, shit, shit- I didn’t expect humans to be so…”
“S’this your first time on Earth?” He peeks up at you through his long lashes.
“It is.” You’re nodding. Biting onto your lower lip.
And something seems to shift behind Nanami’s darkened eyes; he fixates them on you and doesn’t waver a single second as he lets his tongue fully out. Lavishes the tender in-betweens of your pussylips with all his sensual kisses- “Then I better give you a proper welcome to Earth.”
And it’s with absolutely no warning that he’s increasing the speed of his thrusts.
Flarin’ that sopping wet muscle out so that it stretches out your first ring of muscle- you can feel the sides of Nanami’s tongue slide-slide-sliding all down your channel. He was just so thick- you were feeling him so perfectly like this- and you can’t help yourself…you’re activating your x-ray vision to see how deep Nanami’s really going.
“A-a bit more to the left, Kento…” You murmur. “And a little deeper- ngh.”
He looks up at you in slight surprise. “Oh? You can see where I’m going, my darling?” Experimentally, Nanami stabs a few more thorough probes- deep.
“X-ray vision, remember?” You gasp. Buckin’ up in a sloppy staccato every time Nanami’s nearing with his tongue and his prominent nose- fuck, you loved how the tip of his nose pressed into your clit every time he surged forwards. “Just a bit deeper- oh, your fingers?”
With two of his calloused fingertips slidin’ up and down your vertical slit - accumulating the dewy droplets of slick you were letting out - he smiles. “I may not have superpowers, but something tells me you’re going to like this, Supergirl.”
“Oh- shiiiiiit.” It’s letting out the sloppiest squelch to have Nanami’s fingers easing inside.
They’re so large- oh, your mouth drops as he’s burgeoning inside. Through your x-ray vision you could see that he’s scissoring inside- stretching aside that velvety channel- letting the doughy tips of his fingers probe inside like two searchlights attempting to pinpoint your most treasured spots. He’s rovering in deeeeeep- and you’re letting your face press into the damp mattress. “You’re enjoying this, Supergirl?”
“I-I am.” You huff. You’re humpin’ up into his pretty face so hard that the bedframe was creaking and moaning. Just as you must have been.
“And is your- hah, favorite Earthling making you feel good—?”
You’re levelling a half-hearted glare at him. “Bold of you to assume- but yes.” His fingers are just so close- “To the right…”
And he’s immediately heeding your every word- meanwhile, his mouth seemed to have felt a little lonely. Because Nanami hastens to latch his kiss-bitten lips around your throbbing clit. “Good. Because I’m just made to make you feel good, my darling. I need this. I need this. M’made for this.” Huffing. “Don’t be afraid to fuck my tongue as hard as you want- don’t be afraid to s-suffocate me, because m’here just to make you—ngh, feel good—”
Pushing up into you.
Pressing himself between your legs even harder.
“I don’t need to breathe- I need you to tell me where that g-spot is.”
Your head’s throwing backwards, thighs trembling around him- you’re soon wrapping your legs around Nanami’s perspired head and locking your ankles around him. Digging his tongue even deeper- he crashes and crashes them against your clit in time with his probin’ fingers. “A little more-”
“How much more?”
“Just about an inch- oh.” You’re squawking out in a way that’d be so embarrassing if it was anytime but now. “And to the left…upwards.”
He notices that you’re almost shying away from his touch with every plap! of his palm hitting the forefront of your cunt. Harder. Faster—even though he may have been a gentleman, Nanami’s fingers were decidedly not. They’re ravenous; managing to curl against the side of your walls, with your direction perfectly locating that one spot you’ve been aching to be touched this entire time. And the human wastes no time pushing against it- you think you’re seeing stars—hey, was that Krypton?
Too occupied to come up with a concrete answer, however, you’re simply basking in the pleasure that Nanami was pouring through your veins.
And he only seems too happy to have your hips hikin’ higher and your pussy pushing up all the way until his nose- with every single thrust he was battering. Your gooey insides are shuddering at the sheer force, you’re feeling a tightness start to formulate at the pit of your stomach.
Something sore - blissfully so.
“I think…” You gasp. “No I know—” And the thing about being Kryptonian was that it came with immense control over your physiology- which also meant that you could cum on demand. But oh, how much better it felt when it was being drawn out of you by Nanami’s sweet sweet fingers.
Plunging - each time from the rounded tips of his digits and down until those knuckles, reddening at the persistent skin-to-skin contact - towards your g-spot every time. Multiple times a second.
“-Kento, I’m going to cum—”
“So cum f’me, Supergirl-” Nanami spits against your cunt. He sounds ragged- he sounds gone. His tone was a barely-there husk of what it had once been, and his eyes seemed unable to focus on anything but the pretty soakin’ pussy right in front of him. He kept his mouth so fucking full of your throbbing clit as he continued speaking. “Cum f’me…my girl.”
Shit—he’s blushing just saying it. But the effect on you is undeniable - you’re throwing your head into the fluffy pillows and finally letting loose.
Wrenching on Nanami’s hair. Squeezing his head till he almost suffocates- you’ve got the feeling that he gladly would. Dragging your slick-glazed folds against his face and cumming and cumming.
As your euphoria rips straight through you - Nanami leaves his mouth further ajar and swivels his tongue inside as well. In addition to his fingers, he’s now attempting to squeeze his tongue inside to fuck you silly- to make your dazed peripherals roll to the back of your scalp. “This is what I’m made for.” And you’re unsure whether that was him or the aphrodisiac talking. “This is all I ever wanna do now—mmm—” He moans as syrupy juices stream down either side of his mouth and he’s sucking in your pussy. “My darling, you don’t know how badly I mean it when I say m’made for you. For this pussy.”
You whimper as he perfects his tonguing thrusts to the rhythm of your orgasm. Hitting every single peak. “Sh-shit…it’s becoming sensitive…”
“My darling, I’d rather die than leave this pussy from now onwards.”
“Never expected a gentleman like you to be so filthy.” You huff- rather difficult, considering how much he managed to take your breath away. As he prolongs your high until you’re dizzy—
And then some.
“Mmmm, I’m sensitive.” Fondly; you tug on his golden strands. Nanami lets out a rumble of acknowledgement, but he doesn’t move a single inch - merely grazing- not even properly eating you out anymore, he’s just sloppy grazing his hungry mouth against your sensitive cunt.
Lapping up the last few dredges of your slick.
Occasionally wishing to feel the clench of your hole- and letting it dip inside—
“Hck!” Tears start to well up behind your eyes. And you have to speak to something deep and carnal within Nanami - otherwise you’re getting the feeling that he’s never going to part his lips from your own drenched ones. “Kento, you can stay here if you want…”
“Mmm-” He eagerly runs his tongue between your velvety folds again.
