Summary: Zenitsu's other side doesn't seem half so bad
word count: 2.2k
i have been starving for some delicious competitive thunderbros content but couldnt find any. so i wrote it myself :D
reader gets referred to with 'she' a couple times, but readers gender doesnt really matter
not proofread because im lazy, so im sorry if theres any mistakes ;3
I hope you enjoy:D
“He’s disgusting.”
Kaigaku gnashed his teeth together, his eyebrows furrowed into a permanent scowl.
“He’s revolting.”
You watched how clench his fists, his shoulders tensing up as his nostrils flared.
“Trash like him shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
You looked like him like a deer in headlights, utterly clueless on how to respond to this tidal wave of contempt Kaigaku had for his sibling. The soft muttering of other voices in the small café filled the gaps of silence, along with the peaceful humming emitting from its speakers.
“There’s nothing about that sad sack of piss and wind that has any value to me.” He continued. “In fact, I’m nauseated by having to share the same house as him.”
You had no idea the mere mention of Agatsuma Zenitsu would have triggered this kind of outburst. Judging by his bodylanguage, you could tell Kaigaku and Zenitsu weren’t exactly on good terms, but still. The fact that Kaigaku could not bear to mutter at least one positive syllable about his other half left you bewildered.
“He’s pathetic. He’s a crybaby. He’s the furthest thing from manly to exist.”
The aroma of the steaming teacup in front of you managed to calm you down a little. The coffee Kaigaku had ordered remained untouched as well.
“Kaigaku…” you muttered. “What is your definition of manly then?”
He huffed in response, raising his eyebrows in such a cocky manner only Kaigaku could.
“A man.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Doesn’t beg girls to go out with them. Doesn’t blame others for their own shortcomings. Doesn’t take the easy way out.”
He let out a sigh, letting his spine collide against the cushions.
“Whatever. Let’s talk about something else. Speaking of that scum just makes my blood pressure go through the roof.”
You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about the project partner mister Himejima assigned you with. Zenitsu had mentioned once that Kaigaku had high scores, and whenever you managed to peer at his exam results, he was right.
Kaigaku strook you as someone disciplined. Serious. Dedicated.
Hopefully a breath of fresh air compared to other group projects where you yourself did all the work.
Zenitsu however, was not happy.
“YOU’RE WITH KAIGAKU????????????????????” He exclaimed, honeyed eyes blown wide as saucers by the news. His hand was desperately gripping onto your jacket, utter fear swirling in his eyes. “PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING. PLEASE!!!!!!!!”
You sighed, gently putting a hand on top of his head like you always did. “Hey, it wasn’t like I assigned the group partners for this project. Mister Himejima did.” You rationalized. “Besides, Kaigaku doesn’t seem that bad to me. He has some of the best grades in our class, right?”
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????????????” Zenitsu wailed. “HE’S THE DEVIL!! THE DEVIL!!!!!!”
You sighed once more, trying your hardest to soothe his worries.
“It’s just us working together for this project. It really isn’t the end of the world.”
Zenitsu’s lip trembled. He reminded you of a sad, wet puppy.
You mindlessly grabbed ahold of the teacup in front of you, the warm liquid gracing your lips.
“Kaigaku.” You spoke, straightening your spine a little. “I believe you are entitled to your own opinion of Zenitsu. But please don’t insult my friend in front of my face.”
You were surprised to see Kaigaku’s posture relax a little. You had expected him to see your statement as a challenge, seeing it as an invitation to spew more insults at your face.
“Fine.” He said, leaning back. “Guess that’s fair.”
A short silence followed. A waitress walked by your table.
“Why are you friends with him, (__)?”
You blinked, letting a silence settle as you tried to come up with an answer.
“Because I like Zenitsu.” You replied. “He’s funny and kind. I love how loud and chaotic he is. He never makes a single day boring.”
Kaigaku’s eyes narrowed. You could almost see the flames of a bitter jealousy burning within them.
He hummed. “Tell me, has he ever tried hitting on you before? Begged you to date him even?”
You stayed quiet at that.
Kaigaku was right. You lost count of the times Zenitsu had gone on his knees, desperately clinging onto your clothes as he wailed and begged you to marry him.
The bitter chuckle emitting from Kaigaku confirmed his suspicion.
“I knew it.” He clicked his tongue. “But he’s dating that girl isn’t he? That second-year from the Taro class?” He tapped a spoon against his cup. “What’s her name again?”
“Nezuko.”
“Nezuko!” He laughed, repeating her name with great amusement. He smirked as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Oh man. I cant believe all his begging and pissing himself in front of girls managed to land him someone.”
Kaigaku’s arrogance was dripping from his demeanor. He genuinely believed he was above him.
It was kind of attractive.
“But oh man. Everyone can see how utterly pathetic their relationship is. It’s been a year now and they never even held hands before. It’s hopeless. I almost feel bad for him. Even talking about it gives me secondhand embarrassment.”
You stayed quiet. Although something inside you itched to defend their relationship, you bit your tongue. Kaigaku wasn’t exactly wrong.
Nezuko was a good girl. Much kinder than anyone you’ve ever seen. But still, you’d be lying if you said their relationship wasn’t one-sided. Nezuko barely initiated any kind of physical contact, and from how busy the Kamado bakery could be, she often failed to reply to her texts on time.
You watched as Kaigaku suddenly leaned forward, a sly smirk etched onto his lips when he did.
“(__).” He almost purred your name. “Don’t you think you can do better?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look at you.” He said, finally taking a sip from his abandoned coffee. “I’ve seen you. Your grades are good. You’re smart. You’re disciplined. You’re pretty too.”
You tried your hardest not to look shocked. You hadn’t expected him to compliment you so easily.
“Aren’t you worried that guys like him end up dragging you down? Aren’t you tired of babysitting your supposed friend like that?”
You inhaled briefly, his constant slander now getting on your nerves. There was only so much you could handle.
“I think I can decide that for my own, Kaigaku.” You asserted. “Now, let’s just begin with the project.”
Kaigaku stayed quiet. You watched the smirk melt off his features as his green eyes bore into yours.
“Fine.”
——
Their kitchen smelled of steamed rice and vegetables as Jigoro scooped a handful of the food into three separate bowls. The two boys thanked him as he set down their dinner in front of them and began to eat.
Kaigaku watched as Jigoro and Zenitsu laughed about something he didn’t care about, reminiscing your company at the café. In a way, he kind of respected your assertiveness when it came to Zenitsu. Despite his constant slandering, you remained loyal and defended him as much as you could.
He thought about your body language, about your straightened spine and stern look in your eyes.
You had a backbone. He liked that.
He perked up as he heard a phone rang. Jigoro got up from his seat as he walked towards the living room, mumbling something along the lines of ‘I’ll go get it.’
A silence followed.
“Hey.” Kaigaku spoke, making Zenitsu look up from his dinner.
“That friend of yours. (__).” He paused. “She’s pretty hot. She single?”
Kaigaku watched in utter delight at how Zenitsu’s eyes widened in utter disbelief, his surprise quickly making way for vengeful, acidic rage. He chuckled when he watched the blonde’s hands grip his chopsticks til his knuckles turned white.
Veins of rage were throbbing atop his temples, his breathing quickened.
“Stay away from her.”
“Hah?” Kaigaku replied, enjoying every nano-second of ragebaiting Zenitsu. “Why do you care? It’s not like you ain’t got a girlfriend already.”
Although he’d expected a certain kind of annoyance about showing interest in Zenitsu’s best friend, he hadn’t expected him to get this enraged about it. Wide, unblinking eyes stared him down, mimicking a predator that looked ready to pounce.
He’d never seem him this furious before.
“You will not date her.”
Kaigaku clicked his tongue. “That isn’t your choice to make, asshole. She can think for herself.”
Even when Jigoro re-entered the room, it did not dilute the aggression plastered on Zenitsu’s face.
His eyes were glued onto him for much longer than he liked.
——
“(______________________________!!!” Zenitsu whined, pushing his face into the plush of your arm. You chuckled at the familiar feeling as you tried to get comfortable on your couch.
“Hold meeeee!” He pleaded. “My girlfriend is ignoring me AGAIN!!!!! I’M GOING TO DIE FROM A LACK OF ATTENTION!!!!”
You merely sighed, gently patting his head to soothe his emotions. He said that sentence way more often than he should.
You kept stroking his soft hair until his whines died down a little. He slid his arms around your arm, nuzzling it.
“Hey (__)…” He spoke. “How’s the project with Kaigaku coming along?”
“Honestly? He’s a much better partner than I expected.” You replied, smiling.
Zenitsu hated that subtle spark in your eye as soon as he mentioned him.
“He’s very disciplined and reliable. He takes a lot of initiative and takes his classes seriously. I like that.” You continued. “Besides, when me and him agreed to meet up at the Aozora café, he insisted on paying the bill. He even walked me home after!”
Zenitsu felt his stomach acid begin to bubble. You sounded way too positive about him. He hated it.
“Of course, we exchanged phone numbers to make communication easier. He even texted me asking if I got home safe. So far, he really exceeded my expectations!”
The smile melted off your face as soon as you saw Zenitsu’s horrified, disgruntled expression.
“Zenitsu…?”
--“But!” He pleaded, his grip onto your arm tightening. “But Kaigaku’s a brute!”
“I honestly didn’t get that impression…” you admitted.
The only thing that really bugged you about Kaigaku was how negative he was about Zenitsu. Although you stuck up for the latter like a proper friend, you didn’t want to sprinkle salt in an open wound. Perhaps Zenitsu was better off not knowing what he said.
“Besides..” You paused. “Do you really feel like that?”
Zenitsu sighed deeply as he let go of your arm, his eyebrows scrunched up in a sad expression as he stared towards your floor.
“No…” He sighed again in frustration. “Kaigaku…he’s a real pain the ass, but despite everything, I do admire him…”
You stayed quiet, letting Zenitsu speak.
“It’s like you said. He’s smart. He’s disciplined. He’s arrogant too, sure, but he always works hard. Harder than anyone else.”
His hands found your arm again.
“He never whines, never moans or complains. He always gets his work done properly and never makes excuses. If anything, he’s the real opposite of me…”
Your hand started rubbing soothing circles atop his head again.
“It’s alright.” You reassured as he locked eyes with yours.
“You’re still my favorite, Zenitsu.”
——
The following days, Kaigaku proposed meeting up at his place instead. According to him, the tables and atmosphere the Aozora café provided were no good to get any proper work done.
You agreed, seeing no reason as to why not. He did live together with your very best friend after all, and Jigoro was no stranger to you either.
How Kaigaku reveled in seeing Zenitsu’s sour expression as he opened the front door to let the both of you in. His keen eyes observed him carefully, taking in every detail about his tense body language.
That hungry look in his pathetic eyes. The way his teeth clenched and fingernails dug into his skin.
He loved it. Bathed in it. Pissing off Zenitsu was truly his biggest joy in life.
And so, what better method to aggravate him more than to be touchy with you?
Zenitsu noticed.
The way his filthy hands gently rested on your lower back, far too intimate for his liking. The way he leaned closer to you ‘because he didn’t quite catch that’, and finding other bullshit excuses to get closer to you.
The times he called you ‘pretty’ were the times Zenitsu was ready to fly off the handle. His nails dug violently into whatever he held, trying to calm his racing heart as it vibrated against his ribs.
Of course, Kaigaku remained gentle, never going as far as to make you uncomfortable or afraid. After the dreaded study-sessions were over -which Kaigaku insisted on doing in their living room, the scene of you two bonding all too painfully clear for Zenitsu to see- he insisted on walking you home, always texting you if you got home safe like the true gentleman he was.
You couldn’t help but think about him sometimes. Although you audibly despised and disagreed with the way he badmouthed Zenitsu, there was something about his overbearing arrogance and carefree attitude that clung to you. Something enticing about that overbearing sense of self.
You were almost sad when the project was finished. Although you’d never admit it, part of you felt like the whole trajectory ended way too quickly.
Two eyes widened in surprise as soon as the grades were published. A gratifying score of 90/100.
“Hey.” Kaigaku’s low voice spoke as his teal eyes registered the grade. “Let’s work together again sometime soon.”
Kaigaku unknowingly brags to the professor he's a TA for about hooking up with his daughter.
CW: Implied Sex, Misogyny, Power Dynamics (Kokushibo is sleazy)
WC: 2.8k
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If there was one rule that your father strictly enforced — more than any other — it was no boys. What the man didn't seem to realize was that rigid rules raised sneaky and rebellious children.