“-but I was really thinking that we could use my x-ray vision…” That seems to finally pique his interest, and he’s looking up at you. “-for something else. Something bigger, hm?” Pointedly, your eyes dip down.
He knows exactly what you’re talking about.
And in no time, Nanami Kento’s shuffling up your twitching body - still oh-so-sensitive from your previous high. And his hips are closing towards yours, his ruby-red tip is slipping between your legs and sandwiching between your pussylips for a few thrust-thrust-thrusts—“A-are you sure, my darl- oh.”
Before you claw at Nanami’s muscular back and crush him against your body.
Against your hips- your readily awaiting cunt.
Just that sopping, sap-covered tip of his manages to fit inside in that moment - and you’re feeling it throb like he’s always wanted to be here. Filling up the cavern of your cunt and making your toes curl- such a delicious streeeetch—! you’ve never felt before. And Nanami watches as you’re on the verge of shattering just as he already has—and he leans down to press a quick press on the edge of your chin. “M-mmmm.”
But it’s hard even think let alone fucking speak with your soaking wet cunt wrapped around him like this. His very own taste of heaven.
Nanami’s letting escape a few botched moans- before he decides to preserve whatever is left of his dignity, and bites down on his pathetically wobbling lip. Trying his very best to keep any noise from leaving him as he experimentally moves his hips behind and probes back inwards with his plump, puckered tip. Just the round girth of it openin’ you up even more. “Sh-shiiiiiiit—my darling, am I even…”
You’re looping your arms around him and dragging him even closer. But Nanami’s too far gone to even kiss you properly- and his lips end up sliding around your jawline. “Even what, Kento?”
Bleary eyes damn-near popping out of his skull. Skin flushed ever-redder due to the aphrodisiac or simply just…you. Cock spurting out wad after wad of eager precum—he just couldn’t stop himself.
“Alive…” Nanami rasps out.
And your jaw drops at the question. “Is that…is that a joke, baby?” Although you already knew the answer- Nanami Kento was never the type to just joke.
And just as you’d expected, he’s furiously shaking his head and pumping out a few more overeager semi-thrusts. So overeager, in fact, that he’s ending up plopped out of your wettened cavern- and Nanami almost blows a fuse trying to get himself back in.
“Let me help you with that, Kento.” You giggle. Pushing aside his fumbling fingers, you’re wrapping your own around his incredibly thickened base - enough to make your mouth water.
Pointing the globular top of his shaft towards your cunt, you allow him to push inside once more. Breath hitching. Thighs shaking. Pants erratic as he does so- “Are you alright, baby?” You ask him—this time opening your legs wider to let his furious inches shovel in. “D’you think you can handle it if I use my powers to bring all of you inside?”
“Yes but…no.” Nanami admits. He wears a sheepish smile on his face - almost shy. Which was in direct contrast with the way he’s scrapin’ his right hand down your core and resting it atop your womb. He looks at you with raised brows. “Here?”
You nod. “Right there.” Then you’re wiggling your hips down in order to take him deeper—
But Nanami’s stopping you with a hand at your waist- practically glued onto your skin. He’s firm in his touch though not unkind. And Nanami’s boring deeeeply into your eyes - your very soul - as he’s giving you light, shallow thrusts. Poking himself past that ruthless squeeze of your entrance. “I…hah, I’ll need your superpowers to tell me where I am, my darling. And exactly where you want me.”
Then Nanami plants you with a particularly hard strike that sends his long cock digging. His sides were decorated with a zig-zagging pattern of veins that massages your delicate insides.
“But as for fitting inside…” His mouth fucking waters at the prospect - and you already know with your senses. The gentleman leans down and spits in your mouth. “-we’re gonna do it the human way, okay?”
“Please-” Your nails start to dig into the shifting muscles of his back. “Please-”
And he’s not doing it the human way—not instantly. Before that; Nanami removes your palms from his shoulders and pins them above your head. Using but a single hand of his.
And you know you could easily overpower him - you just know it - but in this instance it makes something carnal twitch inside you to have the calm, soft-spoken gentleman shatter in this way on your pussy. It wasn’t just the aphrodisiac: he was using one hand to restraint yours- so hard that you feel his nail marks, he was using the other to push your knees up until they hit your tits, he was pulling his cock out until it was juuuust the pretty, pinkish top of his shaft.
And then plunging back in.
As deep as he could go - until he’s feeling the little tightness of your entrance. Then reeling back out to repeat. And repeat.
And repeat.
And repeat.
Nanami Kento was stabbing you with his cock nearly a dozen times a second—and he wasn’t sweet with it- he wasn’t fucking gentle.
He was utterly pussydrunk and fucking you just like it. “Please, please, please—” Nanami’s attractive baritone hitches at the very end of his sentence, breaking into a million pieces just as he was. “Sh-shit, it’s like the deeper I go…the more I can’t- hngh.”
“Think?” You flutter your lashes up at him.
“Yeah.” He breathes. “That.”
And you can’t help but let out a little giggle—the way his flared tip rubbed your insides was addictive. He was so wiiiiide above his sensitive slit, and that was pushing forcefully into every one of your hidden spots. “You’re so close to my- hck! favorite spot, Kento. Do you remember where that was?”
“Mmm, my darling- remember?” Nanami looks down at you with crazed eyes. “I can’t even remember my own name right now.”
“Then I’ll guide you.”
Though your arms were pinned to the bed, you’re able to careen your hips up into his. And that ruggedly handsome v-line of his was slowly growing redder at the repeated contact- to which you’re only pushing up even harder. “Just a little deeper- two inches?” You’re using your x-ray vision to map out the perfect route to your g-spot. “And then a little more- fuck, angle your hips a little more to the left.”
“Like this?” He asks. Beautiful hazel eyes almost fluttering shut at the onslaught of sudden squeezes that your cunt was blessing him with. “Fuck, how are you squeezing me even- deeper?”
“My superhuman powers?” You’re joking- joking.
But that doesn’t stop Nanami from asking- “Then does that mean you can…snap my dick off with that pussy, my darling?”
At first you’re in disbelief that such words could have possibly left Nanami Kento’s - the Nanami Kento’s - mouth. And then when it’s finally sunken in, you’re debating whether he was actually serious about it—he looked serious enough. “Ah…” Your lips part. “Kiss me.”
He does.
And as he does, that winding restraint of your legs tugs n’ tugs him ever-closer. Ever-deeper.
That bulbous tip of his was openin’ you up so fucking well—hidden nooks you hadn’t even known existed. And after a few more jerky thrusts, Nanami breaks the kiss with a rather lecherous slurp! and moves to huff against your ear. “I-is it all the way in, my dearest?”
“Shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” You’re chuckling before looking down using your x-ray vision once more.
“Tell me, my darling- tell me.” And Nanami Kento was always rather the stoic man—never combusting, never overreacting. But at this moment, it feels as though the longer he’s not fully stuffed in your cunt, the more and more he’s fucking losing it-
“Well…just a few inches longer until you’re gonna be- hah-” Untangling one of your hands from his, you’re running it down your core. Your womb. “-here.”
And Nanami can’t hurry up enough to pin your hands back on the mattress, replacing it with his own. He fucking moans when he realizes that - if he presses down hard enough, perhaps through your superhuman powers - you can make him feel himself bumpin’ thrusts from the outside. You continue. “But you’re actually pretty close to- ah.”
Just then your words are taking on a trilling tone.
Almost matching his in terms of neediness.
Nanami’s running his lengthy cock so deeeeep inside that he ends up rubbin’ his flared tip along either side of your channel—perfectly massaging that one spot you’ve been yearning for this entire time. It’s like a pretty target then that he’s never failing to hit over and over and over again- until you’re throbbing and raw inside.
And every one of his thrusts end up puncturing that spot. That sweet bundle of nerves that makes his mouth water- you’re shattering around his shaft every time he repeats the motion. “Deeper.” Nanami chokes out. “Deeper- now I just need you to take me even deeper. I don’t just want it- I need it.”
And pressing your legs apart with his strong pelvis- he’s murmuring as he hones in.
That target at the back of your pussy.
That gummy surface that just seemed to be calling to him.
That area at the very bottom that just seemed soaked in his never-ending precum—“I need it. I need it. I need it so fuckin’ badly.” He was slurring on his words by this point, and Nanami noses down the column of your throat. “It’s like every atom inside me is burning up. Not just because of the fuck- aphrodisiac.”
“Not just…?” You ask with widened eyes.
And he’s grinding down on the heavenly spot between your legs - so hard that the scruff of his happy trail massages your clit. And it’s such a primal sensation that you don’t think you’d ever be able to replicate—not even with your hypercontrol. “Not just.” He dips his face into the crook of your neck, hair sticking to your clammy skin. “My darling, your body’s liquor.”
Harder and harder.
With a few more thorough strokes, Nanami’s finally - finally - bottoming out.
You feel the moment he empties out those thick, throbbing inches with a rough bang! The velvety end of his tip swipes across your cervix- and you’re shivering at the rope of goey precum he’s leaving behind. “Sh-shiiiiiit.”
“Have I…?” Nanami’s pupils dilate. “Have I…” And he keeps fucking you in merciless thrusts.
You smile, “Why don’t you see for yourself, Kento?” He seriously didn’t realize, yet?
Nanami blinks dazedly a few times- before he’s slowly ducking his head downwards and staring at the place where you two were connected. Where your puffy pussylips were struggling to swallow down his red cock—and his heavy balls were thwack-thwack-thwacking away. And it’s enough to make his mouth water.
“Oh.”
His breath hitches as he sees that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you.
And Nanami falters his hips - for just a split-second - so that he could reach down and give that tummy bulge a kiss—a fucking kiss. Coming back up with the most accomplished smile- “I-I think m’close, my darling.”
“So then cum, Kento.” You’re breaking free of his restraint to throw your arms around him again. “And I’ll-”
“No.” The blond man already knew what you were going to say. Shaking his sweaty head, “I won’t let you make yourself cum using your powers, my dear—this Earthling is going to do it himself.”
So you’re keeping your mouth shut and giving into the pleasure - and on Krypton you may have had to use your physiological control to get yourself off most of the time- but Nanami was hellbent on making you feel better than he already was. He’s slammin’ away into your g-spot. He’s using his now-free hand to roll over your clit.
Again and again and again—
As many times as he needed to in order to push you towards your high - even if it meant rubbin’ his reddened cock raw against the sopping hot insides of your cunt. In next to no time; Nanami has your toes curling at the sheer amount of pleasure shooting up from them.
And you’re babbling away into the grove of his neck, “K-Kento, I’m close…”
“Please-” He sounds very much ruined by how he’s had to push his own orgasm for yours- gladly, at that. “P-please…” A ribbon of spit glides from the corner of his mouth, and Nanami pushes down on your tummy bulge using his chiselled abs. “Cum on my cock, my girl.”
You’re both reaching your highs at the same time - Nanami’s with a few more choked-up groans and the sloppiest thrusts you’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving, and you with a few more replays of his name and the bed frame shattering underneath you. It’s solely from using your super strength to fuck back into Nanami’s cock - something you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing.
Your brain feels completely fried by the crescendo of your high- getting every peak of it smacked! by Nanami’s ruthless hips.
Again and again—he’s pumping out scalding white globs of cum.
It empties out midway down your walls and smears once he’s hittin’ your cervix. “Cum on my- cum on my…oh, fuck.” Nanami’s pupils tremble- “Don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before…”
“Mmm, me neither.” You coo up at him. Your own orgasm was taking over you nerve by nerve—flooding it with white-hot pleasure. Back arching. Knees trembling. It thrums inside of you - and you’re wondering just how potent that aphrodisiac is, because your heartbeat’s almost concerningly fast—
“S’that so?” Nanami slurs. Pressing a chaste peck to your lips as he fucks his cum inside you. “Because I’m not just talking about the sex.”
Oh.
The realization hits you like a freight truck - or maybe a block of Kryptonite. Your heartbeat wasn’t increasing just because of the aphrodisiac. Not at all.
You’re pressing your lips to Nanami’s once more, and you can see yourself doing it over and over and over again.
“Me too.”
And then after a moment, you laugh.
“Kento, we broke the bed.”
.
.
.
SUPERGIRL SAVES 160,000 AT RAINBOW BRIDGE—A TIMELINE OF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE’S NEWEST ADDITION.
EXCLUSIVE: LOCAL JOURNALIST SAVED BY SUPERGIRL (THE COVERPAGE OF THE YEAR?)
SUPERVILLAIN KENJAKU FINALLY ARRESTED! REVEALED TO BE BEHIND RAINBOW BRIDGE SITUATION AND SLANDER CAMPAIGN AGAINST SUPERGIRL…
“I spy with my little eye…” Shoko’s knowing gaze flickers between you and Nanami. “-a smile. Two smiles.”
Nanami’s warm gaze turns to you. “Ah, what’s there not to smile about?”
“Considering I’ve finally cleared up my name.” You respond. And it was true; ever since the highly-publicized double heroism in which you saved both Nanami and managed to prevent the Yurikamome Line accident, the headlines couldn’t get enough of your name. Except this time…it wasn’t a bitter taste on their tongues.
Were we wrong about Supergirl? Was Kenjaku behind the hate campaign?
(Partially. You don’t doubt that that man had his fingers in every pot and scheme possible, but you don’t doubt that most of it was pure human vitriol. And you hoped Kenjaku continued seething…from Tokyo Island Penitentiary.)