Still, he had the final say in a majority of your life.
As a child, he forced you into both vocal and piano lessons, only for it to back fire as you grew up. Kokushibo had only encouraged musical enrichment for the sake of your transcripts, knowing that a girl trained in classical music looked good on paper. However, you ended up becoming a passionate performer in your school's show choir.
With every cell of his body, he despised glee clubs, considering them a waste of time. Yet, he involved himself in the matter, both funding your choir and ensuring that your dance partner preferred other men. He was not a fan of you dancing with men at all, but he begrudgingly accepted it if there was a zero percent chance of a showmance.
Overbearing to a fault.
In senior high, you had managed to hide a relationship with Kyojuro Rengoku from him for six months. That came crumbling down when your father went through your phone before you could delete everything. That was the moment when you learned to have a burner phone he didn't know about.
The invasion of privacy made you shout at him in anger, only for him to turn it around on you.
Rengoku was why you were acting out.
Rengoku was why your grades were slipping.
Rengoku was using you. No man smiles that much without ulterior motives.
None of this was true, but your father would hear nothing, dumping Kyojuro through a text message while posing as you. He told you that it was for your own good. Shinjuro Rengoku was a notorious drunkard, a complete lowlife.
He suspected that Kyojuro would only stay long enough to get the one thing teenage boys cared about and leave. But you kept him ignorant to the fact that you had already deflowered each other months prior. Not that it mattered, the irony was hilarious even if you couldn't laugh.
Under your pillow, your secret phone vibrated. It was outdated but still worked, given to you by your friend after they upgraded their own.
For a beat, you listened in vain for footsteps, knowing your father moved in silence. With your heart racing, you snatched the phone from beneath your pillow and quickly unlocked it. Your pulse only increased upon realizing it was a text from your study buddy, Kaigaku.
He was a studious loser, some professor's TA, but he'd never say which. All you knew is that it wasn't your shared psychology professor.
Kaigaku: Are you up?
You: Yeah, I was just thinking about taking a shower before bed.
Freshly home from choir practice, you hadn't found an opportunity to hit the shower quite yet. Instead, you took a moment to stretch your sore muscles after your dance partner, Gyokko, dropped you seemingly on purpose. And for what? All because you weren't the biggest fan of the choreography idea he pitched to the group.
Kaigaku: Without me?
A groan escaped your lungs. Clearly he had been spending too much time with the campus incel, Gyutaro Shabana, to think that would work on you.
You: My father would kill you.
Kaigaku: My foster grandfather trained me in swordsmanship. I can take him.
You: In a fight, right?
Kaigaku: Yes in a fight!
You: Just checking, because no you can't
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, fidgeting midair as you thought of what to say next. Ignorantly gnawing on your bottom lip, not noticing the bad habit.
You: Don't tell anyone… but um, I think my father had killed a guy.
Kaigaku: Bullshit.
Biting back a devious smirk, you typed one more quick message before your shower.
You: If you're willing to risk testing your theory, come over after he's asleep. I'll text you the details in a bit 🤭
You hadn't expected Kaigaku to actually agree to come over. When you returned from your shower, you nearly choked on your own saliva upon reading his text. Your eyes glossed over the message on repeat in disbelief.
Kaigaku: Finally.
He had been anticipating this moment, building towards it with each study date. Expanding not only your mind, but accidentally blossoming what was barely a friendship into the beginning of a relationship.
Or maybe he was just horny and entitled…
It didn't matter, not really. It had been too long since you had last had any action, and Kaigaku was not only attractive, but you were familiar with him. Hooking up with him felt like far less of a humiliation ritual than sleeping with a stranger, so he was more than adequate.
Cold droplets of rain drummed against the roof, smoothing your nerves as time raced by. You had already disabled your father's home security system, and the rolling thunder storm could explain away the lack of footage when he checked it. Thank God for power outages.
You sat in silence, setting your phone down to smooth your nightgown on your lap for the umpteenth time that night. Desperately fighting away thoughts of preliminary regret, you couldn't shake the feeling that you wanted this too from the way your thighs rubbed together.
For months, he had been assisting you with your psychology assignments, expecting only your time in return. You gasped as it clicked why a man would even bother: Kaigaku liked you. This epiphany made your head spin, not in panic, but in shrill delight. One that only intensified as the sound of knuckles tapping against glass brought you back down to earth.
Normally, Kaigaku's face was twisted into what you assumed was a perma-sneer, but that wasn't the case for once. Adrenaline, and perhaps other hormones, made the corner of his mouth quirk into an almost flirtatious half-smile. His lips curved almost like a feline getting the treat they had begged for.
Excitement bubbled in your abdomen as you tip-toed towards your window, opening it slowly and as silently as you could manage. You struggled to maintain your composure as every inhibition your father had installed in you vanished almost instantly.
Immediately upon stepping into your room, he thrusted a bouquet of your favorite flowers into your hands. “What's this?” you asked with a startled tone.
He carded a hand through damp, spikey locks. “Flowers.”
“Why?”
This was supposed to just be a hookup, right? Did he expect more than just sex? Did he want more?
Your nose dipped into the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. Wet petals tickled your nose, making you sniffle a bit. Your heartbeat increased at the realization that he must want you like that. You had only mentioned your ideal bouquet once and no man remembered the favorite flowers of a woman he didn't envision a future with.
Most men would simply pick up a cheap bouquet of flowers. But he hadn't. He remembered. He always did.
“Tch, I've been trying for months now at your little performances.” The hand resting on the back of his head waved awkwardly up and down. “I just could never bring myself to it and always left after your group was done singing.”
Wet paper smacked lightly against his forehead. Turquoise pools locked with your irises, narrowing in contempt. “You're such a coward.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms angrily over his chest as his pride took a brutal blow. “I can leave. I knew this was stupid.”
As he turned to leave, you grabbed his hand and whispered a soft, “Stay,” stopping him in his tracks.
Maybe it was the fact that you had slipped an extra melatonin tablet into your father's nightly tea, ensuring that there would be no unwanted visitors. Or maybe it was the way Kaigaku's soaked shirt clung so tightly to his torso. It didn't matter, you wanted him more than anything at that moment.
“How much time do we have?” He hastily took off his shirt, revealing his rain soaked, muscular abdomen that glistened in the moonlight.