It was sweet.
And you weren’t naive enough to believe that the criticism would stop immediately - or in fact ever - but that was alright now. That was fine.
When you were you.
And you had Nanami beside you—
He intertwines his hand with yours- and Shoko pretends to gag at the sweet, sweet act. The both of you are shaking your heads at her dramatics; which you know she didn’t mean considering the cover page that she’d been staring at at that very moment.
That second headline.
EXCLUSIVE: LOCAL JOURNALIST SAVED BY SUPERGIRL (THE COVERPAGE OF THE YEAR?)
By Nanami Kento.
Underneath those words were a picture snapped from the night you’d save Nanami for the second time.
You’re crashing through the ceiling of Kenjaku’s bar. You’re carrying Nanami Kento in a princess carry. You. You. You. Powerful and precise. And the way that Nanami was staring at you- oh, he had stars in his eyes brighter than the night sky in the background. His arms were holding onto you like a lifeline, and you were unfettered as you held him close like a star himself.
It was the very picture of heroism.
But to you, it was also…
“Love.” Shoko whispers. “You’re in love.”
And you’re opening your mouth in response - but you’re spared from answering, as you hear something in the distance—a scream. Downtown Shibuya. There was a mugging in occurrence and the perpetrator seemed to have a weapon.
You’re looking at Nanami and Shoko, and both nod as they recognize the hardened glint in your eye.
They’d come up with some believable excuse for your absence, surely. And if they didn’t…
You’re sweeping a glance at the mundane cubicles to make sure no one was watching- then ducking out of the nearest open window as fast as light. On strong summer winds, you’re flying off to save someone—and underneath that grey coat of yours flapped your iconic suit. You tear it open at the chest to reveal the ‘S’ underneath.
.⋆♱ "YOU IN MY MORTIFIED SOUL MADE YOUR BED AND YOUR DOMAIN; — ABHORRENCE, TO WHOM I AM BOUND AS THE CONVICT IS TO THE CHAIN."
⋅⊰༻♱༺⊱⋅
FAUSTIAN PACT — a pact whereby a person trades something of supreme moral or spiritual importance, such as personal values or the soul, for some worldly or material benefit, such as knowledge, power, or riches.
when spencer reid strikes a deal with an unsub in a moment of desperation, he fails to foresee the consequences it will have for his job, his relationships, and his sanity. and he certainly does not take into account the possibility of a love affair blossoming between himself and his secret "friend."
the behavioural analysis unit are not easy to fool, but you did it, somehow.
for the last six months, you've been living as a fugitive. a wanted woman whom the FBI refuses to give up on until you are behind bars. you're an outlaw, a villain, a murderer. and you are the last person that spencer reid wants anything to do with.
but you want everything to do with him, and so you have drafted a proposal which he cannot refuse: a country-wide wild goose chase, with the promise of a chance to put you away for good. and who doesn't love a good old game of cat and mouse?
⊱⋅.⋆♱ meet unsub!reader here !
⤷ ゛notes ! ˎˊ˗
composed of a series of oneshots; vignettes from various stages of spencer's relationship with unsub!reader ranging from their first meeting to their final (?) goodbye.
the timeline begins in december of 2009, placing it somewhere mid-season 5 after the events of episode 100. this is jesus reid propaganda. however, the bulk of these posts will be set in late 2010 to mid-2011, so around the middle to end of season six.
IN STARLIT NIGHTS, I SAW YOU | 𑣲
when the FBI's behavioural analysis unit set up their base of operations in your place of work, you have to keep calm and pretend that you are not the unsub they are so desperately searching for. you try to keep your head down, but that is a difficult task when a certain genius has taken an interest in you for reasons...unrelated to the investigation. (part one)
SO CRUELLY, YOU KISSED ME | 𑣲
the BAU’s resident genius cannot sleep due to a case weighing heavy on his shoulders, so you offer to lend an ear. he seems to believe that the key to solving this case is right in front of him…but he doesn't mean that literally, right? (part two)
GIRL OF YOUR DREAMS | ♰
after fumbling a case in amherst, massachusetts, spencer reid cannot sleep. he is plagued with dreams of the unsub who slipped through his fingers and, as the months pass, it becomes evident that what spencer is feeling goes far beyond simple hatred.
GALATIANS 5:19-21 | ♰
you finally convince spencer reid to meet with you in person with the promise of information on a prolific unsub. but standing face-to-face awakens a violent storm of long-suppressed emotions, and marks the beginning of a love affair that will ruin the both of you, permanently.
I WON'T MISS YOU | ♰
spencer receives a note in the mail inviting him to a valentine's day rendezvous at an outrageously expensive hotel. he is decidedly not going; he wants nothing to do with you and your games, not today. and yet, somehow, he finds himself standing at the door of your hotel suite anyway.
THE GIRLFRIEND PARADOX | 𑣲
when spencer seems more distracted than usual, the team conclude that he must be hiding a girlfriend. they try to get him to crack, not knowing that the reality of his situation is far worse than your typical secret relationship.
"LATE NIGHT?" "VERY." | 𑣲
waking up in the arms of the FBI agent who is supposed to be hunting you is not how you were intending to start your week. you could quite happily stay here all day, but duty calls, and spencer reid is now late for work.
SLEEP WITH ONE EYE OPEN | ♰
spencer reid wakes up to an unexpected guest all up in his business.
SCHADENFREUDE | ♰
interrupting spencer's sleep by asking for sex takes a turn when he gives you exactly what you want in the worst (best) ways possible.
a/n funfact magearna is my faviroute pokémon and I've been rewatching the movies lately and this idea lowkey came to me in a dream but if enough people like the drabble I promise I'll make a full on one-shot
Satoru Gojo was known as many things: crazed, insane, deranged; the list goes on, with his personal favourite ‘demented’.
He first heard the words when he was only a boy, when his mother caught him trying to bring a deceased family dog back to life with whatever limited arcane science he knew.
The dog awoke and stumbled into the seating area in all its bloody glory, limbs bent at awkward angles with chunks of flesh hanging off the bone. In broken communication, it tried to bark, but its chewed-out throat only let it expel gargles as a form of asking for treats.
In his defence, though, his plan worked! At the age of only 11, he had managed to do what many thought to be impossible, even if he became an outcast amongst the very people on whom he was supposed to be dependent on.
“For your soul shall hear when your mind seeks rest.” His voice soft, delicate—like he was afraid that if he talked any harder, he’d harm your unconscious figure. His hands delicately traced every curve and dip of your body. The mechanical gears in your chest clanked against each other as he tightened one of your loose screw joints. He held your heart in one hand, carefully inspecting the steel he'd perfectly crafted and cultivated to bring you to life. He'd spent years monitoring human behaviour, taking note of traits he would desire in an ideal partner if he ever had one.
That day never came.
He set his standards too high, and let's face it, no one wanted to be seen with the Kingdom's resident madman who opted for playing around with dead animals and scraps of metal over upholding his family lineage. Someone once chosen to be the next Marquess, to now be known as the region's boogeyman over simple childish curiosity.
His family still cared for him, to an extent; they made sure he was fed and had clothes upon his back, but aside from that, they wanted nothing to do with him. His twin brother had become the next head of the family, and their once-close bond seemed to have withered the day Satoru brought the family's dog back to life because Satoshi cried too much over the unfortunate loss.
He simply had too much love to give, and clearly, it was going unappreciated. All his life, he'd tried to be selfless; he spent almost thirty years letting a meek personality dictate his every move, so maybe for once, he deserved to be selfish.
Lovingly, he stared into your soulless eyes. They weren’t active yet, but in these final moments he wanted to preserve your unmoving form before he eventually brought you to life. How your hair pooled around your lying form, like you were basking in an ethereal meadow, napping under the caring sun. Though realistically, the glow came from a flimsy lightbulb above the two of you.
He’d traced every curve of your body countless times, mapping where the synthetic skin folded and darkened. He’d spent years perfecting the formula for your skin, believing you deserved nothing better than the best. He smoothed any possible air gaps between your metal surface and the smooth rubbery blanket gently placed over it.
Your skin was perfect, and that was the least human part of you. Quite ironic that the part of you that would be seen the most was the one thing so blatantly fake. Though, Satoru didn’t care. He polished your heart with care, holding it close to his chest, almost as if he could hear the beating thumping against his skin. He kissed the middle of it, the heart symbol slightly glowing as he placed it down onto the open cavern of your rib cage, right where a heart should be.
“For I am yours, but you shall be forever mine.” He watched as the gears in your chest started to turn, your artificial bones falling into place as your skin fabricated itself onto the structures he’d meticulously created.
A moment ago, you lived in a world of darkness, knowing nothing and being unaffected by the changes around you. Now, all you knew was him as your eyes dazed into his, confused, yet an underlying feeling woven into them.
No words were said between the two of you, but it didn’t take a genius to know that just as he had devoted himself to you, you were indebted to him for eternity. Subjected to feel the same emotions as the man who had once spent day and night crafting and nurturing the perfect soul to give to his lover, and now that he had you, he wasn’t going to let you go.
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰3somes ⋮⋮ college au ⋮⋮ reader is a cheerleader ⋮⋮ weed / shot-gunning ⋮⋮ fingering ⋮⋮ oral ( reader & shoko rec.) ⋮⋮ 69ing w Shoko ⋮⋮ pet names: princess, baby etc ⋮⋮ spit play ⋮⋮ breast & nipple worship꒱
You’re hunched over your desk in those tiny pastel shorts and the cropped university hoodie that barely covers anything anymore, highlighter between your teeth, pretending the bio notes in front of you make sense. The room smells like vanilla wax melt and your coconut leave-in. Peaceful, innocent. Then three soft knocks — too rhythmic, too knowing.
You open the door and fuck.
Shoko’s leaning in the frame first, black fishnets ripped at the thigh, oversized olive-green bomber, silver snake choker glinting under the hallway light. Her tongue flicks over the corner of her mouth the second she sees your wide-eyed bambi stare.
“Hi, princess.”
Before your brain can reboot Mikasa is already stepping in behind her, tall and silent, black lace bralette peeking from under an open black trench, dark lipstick already smudged like she’s been biting her own lip thinking about this all day. She reaches past you, clicks the lock and the sound is louder than it should be.
Shoko doesn’t ask, she just closes the gap, palms sliding up your cheeks, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth like she’s sizing you up for something filthy. Then she kisses you slow, wet, lazy tongue and curling against yours like she’s tasting the cherry gloss you put on three hours ago just because you felt pretty.
You make a tiny startled noise into her mouth.
She pulls back just enough to murmur, “God you taste sweet already,” voice all smoke and promethazine rasp. Then she’s stepping around you, fishing the half-finished blunt from her pocket, flicking her lighter like it’s nothing.
Mikasa doesn’t give you time to breathe.
She steps right into your space, one hand catching your jaw, not roughly, just firmly tilting your face up so she can look at you properly. Her eyes are so dark they feel like you're sinking into them just by looking, then she kisses you too. Deeper…hungrier, less teasing, more claiming. Her tongue slides against yours like she’s mapping every inch Shoko's didn’t get to yet, you sway…legs already stupid.
Shoko flops onto your bed first, knees spread, combat boots still on, rude of her mind you, like she owns the place, then she takes the first long pull, cherry-wood, the tip glows orange, then she exhales a thick ribbon of smoke towards the ceiling.
“C’mere, baby.” She says with a lazy, dazed smile curling her lips.
Mikasa’s hands are already on your waist, guiding, not asking and she walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you drop down between them automatically, pliant, dizzy from the double-kiss ambush, then the weed hits your nose before you even register Shoko holding the blunt to her lips, she takes another pull.
“Open,” she says, soft but mean.
You do.
She shotguns you first, her plump llips brushing yours, pushing the smoke straight into your mouth while Mikasa’s fingers slip under your hoodie, cool rings grazing the underside of your tits, you whimper into the kiss and shoko laughs low against your mouth, pulls back just to watch your lashes flutter.
“Good girl.”
Mikasa takes the blunt next, pulls deep, then leans in and seals her mouth over yours again — shotgunning you harder, smoke curling between your tongues while her thumb circles your nipple through the thin bralette you’re wearing underneath and you arch without meaning to.
Shoko’s mouth finds your neck at the same time, open-mouthed, slow drags of her tongue, teeth grazing just enough to sting. “You’re already shaking, princess,” she whispers right under your ear. “We haven’t even touched your pussy yet, you want us that bad huh?”
Mikasa hums agreement, voice velvet-gravel, her hand slides lower, palm flat against your stomach, fingers dipping just under the waistband of your shorts…not inside, not yet. Just there, teasing the elastic.
Shoko pulls back to look at you, eyes half-lidded, lips shiny from your gloss and her own spit.
“You gonna let us taste your pretty cunt, baby?” she asks, like it’s a real question. Like you could say no.
Mikasa’s fingers flex against your skin, impatiently waiting.
Your head tips back against Shoko’s shoulder. The weed is swimming through you now, warm and syrupy, turning every brush of their hands into sparks.
You nod, suddenly a little shy but you're desperate.
Shoko grins against your throat.
“That’s our good little cheer slut.”
Mikasa’s hands are already on your hips the second you’re boneless between them, pulling you forward with that quiet, inevitable strength. She doesn’t ask, she just maneuvers you until you’re straddling her lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her thighs. Your hoodie’s rucked up under your arms now, tiny cheer shorts riding high, and she looks up at you like you’re dessert she’s been starving for.