While Kaigaku wasn't aware of many details pertaining to your father, he had heard a single story that struck fear in his heart. When you were seventeen, your date had brought you home two minutes past your curfew. Allegedly, your father's intense stare made the poor boy wet his pants. That was enough to put a damper on any mood.
“I drugged him,” you admitted, very forward with the way your fingertips danced over Kaigaku's abs.
“You what?!” He let out a barely audible hiss.
“Oh please!” you huffed. Your hands trailed lower, working to quickly unbutton his pants. A smile laced in aroused satisfaction spread across your face with how quickly he seemed to step back to finish the job. He was nervous, and you kind of liked that, “It was just melatonin.”
“Isn't your father super buff?” His pupils dilated in fear. Kaigaku had found himself between being a man and a scared boy. “Horse tranquilizers might work a little better.”
“Stop talking about my father unless you want to go to his room instead, weirdo,” you sighed, half ready to push him back out the window, “Now kiss me, you fool.”
Monotony and structure ruled Kokushibo's life with a structure and discipline he maintained through any means necessary, even if it meant having a TA for practical purposes.
As a college professor, Kokushibo didn't want to waste his precious hours with things he needn't concern himself with. In fact, the only papers he ever bothered to grade himself were those of cute freshmen girls who dared to proposition him. Their audacity was appalling, but their submission was delightful. Who was he to say no to a girl on her knees?
Office hours were nearly up, and Kaigaku was finally finishing up for the day; finally, Kokushibo could sigh in relief. He didn't dislike the boy, he just didn't think he was much of a man. How could he when Kaigaku's male peers balanced both their studies and conquests? Kaigaku was only good at the former, a pathetic excuse of a man.
Violet eyes drifted to a ticking clock mounted on the wall, but didn't actually check the time. “If that's all, you are dismissed.”
Kaigaku nodded and slowly tipped the lid of his laptop closed. “Yes sir, but there is one more thing.” He finally felt a spark of arrogance that was typically only reserved for his pesky foster brother. A smug smirk crept up his face, contorting his features in an almost unsettling manner. “I got laid the other night.”
“You?” Kokushibo raised a brow.
“Missionary and everything. I was on top of her and she was um…” Kaigaku sputtered, divulging too much information very awkwardly, “On her back. I've liked her for a while. She's smart too, an art major.”
The other man scoffed, but remained poker faced. “No, that can't be. Art students aren't smart.”
For the life of him, Kokushibo would never understand why anyone would study the arts instead of business. It was as if those students WANTED to be poor. But alas, it was their choice.
“She's really hot too!” Kaigaku said way too casually as he packed up his laptop. “Bet her mom is a MILF.”
Neither man had any idea that poor Kaigaku was disrespecting Dr. Tsugikuni's wife; probably for the best.
Leaning back in his seat, Kokushibo's arms crossed over his sturdy chest, thick muscles covered up with the veneer of a silk suit. Younger men and their fascination with older women never failed to amuse him. There was a reason he fancied spending time with coeds over his wife. The young girls were perky and cute, women his wife's age only nagged. It was enough to kill any man's spirit, even the strongest.
“Older women are dried up. It would be wise to continue with this girl instead of her mother.” He ignored the way Kaigaku's lingering traces of innocence faded with the way his turquoise eyes widened.
A minor setback, but also a nudge in the right direction. The boy would thank him one day.
Kaigaku cartoonishly shook his head to regain his senses. His palms pitched, but he had to be a man. So instead of itching his clammy hands like an idiot, he puffed out his chest with feigned confidence. It was embarrassing; he felt like that clown, Zenitsu.
With a deeper cadence to his voice, he teased, “With any luck, I'll make her a MILF one day too.”
After a night with you, Kaigaku desperately wanted a lifetime. He swore you were made for him, perhaps childishly so. Unconvinced it was love — it was far too soon — he couldn't help but yearn for a future together nonetheless.
“Wait until you graduate.” Kokushibo lowered the leg that was propped up on his knee. Kaigaku wasn't like a son to him per se, but he was his mentor. So he felt like passing along knowledge was his job. “Once you've stabilized your income, you should impregnate her. Get her while she's at peak fertility.”
Kaigaku's expression deflated. “She makes me wear condoms though.”
“Poke holes in them.” Kokushibo's shoulders barely moved up and down.
He didn't understand the problem, riddled with deep seeded misogyny. He figured matters of the womb were better decided by a man. Women were irrational and not to be trusted in this ever evolving world, blaming westernization for the monstrosity that was feminism.
Before modernity, women knew how to behave, how to be second class citizens. This is why he preferred his young students to his wife. He could groom them to perfection; his wife was already warped with nihilism by the time they met. His infidelity was inevitable.
“I couldn't do that to her.” A thick lump formed in Kaigaku's throat. He was the standard asshole, not a monster.
The corner of Kokushibo's mouth twitched. “Then you better hope she's as smart as you say.” His large hand sensually stroked his lacquered desk. “If not, she may find herself right here, and I have no qualms with stealthing.”
“Sir?!”
Kaigaku was well aware of the fact that his professor fucked his students, but for him to be so bold was astounding. It sent a chill down his spine that he wasn't sure he could ever shake. His tongue tasted like ash, but he couldn't stop swallowing, not when that lump wouldn't budge.
Having made his point, Kokushibo leaned back in his seat once more. “Many whores have asked me for better grades over the years.”
A cold sweat drenched the back of Kaigaku's shirt. Polyester blended fibers clung to his spine, moving in time with his increased pace of breathing. “I know, sir.”
A gut feeling told him he made a mistake. That he should've just bragged to that loser virgin back home.
“Do you tutor her?” Thin brows knitted together.
“Yes,” Kaigaku managed to choke out.
A faint smile spread across Kokushibo's lips, dying before reaching its full potential. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Right…” Kaigaku wiped away sweat from his forehead, stamping messy, dark locks of hair to his forehead.
A knock on the door followed up with creaking cut through the air. A feminine voice sounded like music to Kaigaku's ears. He knew that voice all too well.
“Are you almost done, Daddy?” You knew damn well what you were doing, setting up Kaigaku like this had to be done. It was only fair after he mentioned your father so many times before your initial hookup.
“Yes!” The two men answered in unison, sealing a fate you could assume would be bound in broken bones.
Kaigaku's face went pale. He knew he had fucked up.