Her palms slide up under the fabric, cupping your tits fully this time, no more teasing over the bralette and drags her thumbs across your nipples once slow and deliberately, watching your mouth fall open on a shaky breath.
“Been thinking about these all week,” she murmurs, voice low and rough like she’s confessing a sin. Then she yanks the hoodie and bralette up and over your head in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind her without looking.
Your bare chest is right there, flushed and heaving, Mikasa doesn’t waste time, she leans in, her lips closing around one nipple, hot and wet and sucking hard enough to make your back bow. Her tongue flicks, circles, then she pulls off with a soft pop just to switch to the other one, teeth grazing the sensitive peak while her hand kneads the first, rolling it between cool fingers.
You’re already whimpering, hips twitching forward on instinct, grinding down against the seam of her black jeans like you can’t help it.
That’s when Shoko moves.
She’s been watching, a lazy smile curling her lips, blunt forgotten on your nightstand still smoldering and now she’s sliding up behind you on her knees, chest pressing to your back, chin hooked over your shoulder so she can watch Mikasa’s mouth work.
“Fuck, look at you,” Shoko breathes against your ear, one hand snaking around to palm your stomach while the other hooks into the waistband of your shorts. “Already dripping through these little things, huh?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. Just tugs on it hard, the pastel fabric drags down your thighs, catching briefly on your knees before she yanks them the rest of the way off and flings them toward the floor. Cool air hits your soaked cunt and you whine, loud and needy.
Shoko laughs softly, mean and sweet at the same time, her fingers are there before you can even process it, two sliding through your folds, slow, gathering your sappy slick, then pushing in knuckle-deep, into your tight cunt without warning.
You gasp, hips jerking forward into Mikasa’s mouth.
“So fucking wet, princess,” Shoko drawls, curling her fingers just right, stroking that spot that makes your thighs shake. “This little pussy’s been waiting for us, hasn’t it?”
She doesn’t give you time to answer. Pulls her fingers out slowly, then spreads you open with both hands, thumbs holding your pussylips apart so she can see everything.
Mikasa’s still latched onto your tit, sucking bruises into the soft skin, but her eyes flick down too, dark and hungry.
Shoko leans in.
Her tongue drags flat from your clit all the way up to your soft hole in one long, filthy stripe. Then she seals her mouth over you, sucking sloppy, loud, with no shame. Tongue flicking fast against your clit while her fingers slide back inside, pumping in time with the way she’s eating you.
You’re trapped — Mikasa’s mouth on your tits, relentlessly switching between sucking and biting, leaving your nipples swollen and shiny; Shoko behind you, face buried in your cunt from the back, moaning into you like she’s the one getting off.
Your hands scrabble, one tangling in Mikasa’s dark hair to hold her against your chest, the other reaching back to grip Shoko’s wrist like you need something to anchor you while they ruin you.
Shoko pulls off just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds, breath hot,
“Gonna make you come all over my tongue, baby. Then we’re gonna switch.”
Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight to your core.
Your head falls back against Shoko’s shoulder, mouth open on silent cries, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing and everything at once.
They’ve got you right where they want you — split open, dripping and all theirs.
You’re still straddling Mikasa’s lap, thighs spread wide, trembling so hard the whole bed feels like it’s vibrating under you. Mikasa’s got one arm banded around your lower back now, holding you flush against her so you can’t squirm away even if you wanted to. Her mouth is latched back onto your tit, sucking slow, deep pulls now, tongue laving lazy circles around the swollen nipple like she’s trying to milk every tiny whimper out of you. The other hand is kneading the neglected one, thumb flicking the peak in cruel little rhythms that make your hips buck forward uselessly.
Shoko’s still behind you, on her knees, chest pressed to your back like she’s molding herself to every shudder that racks your body. She’s been quiet for a second, just breathing hot against your spine, letting you feel the drag of her tongue tracing your vertebrae then she pulls back just enough to spit. Right onto your ass. Thick, warm, obscene. It slides down the cleft, dripping over your already soaked hole.
You jolt. A broken little “ah—” slips out.
Shoko chuckles, low and dark. “Yeah? You like that, princess?”
Before you can even nod she rears back and slaps, her open palm cracking sharp against one cheek, then the other in quick succession. The sound echoes in the small room, obscene and wet because you’re dripping everywhere now. Your ass jiggles, skin blooming pink under her hand, and she does it again — harder — watching the way the flesh ripples.
“Fuck, look at this pretty little cunt,” she murmurs, almost to herself. Two fingers spread you open again, thumbs pulling your lips apart so wide you feel the cool air kiss your clit. Then she slaps there too — lighter, but right on the swollen nub. You cry out, hips snapping forward into Mikasa’s mouth.
Shoko doesn’t stop. She spits again — straight onto your entrance this time, then pushes three fingers in at once. No warning. Just the slick stretch, your tight walls fluttering around the sudden fullness. You’re so wet it slides in easy, but you’re still so fucking tight, clenching like your body’s trying to push her out and pull her deeper at the same time.
“Goddamn, baby,” Shoko groans, voice wrecked. She starts pumping, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge of her knuckles dragging against your walls — then faster, curling, scissoring, stretching you open like she’s prepping you for something bigger later. “This pussy’s greedy as hell. Sucking me right back in.”
Mikasa hums around your nipple in agreement, the vibration shooting straight down to where Shoko’s wrecking you. She switches tits again, sucking the other one into her mouth now, teeth grazing just enough to sting while her free hand slides down your stomach.
Her fingers find your clit at the exact same second Shoko’s tongue does.
Shoko’s been eating you sloppy this whole time — chin shiny, lips swollen — but now she focuses. Tongue flicking fast over your clit in messy little circles while her fingers keep fucking into you, curling hard against that spot that makes your vision white out.
And Mikasa, fuck — her fingers replace Shoko’s mouth for a second. Two of them pressing down on your clit, rubbing firm, slow circles while Shoko’s tongue laps at the edges, catching the slick that’s dripping down your thighs.
It’s too much.
You’re caught between them — Mikasa nursing on your tits like she’ll never get enough, sucking bruises into the soft undersides now, leaving you marked and sensitive; Shoko behind you, three fingers buried deep, stretching you wide, thumb occasionally brushing your rim just to make you clench harder; both of them on your clit at once — Shoko’s tongue sloppy and relentless, Mikasa’s fingers precise and mean.
Your whole body locks up. Thighs shaking, back arching so hard your head thumps back against Shoko’s shoulder. You’re babbling, nonsense, pleas, their names — voice cracking on every syllable.
Shoko pulls her mouth off just long enough to growl against your cunt, “Come on, princess. Give it to us. Soak my fucking face.”
Mikasa bites down on your nipple sharp, perfectly it stings, and rubs your clit faster.
You break.
The orgasm hits like a slap, it's hard and sudden, blinding your control. You scream, hips grinding down onto Shoko’s tongue and fingers while Mikasa keeps sucking, keeps rubbing, drawing it out until you’re twitching, overstimulated till tears prick your lashes.
They don’t stop.
Shoko keeps fingering you through it, slower now, but deep, milking every aftershock while her tongue laps gently at your oversensitive clit.
Mikasa switches to soft, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, murmuring “good girl, such a good fucking girl” against your skin.
You’re a mess, sweaty and trembling, pussy clenching around nothing now that Shoko’s finally pulled her fingers out, only to replace them with her tongue again, slow and soothing but still hungry.
Shoko pulls back just enough to press a filthy, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back.
“Think you can take another one, baby?” she asks, voice all smoke and promise. “’Cause we’re nowhere near done with this pretty pussy.”
Mikasa’s hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so she can kiss you sweet, tasting like your own skin.
“Say yes,” she whispers against your lips.
Your head’s spinning. Body still buzzing.
But your mouth moves on its own.
“…yes.”
Shoko’s finally peeled herself off your back, skin flushed and glistening with sweat and your slick. She kicks off her ripped black jeans in one impatient shove, fishnets still clinging to her thighs like torn webs, then shimmies out of her soaked black thong, tossing it somewhere near your discarded shorts. She crawls backward up the bed until her shoulders hit the headboard, legs spreading wide, shameless. Her cunt’s already shiny, swollen lips parted just enough to show how wet she got from wrecking you.
She pats her own thigh once, lazy smirk curling.
“Bring that pretty cunt over here, princess.”
Her voice is wrecked, husky and demanding, dripping with that mean-girl sweetness that makes your stomach flip. You’re still shaking from the last orgasm, thighs slick down to your knees, but your body moves before your brain catches up. Crawling forward on all fours, ass in the air, tits swaying with every inch closer.
Mikasa’s right there with you silent and waiting, already shifting so she’s kneeling beside Shoko’s hip, dark hair falling over one shoulder like ink. She doesn’t say anything. Just watches you straddle Shoko’s face backward, knees bracketing Shoko’s head, your dripping pussy hovering right over her waiting mouth.
Shoko doesn’t wait for you to lower yourself. Her hands clamp onto your hips as her nails dig in and she yanks you down hard, burying her face in your cunt like she’s starving. Tongue plunging straight in, fucking you with it immediately, sloppy and relentless. She moans loud into you, the vibration making your arms buckle.
You cry out, forehead dropping to Shoko’s stomach, ass arched high. Perfect position.
Mikasa moves in front, kneeling between Shoko’s spread thighs, hands sliding up those fishnet-covered legs to push them wider. She doesn’t tease. Just leans down and drags her tongue flat from Shoko’s entrance to her clit in one long, slow stripe. Shoko’s hips jerk up off the bed.
“Fuck…yeah mhm- just like that,” Shoko gasps against your pussy, words muffled because her mouth never leaves you. She’s eating you like it’s oxygen, sucking your clit, tongue-fucking in deep, then pulling back just to spit on your hole and watch it drip before diving back in.
You can’t just watch. You drop lower, face hovering over Shoko’s cunt now, nose brushing Mikasa’s cheek as you both work her. You spit first, a thick, messy glob right onto Shoko’s clit, watching it glisten even more. Then you lean in and kiss Mikasa around it, open-mouthed, tongues sliding together over Shoko’s swollen nub. Sloppy and wet, sharing the taste of her while your lips brush and suck at the same sensitive spot.
Shoko’s thighs tremble around Mikasa’s head. Her hands on your ass squeeze harder, spreading you wider so she can get deeper, tongue curling inside you, nose grinding against your clit with every thrust of her face. She’s fucking masochistic about it, grinding her own hips up into your mouth and Mikasa’s at the same time, chasing the overstimulation like she needs to be ruined too.
You pull back just enough to spit again, messy strings connecting your lips to Shoko’s cunt, then dive back in, sucking her clit hard while Mikasa’s tongue pushes inside her, fucking her slow and deep. Your tongues meet again over Shoko’s folds, kissing filthy around her, swapping spit and slick, moaning into each other’s mouths while Shoko writhes underneath you both.
Shoko’s losing it. Her hips buck wild, grinding up into your face, into Mikasa’s. She’s whimpering now the sounds high and broken, muffled by your pussy, still eating you like her life depends on it. One hand leaves your ass to tangle in Mikasa’s hair, shoving her face deeper.
“Don’t — don’t stop…fuck, make me come on your tongues —”
You obey and suck harder, letting Mikasa take the lead on fucking Shoko’s hole with her tongue while you focus on the clit, flicking fast, then flattening your tongue to lap broad and messy.
Mikasa’s free hand slides up to pinch Shoko’s nipple hard, twisting just enough to make Shoko arch off the bed with a choked scream.
That’s it.
Shoko comes hard, her whole body locking, thighs clamping around Mikasa’s head, hips grinding up into your mouth in frantic little jerks. She’s soaking, slick coating your chin, Mikasa’s lips, dripping down her own thighs. Her tongue never stops on you though; if anything it gets sloppier, more desperate, like she’s trying to drag you over the edge with her.
You’re close again, pussy clenching around nothing while Shoko tongue-fucks you through her own orgasm. Mikasa pulls back just long enough to murmur against Shoko’s still-twitching cunt,
“Our turn to make her scream next.”
Shoko laughs breathless and wrecked, then yanks your hips down harder, sealing her mouth over your clit and sucking like she wants to pull your soul out of you.
You’re not getting off this ride until they say so.
And they’re nowhere near done.
Your knees dig into the mattress on either side of Shoko’s head, thighs already quivering like they might give out any second. Shoko’s hands are locked around the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping your cunt pressed flush to her mouth, no escape, no mercy. Her tongue is still buried deep, slow lazy thrusts now that your last orgasm has left you dripping and hypersensitive, every flick making your hips jerk involuntarily.
Mikasa shifts in front of you, kneeling tall between Shoko’s spread legs so she’s face-to-face with you, dark eyes locked on yours like she’s reading every twitch, every flutter of your lashes. Her hands find your hips, palms cool and grip firm, steadying you exactly where she wants you.
She doesn’t speak at first. Just starts guiding.
Slow rolls at first, pulling your hips back so your clit drags along the flat of Shoko’s tongue, then pushing forward again so Shoko’s nose nudges your entrance and her lips seal around you. The motion is controlled, deliberate, like Mikasa’s using your body to fuck Shoko’s face for her own pleasure.