Violet eyes narrowed into daggers. “Actually, why don't you wait in the car? Your boyfriend and I are going to have a little chat.”
CW: Loss of Virginity, Oral (M Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Awkward Sex, Referenced Past Sexual Abuse (Not With Each Other)
WC: 5.1K
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“He's the favorite, you know?” Kaigaku slumped beside you on the engawa, propping his elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his palm.
Not too far off on the horizon was Zenitsu crying in a tree with Jigoro shouting for him to come back down. Snot dribbled down pathetically from the boy's nostrils, warm tears spilling down his heated cheeks from both training and hyperventilating.
“I don't really think that's true.” Your eyes rolled to the sky, fixating on a pretty cumulus cloud that resembled a white lotus. The pure petals perfectly contrasted the tension that had been budding between you and your betrothed for a while now.
While you and Kaigaku were not formally engaged, it was an open secret that Jigoro blessed the union. In fact, he arranged it, bringing you to train under him with Kaigaku in mind. Rightfully so, assuming that a female presence would ease the boy's behavioral issues.
The moment you walked into his life, Kaigaku took his training even more seriously, even if he was just trying to impress you. He finally listened to Jigoro's redundant advice on sword placement that he had arrogantly ignored for months, allowing his guard down just enough to let you into his heart.
He placed his free hand over yours and looked away towards the ground, zoning in on a single white chrysanthemum. He recognized it as a mourning flower, but deeply contemplated whether or not he should pluck it for you anyway.
“I'm your favorite, and that's all that matters.” He grimaced at his own crummy pickup line, face flushing as your laughter mocked him.
Squeezing his hand, you sighed blissfully, “That's so cheesy, and also so not true.”
His neck nearly snapped from how hard he turned to face you. A possessive scowl was drawn on his face and his blunt nails dug into his chin. With an unconvincing scoff, he tried playing it off as if it didn't matter that much. “Don't tell me that loser is your favorite.”
“No.” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, barely managing to contain a chortle. “I mean that Zenitsu being his favorite doesn't bother you.”
“It doesn't,” he grumbled.
You turned to him and booped this tip of his nose, ignoring his displeased expression. “Liar.”
From the distance, you both watched as Zenitsu's sweaty hands slipped from the coarse tree bark. Gravity took over instantly, pulling the sobbing boy to the ground where he collapsed with a harsh THUD. Kaigaku snickered faintly as Zenitsu brushed the dirt from his haori, while you shook your head.
More shouting commenced as Jigoro commanded Zenitsu to knock off his unrelenting tears before he gave him a reason to cry, only for Zenitsu to whine about how he hurt his leg during the fall.
Teal irises darted coyly towards you before quickly shifting back to that flower. A thick lump formed in his throat. As he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. His hands grew sweaty as nerves infected and shifted his demeanor.
Normally, he found himself acting cockier than he really should. But for some reason, you made him so nervous. It began when Jigoro introduced you to him as his bride to be, and his feelings blossomed further as the days, weeks, and years passed.
He leaned back, exposing more of his taut pectorals that rose with a deep inhale. He tugged at one of the blue strings tied to his magatama bead as though he needed more air, noticing your eyes drifting towards him and scrambling to card his fingers through his short, spikey locks to feign confidence.
“Are you okay?” Your brows kitted together. His nervous sweat clung to the back of your hand.
A puff of air left his lips and he casually (awkwardly) cracked his knuckles. “Me? Oh yeah, very okay.” He draped an arm around your shoulder like he had many times before, pulling you close. “I've just been thinking.”
“About?”
Kaigaku nearly choked on his own spit, swallowing through the pain. His entitlement and desire was stronger than his bashfulness when it came to you, “Tomorrow is my final selection, and I was thinking maybe you could um…” His touch ghosted to the small of your back. His pinky nearly brushed against your ass. “Wish me luck?”
“Good luck,” you deadpanned with a shrug, knowing damn well what he wanted and choosing to tease him for it.
His face fell then morphed into a smirk. “Not like that, stupid!” His hand trailed lower. Seductively, he lowered his voice and purred, “Like this.”
Your lips buzzed as laughter tumbled past them. “How is that good luck?”
“I don't want to accidentally get hard while trying to kill a demon or something.” He raised a thick brow as if that were obvious, despite his very flawed reasoning.
“What the fuck?” Giggles bubbled in the back of your throat, spilling into your hand. “Why would y- I don't even wanna know!”
Crimson pooled beneath his pale cheeks with embarrassment. “It happened once when I was sparring with the brat. The freak noticed and started crying about how he thought I was going to molest his ugly ass!” His voice increased in tempo with acute panic, pitch raising ever so slightly as he spoke.
“I mean...” You pointed towards Kaigaku's lap with a curved finger. “In Zenitsu's defense, you did get a boner.”
“I was thinking about you!” He shouted loud enough to catch Zenitsu's and Jigoro's attention, both turning their heads in your direction.
“Not sure if I believe that.” The inner corner of your mouth twitched into a smirk. “But if you insist, you can sneak into my room tonight. Just make sure the kid is actually asleep. I do NOT want him overhearing, got it?”
Kaigaku's mouth went dry, so he could only nod eagerly in response with wide eyes. Your head lolled to the side, lips pecking his burning face. “I'm going to go prepare dinner, and you are going to rest before the main event.”
“Final selection, I know,” he muttered, not at all excited with the prospect of dying.
“Yeah, that's what I meant.” You abruptly stood up, smoothing your clothing. You spared him a final wink that made his spine go rigid as you sashayed back inside. You had to try and soothe your own budding nerves by ignoring the reality of what was about to transpire. Hopefully, some busy work would do the trick...
Waiting for Zenitsu to fall asleep felt like torture, but it eventually happened. Kaigaku had been ready to smother the poor boy with a pillow, clutching his in his fist out of aggravation. Eventually, Kaigaku heard a faint snore and knew that it would either be now or never.
Silently, Kaigaku crawled out from under his covers, slowly peeling them off his body. Across the room, he heard some rustling from Zenitsu's futon and panic held him ransom. He did NOT want Zenitsu knowing a single detail about his sex life — or rather, future sex life.
There was a beat of silence, then another snore signaled to Kaigaku that it was okay to continue. Wind rustled through the trees, branches danced in the air, knocking loudly against each other; it was the perfect cover for any noise.
Holding his breath, Kaigaku pressed his palms to the tatami mat and pushed himself upright, finding himself thankful for the full moon shining brightly on Zenitsu's face, illuminating the boy's relaxed features. For a moment, Kaigaku observed the subtle rise and fall of his junior's chest, slowly taking a step forward. Then another, until he made his way to the room's exit.
Just as his hand connected with the door, he heard Zenitsu's sleepy voice cut through the air. “What are you doing, brother?”
Eyes stinging with exhaustion, Zenitsu rubbed at them twice. Blinking in confusion as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Static slowly faded from his cerebrum, piecing together the parts of an easy puzzle.
As he was about to shout, Kaigaku growled, “Don't ruin this for me. If a girl actually liked you, even I wouldn't ruin it.” Annoyed teal eyes rolled to the ceiling. A heavy exhale deflated his shoulders, a breath of over confidence taking over his lungs. “Besides, we're practically married.”
“Gramps will beat your ass if you get her pregnant.” Zenitsu's voice wavered, noticing the way Kaigaku's already gruff expression soured. His fingers curled tightly around his blanket until his knuckles became white, trembling on his chest, shaking from the sheer force of his own grip.
Kaigaku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You think I don't know that?”
“Can you two keep it down at least? I really don't want to overhear ” Zenitsu covered his ears with his hands and shook his head, unwilling to admit that he would take the risk as well had the roles been reversed.
“Whatever,” Kaigaku muttered under his breath, satisfied that Zenitsu was desperately trying to force himself back to sleep and willing to keep his mouth shut.
Each step towards your room felt like deja vu, a recurring dream he often had on new moons — the nights where he needed something to brighten his evening. But he suddenly stopped in his tracks, remembering that damn flower.
Turning away from your door to go back outside, he forced himself to ignore the way his semi-hard erection throbbed to life, growing eager from anticipation. He tried to replace his expectations with the thought of picking that pretty flower to present his affections where his words failed, just to feel stupid as the stem snapped off where his fingers had pinched it. His calloused outer shell and the warm, fuzzy sensations were at war, endlessly confusing him.
Suddenly, his legs felt heavy, knees nearly buckling beneath his weight. Anticipation pulled him towards your door like a magnet, yet something seemed to be slowing his pace.
He had no idea what he was doing.
Obviously, he knew how it worked, but he also knew how the first form of thunder breathing worked and still failed. Since changing how he carried a sword, he had gotten close — agonizingly close — and still failed.
Sure, he could act like his failures in swordsmanship didn't bother him. It was easy to ignore the cruel comments whispered by others. But this was different; it had to be.
You were special.
The type of girl that had him start writing poems for you, only for him to get frustrated and tear his paper to shreds. Normally, he didn't care much about what others believed about him. But the thought of you disliking something he did immensely bothered him. It was a real head scratcher.
“Kai?” You whispered into the night after sliding open your door upon hearing footsteps. Your face lit up as he shuffled along faster, certain yet unsure, feet never fully leaving the ground. Your eyes caught the white flower clasped in his clammy hand. A petal drifted to the floor as he fought the tremble throughout his nervous system. “Is that for me?”
“Tch.” He shoved it in your hand, but you didn't accept the flower. “It's not a big deal or anything.”
You crossed your arms and popped your hip. “Try again.”
“Uhhh...” Color drained from his face hearing your foot impatiently tap against the ground. He didn't want to mess this up, but romance was far from his forté. His only frame of reference with women was to NOT do what Zenitsu does.
His tongue darted out to moisten his lips that suddenly felt too dry. The tip remained poked out at the inner corner of his mouth as he raised the fragrant flower to your hair, introducing its earthy aroma to mingle with the scent of your locks while he tucked the stem behind your ear.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, helplessly enchanted by you.
Your head swayed side to side in the hall, ensuring neither Jigoro or Zenitsu had caught you before grabbing Kaigaku by his loosely tied, blue obi and dragging him into your room. You swiftly took the opportunity to capture his slightly chapped lips in a kiss as he blindly attempted to close the door behind him.
Somehow in the heat of the moment, he managed to drag the door closed, immediately returning the neediness of your kiss. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close until your pelvises were flush. Pathetically, he whimpered into your mouth, feeling your body press against his erection.
Sure, you had touched him before. Neither of you were complete strangers to intimacy, but it had never been a precursor to sex. It had only ever been dryly grinding against each other during more passionate kisses or occasional hands dipping beneath clothing. Either you rubbed him with inexperienced flicks of your wrist, or he struggled to find your clit with one hand as he fondled a breast in the other.
Only once had you ever been caught, resulting in Jigoro's cane connecting with the side of Kaigaku's head. While you had been spared from the same punishment, you were both lectured to wait while Zenitsu awkwardly stood behind the elderly man, twiddling his thumbs.
Ultimately, it didn't stop you. If anything, it resulted in more touching as Kaigaku demanded for you to continue tending to his injury long after it had already healed. Never had Kaigaku secretly smiled as much in his life as he had when you gingerly cradled his face to administer the treatment of his choosing.
“I've been waiting for this forever.” Kaigaku pulled away, hastily fumbling to untie his obi as he guided you backwards across the tatami to your futon.
Kneeling on your futon and tapping it for him to join, you purred, “Remember, it's about the journey, not finishing the race.”
His sash fell to the ground, but his clothing loosely clung to his body by his shoulders. Insecure about his solo immodesty, he scoffed, “What do you mean?”
Your lips latched to his sensitive neck, vibrating gently against his throat as you whispered, “We have all night.”
A subdued whimper rattled in his larynx as your kisses worked their way up his delicate neck, teeth occasionally littering love bites and bruises along the way. As you pressed an especially tender kiss to his pulse, drinking in his pheromones, his heart rattled in his chest. If he didn't know better, he would assume you were sending him into cardiac arrest. While fearful of death, he wouldn't mind this being his demise. Not after having a taste of heaven.
Once more, your lips pressed to his, moving in a slow dance that you had rehearsed many times. A far cry from when Kaigaku had spent days, weeks, if not months, attempting to steal a simple kiss during downtime. He expected to get punched when he finally made his advance, only for you to reciprocate his poorly expressed affections.
Moving in perfect harmony even as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him, he maneuvered your body like one of the delicate flower petals that had fallen into your hair. Kaigaku shouldered his clothing away, exposing himself with true vulnerability as the dark fabric fell into the night. Your hands met with your waist, ghosting lower and lower as passion built.