You whimper out, it's high and broken as your head tips forward until your forehead rests against Mikasa’s shoulder. Every grind sends sparks up your spine; you’re so overstimulated that even the softest pressure feels like too much, clit throbbing, walls fluttering around nothing while Shoko’s tongue keeps lapping slow and greedy.
Mikasa feels it, the way your thighs start to shake harder, the tiny sobs catching in your throat, the way your nails dig into her arms like you’re holding on for dear life.
She softens.
Her grip loosens just enough to cradle instead of command. One hand slides up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast in a gentle sweep, while the other stays on your hip, still guiding, but slower now, shallower rocks that let you catch your breath against Shoko’s relentless mouth.
Shoko hums low approval into your cunt, the vibration spreading through you but doesn’t push. Just keeps her tongue flat and still for a second, letting you grind at your own pace while Mikasa holds you steady.
Mikasa tilts your chin up with two fingers.
Your eyes meet hers, watery and dazed, pupils blown wide.
She leans in slow.
The kiss is nothing like before.
Soft and sweet, lips brushing yours like she’s handling something fragile. No tongue at first, just the gentle press, the warmth of her mouth, the faint taste of Shoko still lingering on both of you. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then the other, then seals her lips over yours properly, slow and languid, swallowing the tiny whimpers you can’t hold back.
Her hand cups your jaw now, thumb stroking your cheekbone while she kisses you deeper, but still gentle, still careful. Tongues touching just the tips and then sliding together in lazy, comforting strokes. You melt into it, body going pliant between them; hips still rocking shallow on Shoko’s face, but the frantic edge is gone, replaced by something warmer, sweeter.
Shoko’s tongue gives one last slow drag from your entrance to your clit soft and soothing, before she pulls back just enough to breathe against your folds.
“Pretty baby,” she murmurs, voice muffled and wrecked. “You’re doing so good for us.”
Mikasa breaks the kiss only to rest her forehead against yours, noses brushing.
“Still with us?” she whispers, lips grazing yours with every word.
You nod small…shaky, lips tingling from her sweetness.
Her lips curve into a rare smile, it's soft and just for you, she kisses you again. Once, then twice, little pecks of her lips that make your chest ache in the best way.
Shoko’s hands slide up to rub slow circles on your thighs, grounding and possessive.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Mikasa murmurs against your mouth, “we’ll keep going. Or we can just stay like this.”
Her fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head.
Shoko presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, then another…then one last gentle lick along your slit, cleaning you up without pushing for more.
You’re caught between them; Shoko’s warm mouth still so close, Mikasa’s steady hands and sweeter kisses holding you together.
For the first time tonight, it doesn’t feel like they’re trying to break you.
It feels like they’re keeping you.
Mikasa’s still got you, her hands steady on your hips, thumbs stroking slow arcs over the sensitive skin there like she’s reminding you she’s not letting go. Your forehead rests against her collarbone, breaths coming in shaky little puffs, body humming with the aftershocks that won’t quite fade.
Under you, Shoko shifts.
She plants her palms on the mattress and pushes herself up slow and carefully, until her face is level with your hips again and presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of one hipbone, then the other. Warm lips, gentle suction, little nips that make you twitch without hurting, her tongue traces lazy patterns over the faint red marks her nails left earlier, soothing them like an apology.
“C’mere, princess,” she murmurs against your skin, voice all smoke and velvet now, no edge, just warmth.
Mikasa helps and together they guide you down gently and unhurried, until your back hits the cool sheets. You sink into them with a soft exhale, legs falling open naturally, body too spent to fight gravity anymore. Shoko settles on your left, Mikasa on your right, bracketing you like they’re afraid you’ll float away if they don’t keep you grounded.
They don’t rush.
Mikasa leans in first, her lips brushing the swell of your breast, soft and lovingly. She kisses the underside, then circles the nipple with slow, wet drags of her tongue before taking it into her mouth. Not sucking hard this time. Just nursing on you with soft, gentle pulls, tongue laving in lazy circles, like she’s savoring every tiny shiver she pulls from you.
Shoko mirrors her on the other side. Kisses the soft skin just above your nipple, then closes her lips around it slowly, tender suctions that match Mikasa’s rhythm perfectly. Their mouths work in tandem; one pulls while the other soothes with little kitten licks, then they switch their rhythm without breaking contact. Your back arches just a little on instinct, not desperation and they both hum approvals against your skin.
Their free hands slide down together.
Fingers intertwine over your mound first, Shoko’s pinky brushing Mikasa’s then they separate, slipping lower. Mikasa’s fingers find your clit, two of them pressing soft, slow circles, barely any pressure, just enough to keep the sparks flickering. Shoko’s, slide through your folds, gathering the slick that’s still leaking out of you then pushes inside, her two fingers curling gently against that spot that makes your toes curl.
No slapping…no stretching, they're tender now.
Just soft, steady rhythm, fingers moving in perfect sync, building you up slow like they’ve got all night. Mikasa’s thumb joins her fingers on your clit now, rubbing in tiny, patient circles while Shoko’s fingers stroke inside you deep and unhurried, pressing just right every time.
You’re whimpering soft, breathy sounds that melt into their mouths when they lean up to kiss you in turns. First Mikasa’s slow and sweet, her tongue sliding against yours like she’s drinking you in and Shoko's lazier, filthier, but still gentle, lips catching every little gasp.
They talk to you between kisses, quiet, murmured praises that sinks into your bones.
“So pretty when you let go like this…”
“Feel how wet you still are for us, baby…”
“Good girl… just like that… let it build slowly…”
Your hips roll up into their hands with lazy, needy little rocks and they match you, never rushing, never pushing too hard. The pleasure coils tighter, warmer, different this time, not a violent snap, but a slow, rolling wave that starts in your toes and spreads upward like honey.
When it finally crests, it’s soft. Deep. Your whole body shudders with long, trembling pulses that make you clench around Shoko’s fingers, clit throbbing under Mikasa’s thumb. You come with a quiet, broken moan, your mouth open against Mikasa’s shoulder, tears slipping down your temples because it feels so much without hurting.
They don’t stop right away.
They ease you through it, fingers slowing to gentle strokes, thumbs brushing feather-light over your clit until the aftershocks fade to little flutters. Then they pull out slow, careful, and bring their slick fingers up to trace lazy patterns over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, like they’re painting you with the evidence of how good you were for them.
Mikasa kisses your temple. Shoko nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your pulse.
They stay like that, bodies pressed close, hands roaming soft and possessive, mouths leaving little kisses wherever they land.
No more teasing words. No more mean edges.
Just the three of you tangled in the sheets, breathing each other in, soft and quiet and sated.
Shoko’s the first to break the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Let us stay the night?”
Mikasa’s arm tightens around your waist.
You don’t even have to answer.
You already know you don't want them going anywhere.
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