Your arms snaked around his neck, weaving into his spikey, coarse locks. You swallowed his gasp as you pulled his head back in a swift, fluid motion, mumbling against his warm cheek, “You better not die on me.”
“Tch, I won't die. If you can survive, so can I.” An irritated puff of air slipped his lips and his chest tightened, finally relaxing once more as your grip loosened.
“Better not.” You shook your head, unable to make eye contact. “With you gone, Zenitsu might finally make a move; and we wouldn't want that, would we?”
“Don't even joke about that,” he grunted, jealousy consuming him.
“Who said I was joking?” Envy clouded his eyes to a dark teal, softening your gaze. You released his hair, keeping one arm looped behind his neck while cupping his cheek. “Aw, don't be like that! Anyway, I know how to make you feel better.”
Before he could even get a word out, you wiggled away from his grasp to kneel beside him, struggling in the dark, moonlit room to untie your own obi. Fingers trembled as he leaned back, propping himself up with his palms to the futon. Slowly, he unravels your clothing piece by piece, discarding your innocence on the floor.
His lips parted, catching his breath at the reveal of your unbound breasts. He soaked in the sight, finally getting an opportunity to see them properly. For months, he had only the image of you in an onsen, but that situation was vastly different than this. Back then, he was focused on scolding Zenitsu for sneaking what he could only assume were perverted glances while bathing himself. After their bickering, you decided only to clean yourself in women's only bath houses.
Cold air hit your breasts, sending a shiver down your spine and pebbling your nipples. Goosebumps pricked your forearm, closing your pores to the chill in the air. Thin hairs raised from your skin, enveloping you in a thin shield of warmth, allowing any anxiety to melt away.
Kaigaku rushed to briskly remove his pants and undergarment, suddenly feeling insanely restricted by his own clothing, as though the string holding his pendant in place was strangling him as he struggled to breath. Unable to tear his eyes from your bosom, he kicked away the final pieces of his attire, feeling vulnerable in his nudity, but safe with you.
“May I?” You reached towards his lap, stopping halfway with fingers curled at the knuckle.
“Asking like you haven't done this before.” His snicker morphed into a cough as he choked on his own saliva, not expecting you to lean over and kiss his leaky, pink tip. “What on earth are you doing, woman?!”
The tip of your tongue dragged across the salty slit. With an innocent grin, you looked up at him, pumping his cock in your fist. “Something I've never done before. Would you like me to stop?”
“No...” He had a lump that he couldn't quite swallow in his throat. Faking confidence, he tried to clear his throat, failing miserably. “Fuck no.”
“That's what I thought.” A smirk plastered itself on your face as you kissed along his foreskin.
After a beat, you took him past your lips, repressing a smile as he poorly attempted to hold in a moan. His deep voice had grown meek from you merely teasing his tip with your mouth, circling the swollen glands with your tongue as beads of saliva dribbled down his length.
Oxygen failed to enter his lungs as he struggled to breath, sputtering pathetically for sharp inhales of air. You made his head spin in ways he hadn't before thought imaginable.
Greedily, he fisted your hair, pushing your head a little lower, spearing your throat on his cock. He grunted in timid surprise as you squeezed his balls as a forewarning. His grip remained tangled in your hair, but his fingers remained relaxed, allowing you to bob your head to your own rhythm. He silently prayed for the day you'd allow him to actually fuck your throat.
It was torture holding back after waiting so long, only made worse as you pulled away, leaving him blue in cold. You wrapped your arms around his neck and lowered the two of you to the futon, your body caged beneath him.
In the woods, you had never teased him like this — giving him a taste and taking it away. And anyways, weren't you the one telling him not to rush? He didn't understand what your angle was.
“Are you ready?” he asked, anxiety laced in voice as his throbbing cock rubbed up against your fundoshi, precum smearing on and soaking into the already dampened white fibers of fabric.
Biting your lip, you nodded twice, the back of your head rubbing against your pillow. Teeth sinking deeper into the soft structure of tissue and sinew feeling your undergarments drag down your thighs. Eyes squeezing shut, heart fluttering as he pulled it past your ankles, tossing it aimlessly across the room.
“So, do I like, put it in now?” Kaigaku tugged at his necklace.
Any sexual encounter he had ever experienced had been out of survival, doing what he had to on the streets to survive before Jigoro took him in. This was much different; this was an act of love, not men taking advantage of a hungry boy.
You were equally clueless, holding in laughter as you primarily went off of stories that other women had shared with you. “I think so?”
“Okay,” he murmured with a hint of honey to his tone, pressing his palms to your inner thighs, prying them further apart with your help. Hovering over you, uncertainty pooled in the pit of his stomach. After this, there would be no going back.
“Hey, we don't have to.” Words quickly tumbled from your mouth, spilling out as you spoke with your hands. “Really, it's —”
Before you could get another word in, his lips crashed down to yours, drinking in your strained whines as he tipped the tip past your untouched, unprepared entrance. Your body went rigid beneath his, lungs unable to catch your breath as you struggled to adjust to the foreign pressure that inserted itself into you.
An acute, crimson trickle dripped between your legs, forever staining your bedding in the loss of remaining innocence. You hissed into the kiss, which he only drank in as the finest ambroisia. As your tight pussy wrapped around him so perfectly, he was certain you were a gift from the gods.
His head burrowed in the crook of your neck as he lost his composure, swallowing moans to shield himself from complete vulnerability. He was giving himself to you fully with faint whines he couldn't manage to repress rubbing his vocal chords together in a pitchy falsetto.
In his dreams, he had been envisioning this exact moment for months. He would often awaken to nocturnal emissions, rushing to wash and hang the bedding to seem less conspicuous.
His swollen lips ghosted across your skin as your body writhed beneath him, pinned in place under the weight of his body, speared on his imposing, girthy cock. The sensation of his chapped lips were slightly rough where he often bit them in frustration during training, scraping your delicate skin as he nipped at your pulse. His mind was taken over by the wisteria perfume he had once gifted you when you passed your own final selection, saving everything he could scrap together — even considering stealing the bottle all together, if not for your honor — all for even the illusion of your safety.
Suckling gently on your fragile skin, he tasted flowers on the tip of his tongue as he claimed you as a bride in all but legality. Perhaps it was delusion, but he viewed the forming contusion as evidence of your intention to one day marry him. Sure, Jigoro brought you with him with the sole purpose of marrying Kaigaku, but so much had changed since then.
For starters, your goals shifted after the corps’ master came to visit with Jigoro. While Kaigaku bit his tongue out of respect, he wasn't fond of the way Kagaya pressured you too into joining. Not only did it throw a wrench into Kaigaku's plans of normalcy, having a wife and kids, it put you at risk. The overactive chambers of his heart strained more when you quickly surpassed him in skill, becoming a slayer the year prior.
Satisfied, he pulled away to admire the pretty bruise he created, matching the ones you often planted on the thick muscle of his chest to decorate his pectorals. Mumbling possessively under his breath into your ear, he whispered, “Mine.”
“All yours...” Tears formed along your waterline, threatening to spill as the pain slowly died down when he finally bottomed out. A subtle vein along the bottom of his cock throbbed inside you, his pale pink tip twitching into your cervix. You could feel it kissing the delicate tissue, making your face contort as pain overtook pleasure. “I love you.”
He felt so weak for crying, already feeling his orgasm building up despite hardly doing anything. His body simply wasn't adjusted to this kind of bliss, it was far too accustomed to sprains and bruises, not velvet.
Your cunt clenched around him as he replied breathlessly, “I love you too.”
For a moment, the two of you exchanged saccharine smiles, joyful, salty rivers streaming down your cheeks. Never had you looked so beautiful to him as you did becoming one. A silent exchange of vows that were certain to be broken at your young age, but for a moment, you were both at peace.
The violence of reality didn't exist at this moment, wisteria incense thick in the air. The perfume intoxicated him, softening his expression as he gazed into your loving eyes. The heartache of the past melted away with the subtle sway of his hips. Your jaw clenched, lips forming a thin line as you nodded, reassuring him that it was okay. That this was okay.
Midnight would not last forever, so the two of you had to make the most of your time. Silently, you accepted what may come in the morning. But you will never utter a word of death. In this moment, all that mattered was the blossoming love you shared.
The chrysanthemum slipped from your hair, falling to the pillow. Silk petals wrinkled from the increasing dehydration, wilting ever so slightly. Another petal fell from the flower, soaking in the starlight on the tatami.
Regaining confidence, he cupped your tepid breast in one hand, squeezing it in his calloused hand and shuddering. Before now, he had only ever felt your breasts over chest bindings. Feeling how soft they actually were was exhilarating.
Rolling the hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Pinching the delicate tissue experimentally. Taking your breast in his hand once more to knead it like soft clay that warmed to the touch.
Shallowly thrusting into your g spot with his long lashes soaked in needy tears. Earning a wanton moan to tear from your throat, unable to keep your voice muted so as to not wake anyone. Neither of you really cared, too carried away with each other to make love in silence.
Your voice was like a siren's song, pulling him into danger. Yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to care. Somehow, you had him wrapped so cutely around your finger. As pathetic as it was, should you ask him to jump at this moment, he would only ask “how high”.
Each moan clouded his mind with lust, fueling his desire to fuck into your taut hole faster. He ignored the impending orgasm, chalking it up to nothing more than his nerves. The melody of your voice was enchanting, and he needed to hear more of your song. He didn't care if he woke the entire house, as long as he had your mewls forever etched into his hippocampus.
Between clenched teeth, staving off impending doom, clinging to lingering toxic masculinity, he grumbled, “You're taking me so well.”
Fighting back the giggle burning in your larynx, you pulled him down into another kiss with one arm, playing with his sweaty hair with one hand, digging your nails on the other hand into his thick pectoral muscles.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper into your weeping pussy. Droplets of honey drenched the coarse hairs surrounding the back of his cock as it formed into a foamy ring. Tight walls hugged him like a vice, knowing it was something deeper. This was more intimate than two horny adults having a simple quicky, this was a precipice of your cuddling romance. Not quite an apex, but close to, leaving you both fearful of plateau and eventual decrescendo, but taking that risk anyway.
Involuntarily, your hips bucked up to meet his, desperate for more as the pain fully melted away. Both of you equally needy, clinging to each other as though you would slip from one another's fingertips. Memorizing each other's bodies to the best of your capabilities through the dark.
“I think I'm close.” Kaigaku's hot breath cascaded past your ear.
“Can you hold off a little longer?” You dipped a hand between your legs, fingerprint drowning in your essence as it slipped between your wet folds. “Same time?”
“Please hurry,” he whined.
Immediately, you found the neglected bud with the tip of your finger, rubbing languid circles into it. You unleash a high pitched moan, clamping your hand over your mouth. Your chest heaved as you struggled to breath, curved fingers covering puffy, kiss bitten lips and part of your nose.
Your back arched, nerves increasingly defenseless and on fire. Heat pooled in your lower abdomen, burning your muscles in a euphoric way as hormones pumped through your veins. Pussy clenching his cock as though it were made for him, carved into the memory of this moment.
“I can't, I-” His hips stuttered, signaling a slightly premature orgasm that he couldn't fight off a moment longer. Spilling virile seed into your womb in thick, hot ropes. Kissing your cervix, triggering your own, albeit weaker, high in perfect unison.
Sweaty foreheads pressed together as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your chests heave for a moment as he collapsed beneath you. Imaginary constellations and blissed out tears blurred your vision as you stared at the plain ceiling, reaching down past your knees to pull up your blanket to your chest.
“That was…” short, yet sweet.
You wiped sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, lips tugging upwards as you rolled over to face him. His expression mirrored yours, his ever permanent snarl long faded. His eyes softened with passion glimmering beneath a surface of dull teal. You were truly his everything.
His first real kiss.
The first girl he ever loved.
His first time.
His wife…
Or rather future fiancé. Kaigaku still had yet to formally discuss his intentions with you to Jigoro. A stand in for your seemingly nonexistent father as Kaigaku wanted to wed you properly by receiving a blessing prior to officially marking the beginning of your courtship.
“Perfect,” he completed your sentence, blown pupils returning back to their normal size, “So damn perfect.”
For a moment, the two of you laid together, perfectly intertwined like twigs caught on a vine. Your fingers laced together perfectly over the warm covers, the tough pad of his thumb dancing over your hand. Finally at peace, awkwardness faded away with whatever remained of your purity.
